"They say a Spanish treasure ship was wrecked on the west side of Seal Island, and that her precious cargo was strewn over the bottom of the sea. Curiously enough the only coins ever washed ashore have been found at the mouth of this cove." "Should we find any if we looked, sir?" asked Fraser. "That I cannot say; but suppose instead of standing here in the cold we launch this boat?" Soon the placid waters of the bathing-cove were disturbed by the splashing of the lads of the two patrols, and all were somewhat reluctant to hear Mr Trematon's voice calling for them to come and dress. When the Scoutmaster and the Headers had had their swim the Scouts made their way to the top of the natural staircase, and, doubling, returned to the camp glowing with health and excitement. Directly the bedding was replaced and the tents tidied, breakfast was served. The camp oven fires had been banked up, and a plentiful supply of hot water was instantly available. Eggs, boiled in salt water,--which, according to Mr Trematon's idea, were far more appetising than if done in fresh water--small flat loaves baked on hot ashes, and cocoa formed the repast. "Whatever is the matter with you, Hayes?" asked Mr Trematon as the Scout gave a partly suppressed gurgle, rolled his eyes, and clutched his throat with both hands. Without replying Hayes suddenly bolted, while the Scoutmaster and several of the Scouts followed to see what was amiss. "The bread, sir," gasped Hayes, after several attempts to make him explain. "The bread? What's wrong with it." "It tastes horrible," replied the victim. "I feel awfully queer." Just then young Coventry came running up, making similar grimaces to those of the first sufferer. He in turn was followed by little Reggie Scott, who, though undoubtedly equally as upset as his bigger comrades, kept himself more under control. "It's the bread, sir," he announced, holding up half of one of the flat cakes. "I believe there's oil in it." The Scoutmaster took the proffered bread and smelt it. "You're right," he replied. "It is paraffin. What on earth have Baker and Pat Coventry been doing? Cheer up, you sufferers; you're not poisoned. Smile and look pleasant, and we'll hold a court-martial on the cooks." Further examination revealed the fact that all the bread was tainted with the unpleasant odour of paraffin. On being questioned Pat Coventry replied that he took no part in making the dough, while Baker admitted that he had noticed an oily substance on the water when mixed with the flour. "I skimmed it off, sir," he explained. "I didn't know that it was paraffin." "Haven't you a nose? Why didn't you use your sense of smell?" "I didn't think of it, sir." "Well it cannot be helped now; another time, if you have any doubts, ask me. That's what I am here for," said Mr Trematon. "Serve out the biscuits, Atherton. The bread is useless. After breakfast we must find out how the paraffin got into the flour. But it's close on eight. Fall in."