"Well, it does to _me_!" suddenly exclaimed Sally, the natural-born treasure-hunter of them all. "Where else _could_ they hide anything so safely as in that cave or tunnel? Nobody would ever suspect in the world. And I somehow don't think it meant the cave. I believe it means somewhere in the tunnel, on the right hand side as you enter from the cellar." "But what about 27?" demanded Miss Camilla. "That doesn't seem to mean anything, does it?" "No, of course it doesn't mean anything to you, because you haven't been through the tunnel, and wouldn't know. But every once in a while, along the sides, are planks from that old vessel, put there to keep the sides more firm, I guess. There must be seventy-five or a hundred on each side. Now I believe it means that if we look behind the twenty-seventh one from the cellar entrance, on the right hand side, we'll find the--the things hidden there." Then Miss Camilla rose, the light of younger days shining adventurously in her eyes. "If that's the case, we'll go and dig them out tomorrow!" she announced gaily. CHAPTER XIV THE REAL BURIED TREASURE It had been a very dull day indeed for Genevieve. Had she been able to communicate her feelings adequately, she would have said she was heartily sick and tired of the program she had been obliged to follow. As she sat solitary on the porch of Miss Camilla's tiny abode, thumb in mouth and tugging at the lock of hair with her other hand, she thought it all over resentfully. Why should she be commanded to sit here all by herself, in a spot that offered no attractions whatever, told, nay, _commanded_ not to move from the location, when she was bored beyond expression by the entire proceeding? True, they had left her eatables in generous quantities, but she had already disposed of these, and as for the picture-books of many attractive descriptions, given her to while away the weary hours, they were an old story now, and the afternoon was growing late. She longed to go down to the shore and play in the rowboat, and dabble her bare toes in the water, and indulge in the eternally fascinating experiment of catching crabs with a piece of meat tied to a string and her father's old crab-net. What was the use of living when one was doomed to drag out a wonderful afternoon on a tiny, hopelessly uninteresting porch out in the backwoods? Existence was nothing but a burden.