Her eyes were big and bright. She shook her head as though to say: "A little farther." Again I plunged my spade into the damp sand. I thrilled all through as I felt it scrape against something hard--something metallic! Two more shovelfuls and I had disclosed the object. I picked it up and held it out to Graham. Despite our eagerness we burst into a gale of laughter. It was a tomato can--quite empty, too! Graham's laughter stopped suddenly. "Oh!" she gasped, "how did it _get_ there? We are on the right track! Uncle Abner must have thrown it in when he buried the treasure!" "Great!" I cried, and then in sudden afterthought: "unless----!" "Unless----?" "Unless," I said, "unless _someone else_ has been here before us!" She looked into my eyes with horror at the thought, twisting her handkerchief nervously in her slender hands. "Heavens!" she exclaimed, "you _do_ think of the most unpleasant things!" Then, waving her arms excitedly. "Dig!" she cried. "For goodness' sake, dig! Let's have this suspense over with!" I did dig and presently my industry was rewarded by the discovery of an empty beer bottle and a sardine can. "Uncle Abner lived high, out here on the key," I said, holding the trophies up for her inspection. "Dig! Dig!" was her only answer. Again I got to work. This time I suppose I dug for three-quarters of an hour. The hole grew quite deep, but disclosed not so much as a buried button. I was very warm and very hungry. So I pronounced myself exhausted and asked Graham if she wouldn't let me rest a minute. She said I could, so we got the captains to bring up my lunch basket and Graham's parasol from the boats. Then we settled down to a little spread on the spot. We fastened the parasol to a shovel handle and Graham let me sit down beside her in the shade. I've never had such fun lunching as on that day. The sandwiches were so good and Graham and the ginger ale so refreshing thas I was heart-broken when there wasn't a drop or a crumb or an excuse to sit there any longer. So I dug again, and we were such friends by that time that Graham kept telling me not to work too hard and get all tired out. After a few moments she gave a little scream of delight and leaning over picked a corroded coin from the shovelful I had thrown out. I took it from her and rubbed its surface. It looked like a Mexican dollar, but I couldn't make out. "Oh, won't you dig?" cried Graham, in an agony of impatience. Once more I thrust my spade into the sand. It stopped suddenly. This time it was neither can nor bottle, but something which toon proved to be a sound oak plank. A few mad spadefuls more and it was clear that the plank was the cover of a heavy box, cleated, bound and hinged with iron. Graham stood above me gazing down with clenched hands and dilated eyes.