But we found nothing at all. Nothing, that is, except dirt, grass, mullein-stalks, and beetles or crickets under the stones. Mr. Daddles hunted energetically, pulling up grass by the roots, digging in the soil with his fingers, and kicking at stones with the toes of his tennis-shoes, until he shouted "Ouch!" and jumped about holding his foot in his hand. Then he set to again, so excitedly that we looked at him in astonishment. "P'r'aps we'd better start," said Jimmy again. "In a minute, in a minute," exclaimed Mr. Daddles, poking about. "Hunt, boys, hunt,--I feel sure we'll find something if we only hunt." We hunted, scraped over the earth and sand around that tree, and moved every stone and pebble. "I tell you we must find some treasure here,--we MUST!" "How can we?" asked Ed, "if there isn't any to find." "But there is. I know there is!" We stared at him. "I know there is, because I buried it myself." "You did? When? How? Where? What for?" "When you all went down to swim. I thought you would feel disappointed not to find any treasure, so I buried all I had,--a dollar and a quarter,--two halves, two dimes, and a nickel. And now we've got to find it, or we can't get back on that horse-car. We'll have to walk,--or else be as bad as Ike Flanders." Then we began to hunt in dead earnest. We pulled up every blade of grass, felt in all the crevices of the rocks, and dug a toad out of his hole. He looked highly surprised and indignant, but he gave us no help about the money. "Well, I'm sorry,--sorry to get you into all this mess," said Mr. Daddles. "We'd better leave it, I suppose, and go back to Squid Cove. We can walk--and if that really is fog--" "It's fog, all right," said Jimmy. There was a sea-turn. The wind smelt salty and damp, and the fog was creeping in. It was not more than a mile distant. We all knew enough about fogs not to want to be out in the bay in one, without a compass, and when it was nearly sunset. So we hurried down to the boat, and pushed off. "If anyone ever asks me if there is treasure on Fishback Island," reflected Mr. Daddles, "I'll know what to tell 'em." The fog shut down thick before we got to the Cove, but we were already so near that it didn't make much difference. We left the boat at the slip where we had first seen it. The horse-car was standing at the house, but we did not look for the driver. Instead, we set out on our tramp back to Little Duck Island. That was a dismal and tiresome walk. It was almost dark when we started, and quite dark in half an hour,--a thick, foggy night. Not one of us had looked at the road much on the way over; we had been listening to the car-driver's battles with crime. It would not have done us much good if we had looked, for everything changes on a foggy night. After a while we came to a fork in the road. "Which of these is ours?" asked Jimmy Toppan. "That's easy enough," said Ed Mason, "follow the car-track."