It looked like a case of watchin' out for the stick to come down. Uh-huh! The good yacht _Agnes_ had been tied to her anchor less than half a day when this grand treasure-hunting expedition of ours showed symptoms of collapse. It was weak in the knees, groggy in its motions, and had fur on its tongue. If there'd ever been any stock issued by the Ellins-Hemmingway Exploration and Development Company, I'll bet you could have bought in a controllin' interest for two stacks of cigarette coupons and a handful of assorted campaign buttons. You see, Old Hickory and Auntie had hung all their bright hopes on this Captain Rupert Killam. They'd listened to his tale about a secret mangrove island with a gold and jewel stuffed mound in the middle, and they'd taken it right off the fork. His mysterious and romantic motions had them completely buffaloed--at first. But on the way down here Rupert's reputation as a bold, bad adventurer had gradually been oozin' away, like a slow air leak from a tire. His last play of hidin' his head when the _Agnes_ had been held up by a gunboat had got 'most everybody aboard lookin' squint-eyed at him. Even Mrs. Mumford had crossed him off her hero list. Just what his final fluke was I'm only givin' a guess at, but I judge that when Mr. Ellins called on him to point out the pirate hoard, now we were right on the ground, Rupert begun stallin' him off. Anyway, I saw 'em havin' a little private session 'way up in the bow soon after we got the hook down. By the set of Old Hickory's jaw I knew he was puttin' something straight up to Rupert. And the Cap, he points first one way, then the other, endin' by diggin' up a chart and gazin' at it vague. "Huh!" grunts Old Hickory. I could hear that clear back by the bridge, where Vee and I were leanin' over the rail watchin' for flyin'-fish. Also we are within ear-stretchin' distance when he makes his report to Auntie. "Somewhere around here--he thinks," says Mr. Ellins. "Says he needs a day or so to get his bearings. Meanwhile he wants us to go fishing." "Fish!" sniffs Auntie. "I shall certainly do nothing of the sort. I want to tell you right here, too, that I am not going to humor that absurd person any more." "Isn't he just as wise as he was when you lured him away from the hotel where I'd put him?" asks Old Hickory sarcastic. "I supposed you had a little sense then yourself, Matthew Ellins," Auntie raps back at him. "You flatter me," says Old Hickory, bowin' stiff and marchin' off huffy. After which they both registers glum, injured looks. A close-up of either of 'em would have soured a can of condensed milk, especially whenever Captain Rupert Killam took a chance on showin' himself. And Rupert, he was wise to the situation. He couldn't help being. He takes it hard, too. All his chesty, important airs are gone. He skulks around like a stray pup that's dodgin' the dog-catcher.