“The question is,” said Phil, “shall we dig it or not? I move that we dig it.” “Of course,” said Bruce, “we’ll dig it. There’s only one answer to that question. But when? The fellows are around here all the time.” “We’ll have to do it after dark,” said Arthur. “Early in the morning would be the best time, I think,” said Bruce, a little anxiously. “No,” said Bart; “there’s only one time, and one hour, to dig money, and that time is midnight, and the hour twelve sharp. If we’re going to dig for a pot of money, we’ll have to do it up in proper shape.” “Nonsense,” said Bruce, who still spoke in a rather anxious tone. “What are you talking about? Early morning is the time.” “Early morning!” said Bart; “why, man alive, we’ll want several hours, and it’ll be early morning before we’re done. If we begin at early morning we can’t do anything. Some of the fellows are always up here before breakfast. No! From midnight to cock-crow, that’s the orthodox time. Besides,” added Bart, mysteriously, “there are certain ceremonies we’ll have to perform, that can only take place at night.” “Nonsense!” said Bruce; “let’s tell the other fellows, and we’ll all dig together in broad day.” “Tell the other fellows! What in the world do you mean?” cried Bart. “Bruce Rawdon, are you crazy?” No! Bruce Rawdon was not crazy. He was only a little superstitious, and had a weakness with regard to ghosts. He had as brave and stout a heart as ever beat, with which to confront visible dangers and mortal enemies; but his stout heart quailed at the fanciful terrors of the invisible. Yet he saw that there was no help for it, and that he would have to choose the midnight hour. So he very boldly made up his mind to face whatever terrors the enterprise might have in store. “The fact is,” said Bart, “we ourselves--we, the ‘B. O. W. C.’--must do it. It would be dishonor to invite the other boys. This belongs to us. We’re a secret and mystic order. We’ve never yet had anything in particular to do. Now’s our time, and here’s our chance. We’re bound to get at that pot of gold. The captain, of course, must be with us, and one other only; that is old Solomon. As Grand Panjandrum, he must be here, and share our labors.” “We’ll have to get spades,” said Arthur. “I suppose Solomon can manage that.” “Spades?” said Bart; “I should think so, and fifty other things. We must have lights. We’ll have to make a row of them around the edge of the hole.” “A row of them?” said Phil. “Nonsense! Two will do.”