He made a grab for his chum, but it was too late. Jack, who had hurried on in advance of the others, had stepped on a board of the wharf that was but a mere rotten shell, and, an instant later, one foot went through it, and Jack slipped down to his hip, the other leg doubled up under him. “Help! Help!” he cried, in mock seriousness. “One foot’s in the water, and the other will be in a minute.” “Are you hurt?” asked Bert anxiously. “No, but if this leg isn’t skinned all the way up I’m a loon. Pull me out, can’t you?” As Bert and Dick started toward him Tom called: “Stand back! If we all crowd up on those old boards we will all be through. Wait until I can lay another plank down, that isn’t so near gone. Then we can give you a hand.” With the aid of Bert and Dick, our hero ripped off a more substantial board, and then, stepping on this they managed to pull Jack from his uncomfortable position, for he could not help himself. “Well, how about you?” asked Tom, when they had all made their way off the old wharf to shore. “Oh, so-so. I’m badly battered up, but still in the ring. One foot is well soaked, but it’s warm weather and I guess I won’t get the epizootic. Say, though, I’m going to be lame,” and Jack limped along. An examination showed that his right leg was painfully skinned and bruised, where it had scraped on the edges of the hole in the plank, as his foot went through the timber. “We’ll bandage it up when we get to camp,” said Tom, as he used an extra handkerchief on the worst cut of his chum’s leg. “Do you feel able to go on to the mill, or shall we turn back, Jack?” “Go on, of course,” declared the injured one. “I’m not going to let a little thing like a game leg stand between me and a treasure hunt. Lead on, captain!” “That’s the talk!” exclaimed Bert. “You’ll get the best of the pirates’ hoard yet.” “Now go a bit easy,” cautioned Tom. “It may be that Old Wallace is around somewhere, and, as this is his property, he’d be justified in making a row if he found us here. So go a bit slow until we size up the situation.” They were on the lower side of the mill now, the side nearest the river. The ancient structure consisted of three stories. The lower one was a sort of basement, on a level with the lower ground, where it was evident that wagons had driven in to receive their loads of grain. Here too, was some of the old machinery of the mill, the levers that controlled the water gate and other things, but now all rotted and fallen into decay. “Say, this would be the place where the treasure would be buried, if anywhere,” declared Jack. “I don’t think so,” spoke Tom. “It’s too conspicuous.” “That’s just it,” argued Jack. “The more conspicuous a thing is, the harder it is to find it, sometimes. Nothing is more difficult to pick up, sometimes, than something right under your nose, as the saying is.” “That’s right,” agreed Bert. “Did you ever play the geography game?” “No. What is it?” asked Tom.