“What do you say to his filling that pit with oaken chests, crammed full of gold and silver ingots, and gold candlesticks, plundered from Catholic churches, and precious stones, such as diamonds, rubies, and emeralds--beyond all counting?” “Gold! silver! precious stones!” repeated Bart, who was so overcome by this astounding information, that he could only utter these words. “What do you say to his taking the prisoners that had dug his hole, and filled it, and killing them all, to keep his secret?” “Killing his prisoners!” “What do you say,” continued the landlord, enjoying with keenest relish the evident excitement of Bart,--“what do you say to his contriving the most extraordinary plans ever heard of to prevent anybody ever getting at that treasure,--by making the hole, in the first place, far down under the level of the sea,--by building a drain, so as to let in the sea water; and then, after killing the prisoners, filling up the hole to the very top? What do you say to all that?”. “Why, I never heard of this in all my life! How do you know it? Tell me, now. Tell me all about it. Where is the place? Is it here--in this bay?” “Of course it is. I’ve said as much,” replied the landlord. “But you didn’t mention it this morning.” “No, because you only wanted to hear about fine scenery. This place isn’t particularly remarkable for that. It’s a little island, not more than three miles from here, up that way to the right. It’s called Oak Island, because Captain Kidd planted it with acorns, so as to know it when he came back. Well, since his day, the acorns have grown to be oaks--some of them pretty big--though being near the sea, they haven’t grown so big as they would have done if they had been planted farther inland.” “Oak Island!” repeated Bart, in a tone which expressed the most profound interest,--“Oak Island!” “That’s the place,” said the landlord. “I wonder you ain’t heard of Oak Island before.” “Never,” said Bart; “that is, I’ve heard the name mentioned; but never knew that Captain Kidd had anything to do with it.” “That’s just what he had,” said the landlord. “Everybody in these parts can tell you all about it. People have been full of it ever since Chester was settled. I’ve heard it all my life.” “But if there’s money there, why don’t they get it?” asked Bart. “Because they can’t!” “Can’t?” “No, can’t. Captain Kidd knowed what he was about, and he made his arrangements so that, from that day to this, nobody’s ever been able to get down to the bottom of that money-hole, and, in my humble opinion, never will.” “Why not? I don’t understand.” “Well,” said the landlord, “it’s a long story; but as I’ve got nothing to do just now, I don’t mind telling you about it.” So saying, the landlord settled himself into an easy, lounging attitude, and began the story of Oak Island. VII.