Losing no time, Rowdy dashed for his favorite
position at the end of the rope.
Seizing the line in his strong teeth he settled back on his haunches and
pulled and growled in an ecstasy of glee. His aid was of no small
measure. A great mass of active muscle, he lent much to the effort that
was being applied to the line.
"Hurrah," cried Tom scarcely above a whisper. "It's coming. Just a
little more now and we'll have it. Pull, boys, pull."
The lads needed no urging. Every one was doing his best. And they were
rewarded by seeing the end of the chest appear above the rim of the pit.
It slid over the mound of sand and settled on a firm spot. Rowdy capered
and leaped among the boys who had flung themselves prostrate on the
sand. His joy was unlimited.
"Let's get at it, boys," cried Tom. "Bring me an axe and I'll knock it
open. I'm the original safe cracker."
"What if we put it into the boat and take it aboard the Fortuna before
we meddle with it," suggested Jack. "We can't get anything more out of
the pit tonight and I feel like getting away from this place. It seems
as if I can feel the ghosts of all the departed Spanish and Indians and
others who passed away at this spot during the last seven hundred years.
I move we go back."
"Second the motion. It's carried," cried Tom. "Back we go."
The boys lost no time in securing their own skiff and felt no
compunction against using the boat brought by Wyckoff and Lopez.
Into the larger of these the chest was loaded.
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