"Did you hunt for the tree?" Harry asked him.

  Brent said, "No, because we weren't sure of there being any tree; andyou weren't either. We came up the track hunting for signs of a derailedtrain, and we found them. It was as easy as pie."

  "Some pie isn't so easy," Willie Wide-Awake said.

  Brent said, "Alas, 'tis true!" in that funny way he has. I guess littleBill had had some experience, hey?

  "Now come back to the tent and I'll show you something else," Brentsaid; "we found it in the bushes when we were collecting firewood. Howabout you? Are you game for camp-fire to-night?"

  "You bet we are," I said; "I'd rather have a camp-fire any day than anauto trip."

  "You mean any _night_," Skinny spoke up.

  "Isn't he getting just too clever for anything!" Grove said.

  We went back to the tent under that great big tree, and Brent got out anold bar of iron with a flat end. It was all rusty and the rust had eateninto it so that Brent just pulled it against his knee and bent it. Hesaid, "That's what they did the trick with. Seems funny, doesn't it, tofind that after all these years?"

  "You bet it does," I said.

  "Wonder just what happened here, hey?" he said.

  We all sat down around outside the tent and it was awful nice there. Itwas just beginning to get dark. That gold colored place up at the pointof the tree was kind of turned to brown. It was awful quiet all around.It was so still that I could hear something fall out of the tree and hitthe ground. When I picked it up, I found it was just an acorn. I guessmaybe it belonged to that squirrel.

  "I like it under here," Skinny said; "I like it better than being in ahouse."

  Harry took out the big envelope that had those secret papers (that'swhat Pee-wee called them) in it; and he just kind of glanced them over.He read the newspaper articles and Brent listened. Then he said, "Let'ssee--oh, this is about the tree. We called it the Dahadinee poplar,because that's what old what's-his-name called it. I can hardly see,it's getting dark so fast ... 'trunk diameter of five or six feet ...irregular, pyramidal open top ... as moved by the wind ... makes ahandsome object....' Some old tree, huh?"

  "It's a peach of a tree," Brent said.

  Then for a little while none of us said anything. Gee, I don't know whatwe were all thinking about. Brent just held that old piece of bent,rusty iron, and kept marking in the ground with it. I know _I_ wasthinking about how funny it was, that away back years and years ago arobber should bury two bags of gold that had some seeds in them, andthat a great big tree like this should grow up over the very place, justlike we thought. A big tree that didn't belong there--that belonged awayup in the north. I guess I must have been sort of dreaming, because allof a sudden, I knew Harry was reading from that old letter that Pee-weehad found in the car. They were all listening, while he skimmed over it.

  "'So ... have lost all I have by this outrage of scoundrels ... but Ipaid him in good measure ... Watertown to care for dying ... say I amrough diamond but human life sacred even more than gold.... So I willcome back to you and home with no riches for all this work but muchlove which no scoundrel can steal. The best reason I would pay thisscoundrel ... in one of these bags ... for you to plant ... nuthing butan adventure. I think more about how we can't have our bench under ourDahadinee poplar ... with much love ... Thor.'

  "Pretty good letter, hey?" Harry said. "Who do you suppose he was?"

  Brent just shook his head. Then he said, "He was a rough and ready oldscout with a heart as big as a ham. When it came to a showdown, he caredmore about a tree for he and his precious Ann to sit under, than he didfor a couple of bags of gold dust. He was _one lollapazuzza_!"

  Harry just said, "_When it came to a showdown._"

  "Probably on his way back from the Klondike, hey?" Brent said. "Lots ofthem came down across Canada. Maybe he and Ann lived up along theDahadinee River when they were kids."

  "No telling," Harry said.

  Then nobody said anything, except Grove said we had better be startingour fire.

  "And he was bringing these seeds home to her," Harry said, very quiet,"so they would grow up and they could have some kind of a tree at home----Oh, I think he was just _splendid_!"

  I knew he was just imitating Grace Bronson.

  All of a sudden he jumped up and said, "Let's have one of those shovels.Pee-wee, and I'll make a dig--just for a tryout. Then we'll get down tobusiness in the morning."

  Pee-wee got up kind of slow and got a shovel out of the tent and handedit to Harry.

  "Of course, we'll have to chop the whole business down to-morrow," Harrysaid, "and dig in around the roots."

  "The gold dust will be pretty well mixed up with the earth right plunkunder the tree. It'll be pretty hard to get at. But there are plenty ofus to do the work and we're all scouts--except me. We're not afraid ofwork. We've got a wireless outfit to get, and a bicycle painted green.Are you all game for a hard day's work to-morrow?"

  Brent was sitting there on the ground with his knees drawn up and hejust said, "We're all scouts when it comes to a showdown."

  "Righto," Harry said; "_when it comes to a showdown_."

  CHAPTER XXXV--IT COMES TO A SHOWDOWN

  Maybe you'll say we were all crazy, but _I_ should worry. Anyway, I'mgoing to tell you everything, just the way it happened.

  While the rest of us were starting our camp-fire, Harry was digging upspades full of earth as close to the trunk of the tree as he could getthe spade. Each time he would spread the earth out on the spade andexamine it very carefully by the light of the fire.

  "You're a swell lot of treasure hunters," he said; "leaving all the workto me."

  "Wait till we get the fire burning up and we'll give you a hand," Brentsaid.

  "That's the best kind of gold," little Bill spoke up; "that yellowflame."

  "It turns everything to gold all of a sudden," even Pee-wee said; "lookat the trunk of the tree."

  "Some bunch of treasure hunters!" Harry said. "Pee-wee, I'm surprised at_you_. Where are your pan and your rolling-pin and your burlap bags? Ithought you were Captain Kidd, Junior."

  "It's time enough in the morning, isn't it?" the kid said. "Then we'llget to work in earnest. We have to get our fire started, don't we?"

  "Oh, sure," Harry said.

  "We belong to the Union," Brent said, "and we don't shovel dirt afterthree in the afternoon. We believe in the two hour day. Don't botherus."

  Pretty soon the fire was burning up, and it made the tree allbright--kind of flickery, like. We could look away into the darkwoods--they were awful black. But right near us it was bright, just likegold. There was an owl hooting some-where--maybe he was up in that tree.

  We all sat down around the fire to rest a minute. Harry pulled a logover close to the big trunk of the tree and out of the heat of the fireand sat down on it, and leaned back against the trunk. He said, "I guessI'll have my bench under the Dahadinee poplar. Look here, you fellows."

  He held out his hand and in the middle of the palm was just a littleyellow dust.

  IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS PALM WAS A LITTLE YELLOW DUST.]

  "_It's gold!_" Pee-wee shouted.

  Brent said, "Yellow gold, by gum!"

  We all just stood around him, looking at it; gee whiz, I just couldn'ttake my eyes off it.

  "There's a clincher for you," Harry said; "the treasure is here allright. All we have to use is some elbow grease to get it. You see we'llhave to chop her down first, because if we go to undermining her, shemay fall. Then all we'll have to do is to dig around among the upperroots, and keep our eyes open, and scrape up the dust. We won't getanywhere near as much as was here, but we'll get enough to buy somewireless outfits and bicycles and things,--or I'm mistaken. Of course,the bags must have rotted away years ago. Put some wood on the fire,Grove."

  "It shows how much those seeds wanted to live to push right up throughthose bags," Pee-wee said.

  Harry said, "I declare! Listen to Pirate Harris!"

  "You think you're s
mart, don't you?" Pee-wee said. It was awful funny.

  "Oh, sure, they wanted to live all right," Harry said; "a lot they caredabout gold. A scout is a friend to gold----"

  "He's a friend to everything that lives," little Alf spoke up.

  Brent Gaylong went over and put some wood on the fire and the blazejumped up, and everything around there was all flickered up and bright.Then he lay down on his back and put one knee up over the other andlooked up into the sky. That's always the way he does when he's aroundcamp-fire.

  After about a minute he said, "Scouts, I have an idea. This trip is afailure--it's commonplace. We've been trying to get some originality andpep into our travels and we haven't succeeded. We planned an escape fromjail and it fell through. We weren't even sent to jail; I'm ashamed toadmit it, but it's the truth. You fellows were on the point of beingsent to jail and then, just when everything was going nicely and youseemed likely to have an adventure, along came some old judge and putone over on you--gave you a check for five hundred bucks. It'sdiscouraging."

  Harry said, "I know it,"--awful funny.

  Then Brent said, "Every story I ever read about going after buriedtreasure, the men who went after it found it. I was in hopes our littlestory might have a different ending--just for the sake or originality.But nothing doing; it seems we're going to go home loaded down withgold."

  "I know it," Harry said; "I'm sorry. I kind of like this bench under theDahadinee poplar; it makes me think of old Thor or whatever his namewas, and Ann."

  For about a minute nobody said anything; we just sprawled aroundwatching the fire. The big tree stood there, you know, kind of dignifiedand solemn like.

  "What time shall we start chopping and digging?" Brent asked.

  But nobody said anything. Then, good night, Pee-wee Harris, CaptainKidd, Jr., spoke up.

  "What's the good of gold, anyway?" he said. "We had a lot of fun, didn'twe?"

  "How about the rolling-pin and the burlap bags and the pickaxe and theshovels?" Harry said.

  "We had a lot of fun, didn't we?" Pee-wee shouted at him. "Alf isright."

  "Right?" Harry said.

  "Yes, _right_; that's what I said," the kid yelled: "a scout cares abouteverything that lives. If you were a scout, you'd know that."

  "I?" Harry said.

  "Yes, you," Pee-wee shouted; "I'm not going to help chop down this bigtree just to get some gold dust. If you think we're a gold dust troop,you're mistaken! We're _scouts_, that's what we are!"

  "Goodness me," Harry said; "you seem to be on the side of the girls now.You and Ann and Grace Bronson----"

  "Girls are all right," Pee-wee shouted; "I know all about girls; I knowmore about them than you do!"

  "I don't claim to know anything about them," Harry said; "and I don'tclaim to know anything about the scouts, either. I think they're allcrazy."

  "I don't mind being called crazy," Grove said.

  Harry said, "So, you're with him, hey?"

  "Yes, and I'm with him, too," I said.

  "So am I," Skinny shouted.

  "If it rained this tree would keep us dry," one of Brent's patrol spokeup.

  "I like trees best," little Willie Wide-Awake piped up.

  "It seems there's a mutiny," Harry said.

  Brent said, "That was more than I dared to hope for. I've always longedto be mixed up in a mutiny. I'll be the leader of this one."

  "Well," Harry said, "all I know is, that we formed this party to come uphere after buried treasure, and that we came equipped with rolling-pinsand saucepans and pickaxes, and now it seems we're talking about trees.You're a queer lot, you scouts."

  I said, "Yes, and you feel just the same as we do, too. You try to makeme think you don't agree with Grace Bronson."

  Harry and Brent just looked at each other and laughed.

  Then Harry said, "Well, girls and scouts, they're a mystery to me. I'mhere for business, but, of course, if there's a mutiny----"

  "Let's take a vote," Grove said.

  "All right," Pee-wee shouted; "I vote to leave this tree where it is. Wehad plenty of fun."

  "I vote to have some eats," I said.

  "Second the motion," one of Brent's scouts spoke up. Believe me, a scoutis a friend of eats.

  "You won't get me to help chop it down," Grove said.

  "I'll stick up for you," Willie Wide-Awake sang out.

  "I seem to have a large minority," Harry said; "how about you, Brent?"

  Brent said, "Oh, I vote for the original ending. I'm a friend toeverything that's different. I say, let's not find the treasure--let'sbeat the story books at their own game. If Roy ever writes up all thisnonsense, why the readers will think that we're all going to end upmillionaires."

  "They'll get left," Pee-wee said; "we're just plain scouts. It--it cameto a showdown."

  Harry said, "Well, it seems as if the old Dahadinee poplar wins. I thinkI'll leave this bench right here underneath it, in memory of Thor andAnn."

  "And Grace Bronson," I said.

  "Put some more sticks on the fire, Roy, and we'll take a full vote,"Harry said, all the while smiling. I always kid him about Grace Bronsonwhenever I get a chance.

  "Think she'll be satisfied?" Harry said.

  Just as I was putting some more sticks on the fire I happened to look upwhere the trunk of the big tree was all kind of gold color, on accountof the camp-fire blaze. That's the kind of gold that scouts like best.And right there in the light, about half way down the trunk was thatsquirrel, standing upside-down, and cocking his head sideways at HarryDonnelle, just as if he were waiting to find out how we decided.

  THE END

  _This Isn't All!_

  Would you like to know what became of the good friends you have made in this book? Would you like to read other stories continuing their adventures and experiences, or other books quite as entertaining by the same author?

  On the _reverse side_ of the wrapper which comes with this book, you will find a wonderful list of stories which you can buy at the same store where you got this book.

  _Don't throw away the Wrapper_

  _Use it as a handy catalog of the books you want some day to have. But in case you do mislay it, write to the Publishers for a complete catalog_.

  THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS

  By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH

  Author of "Tom Slade," "Pee-wee Harris," "Westy Martin," Etc.

  Illustrated. Picture Wrappers in Color.

  Every Volume Complete in Itself.

  In the character and adventures of Roy Blakeley are typified the veryessence of Boy life. He is a real boy, as real as Huck Finn and TomSawyer. He is the moving spirit of the troop of Scouts of which he is amember, and the average boy has to go only a little way in the firstbook before Roy is the best friend he ever had, and he is willing topart with his best treasure to get the next book in the series.

  ROY BLAKELEY ROY BLAKELEY'S ADVENTURES IN CAMP ROY BLAKELEY, PATHFINDER ROY BLAKELEY'S CAMP ON WHEELS ROY BLAKELEY'S SILVER FOX PATROL ROY BLAKELEY'S MOTOR CARAVAN ROY BLAKELEY LOST, STRAYED OR STOLEN ROY BLAKELEY'S BEE-LINE HIKE ROY BLAKELEY AT THE HAUNTED CAMP ROY BLAKELEY'S FUNNY BONE HIKE ROY BLAKELEY'S TANGLED TRAIL ROY BLAKELEY ON THE MOHAWK TRAIL ROY BLAKELEY'S ELASTIC HIKE ROY BLAKELEY'S ROUNDABOUT HIKE ROY BLAKELEY'S HAPPY-GO-LUCKY HIKE ROY BLAKELEY'S GO-AS-YOU PLEASE HIKE

  GROSSET & DUNLAP, _Publishers_, NEW YORK

  THE PEE-WEE HARRIS BOOKS

  By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH

  Author of "Tom Slade," "Pee-wee Harris," "Westy Martin," Etc.

 
Illustrated. Picture Wrappers in Color.

  Every Volume Complete in Itself.

  All readers of the Tom Slade and the Roy Blakeley books are acquaintedwith Pee-wee Harris, These stories record the true facts concerning hissize (what there is of it) and his heroism (such as it is), his voice,his clothes, his appetite, his friends, his enemies, his victims.Together with the thrilling narrative of how he foiled, baffled,circumvented and triumphed over everything and everybody (except wherehe failed) and how even when he failed he succeeded. The whole recordedin a series of screams and told with neither muffler nor cut-out.

  PEE-WEE HARRIS PEE-WEE HARRIS ON THE TRAIL PEE-WEE HARRIS IN CAMP PEE-WEE HARRIS IN LUCK PEE-WEE HARRIS ADRIFT PEE-WEE HARRIS F. O. B. BRIDGEBORO PEE-WEE HARRIS FIXER PEE-WEE HARRIS: AS GOOD AS HIS WORD PEE-WEE HARRIS: MAYOR FOR A DAY PEE-WEE HARRIS AND THE SUNKEN TREASURE PEE-WEE HARRIS ON THE BRINY DEEP PEE-WEE HARRIS IN DARKEST AFRICA

  GROSSET & DUNLAP, _Publishers_, NEW YORK

  THE TOM SLADE BOOKS

  By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH

  Author of "Tom Slade," "Pee-wee Harris," "Westy Martin," Etc.