Dig Here!

  XVIII

  Dig Here!

  WE tried to sew carpet rags that afternoon but it was rather a farce.So much had happened that morning that it seemed impossible to settledown to anything so prosaic. We kept talking of Michael and his awfulpredicament, and racking our brains to think of some way of helpinghim. Eve was inclined to blame Hamish for his part in the affair, fornot coming forward when he saw Michael being taken into custody andvouching for his identity. But I pointed out that Hamish himself wouldhave had some explaining to do and would probably have only madematters worse by trying to account for Michael's presence in the house.

  We had of course told Aunt Cal the whole story but, though she had beenrather decent about the dandelion wine, she had not displayed very muchsympathy either for Michael or Hamish. Her attitude was that they hadgot no more than they deserved for meddling in things that didn'tconcern them. I felt that Aunt Cal was being rather unjust for afterall Michael had only been seeking to aid the cause of justice.

  Beyond the hedge I caught sight of Captain Trout's bald head gleamingin the sun. He waved a pruning knife at us and I said, "Let's go overand tell him about Michael. Perhaps he'll be able to think of somethingto do."

  The Captain greeted us cordially and invited us to take seats on hisback porch. "We thought you ought to know," Eve said, "about thetrouble that Michael is in."

  "Michael in trouble?" The Captain's astonishment was evident. "Dear me!Bless my boots! The finest boy in the world!"

  This was comforting to hear at least. The Captain listened as we gavehim an outline of the story. "Bless my boots!" he exclaimed again whenwe had finished. "Why those police are asses! What do they mean notbelieving the boy's story--don't they know he's a Gilpatrick?"

  "They don't seem to consider it important," I said. "And Michaeldeclares he won't go to his family for help."

  The Captain nodded understandingly. "That's like him," he said. "Hismother would be upset and his grandfather, too, I expect. A grandson ofJason Gilpatrick accused of stealing--why it's absurd!"

  "Isn't Michael's father living?" I asked.

  Captain Trout shook his head. "Killed in the war," he said shortly. Heseemed to be thinking deeply. "Well," he said at last, "I'll have tosee what can be done--I'll have to tell those guardians of the law athing or two!"

  Well at least we had done what we could for Michael; though, as wetalked it over, we wondered if the Captain's sputtering protestationswould really have any effect in a court of law. What Michael needed wasproof and that, alas, he didn't have.

  At last I flung down the blue calico strip I was sewing to another ofblack and white check. "I hate the very sight of these miserable rags!"I exclaimed. "Let's go somewhere and do something quick before I chuckthem all in the brook!"

  Eve laughed. "We might go down to the Inn and inquire about Hamish,"she suggested. "After his frightful experience he may be in a state ofcollapse."

  We found Hattie May on the veranda at Wildwood Lodge, waiting, she toldus, for Hamish to come out of the barber shop of the hotel next door."I sent him to get a shampoo," she said, "his hair was such a mess."

  "How is he feeling?" I inquired. "Fully recovered, I hope."

  "Oh, yes, he's all right--physically, that is!"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, I just mean that he's still acting kind of preoccupied."

  "It's the shock," Eve said. "Really you can't be surprised."

  Hattie May shook her head. "There's something he wants to do," shesaid, "but he won't tell me what it is. But he's determined to go backto that terrible place again right away!"

  "What! Go back to Craven House? Gracious, I should think he'd neverwant to see the place again!"

  "I know. But he insists there's something he's got to see about. Hesays he was so hungry this morning that he couldn't attend to it.That's why I'm watching the door of the hotel, to be sure he doesn'tget away again without me!"

  We sat down to wait. And it was not long before we saw the figure ofHamish emerge from the hotel. He cast a furtive glance in the directionof the Lodge and then, in response to his sister's frantic summons,came slowly down the steps toward us. "What kept you so long?" HattieMay inquired sharply.

  "Oh, I thought I'd have the whole works while I was about it," he said."Turkish bath, shampoo, oil treatment, face steamin' and manicure!"

  "Heavens, no wonder you look like a boiled rabbit!"

  Hamish took out his watch. "Well, I got to be gettin' along," he saidwith an attempt at casualness. "So long, I'll be seein' you."

  As her brother's form disappeared around the corner of the building,Hattie May got up. "Come on," she whispered, and tiptoed down thesteps. In single file we passed around the veranda and, keeping wellunder cover of the various barns and garages in the rear, camepresently to the main road, just across which are the row of tingarages in one of which Hamish kept his car. He was just unlocking thedoor when he looked around and saw us. "What's the big idea?" heinquired ungraciously.

  "The idea," answered his sister, "is that we're going along. You don'tthink for a minute that I'm going to let you go out to that place aloneagain?"

  Hamish's answer was unintelligible and he was still muttering tohimself as he got into his seat. However he waited, though unwillingly,while the rest of us disposed ourselves--his sister beside him, Eve andI in the rumble. For my own part, I had little desire to take part inthe expedition. If Hamish hadn't had enough of Craven House, I had.Besides I wondered what Aunt Cal was going to think of more "meddling"on our part.

  Hamish maintained an injured silence during the greater part of thedrive. And to my inquiry as to whether he had heard anything more fromMichael, he shook his head and replied shortly, "Been sleepin'."

  The day was hot and as we left the freshness of the sea behind, theheat increased by the minute. So we came again within the shadow of theold house. The sweetness of the honeysuckle was almost overpowering. Ifelt a sudden aversion to the place. All its air of romantic mysteryhad departed. I hated it because it had given shelter to that villainand ensnared Michael and yes, because it had brought disappointment anddisillusion to Aunt Cal. "I think I'll just wait in the car," I said.

  "Oh, Sandy, what for?" Eve cried. And Hattie May added, "Haven't gotcold feet have you?"

  This of course was too absurd to answer. Nevertheless it compelled meto get reluctantly out of the car and follow the others over the wall.Hamish was in the lead but with Hattie May panting closely at hisheels. He vouchsafed no explanation as to where he was headed or whathis purpose was. And for my own part I didn't care much. I was sick ofthe whole subject of buried treasure and wished heartily at that momentthat we had never opened Mr. Bangs' smelly old suitcase. It had beenjust like Pandora's box, I reflected bitterly, for nothing but troublehad come out of it.

  But if it was treasure that Hamish was intent upon, at least he wasseeking it in a new spot. For he passed rapidly through the garden andplunged into the underbrush beyond. "Well," I said determinedly, "I'mnot going to get myself all scratched and bitten up again. I'll waithere by the fountain and if any of you fall down any wells, don'texpect me to do anything about it."

  "All right," said Hattie May. "But I've got to keep Hamish in sight."And Eve added, "I guess I'd better go along to look after Hattie May."

  So they left me and I heard their voices die away in the distance. Itook out my handkerchief and mopped my hot face. I wished that thefountain were playing so that I could have stuck my head into itscooling spray. By and by I heard the others returning. Hattie May'svoice was high-pitched and excited but that was nothing unusual.

  Hamish was in the lead, he was carrying something under one arm. Ilooked at Eve and saw that she too was excited. "Well I see you're allhere," I remarked.

  Hamish walked to the bowl of the fountain and set down the thing he wascarrying. "What is it?" I asked. And then, "Why, it's a statue! Wheredid you get it?"

  "Hamish's
found it!" Hattie May cried. "He's found the Circe!"

  "The Circe!" In truth I had almost forgotten about the missing statue."Why--where in the world----?"

  "It was at the bottom of that awful well!" Hattie May cried.

  "I brought it up with me when they hauled me up this morning," Hamishexplained, taking off his glasses to wipe them. "I guess you were alltoo excited to notice it. It was pretty heavy so I just dropped it inthe grass and left it. Bein' without my spectacles, I couldn't be surewhat it was. You see when Hattie May dropped that bottle down it hit ona stone and broke to smithereens. This was the stone, that's how Ihappened to find it."

  Hattie May threw me a triumphant look. "Don't you think it's the Circe,Sandy?" Eve asked. "You see the arms are broken off but one of them islifted just as if it might have been holding a wand."

  It was true. The little figure was smaller than the other one in thegarden and it was so blackened by age that the features were hardlydiscernible. But there was no doubt that it was a woman's figure andthat one arm had been upraised. In spite of myself, I felt a queershivery thrill as I gazed at it. "But where did it come from?" Idemanded eagerly. "Where did it stand?"

  "That," said Eve, "is just what we've got to find out. There simplymust be a pedestal somewhere that we've overlooked. It certainly wasnever set up down by that old well, nobody would put a statue in avacant lot."

  "And when we find where she stood," put in Hamish, "then we'll knowwhere to dig!"

  Almost with one accord we all got up again and set out on another tourof the garden. We had already raked it pretty thoroughly but this timewe had something definite to urge us on. We had discovered theenchantress, there remained only to discover her resting place.

  Back and forth we wandered, poking at every tangle of bushes and clumpof thick grass, kicking at every fallen tree branch. In his zeal,Hamish even began turning up the slabs of stone which had once formed awalk as if he expected to find some clue tucked away with the horridwhite crawly things underneath.

  Discouraged at last, I came back to the fountain. After all, I toldmyself, I didn't really believe in the buried treasure. Michael didn't,I knew, and I was pretty sure he was right. Still I did wish we couldfind where the statue had stood just--well just for the satisfaction ofknowing. But though Hamish and the others were still plunging madlyabout, the search seemed as hopeless as it had from the first. Indeedthe discovery of the statue had really helped matters little.

  Where would one put a Circe, I wondered? A small, graceful figure likethat? On a pedestal of course--but where? Somewhere where she would notbe overlooked, I thought--some conspicuous place----

  And then, in a flash of inspiration, my eyes turned to the center ofthe fountain. In imagination I saw her there--lithe, poised, with armupraised! And from that vanished wand, I was suddenly sure, had comethe jets of water which had played in the sunshine of those bygonesummers!

  "Eve! Hamish!" I cried excitedly. Picking up the statue, I steppedacross the leaf-filled bowl. I reached up and set it there in themiddle. "Look!" I shouted, "It fits--fits perfectly!"

  "It sure does!" I swung around to see Michael Gilpatrick advancingtoward me. In our absorption none of us had heard the approach of hiswagon. In a minute the others came running at the sound of my excitedsummons.

  "Oh, Sandy," Eve cried, "how clever of you! How did you happen to thinkof it?"

  "My aunt!" There was a grudging admiration in Hamish's voice as hegazed at the upright figure. "It sure looks as if that was the placeall right. I was just thinkin' of having a look at the fountainmyself----"

  Eve gave him a scathing glance. "But look here!" cried Hattie May. "Ifthat's the right place where are we going to dig? We can't dig up thefountain!"

  "We won't have to, silly," said her brother. "It's thirteen and a halffeet south of it that we've got to measure." He pulled a tape line fromhis pocket as he spoke. "There's a shovel hidden under that lilac bushby the road," he said to Michael. "I brought it with me last night."

  "Preparedness is your motto!" laughed Michael. For the moment he seemedto have forgotten or thrown aside the trouble that was hanging over him.

  By the time he had brought the shovel, Hamish had located the spot tohis satisfaction. It turned out to be directly under a pink rosebushwhose bushes hung thickly to the ground. But Hamish was not to bedaunted by a few thorns.

  "I wonder how deep down it'll be!" breathed Hattie May as Hamish'sshovel began to scratch at the hard turf. "I'm glad you came along,Michael, in case it's very deep."

  "Michael doesn't believe there's anything there," I said.

  "Not any buried treasure? Well, I'd like to know what all thosemeasurements mean then and why?"

  Michael didn't answer. There was a whimsical smile on his tanned faceas he stood watching Hamish clumsily manipulating the heavy shovel.After a few shovelsful of dirt had been piled in a heap on the grasswith little to show for the effort except the steadily mounting colorof Hamish's face and the steam on his glasses, Michael offered, "Likeme to take a hand?"

  And still with that whimsical smile Michael set to work. And now theearth began to fly to some effect and the hole, which before had seemedto fill up almost as fast as the earth came out, now began to growquite sizable. Hattie May stood at the very edge and watched eachshovelful as it came out. I thought, "She's going to be awfully letdown if we don't find anything."

  Five minutes went by--ten. Michael was breathing hard now, perspirationstreaming down his face. "Better let me take it now," Hamish said butthe other shook his head.

  Deeper and deeper. Finally Michael stopped to wipe his face. "If I wasgoing to bury a blue emerald," he remarked with a grin, "or even agreen one, I wouldn't bother to go much deeper than that!"

  Hamish knelt down and thrust one of his lately manicured hands deepinto the hole. "Feel anything?" his sister asked hopefully.

  He shook his head. "It's a washout," he said disgustedly. "I don'tbelieve there ever was any bally old treasure!"

  "Sure you got the measurements right?" Michael inquired with faintirony. The difference between his attitude and Hamish's was that Hamishwas in deadly earnest, while with Michael it was almost as if he wasplaying a game.

  So perhaps it was only fair that it should be Hamish who was wieldingthe shovel when it finally did strike something. We all heard theimpact. Hattie May screamed and began to jump up and down. Hamishdropped the shovel and dived, almost literally head first into thehole. "There goes his shampoo, too!" I thought.

  "There--there's something!" he gasped. "Some--something hard----!"

  I giggled, I couldn't help it. It was partly nervous excitement andpartly the sense which had been with me all along of the ridiculousnessof the whole proceeding. "That," I said, "will be the iron bound chestfull of doubloons and pieces of eight, no doubt!"

  No one paid any attention to me. Hamish was groping desperately withhis fingers. "I c-can't--seem--to--get hold----!" he panted.

  "Let me have a try?" Michael put in quietly. Reluctantly Hamish moved alittle and, kneeling down in his turn, Michael thrust one bare brownarm into the hole. A minute later he was holding up a small,dirt-encased object. As he shook off the clinging earth, we saw anoblong tin box like a tobacco tin. I stared dazedly at it--"Royal Plug"I read.

  Hamish seized the box from Michael's hand. He shook it. It rattled!Hattie May screamed again. "It's the emerald--the blue emerald!"

  Hamish was prying at the lid with fumbling awkward fingers. His sistersnatched at it impatiently. "It would take you a week to get that coveroff!" she cried.

  But the cover stuck obstinately. Michael took out his jackknife."Perhaps this will do it," he offered.

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