Evening star., 1911-08-20
MY BURIED TREASURE

| was choked with indignation. As
writer of fiction my self respect was lnsulted.
"If there are any more hes to be told,
whispered "please let me tell them. Your
invention is crude, ridiculousl Why, de-
rnanded, should anybody want to plant
hagpole on a wind swept beach in October?
It's not the season for fagpoles. Besides,
| ieered, "where is your fagpole? IS it con-
cealed in the suitcase?'
Edgar frowned uneasily, and touched the
boy on the shoulder. "The flagpole itself,
he explained, is coming down tomorrow
by express
The boy yawned and slapped his horse
with the reins. "Gat up he said.
We crossed the railroad tracks and moved
toward the ocean down broad sandy road.
The season had passed. and the windows of
the cottages and bungalows on each side OF
the road were barricaded with planks. On
the verandas hammocks abandoned to the
winds hung in tatters, on the back porches
the doors of empty refrigerators swung open
on one hinge, and on every side above the
fields of gorgeous goldenrod rose signs read
ing For Rent When we had gone on in
silence for a mile, the sandy avenue lost
itself in the deeper sand OF the beach, and
the horse of his own will came TO a halt.
On one side we were surrounded by locked
and deserted bathing houses, on the other
against the winter, but still inviting one to
TRY Our Salt Water Taffy' or to keep
Cool with an Ice Cream Soda Rupert
turned and looked inquiringly at Edgar.
Drive toward the inlet" directed Edgar.
This gentleman and | will walk.
Relieved of our weight, the horse stum-
bled bravely into the trackless sand, while
below on the damper and firrner shingle we
walked by the edge Of the water.
The tide was coming IN, and the spent
waves, spreading before them an advance
guard of tiny shells and pebbles, threatened
our boots, and at the same time in soothing,
law whispers warned us of their attack. At
last the scene began to bear some semblance
to one set for an adventure. The rolling
ocean, a coast steamer dragging a great
column of black smoke, and cast high upon
the beach the wreck of a schooner, her maStS
fitting drunkenly, gave color to our purpose.
1t became filled with greater promise OF
drama, more picturesque. At last Edgar
broke the silence that was torturlng me.
1--WE will walk higher up, he commanded.
"If we get our feet wet, we may take cold.
MY spirit was too far broken to make reply.
AvA But to my relief l saw that in leaving
the beach Edgar had some second purpose.
With each heavy step he was drawing toward
two high banks of sand in hollow behind
which, protected by the banks, were three
stunted twisted, wind driven pines. His
words came back to me. so many some
things from something are three what-you-
may-call- ems:?'
The thought chilled me to the spine.
gazed at them fascinated. | felt like falling
on my knees in the sand and tearing their
secret from them with my bare hands.
was strong enough to dig them up by the
roots, strong enough to dig the Panama
Canal l glanced tremulously at Edgar
His eyes were wide open and, eloquent with
disInay, his lower jaw had fallen. Apology
and remorse were written in every line of his
countenance.
I'm sorry he stammered.
| had cruel premonition. "4ou have
lost the map!7 Kissed.
NO, no. protested Edgar; "but | en-
tirely forgot to bring any lunch.
With violent mutterings tore off my up
per and outer garments and tossed them into
the hack. @Where do | begino7 | asked.
Edgar pointed to a spot inside the triangle
formed by the three trees.
Put that horse behind the bank, | COM
manded, "where no one can see him. And
both you and Rupert keep off the skyline!'
l began to dig. | knew that weary hours
Law before me, and | attacked the sand leis-
urelv and with deliberation. 1t was at first