guarded by ghosts there is a light hovering over the spot where it is buried!" "Well, that is great!" declared Nicky eagerly. "All we have to do then is to go there tomorrow and get the treasure!" Although neither Tom nor Sam fully agreed that there was nothing to menace their personal welfare, they retired with the others. Sam curled up, as usual, in the cockpit, and the three chums laid themselves on the roof of the cabin, on blankets, their air pillows inflated and under their heads. They did not discuss the matter of the light. It did not appear again and Nicky and Cliff dropped off to sleep. Tom, lying awake, battling with himself mentally, trying to make his common sense defeat his instinctive apprehension, started and almost thrust Cliff over the low rail with the violence of his motion. From somewhere about the hull of their sloop came three distinct taps! Rap! Rap! Rap! "What was that?" whispered Tom. Mr. Neale, seated near the tiller, half dozing, answered, as Cliff and Nicky stirred and came awake. "Probably drifting wood or possibly we are almost on a coral reef—or the anchor cable may have rubbed and made the noise. There is not a thing!——" "Look!" gasped Nicky—"Look! In the water! Light—bluish light, moving away." Everyone was fully awake and staring in every direction. Cliff located Nicky's indicating finger, followed the direction, saw a swirl of phosphorescence in the water. "Maybe a shark!" he declared, "a shark came up to investigate us, looking for food, I'll bet!" "That was it!" declared Mr. Neale. "Go back to sleep." "There's the light again!" Tom quavered. Even Cliff and Nicky felt chilling prickles run up and down their spines at Tom's tone. Sam looked and slumped down, hiding his face in the cockpit. "Hit's—hit's—ghos'es!" he shuddered, forgetting his educated diction in his terror. "Mr. Neale, let's go and see—" begged Nicky. "Let me go too?" urged Cliff, "Nicky went last time." "Wait till mornin'—please, sar, wait!" pleaded Sam. "Doan' leave us here for the ghos'es to git us, sar!" "Now—right now, we go!" stated Nicky. "We'll settle this thing once and for all. If you aren't strong enough to fight off a ghost, Sam, I'm sorry for you." He had the dinghy alongside. Cliff and Mr. Neale clambered in and held the rail of the sloop until Nicky slipped into the dinghy's bow. Tom, knowing the small boat had its full complement of passengers, and realizing that his own timidity had made him an enforced companion of a terrified Negro on the sloop, strove to drive away his fear. "Can you whistle, sar?" urged Sam. "Dey says whistlin' keeps off ghos'es!" "Then you try, too," ordered Tom. Both puckered their lips and essayed a shrill whistle. It came out each a quavery, hissing failure that the ones in the boat, pushing 

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