away from the sloop, peered and chuckled. "Get yourself a tin whistle," laughed Cliff, and even Tom had to chuckle at his own tremulous muscles. It seemed as though the dinghy was away a long time; the queer light shone for a while but suddenly vanished. After a wait there came a hail. "What do you think we found?" called Nicky, excitedly. Tom couldn't guess. When they all assembled and the riding lantern was hauled down to show their discovery better, Tom gasped. "Right where the light had been, we found this!" stated Nicky, showing a rusted, broken, and almost completely disintegrated old can, such as vegetables are preserved in. From it he drew an old, torn slip of some sort of thin leather or parchment. Time seemed to have eaten into it, or else the washing of the water had rotted it. Nevertheless, faint, distinguishable marks were on it. "Why, it's a message or something!" exclaimed Tom. "Dat's what the light was for," said Sam, his teeth chattering. "It marked where the can was, sars." "Well, it did us a good turn," Nicky stated joyfully. "Read it, will you, Mr. Neale?" Their captain put the parchment very close to the light. They almost held their breath, waiting in a thrill of eagerness. "I declare!" he cried, "it looks as old as the can—and yet—and yet—this is a message to us!" "It is?" shouted Nicky. "Listen!" He bent closer, holding the dim lettering almost against the lantern globe. "This is what it says. 'Treasure—found—long ago. Dig under the tallest of three trees on Crocodile Key in Card Bay for more!" "Hooray!" Nicky exulted, "one treasure gone and another to be found!" "Where did it come from?" Cliff asked. "I know how we found it, but I mean, how did it get there?" "Maybe it was left here for some buccaneers who knew about the other treasure," Tom hazarded a guess. "I know the answer," Nicky cried, "this isn't meant for us. There may have been a treasure hidden on that key; somebody got it and either took it where this says, or else knew of another one and left this word for the ones who would come for the original one." "But—the light!—" began Tom. "Well," laughed Nicky, "if ghosts want to be as friendly as to light a beacon, I'm their friend! Thank you, ghosties!" "Sh-h-h!" whispered Sam. "Please, sar—don't!" "But they did us a favor," said Nicky. "They gave us a much better 'lead' than the one we had. I say it again." He faced the little key and cupping his hands, sent out a hail. "Ghosties—thank you!" Even Nicky was electrified in the next instant. From somewhere—they could not say where—came a sepulchral, gurgling answer. "You—welcome!" CHAPTER VIII CROCODILE KEY Like a jackrabbit, Sam, in two moves, dived into the cabin. His first jump took him from the deck to the cockpit; his body hardly landed, facing astern,
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