“We didn’t hurt him,” Nicky said defiantly. “He was—” and he told her how the boy had acted. “We wanted to know why he did it,” he ended.

The woman scowled at them.

“You know very quick,” she said in her shrill, cracked tones. “You go away or sun make you very sick in the head!”

“Ho!” cried Nicky, “will it? Who says so?”

“Sh-h-h!” Tom nudged him. “Don’t you remember what Cliff’s father told us about Voodoo on these islands?”

“Yes, I do,” Nicky answered under his breath. “But I’m not afraid! Why does she want us to go away? What is there in this field that she doesn’t want us to see?”

“It’s Voodoo, I tell you!” Tom urged. “These old Voodoo witches can enchant people.”

“Do you really believe that?” demanded Nicky. The old woman was fumbling and tugging at an old bag, dirty and of some queer animal or reptile skin, as he spoke.

“Well—” Tom hesitated, “I know they say it’s only the effect on ignorant minds that makes Voodoo hurt people.”

“Well, it can’t hurt me!” declared Nicky, “And, as I say—why would she want to ‘voodoo’ us—white fellows and strangers?”

“I think Nicky’s right,” Cliff declared. “She must have some reason.”

“Listen,” whispered Nicky, excitedly, “one of you run and bring Mr. Gray or the other man—Mr. Neale. Let’s get to the bottom of this. I’ll give you any odds you like that she is trying to drive us away because something’s hidden in this field—maybe—maybe——”

“Treasure!” gasped Cliff and ran like a deer for the older members of their party. Treasure!

CHAPTER II

ONE HALF OF A CIPHER

That the old crone was very much “worked up” was easily to be seen. Tom and Nicky, watching uneasily, saw her fumble in her old bag and draw out with her bony fingers three queer objects. These were small figures, made rudely of clay or mud. Tom and Nicky started and stared at them. They were made in the shape of small human figures, with heads a little larger than peas, and with dented places to mark out the arms and legs.

“What do you think those things are?” Tom whispered. “I don’t like this. Remember what Mr. Neale 

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