“And he isn’t running away from the police. Mr. Browning wouldn’t have that kind of a man aboard.”

“What then?” says I.

“Treasure,” says he, “buried treasure. Old Captain Kidd used to hang around these parts.”

“Piffle,” says I. “All the treasure’s been dug up long before this.”

“Bet it hasn’t,” says he. “Bet Mr. Topper’s got a map, and that black yacht is full of folks who know it, and they’re going to attack us and take it away from him.”

“You’ve been reading books,” says I. “Look, there’s New York back there. Over there is Connecticut. This is Long Island. You’re off your base.”

“All right,” says he, “you wait and see. Come on, they may suspect we’re talking about it.”

We walked forward, and just as I got to the bridge I heard Mr. Browning say, “Hush. Here come the kids. You’ll be scaring the lives out of them.”

Well we chugged along and Mr. Browning showed us how to keep the log and navigate by chart. He showed us how to set a course, and all day we were busy checking up lights and nuns and bell buoys and beacons and red and black stakes. It was a lot of fun, and Mr. Browning said if a fog was to come up, that would be how we would find our way. Every time we passed a mark we would put it down in the log with the exact hour and minute.

Along about five o’clock—we had crossed the sound diagonally and were running up the Connecticut shore just near enough so we could see how lively it was through the glasses—Mr. Browning says, “There we are. The Thimbles. It’s a hard place to get into. All rocks and reefs.” He slacked speed and headed for what looked like a solid cliff of rock, and on both sides we could see the water lapping on nasty ledges of rock. In a few minutes we swung into a channel of deep water, with high rocks lifting on either side, and on the rocks were summer cottages. And pretty soon we were right among the Thimbles, and could see dozens and dozens of little rock islands, all with cottages on them, and channels running every which way.

“This used to be a refuge for pirates, years and years ago,” said Mr. Browning. “They used to run in here and hide, and folks have dug up every inch of this place for buried treasure.”

“Ever find any?” says Catty.

“I 

 Prev. P 6/125 next