The sound vibrated to Wolfert's heart. He struck his spade
again.
"'Tis a chest," said Sam.
"Full of gold, I'll warrant it!" cried Wolfert, clasping his hands with
rapture.
Scarcely had he uttered the words when a sound from overhead caught his
ear. He cast up his eyes, and lo! by the expiring light of the fire he
beheld, just over the disk of the rock, what appeared to be the grim
visage of the drowned buccaneer, grinning hideously down upon him.
Wolfert gave a loud cry and let fall the lanthorn. His panic
communicated itself to his companions. The negro leaped out of the
hole, the doctor dropped his book and basket and began to pray in
German. All was horror and confusion. The fire was scattered about, the
lanthorn extinguished. In their hurry-skurry they ran against and
confounded one another. They fancied a legion of hobgoblins let loose
upon them, and that they saw by the fitful gleams of the scattered
embers, strange figures in red caps gibbering and ramping around them.
The doctor ran one way, Mud Sam another, and Wolfert made for the water
side. As he plunged struggling onwards through bush and brake, he heard
the tread of some one in pursuit.
