“Tail on here, my hearties,” cried Tom.  “Give us a hand.”

Almost instantly the others awoke to the situation and now every hand was grasping the line and all were pulling manfully.

Inch by inch they gained.  The chest was dragged slowly through the boiling sands to the pitside, where it was necessary to raise it to firmer ground.  The boys dared not go close to the edge for fear of starting the sand caving.  Their backs were straining under the burden.  Their hands were burning from their grasp on the line.

“Pull!” gasped Tom, throwing every ounce of his weight into the work.  “Pull,” he gasped again.

The games in which his comrades had indulged hardening their muscles were now becoming of benefit to them.  The tugs-of-war were showing their practical value.  No similar number of boys of equal weight could have exerted the power that this group did with their trained ability to pull all together and keep pulling all the time.

But even as they pulled and felt victory nearly within their grasp they realized that the sand was mightier than they.  Their strength could last but a little while, whereas that of the quicksand was constant.  The strain was telling on them.  It seemed as if only a few more pounds on the rope would swing the balance in their favor.  And that help was near.

Dashing from the clump of palmettos where he had remained, Rowdy came bounding over the intervening space.  His fear was now gone and when he saw the boys at the pit he seemed to overcome his terror that had been so apparent at the time of the explosion.

To his canine mind the boys were playing a game that he liked.  A tug of war was his pet diversion.  Losing no time, Rowdy dashed for his favorite position at the end of the rope.

Seizing the line in his strong teeth he settled back on his haunches and pulled and growled in an ecstasy of glee.  His aid was of no small measure.  A great mass of active muscle, he lent much to the effort that was being applied to the line.

“Hurrah,” cried Tom scarcely above a whisper.  “It’s coming.  Just a little more now and we’ll have it.  Pull, boys, pull.”

The lads needed no urging.  Every one was doing his best.  And they were rewarded by seeing the end of the chest appear above the rim of the pit.  It slid over the mound of sand and settled on a firm spot.  Rowdy capered and leaped among the boys who had flung themselves prostrate on the sand.  His joy was unlimited.

“Let’s get at it, boys,” cried Tom.  “Bring me an axe and I’ll knock it open.  I’m the original safe cracker.”

“What if we put it into the boat and take it aboard the Fortuna before we meddle with it,” suggested Jack.  “We can’t get anything more out of the pit tonight and I feel like getting away from this place.  It seems as if I can feel the ghosts of all the departed Spanish and Indians and others who passed away at this spot during the last seven hundred years.  I move we go back.”