we’d sell her.  My Chum, Charley Burnett, and I are the same age—­seventeen last October—­and we built the boat last winter.  When we got through the Lake Borgne Ship Canal below New Orleans, we ran against a lot of rough fellows who tried to steal our boat.  We held them at the point of a gun and ran away from their tubby old boats.  Then when we got a little farther along the coast—­to Bay St. Louis—­we were warned to turn back.

“Warned to turn back?” repeated the boys in chorus.  “By whom?”

“A black browed chap who gave the name of Wyckoff, and who said that he wouldn’t have anyone fooling around the Spanish Chest but those who rightfully should share the treasure.  We didn’t know what he meant, and told him so, but he wouldn’t believe us.”

“The Spanish Treasure Chest!” gasped Jack.  “What about it?”

“I don’t know anything about it!” stoutly asserted Frank.

“We’ve heard a little about it,” volunteered Jack, “but nothing definite.  We would like to know more and to know why these fellows should oppose your coming to this vicinity.”

“I’ve told you all I know about that part of the story,” declared Frank.  “Now you know as much as I do in that line.”

“What did this Wyckoff look like?” asked Harry eagerly.

“He’s black—­I don’t mean that he’s a negro,—­but he’s one of these fellows with a blue-black beard that never can be shaved clean because it shows black under the skin.  Then he’s got a shifty eye and a sneaky look about him.  Then, too,” he added with a smile, “he’s got a smashed nose where my fist landed when he put me ashore here.  I certainly handed him a beauty that time!”

“Good for you,” cried Harry, clapping Frank on the shoulder.

“What was the cause of that?” asked Jack, “did he hit you?”

“Well, to make a long story short,” Frank continued, “he and his gang kidnapped Charley and me from the ‘Spray’ two nights ago.  Where they’ve got Charley I don’t know.  They put me ashore here without a thing to eat or drink and with nothing to make a fire with.  As I was shoved ashore and before the boat got away, I ran up and landed on him.  They were on a schooner of which Wyckoff seemed to be captain.  I hope they haven’t made away with Charley.”

“If Charley is as resourceful as you, he’s all right,” consoled Jack.  “I admire your grit and ability.  How did you get a fire?”

“I made a fire stick as all Boy Scouts can and took a shoe lace for a bow string.  I had hard work getting the first tiny blaze, but after that I’ve kept a bed of coals covered with sand as a reserve.  I found a piece of wreckage and used part of it for a shelter.  One part had a long spike in it and that I sharpened by scraping it on some of the shells.  Then I got a piece of fat pine that had washed ashore and made me a torch.  With this sharp spike and the torch I went fishing at night and got three dandy big flounders.”