“Why, my child, that sounds reasonable.  But of course he didn’t.”

“Just the same,” said Ruth, “he maybe had the box of money and papers hidden on the island, as he said.  That is what Jerry has been looking for.  And I wager that man Blent is afraid he will find it.”

“How romantic!” laughed Mrs. Tingley.

“But, do wait till Mr. Tingley comes and let him decide,” begged Ruth.

“Surely.  And I will tell Mr. Preston to refuse any of Blent’s demands.  He is a queer old fellow, I know.  And, come to think of it, he told us he wanted to make some investigations regarding the caves at the west end of the island.  He wouldn’t sell us the place without reserving in the deed the rights to all mineral deposits and to treasure trove.”

“What’s ‘treasure trove,’ Mrs. Tingley?” asked Ruth, quickly.

“Why—­that would mean anything valuable found upon the land which is not naturally a part of it.”

“Like a box of money, or papers?”

“Yes!  I see.  I declare, child, maybe the boy, Jerry, has told you the truth!”

“I am sure he has.  He seemed like a perfectly honest boy,” declared Ruth, anxiously.

“I will see Mr. Preston again,” spoke Mrs. Tingley, decisively.

The storm continued through the forenoon.  But the boys and girls waiting for transportation to Cliff Island had plenty of fun.

Behind the inn was an open field, and there they built a fort, the party being divided into opposing armies.  Tom Cameron led one and Ann Hicks was chosen to head the other.  Mercy could look at them from the windows, and urge the girls on in the fray.

The boys might throw straighter, but numbers told.  The girls could divide and attack the boy defenders of the fortress on both flanks.  They came in rosy and breathless at noon—­to sit down to a most heart-breaking luncheon.

“Such an expanse of table and so little on it I never saw before,” grumbled Heavy, in a glum aside.  “How long do you suppose we would exist on these rations?”

“We’re not dead yet,” said Ruth, cheerfully, “so you needn’t become a ‘gloom.’”

“Jen ought to live on past meals—­like a camel existing on its hump,” declared Madge.

“I’m no camel,” retorted the plump one, instantly.  “And a meal to me—­after it has been digested—­is nothing more than a beautiful dream; and you can bet that I never gained my avoirdupois by dreaming!”

Mrs. Tingley beckoned to Ruth after dinner.  Together they went into the general room, where there was a huge fire of logs.  Mr. Preston, the foreman, was there.

“I have been making inquiries,” the lady explained to Ruth, “and I find that this Rufus Blent has not a very enviable reputation.  At least, he is considered, locally, a sharper.”

“Is this the girl who is interested in Jerry?” asked the foreman.  “Well! he ought to be all right if she sticks up for him.”