(continued)

We were now at the margin of the thicket.

"Huzza, mates, all together!" shouted Merry;  and the foremost broke into a run.

And suddenly, not ten yards further, we beheld them stop.  A low cry arose.  Silver doubled his pace, digging away with the foot of his crutch like one possessed;  and next moment he and I had come also to a dead halt.

Before us was a great excavation, not very recent, for the sides had fallen in and grass had sprouted on the bottom.  In this were the shaft of a pick broken in two and the boards of several packing-cases strewn around.  On one of these boards I saw, branded with a hot iron, the name Walrus—the name of Flint's ship.

All was clear to probation.  The cache had been found and rifled;  the seven hundred thousand pounds were gone!

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