CHAPTER III
THE MYSTERIOUS CASKET
Both girls dashed forward to snatch the dog's treasure-trove from him.But Rags had apparently made up his mind that, after his arduous labors,he was going to have the privilege of examining his find himself. At anyrate, he would not be easily robbed. Seizing the burlap bag in his mouth,he raced to the water's edge and stood there, guarding his treasure withmock fierceness. Phyllis, being a stranger, he would not even allow toapproach him, but growled ominously if she came within ten feet of hisvicinity. And when Rags growled, it behooved the stranger to have a care!Leslie he pretended to welcome, but no sooner had she approached nearenough to lay her hand on the bag than he seized it triumphantly andraced up the beach.
"Oh, do grab him, somehow!" cried Phyllis, in despair. "He'll drop thething in the water and the next breaker will wash it away, and we'llnever know what it was!"
Leslie herself was no less anxious to filch his treasure, but Rags had bynow acquired a decidedly frolicsome spirit, and the chase he led them waslong and weary. Three times he dropped the bag directly in the path of abreaker, and once it was actually washed out, and the girls groaned inchorus as they saw it flung into the boiling surf. But another wavewashed it ashore, only to land it again in the custody of Rags beforeLeslie could seize it.
Finally, however, he wearied of the sport, and sensing the sad fact thathis prize was in no wise edible, he dropped it suddenly to pursue anunsuspecting hermit-crab. The girls fell joyfully upon the long-soughttreasure and bore it to the veranda of Curlew's Nest for furtherexamination.
"What under the sun can it be?" marveled the curious Phyllis. "Somethingheavy, and all sewed up in a coarse bag like that! It's as good as aghost story. Let's get at it right away."
They sat down on the wet steps while Leslie unrolled the bag,--not muchlarger than a big salt-bag,--and tried to tear an opening at the top. Buther slender fingers were not equal to the task, so Phyllis undertook it.
"Let me try!" she urged. "I play the piano a great deal and my fingersare very strong."
And sure enough, it did not take her more than a moment to make anopening and thrust her hand into it. What she found there she drew outand laid in Leslie's lap, while the two girls gasped simultaneously atthe singular object they had discovered.
To begin with, it was encrusted with sand and corroded by the contact ofsalt air and seawater. But when they had brushed off the sand andpolished it as well as they could with the burlap bag, it stood forth insomething of its original appearance--a small box or casket of some heavymetal, either bronze or copper, completely covered with elaboratecarving. It was about six inches long, three wide, and two in height. Itstood on four legs, and, upon examination, the carving proved to be thebody of a winged serpent of some kind, completely encircling the box, thehead projecting over the front edge where the lock or fastening of thecover would be. The legs of the receptacle were the creature's claws. Thecarving was remarkably fine and delicate in workmanship.
"My gracious!" breathed Phyllis. "Did you ever see anything so strange!What can it be?"
"And isn't it beautiful!" added Leslie. "What can that queer creature bethat's carved on it? Looks to me like the pictures of dragons that weused to have in fairy-story books."
"That's just what it is! You've hit it! I couldn't think what it was atfirst--it's so wound around the box!" cried Phyllis. "But this thing iscertainly a box of some kind, and there must be some opening to it andprobably something in it. Let's try now to get it open."
But that was easier said than done. Try as they would, they could find noway of opening the casket. The dragon's head came down over the lock orclasp, and there was no vestige of keyhole or catch or spring. And sointricate was the carving, that there was not even any crack or crevicewhere the lid fitted down over the body of the box into which they couldinsert Phyllis's penknife blade to pry it open by force. The casket andits contents was a baffling mystery, and the wicked looking little dragonseemed to guard the secret with positive glee, so malicious was itsexpression!
Phyllis at last threw down her knife in disgust and rattled the boximpatiently. "Something bumps around in there!" she declared. "I can hearit distinctly, but I don't believe we'll ever be able to get at it. Inever saw such a queer affair! Let's try to break it with an ax. Have youone?"
"Oh, don't do _that!_" cried Leslie, horrified. "It would surely spoilthis beautiful box and might even injure what's in it. There must be_some_ other way of getting it open if only we take our time and go at itcarefully."
They both sat for several moments regarding their find with resentfulcuriosity. Suddenly Leslie's thoughts took a new tack, "How in the worlddid it ever come there--buried in the sand like that?"
"Thrown up on the beach by the waves, of course," declared Phyllis,positively; "no doubt from some wreck, and buried in the sand after awhile, just naturally, as lots of things are."
The explanation was a very probable one. "But it's rather far from thewater's edge," objected Leslie.
"Oh, no, indeed! Why in winter the surf often comes up right under thebungalows!" remarked Phyllis, in quite an offhanded way.
"Mercy! Don't ever tell Aunt Marcia that, or she'd go straight home!"exclaimed Leslie. "But isn't it queer that it just happened to be rightin front of Curlew's Nest! Everything queer seems to happen right aroundthat place."
"That's so! I'd almost forgotten the other thing. But what _I_ can'tunderstand is how your dog happened to dig the thing up."
"Oh, that's simple! He's always chasing hermit-crabs--it's a great sportof his. And I suppose it just happened that one dug itself down in thesand right here, and he dug after it and then came across this."
Phyllis had a sudden brilliant idea. "Let's go and examine the hole!Perhaps there's something else in it."
They both raced over to the stump and Leslie thrust her hand into thehole. "There's nothing else in there," she averred, "but perhaps it mightbe worth while to dig around here and see if there might be some otherarticle buried near it. I'll get a shovel."
She disappeared behind her own bungalow for a moment and returned with ashovel. They dug furiously for ten minutes and turned up the sand allabout the original hole. Nothing of the slightest interest came to light,however, and they presently abandoned the attempt and filled in the holeagain.
"This is all there was--that's plain," declared Phyllis, "and all we canthink is that it was cast up from some wreck and got buried here."
But Leslie had been thinking. "Has it occurred to you, Phyllis, that it_might_ have something to do with Curlew's Nest and the queer thing thathappened here? I wonder how long it has been lying in that hole?"
They examined the find again. "I can tell you one thing," said Phyllis,"if it had been in that sand a _long_ time, I think it would look ratherdifferent. To begin with, the burlap bag is in very good condition, wholeand strong. It wouldn't take _very_ long in there for it to become raggedand go to pieces. And besides that, the box would look different. Youknow that metal like this gets badly corroded and tarnished in a verylittle while when it's exposed even to this salt air, not to speak of thewater too. I know, because we have some copper trays at the bungalow andthey're always a _sight_! I have to keep polishing and polishing them tomake them look nice. Now this box is very little tarnished since werubbed it up. It makes me sure it hasn't been buried long."
"Well, has there been a wreck, then, very lately?" demanded Leslie.
"Not since last July--and that was only a fishing schooner. No chance inthe world that such as _this_ would be aboard of her!"
"Then, as far as I can see, this box must have been buriedhere--deliberately--and very recently, too!" declared Leslie, solemnly."Can you think of any other explanation?"
"Leslie, could it have been done last night?" demanded Phyllis, in anawed whisper.
"Oh--I never thought of that. Perhaps it was. Perhaps that was themeaning of the light and all. Phyllis, t
here's some queer mystery here! Iwonder if we ought to tell folks about it?"
"Oh _don't!_" implored Phyllis. "Not for a while, at least. It would beso wonderful to have this as a secret of our own and see what we can makeof it. Just suppose we could work it out for ourselves!"
"Well--it _would_ be a lark, and I only hope it's all right. But I'mgoing to ask you one favor, Phyllis. Please take the little box and keepit at your house, for I don't want Aunt Marcia to be worried about thematter, and she might come across it if I kept it here. And I must begoing in now, or she'll be worried." And she thrust the box intoPhyllis's hand.
"Indeed, I'll keep it gladly and hide it safely, too. This is one secretI won't have Ted meddling in!" declared Phyllis. "Let's call the box 'TheDragon's Secret.' He seems to be guarding very successfully! I'll comeback this afternoon and call, and we can talk this over some more.Good-by!"
And she turned away toward the direction of her own bungalow, with "TheDragon's Secret" carefully concealed beneath her rainproof coat.