"You talked about nothing else
for a whole week. Let me feel your pulse."
Esteban surrendered his hand with suspicious readiness.
"You were flat broke when we got you," O'Reilly declared.
"Probably. I seem to remember that somebody stole it."
"Doubloons! Pieces of eight! Golden guineas!" exclaimed Norine.
"Why those are pirate coins! They remind me of Treasure Island; of
Long John Silver and his wooden leg; of Ben Gunn and all the
rest." With a voice made hoarse, doubtless to imitate the old nut-
brown seaman with the saber-scar and the tarry pig-tail, who sat
sipping his rum and water in the Admiral Benbow Inn, she began to
chant:
"Fifteen men on the dead man's chest--
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Drink and the Devil had done for the rest--
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!"
Esteban smiled uncomprehendingly. "Yes? Well, this has to do with
treasure. That doubloon was a part of the lost treasure of the
Varonas."
"Lost treasure!" Norine's gray eyes widened. "What are you talking
about?"
"There is a mysterious fortune in our family. My father buried it.
He was very rich, you know, and he was afraid of the Spaniards.
O'Reilly knows the story."
Johnnie assented with a grunt. "Sure! I know all about it."
Esteban raised himself to his elbow. "You think it's a myth, a
joke.
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