There was no mound, but the fresh earth showed just where to dig.
"Oh, this is as easy as making change for a blind man!" chuckled the
young submarine skipper, rubbing his hands ecstatically.
What about the shovel? Jack turned to feel around in the darkness.
Really, Millard couldn't be such a very clever fellow! Jack had no
difficulty in finding the shovel. Its handle was sticking out from
under a mass of dead brush.
Jack Benson drew out the implement, brandishing it.
"Hal had the good sense to shadow that chap away," decided the young
skipper. "Otherwise, he'd have been here by this time. Good
haul--rascal and records in the same night. For, if Hal goes on
Millard's trail, then Millard is pretty sure to be a prisoner before
the night is over. Oh, I wish Eph would turn up."
Then Jack took a good grip on the shovel. Clank! spink! spink!
Having been so recently moved, this dirt was easy to dig.
Yet, suddenly, there came a new note on the night air.
"Jack, O Jack!" sounded in Hal's frantic tones. "Quick!"
"Eh?" called Captain Benson. "What's the row? Come here and see what I
can show you!"
"No! You come here--quick!"
"That's queer," pondered Jack Benson, leaning on his shovel, trying to
understand what it could all mean.
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