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"We surely will," agreed John readily. "I'm ready at any time."
The four friends loved to tease and banter one another and oftentimes an outsider might have thought from their conversation that they had lost their tempers. Such, however, was never the case. They knew one another too well and all had too much sense for any such foolishness. In particular they all liked to tease and threaten Pop Sanders, though in any contest of wits he usually held his own and the threats of his comrades had no effect upon him whatever.
"For the third and last time, who told you?" demanded Grant.
"Petersen told me."
"You've been talking to the Finn, have you?" exclaimed Fred.
"Yes, and he's a nice fellow, too."
"Maybe you'll get his hard luck away from him," laughed Grant.
"I guess he's had hard luck himself all right," said Pop seriously.
"That doesn't mean he'll give it to others though."
"What hard luck has he had?" asked John.
"Well, his father died when he was a baby and he was left with a big family of children to be brought up by his mother. She had no money and of course had an awfully hard time of it. Two of his sisters died of scarlet fever, a younger brother was drowned and finally his mother got pneumonia and she died. I call that pretty tough luck myself."
"So do I," agreed Grant readily.
"If Sam heard all those things he'd surely say it was because it was a family of Finns," said Fred. "He'd say they brought hard luck to one another."
"He probably would," laughed Pop. "Still I feel sorry for a fellow who has had all that trouble."
"What did his father do?" asked John.
"He was a bad character princ.i.p.ally, I guess," said Pop. "He was also a sailor at times."
"You must have had quite a long talk with Petersen, Pop," said Grant.
"How did he happen to get so confidential?"
"I don't know. We just got talking, that's all, and the first thing I knew he began to tell me the story of his life."
"His father left the family no money, I imagine," said Fred.
"Certainly not. He left debts. The only thing he left was a bad reputation and this thing which Petersen gave to me," and as he spoke Pop reached in his hip pocket and brought out what appeared to be a dirty piece of old paper, folded up.
"What's that?" demanded Grant quickly.
"I don't know," said George. "See for yourself."
He handed the object in question to Grant who straightway unfolded it and glanced at it eagerly.
"It's nothing but a lot of numbers," he exclaimed disappointedly.
"I know it," said George. "Just a lot of old faded numbers written on a piece of parchment."
"What's it supposed to be?" asked John curiously.
"Petersen thinks it's some sort of a code. Maybe it is but I think myself it is nothing at all, and that it might as well be thrown overboard."
"What makes him think it's a code?" said Grant.
"Nothing much that I know of," replied Pop. "He said it was found sewed inside the lining of a coat his father used to have and so he thought it must be valuable. He said that the neighbors used to tell some kind of weird stories about his father having been connected with buried treasure or something like that, and he is sure this has something to do with it. Personally I think he is mistaken about it."
"If he thinks it so valuable why did he give it to you?" demanded Fred.
"He didn't really give it to me to keep. He wanted me to try and decipher the code and tell him what it says."
"Did you do it?" laughed John.
"No, you Son of Neptune," exclaimed George. "I did not. I offered to read the numbers to him, but he said he could do that much himself."
"Where's this treasure buried?" asked Fred.
"That's just what Petersen wants to find out," said Pop. "That certainly was an awfully smart question to ask, Fred."
"I thought he might know the island or whatever it is where the stuff is supposed to be buried, but not the exact location of the jewels on the island."
"How do you know it's jewels?"
"It always is, isn't it?"
"I don't know anything about it," said Pop. "For all we know Petersen may be playing a joke on us. We're all landlubbers of course and the crew might have decided to initiate us a little."
"Perhaps," agreed John. "The parchment looks old though."
"What are the numbers, Grant?" asked Fred. "Read them out."
"Twenty," began Grant when he was interrupted.
"Add 'em up, you fellows," laughed George. "The total tells how old Anne is."
"Let him read them, Pop," urged John. "Give him a chance."
"Twenty, one, eleven, five, one, three, fifteen, twenty-one, eighteen, nineteen, five." Grant paused. "That's a funny thing" he said. "Every number is distinctly separated from the next one. It certainly seems as if it must mean something."
"All right, I'll tell Petersen that you are going to solve the mystery, Socrates, my boy," laughed Pop. "Shall I?"
Before Grant could answer there was a shout. A few sharp orders were given and immediately everything on board the _Josephine_ was bustle and hurry. The crew came rushing out on deck, and scattered hither and thither all over the brig in obedience to the orders that were being given so rapidly. An anxious look was on the faces of all the men.
CHAPTER V