The Mercer Boys on a Treasure Hunt 1

The Mercer Boys on a Treasure Hunt 1

The Mercer Boys on a Treasure Hunt

Author: Capwell Wyckoff

CONTENTS

 

 

CHAPTER PAGE

I The Professor’s Letter 3

II The Story of the Phantom Galleon 13

III A Royal Invitation 20

IV The Professor is Attacked 29

V The Prowler in the Night 41

VI The Scene in the Moonlight 52

VII Sackett’s Raid 63

VIII The Search is Begun 72

IX The Ruined Castle 81

X The Rope in the Dungeon 92

XI The Underground Passage 101

XII The Tolling of the Bell 109

XIII A Forced March 119

XIV History Repeats 129

XV The Mountain Sage 139

XVI The Landing Party 150

XVII The Escape 159

XVIII Treasure and Treachery 170

XIX An Old Friend Joins the Party 182

XX The Tar Barrel 191

XXI The Cairn 201

XXII The Den 211

XXIII The Dragon’s Last Stroke 219

XXIV Ned Takes a New Overseer 237

 

 

 

 

THE MERCER BOYS ON A

TREASURE HUNT

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER I

THE PROFESSOR’S LETTER

 

 

“I’d like to have a crack at that ball,” said Don Mercer, with a grin.

 

His brother Jim returned the grin as he said: “Let’s go out on the field

and ask the kids to toss us one. They won’t mind giving us one swing at

it.” The two Mercer brothers were standing at the edge of a large vacant

lot near the center of their home town one morning late in June. They

had been home from Woodcrest Military Institute for a week now on their

summer vacation, and this particular day, having nothing more exciting

to do, they had wandered around the town, coming at length to a familiar

field where they had often played baseball. A number of youngsters were

on the ground now, tossing and batting a discolored baseball, and the

sight of them had caused the sandy haired, slightly freckled Don to

express his wish.

 

The two boys walked across the field toward the boys and Don said:

“Wonder how much further I can hit it now than I could when I played

here as a kid?”

 

“Hard to tell,” returned Jim. “But we certainly got quite a bit of

practise this spring at Woodcrest.”

 

The small boys looked at them as they drew nearer, but as the Mercer

boys were well known the boys felt no alarm or resentment at the

approach of the larger lads. Don walked over to the boy who held the bat

and held out his hand.

 

“How about giving me one crack at the ball, Charlie?” he asked.

 

The boy smiled and extended the bat, a bit of embarrassment in his look.

“Sure, Don. Take a couple of them,” he invited.

 

“I guess one will be enough,” remarked Don, as he turned to face a boy

who held the ball. “Put a good one over, Tommy, will you?”

 

The boy addressed as Tommy grinned boyishly and turned to the youngsters

who stood far afield, waiting for flies to be batted to them. “Get way

out, you fellows,” he cried. “This fellow can hit ’em!”

 

The two fielders backed away and Tommy threw a fast ball to Don. The

latter easily batted it out and one of the youngsters caught it

triumphantly. Don handed the bat to Jim, who in turn cracked the ball

out along the ground.

 

“Just one more, fellows,” begged Don, taking the bat from his brother’s

hand. When the ball had been turned over to young Tommy he wound his arm

up slowly and then pitched it with considerable force in Don’s

direction.

 

“Hit that!” he cried.

 

It was traveling on a straight line and Don swung the bat around

sharply. There was a singing crack as the wood met the ball, and the

muddy spheroid sailed in a mounting curve up into the air. It passed

high above the fielder’s head and made its way straight for the side

window of a small house that stood on the edge of the field.

 

“Oh, boy!” shouted Jim. “Right through the window!”

 

His statement was correct. With a disconcerting crash the ball smashed

the window to pieces.

 

Don dropped the bat and shoved his hands into his pocket. “Well, I’ll be

jiggered!” he exclaimed. “How is that for bad luck? Right through

Professor Scott’s window!”

 

“I hope the professor wasn’t at home, and in that room,” said Jim.

“Guess we had better go over and see about it.”

 

“Right you are,” nodded Don. “Thanks for the hits, kids. Come on, Jim.”

 

Leaving the boys to gather and talk things over in awed tones the two

Mercer brothers made their way across the field in the direction of

Professor Scott’s house. The gentleman mentioned had been their history

teacher while they were in grammar school, and they knew him quite well,

so they had no great fears as to the outcome. No one had appeared at the

window or at the doors, and Jim supposed that the professor was not at

home.

 

“I guess not,” Don returned, “or he would surely have appeared by now.

But we’ll go over and see, and if he isn’t we’ll leave a note and tell

him who did it, and offer to pay for it.”

 

While the Mercer boys are making their way across the field something

may be said as to who they were. Both boys, fine, manly chaps, were the

sons of a wealthy lumber man of Bridgewater, Maine. They had lived the

life of healthy young men whose interests were centered in worthwhile

things. Of late they had had some adventurous events in their lives,

some of which were related in the first volume of this series, The

Mercer Boys’ Cruise in the Lassie, when they ran down a marine bandit

gang, and later when solving a baffling mystery at the military school,

details of which were related in the second volume entitled The Mercer

Boys at Woodcrest. Together with their comrade, Terry Mackson, they had

faced many perils and adventures, and now they were home to spend, as

they thought, a comparatively dull vacation. Just how deeply mistaken

they were in their thought will be found later.

 

They entered the front yard of Professor Scott’s house and walked around

to the side, where the broken window faced toward the empty lot. There

appeared to be no one at home, but when they came opposite to the window

Don raised himself slightly on his toes and looked in. Then he dropped

down again and looked at Jim in astonishment.

 

“The professor is at home,” he said, in a low tone. “He’s sitting there,

reading a letter!”

 

“Reading a letter?” asked Jim, amazed.

 

“Yes,” answered his brother. “Look in.”

 

Jim raised himself and looked in the window. A tall man with bushy white

hair and a thick iron gray beard was seated at the desk in what appeared

to be a study, busily engaged in reading a letter. Near him, almost at

his feet, lay the boys’ ball, and fragments of broken glass littered the

floor. The professor was apparently deeply absorbed in his letter.

 

“Well, what do you know about that!” exclaimed Jim, softly. “Doesn’t

even seem to know that the window is broken! We always knew that he was

somewhat absent-minded, but I thought he was more responsible than

that!”

 

Before Don could reply there was a stir in the room and the next minute

the professor came to the window and looked down at them. He still held

what appeared to be a lengthy letter in his hand, and he recognized

them.

 

“Why, Don and Jim Mercer!” he cried, showing strong white teeth in an

engaging smile. “I’m glad to see you home again. Did you come to see

me?”

 

“I came to apologize for breaking your window, and to offer to pay for

it, Professor Scott,” answered Don. “I was batting out the ball for some

boys, and I hit it harder than I expected to. I hope it didn’t startle

you very much?”

 

“I jumped a little bit,” admitted the professor. “I did notice it!”

 

“Notice it!” exploded Jim. “I should think that you might have! It

certainly made enough noise.”

 

“It did make some. I felt that it was some of the boys playing ball and

I was going to throw the ball back to them in a minute.” He picked the

ball up and handed it to Don. “Throw it back, and then come inside,

won’t you?”

 

Don threw the ball back to the small boys, who were watching from the

field. “Are you sure we won’t be breaking in on you, professor?” he

asked.