While regarding
it, they thought they saw a boat actually lurking at the very place;
but the shore cast such a shadow over the border of the water that they
could discern nothing distinctly.
They had not proceeded far when they
heard the low sounds of distant oars, as if cautiously pulled. Sam
plied his oars with redoubled vigor, and knowing all the eddies and
currents of the stream, soon left their followers, if such they were,
far astern. In a little while they stretched across Turtle bay and
Kip's bay, then shrouded themselves in the deep shadows of the
Manhattan shore, and glided swiftly along, secure from observation. At
length Sam shot his skiff into a little cove, darkly embowered by
trees, and made it fast to the well known iron ring. They now landed,
and lighting the lanthorn, gathered their various implements and
proceeded slowly through the bushes. Every sound startled them, even
that of their footsteps among the dry leaves; and the hooting of a
screech owl, from the shattered chimney of father red-cap's ruin, made
their blood run cold.
In spite of all Wolfert's caution in taking note of the landmarks, it
was some time before they could find the open place among the trees,
where the treasure was supposed to be buried. At length they came to
the ledge of rock; and on examining its surface by the aid of the
lanthorn, Wolfert recognized the three mystic crosses.
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