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<h2> CHAPTER 2. DIGGING FOR TREASURE </h2>
<p>I am afraid the last chapter was rather dull. It is always dull in books
when people talk and talk, and don't do anything, but I was obliged to put
it in, or else you wouldn't have understood all the rest. The best part of
books is when things are happening. That is the best part of real things
too. This is why I shall not tell you in this story about all the days
when nothing happened. You will not catch me saying, 'thus the sad days
passed slowly by'—or 'the years rolled on their weary course'—or
'time went on'—because it is silly; of course time goes on—whether
you say so or not. So I shall just tell you the nice, interesting parts—and
in between you will understand that we had our meals and got up and went
to bed, and dull things like that. It would be sickening to write all that
down, though of course it happens. I said so to Albert-next-door's uncle,
who writes books, and he said, 'Quite right, that's what we call
selection, a necessity of true art.' And he is very clever indeed. So you
see.</p>
<p>I have often thought that if the people who write books for children knew
a little more it would be better. I shall not tell you anything about us
except what I should like to know about if I was reading the story and you
were writing it. Albert's uncle says I ought to have put this in the
preface, but I never read prefaces, and it is not much good writing things
just for people to skip. I wonder other authors have never thought of
this.</p>
<p>Well, when we had agreed to dig for treasure we all went down into the
cellar and lighted the gas. Oswald would have liked to dig there, but it
is stone flags. We looked among the old boxes and broken chairs and
fenders and empty bottles and things, and at last we found the spades we
had to dig in the sand with when we went to the seaside three years ago.
They are not silly, babyish, wooden spades, that split if you look at
them, but good iron, with a blue mark across the top of the iron part, and
yellow wooden handles. We wasted a little time getting them dusted,
because the girls wouldn't dig with spades that had cobwebs on them. Girls
would never do for African explorers or anything like that, they are too
beastly particular.</p>
<p>It was no use doing the thing by halves. We marked out a sort of square in
the mouldy part of the garden, about three yards across, and began to dig.
But we found nothing except worms and stones—and the ground was very
hard.</p>
<p>So we thought we'd try another part of the garden, and we found a place in
the big round flower bed, where the ground was much softer. We thought
we'd make a smaller hole to begin with, and it was much better. We dug and
dug and dug, and it was jolly hard work! We got very hot digging, but we
found nothing.</p>
<p>Presently Albert-next-door looked over the wall. We do not like him very
much, but we let him play with us sometimes, because his father is dead,
and you must not be unkind to orphans, even if their mothers are alive.
Albert is always very tidy. He wears frilly collars and velvet
knickerbockers. I can't think how he can bear to.</p>
<p>So we said, 'Hallo!'</p>
<p>And he said, 'What are you up to?'</p>
<p>'We're digging for treasure,' said Alice; 'an ancient parchment revealed
to us the place of concealment. Come over and help us. When we have dug
deep enough we shall find a great pot of red clay, full of gold and
precious jewels.'</p>
<p>Albert-next-door only sniggered and said, 'What silly nonsense!' He cannot
play properly at all. It is very strange, because he has a very nice
uncle. You see, Albert-next-door doesn't care for reading, and he has not
read nearly so many books as we have, so he is very foolish and ignorant,
but it cannot be helped, and you just have to put up with it when you want
him to do anything. Besides, it is wrong to be angry with people for not
being so clever as you are yourself. It is not always their faults.</p>
<p>So Oswald said, 'Come and dig! Then you shall share the treasure when
we've found it.'</p>
<p>But he said, 'I shan't—I don't like digging—and I'm just going
in to my tea.'</p>
<p>'Come along and dig, there's a good boy,' Alice said. 'You can use my
spade. It's much the best—'</p>
<p>So he came along and dug, and when once he was over the wall we kept him
at it, and we worked as well, of course, and the hole got deep. Pincher
worked too—he is our dog and he is very good at digging. He digs for
rats in the dustbin sometimes, and gets very dirty. But we love our dog,
even when his face wants washing.</p>
<p>'I expect we shall have to make a tunnel,' Oswald said, 'to reach the rich
treasure.' So he jumped into the hole and began to dig at one side. After
that we took it in turns to dig at the tunnel, and Pincher was most useful
in scraping the earth out of the tunnel—he does it with his back
feet when you say 'Rats!' and he digs with his front ones, and burrows
with his nose as well.</p>
<p>At last the tunnel was nearly a yard long, and big enough to creep along
to find the treasure, if only it had been a bit longer. Now it was
Albert's turn to go in and dig, but he funked it.</p>
<p>'Take your turn like a man,' said Oswald—nobody can say that Oswald
doesn't take his turn like a man. But Albert wouldn't. So we had to make
him, because it was only fair.</p>
<p>'It's quite easy,' Alice said. 'You just crawl in and dig with your hands.
Then when you come out we can scrape out what you've done, with the
spades. Come—be a man. You won't notice it being dark in the tunnel
if you shut your eyes tight. We've all been in except Dora—and she
doesn't like worms.'</p>
<p>'I don't like worms neither.' Albert-next-door said this; but we
remembered how he had picked a fat red and black worm up in his fingers
and thrown it at Dora only the day before. So we put him in.</p>
<p>But he would not go in head first, the proper way, and dig with his hands
as we had done, and though Oswald was angry at the time, for he hates
snivellers, yet afterwards he owned that perhaps it was just as well. You
should never be afraid to own that perhaps you were mistaken—but it
is cowardly to do it unless you are quite sure you are in the wrong.</p>
<p>'Let me go in feet first,' said Albert-next-door. 'I'll dig with my boots—I
will truly, honour bright.'</p>
<p>So we let him get in feet first—and he did it very slowly and at
last he was in, and only his head sticking out into the hole; and all the
rest of him in the tunnel.</p>
<p>'Now dig with your boots,' said Oswald; 'and, Alice, do catch hold of
Pincher, he'll be digging again in another minute, and perhaps it would be
uncomfortable for Albert if Pincher threw the mould into his eyes.'</p>
<p>You should always try to think of these little things. Thinking of other
people's comfort makes them like you. Alice held Pincher, and we all
shouted, 'Kick! dig with your feet, for all you're worth!'</p>
<p>So Albert-next-door began to dig with his feet, and we stood on the ground
over him, waiting—and all in a minute the ground gave way, and we
tumbled together in a heap: and when we got up there was a little shallow
hollow where we had been standing, and Albert-next-door was underneath,
stuck quite fast, because the roof of the tunnel had tumbled in on him. He
is a horribly unlucky boy to have anything to do with.</p>
<p>It was dreadful the way he cried and screamed, though he had to own it
didn't hurt, only it was rather heavy and he couldn't move his legs. We
would have dug him out all right enough, in time, but he screamed so we
were afraid the police would come, so Dicky climbed over the wall, to tell
the cook there to tell Albert-next-door's uncle he had been buried by
mistake, and to come and help dig him out.</p>
<p>Dicky was a long time gone. We wondered what had become of him, and all
the while the screaming went on and on, for we had taken the loose earth
off Albert's face so that he could scream quite easily and comfortably.</p>
<p>Presently Dicky came back and Albert-next-door's uncle came with him. He
has very long legs, and his hair is light and his face is brown. He has
been to sea, but now he writes books. I like him.</p>
<p>He told his nephew to stow it, so Albert did, and then he asked him if he
was hurt—and Albert had to say he wasn't, for though he is a coward,
and very unlucky, he is not a liar like some boys are.</p>
<p>'This promises to be a protracted if agreeable task,' said
Albert-next-door's uncle, rubbing his hands and looking at the hole with
Albert's head in it. 'I will get another spade,' so he fetched the big
spade out of the next-door garden tool-shed, and began to dig his nephew
out.</p>
<p>'Mind you keep very still,' he said, 'or I might chunk a bit out of you
with the spade.' Then after a while he said—</p>
<p>'I confess that I am not absolutely insensible to the dramatic interest of
the situation. My curiosity is excited. I own that I should like to know
how my nephew happened to be buried. But don't tell me if you'd rather
not. I suppose no force was used?'</p>
<p>'Only moral force,' said Alice. They used to talk a lot about moral force
at the High School where she went, and in case you don't know what it
means I'll tell you that it is making people do what they don't want to,
just by slanging them, or laughing at them, or promising them things if
they're good.</p>
<p>'Only moral force, eh?' said Albert-next-door's uncle. 'Well?'</p>
<p>'Well,' Dora said, 'I'm very sorry it happened to Albert—I'd rather
it had been one of us. It would have been my turn to go into the tunnel,
only I don't like worms, so they let me off. You see we were digging for
treasure.'</p>
<p>'Yes,' said Alice, 'and I think we were just coming to the underground
passage that leads to the secret hoard, when the tunnel fell in on Albert.
He <i>is</i> so unlucky,' and she sighed.</p>
<p>Then Albert-next-door began to scream again, and his uncle wiped his face—his
own face, not Albert's—with his silk handkerchief, and then he put
it in his trousers pocket. It seems a strange place to put a handkerchief,
but he had his coat and waistcoat off and I suppose he wanted the
handkerchief handy. Digging is warm work.</p>
<p>He told Albert-next-door to drop it, or he wouldn't proceed further in the
matter, so Albert stopped screaming, and presently his uncle finished
digging him out. Albert did look so funny, with his hair all dusty and his
velvet suit covered with mould and his face muddy with earth and crying.</p>
<p>We all said how sorry we were, but he wouldn't say a word back to us. He
was most awfully sick to think he'd been the one buried, when it might
just as well have been one of us. I felt myself that it was hard lines.</p>
<p>'So you were digging for treasure,' said Albert-next-door's uncle, wiping
his face again with his handkerchief. 'Well, I fear that your chances of
success are small. I have made a careful study of the whole subject. What
I don't know about buried treasure is not worth knowing. And I never knew
more than one coin buried in any one garden—and that is generally—Hullo—what's
that?'</p>
<p>He pointed to something shining in the hole he had just dragged Albert out
of. Oswald picked it up. It was a half-crown. We looked at each other,
speechless with surprise and delight, like in books.</p>
<p>'Well, that's lucky, at all events,' said Albert-next-door's uncle.</p>
<p>'Let's see, that's fivepence each for you.'</p>
<p>'It's fourpence—something; I can't do fractions,' said Dicky; 'there
are seven of us, you see.'</p>
<p>'Oh, you count Albert as one of yourselves on this occasion, eh?'</p>
<p>'Of course,' said Alice; 'and I say, he was buried after all. Why
shouldn't we let him have the odd somethings, and we'll have fourpence
each.'</p>
<p>We all agreed to do this, and told Albert-next-door we would bring his
share as soon as we could get the half-crown changed. He cheered up a
little at that, and his uncle wiped his face again—he did look hot—and
began to put on his coat and waistcoat.</p>
<p>When he had done it he stooped and picked up something. He held it up, and
you will hardly believe it, but it is quite true—it was another
half-crown!</p>
<p>'To think that there should be two!' he said; 'in all my experience of
buried treasure I never heard of such a thing!'</p>
<p>I wish Albert-next-door's uncle would come treasure-seeking with us
regularly; he must have very sharp eyes: for Dora says she was looking
just the minute before at the very place where the second half-crown was
picked up from, and <i>she</i> never saw it.</p>
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