The Smugglers' Mine Read Online Free

guess I’ll learn to live wi’ that one.”
    When darkness had made its way through the streets and buildings of the Rock, the treasure-seekers’ alliance gathered under the dim lamplight of the square and headed across the village. Under the pretense that they were helping MacDowell on his invention project, they headed to Victor’s workshop, where they had a clear view of the Darkling place.

    They sat in candlelight for some time, and eventually saw the Darkling family heading for the jailhouse.

    Three shapes left the huddled cosiness of Victor’s shop, and ventured into the cold of an early evening. The bandy legs of MacDowell slithered down the chute, and Stanley and Daisy followed.
    MacDowell sparked up a flame and held a lighted piece of paper aloft. Stanley held out a candle, and a yellow warmth filled the dank space.
    Pulling out a long crowbar from inside his coat, MacDowell jimmied up a huge flagstone. With help from his aides, MacDowell levered this way and that, lifting each flagstone in turn.
    â€œNothing so far, Stanley!” he gasped. He blew into the air with hot breaths for a moment, sweat pouring from his brow.
    â€œWhat about over there?” suggested Stanley, pointing to an as-yet undisturbed corner.

    And as the slab in the far corner was raised, the reason for the wet floor became clear. There, underneath the last stone, was a well, cut into the rock below. Water came up to the brim, and Daisy dipped her hand in. She lifted it to her mouth and smelled it.
    â€œSalt water,” she said.
    MacDowell got down on his knees and tasted, just to be sure.
    Stanley held the candle over it, but he could see nothing.
    â€œWhat now?” he asked.

    â€œWe wait, Stanley,” suggested MacDowell.
    â€œWhat for?”
    â€œCome on, Stanley, use your noggin. It’s salt water!” Daisy exclaimed. “From the sea! When the tide’s out, we can climb in!”
    â€œAhhhhh! GREAT!” beamed Stanley. “When’s next tide out?”
    â€œTomorrow afternoon,” announced Daisy.
    â€œThen, me dears, we shall return!” cried MacDowell, who seemed revived with thoughts of treasure. He heaved the last stone back into position, but just as they were ready to leave, a door slammed over them.
    A moment of panic ensued. The trio were scared into stillness as they listened to what they were sure must be the return of the Darklings. MacDowell held up his hands, gesturing to them not to move. Stanley blew out his candle.

    Voices carried above. “What’s wrong with Steadman?” they heard Berkeley ask. The black dog was sniffing and growling at the floor. “What is it, boy?” he persisted.
    The dog whimpered and scratched at the bare boards.
    â€œBerkeley, take a look down there, would you? Something has upset him.” It was Grace, clearly distressed at leaving her husband in the jailhouse. The three conspirators could hear the girls following her upstairs.
    Berkeley opened the hatch from the kitchen and climbed into the space below. It was pure black, and he held a lamp to find his way. Steadman stood at the top of the steps, barking, with his head poking through the opening.
    The treasure seekers were piled into one corner, their backs turned to Berkeley. He
held the lamp toward them. Under the light of the lamp was something that looked to Berkeley like an old sheet hung on the wall. But unbeknown to him, it was the back of MacDowell’s coat. Inside it, Daisy and Stanley were tucked neatly on either side of their scrawny companion, their eyes shut tight and their bodies clenched in fear of discovery. Berkeley backed away. He tripped. Something was there. Something on the floor behind him. It was MacDowell’s crowbar, still lying on the stone flags.

    â€œAre you all right, Berkeley?” came a voice. It was Olive, his twin sister.
    â€œFine,” he called.
    â€œCome on,” she said. “Mother wants you