The Coral Island

His arms were round a chest of oaken wood, It was clamped with brass and iron studs, and seemed An awful weight. After a while he stood And I stole near to him.—His white eyes gleamed As he peeped secretly about; he laid The oaken chest upon the ground, then drew A great knife from his belt, and stuck the blade Into the ground and dug. The clay soon flew In all directions underneath a tree, And when the hole was deep he put the box Down there, and threw the clay back cunningly, Stamping the ground quite flat; then like a fox He crept among the trees.... I went next day To dig the treasure up, but I lost my way.