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everything. They’d say we misunderstood what they said, or didn’t hear it right,” said Otis.
    â€œI don’t like keeping secrets from Dad,” said Cody.
    â€œNeither do I,” said Otis. “But all we know now is that those guys are hiding who they really are. It’s not like we heard them planning to rob a bank. Let’s get something we can prove.”
    They heard a rustling noise and looked up to find a wiry old gentleman in a broad straw hat. There were pruning shears in his hand.
    â€œAfternoon, boys, I’m the gardener. Winston Cato’s the name.” He smiled. His voice was soft, lilting—a mix of accents. “Do you remember that I picked you up at the airport? It was raining pretty hard that night.”
    â€œI recognize your voice,” said Otis.
    â€œMe, too,” Cody said. “We were keeping our heads down because of the rain.”
    â€œYes, it was real bad. You Carson twins are getting famous around here. Everybody’s talking about how you and your cousin saved Aunt Edith from the snake.”
    â€œYou heard about the snake already?” Otis asked.
    â€œOh, sure,” Cato chuckled. “I hear most things right away.”
    â€œHave you been on the island a long time?” Cody asked eagerly.
    â€œBorn here,” Cato answered, bending to examine a rose bush.
    â€œThen have you heard about the pirate and the lost buried treasure?”
    Cato stood up and nodded. “Sure have … but I couldn’t tell you how to go about finding it. Nobody ever laid hands on a map … least as far as I know.”
    Cody sighed. Otis shrugged. “Without a map we’re kind of up a creek without a paddle,” he said.
    â€œDo you have some shovels you could lend us, Mr. Cato?” Cody asked.
    â€œYou don’t give up easily, do you?” Cato said with a grin. He walked to a shed and returned with two shovels.
    â€œThanks,” Cody said, taking them and handing one to Otis.
    â€œNow we just need to know where to dig.”
    â€œRight,” Cody agreed. “I’ve got an idea. C’mon.”
    The twins said good-bye to Winston Cato, who wished them good luck. As they walked, Cody told Otis his idea.
    â€œI’ve heard stories about people tattooing maps on their bodies,” he said. “Maybe the pirate’s skull tattoo is a marker.”
    â€œSo all we’ve got to do is look all over the island for the skull, right?”
    â€œYeah.” Cody nodded enthusiastically.
    â€œEver wonder why the pirate can’t find the treasure when he had the marker tattooed on his own chest?” Otis asked, and faced Cody with his arms crossed.
    â€œWell—I dunno,” Cody replied.
    A couple of hours later they found the answer to the question. They found a skull marker, all right. It was scratched into a rock. But then they dug and dug and dug under the rock and found nothing.
    They found two more skull markers and dug under them. They had the same result as before. Zip. Nada. Nothing.
    â€œNo wonder that pirate can’t find his treasure. There are markers all over the place,” said Otis. He leaned on the handle of his shovel and mopped his sweaty brow.
    â€œI guess he left fake markers everywhere to outsmart others who were trying to look for the treasure,” said Cody, taking a seat on a rock. He wiped his dirty hands on his shorts.
    â€œWell, he ended up outsmarting himself, didn’t he?” Otis raised his eyebrows. Both boys burst out laughing.
    Cody slapped his knee with his hand. “I think I’ve had it. For today, anyway. Let’s go down to the beach and find Rae. I could use a swim.”
    They found Rae sliding on the waves on her boogie board. She waved when she saw them. “Where have you guys been?”
    They told her about the treasure hunt. Then they filled her in on what they had heard Cordell and Keller talking about. “I still