Duck-shooting and shark-fishing.

It is enough.

Here, for sensible men, is a sufficient basis for life-long friendship, and unwearying, inexhaustible companionship.
It was in this peace of John Saunders's snuggery, one July evening, in 1903, the three of us being duly met, and ensconced in our respective arm-chairs, that we got on to the subject of buried treasure.

We had talked more than usual that evening--talked duck and shark till those inexhaustible themes seemed momentarily exhausted.

Then it was I who started us off again by asking John what he knew about buried treasure.
At this, John laughed his funny little quiet laugh, his eyes twinkling out of his wrinkles, for all the world like mischievous mice looking out of a cupboard, took a sip of his port, a pull at his cigar, and then: "Buried treasure!" he said, "well, I have little doubt that the islands are full of it--if one only knew how to get at it." "Seriously ?" I asked.
"Certainly.