what depressed in
the centre. Great masses of rock spar protruded here and there from the
soil, which latter was gravelly. On turning up the surface, however, a
formation of whitey-blue clay lay revealed.

"This is the place for the `stones,'" said Renshaw, exultantly, making a
tentative dig or two with his pick. "The Eye apart, we ought to find
something here worth having. Ah, I thought so."

He picked up a small, dingy-looking crystal about the size of a pea. It
was of perfect symmetry even in the rough, the facets being wonderfully
even.

"You'd better put that aside, Sellon, and stick to it as the first
stone--apart from our division of the swag. Knock it into a pin or
something."

It was a small act. But it was thoroughly characteristic of the man's
open-souled unselfishness. The first instalment of the treasure,
attained at the cost of so much anxious thought--of so much hardship and
lonely peril--he offered to his companion. And the latter accepted it
without hesitation--equally characteristically.

"We'd better get on to the big thing now, though," he continued, "and
leave the fossicking until afterwards."

In a few minutes they crossed the crater. Then carefully scanning the
opposite cliff they made their way along the base of the same.

"There's one of our `flags,'" cried Renshaw, suddenly. "And by Jove--
there are our chalk splashes! Not bad archery in the dark, eh? Look.
They are all within half a dozen yards of each other."

A great boulder some dozen feet in height and in shape like a tooth,
rose out of the soil about twenty yards from the base of the cliff. It
was riven obliquely from top to bottom as if split by a wedge; a curious
boulder, banded with strata of quartz like the stripes of an agate.

On the face of it were four white marks--all, as the speaker had said,
within a few yards of each other, and bearing the relative formation of
the stars composing the Southern Cross. Two of the arrows with the
strips of rag attached, lay a little further off, while the shafts which
had so faithfully left their mark lay at the foot of the boulder, the
chalk shattered to pieces.

The intense excitement of the moment was apparent in both men, and it
took widely different phases. Sellon advanced hurriedly to the face of
the boulder, and began scrutinising it, eagerly, fiercely, from top to
base. Renshaw, on the other hand, deliberately sat down, and, producing
his pipe, proceeded leisu