ight
had dispelled.

He returned to his labours with his spirit more easy and his brain less
fevered. He thought of Aim-sa and that which he meant to bestow upon
her.

Near by where he had buried his brother's body was the spot where the
treasure had been placed for safety. Here he began to dig. The work was
easy. The soil was light and loose, and gave beneath the sharp edge of
the shovel. He cleared several shovelfuls out, and then stooped to rake
for the chest with his fingers. He knew that it had been buried only a
few inches below the surface. He raked long and diligently, but,
wherever he tried it, the earth gave beneath the pressure of his strong
fingers, nor yielded up any indication of the chest. He rose and
resorted once more to the shovel, and a look of disquiet stole into his
face. He opened a wider surface, thinking he had missed the spot. He dug
deeper, but no chest appeared, and his look changed to one of absolute
fear.

Again he raked, but without result. Again he dug, but now deeper and
deeper. Still there was no chest, and as he widened the hole he found
himself working upon the hard soil which had never before been
disturbed. An awful fear gripped him. He sought out the spot where the
soil was easy. He knew that this was where he had buried the chest. His
actions became hurried and more and more energetic. He dug furiously,
scattering the earth wildly in his alarm, and all the time conviction
was forcing itself upon him, and he muttered as he worked.

But all his efforts were in vain, and, after an hour's fruitless search,
he flung down the shovel with a bitter cry. Then he stood gazing blankly
before him with eyes that seemed to scorch in his head. His face
twitched, and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Then his
lips parted and he gasped rather than spoke.

"It's gone!"

The veins at his temples beat visibly. In his ears was a sound as of
rushing waters. He saw nothing. He scarcely knew where he was, only he
was conscious of something in his head which was strained to the verge
of breaking. When, at last, movement came to him, every nerve in his
body seemed to draw up with a jolt, and a cry, like the roar of a
maddened bull, burst from his quivering lips. He rushed headlong from
the hut.

Out into the glittering daylight he went, heedless of his course,
heedless of his surroundings. He rushed down the hill and plunged into
the woods. On he went, without pause, without hesitati