ents; and it was long toward
midnight, when the oil of the lanterns ran low, that their shovels bore
down into the precious pocket. The earth flew. They worked like
madmen, with nervous energy and power of will; and when the chest
finally came into sight, rotten with age and the soak of earth, they
fell back against a tree, on the verge of collapse. The hair was damp
on their foreheads, their breath came harshly, almost in sobs.

Suddenly Breitmann fell upon his knees and laughed hysterically,
plunged his blistered hands into the shining heap. It played through
his fingers in little musical cascades. He rose.

"Pietro, you have been faithful to me. Put your two hands in there."

"I, _padrone_?" stupefied.

"Go on! Go on! As much as your two hands can hold is yours. Dig them
in deep, man, dig them in deep!"

With a cry Pietro dropped and burrowed into the gold and silver. A
dozen times he started to withdraw his hands, but they trembled so that
some of the coins would slip and fall. At last, with one desperate
plunge, the money running down toward his elbows, he turned aside and
let fall his burden on the new earth outside the shallow pit. He
rolled beside it, done for, in a fainting state. Breitmann laughed
wildly.

"Come, come; we have no time. Put it into your pockets."

"But, _padrone_, I have not counted it!" naively.

"To-morrow, when we make camp for breakfast. Let us hurry."

Quickly Pietro stuffed his pockets. Jabbering in his patois, swearing
so many candles to the Virgin for this night's work. Then began the
loading of the sacks, and these were finally dumped into the
donkey-panniers.

"Now, Pietro, the shortest cut to Ajaccio. First, your hand on your
amulet, and oath never to reveal what has happened."

Pietro swore solemnly. "I am ready now, _padrone_!"

"Lead on, then," replied Breitmann. Impulsively he raised his hands
high above his head. "Mine, all mine!"

He wiped his face and hands, pulled his cap down firmly, lighted a
cigarette, struck the rear donkey, and the hazardous journey began.

Seven men, more or less young, with a genial air of dissipation about
their eyes and a varied degree of recklessness lurking at the corners of
their mouths; seven men sat round a table in a house in the Rue St.
Charles. They had been eating and drinking rather luxuriously for
Ajaccio. The Rue St. Charles is neither spacious nor elegant as a
thoroughfare, but at that point wher