onest men, you mean--the comparative degree."

"Life is made up of comparatives," said Croyden. "What's the matter
now?" as Bald-head faced about and stalked back to the buggy. "Has he
quit work so soon?"

"He has simply quit digging a hole at random," Macloud said. "My Lord,
he's taking a drink!"

Bald-head, however, did not return to his companion. Instead, he went
out to the Bay and stood looking across the water toward the bug-light.
Then he turned and looked back toward the timber.

He was thinking, as they had. The land had been driving inward by the
encroachment of the Bay--the beeches had, long since, disappeared, the
victims of the gales which swept the Point. There was no place from
which to start the measurements. Beyond the fact that, somewhere near
by, old Parmenter had buried his treasure, one hundred and ninety years
before, the letter was of no definite use to anyone.

From the Point, he retraced his steps leisurely to his companion, who
had continued digging, said something--to which Hook-nose seemingly
made no reply, save by a shovel of sand--and continued directly toward
the timber.

"Has he seen us?" said Croyden.

"I think not--these bushes are ample protection. Lie low.... He's not
coming this way--he's going to inspect the big trees, on our left....
They won't help you, my light-fingered friend; they're not the right
sort."

After a time, Bald-head abandoned the search and went back to his
friend. Throwing himself on the ground, he talked vigorously, and,
apparently, to some effect, for, presently, the digging ceased and
Hook-nose began to listen. At length, he tossed the pick and shovel
aside, and lifted himself out of the hole. After a few more
gesticulations, they picked up the tools and returned to the buggy.

"Have they decided to abandon it?" said Croyden, as they drove away.

The thieves, themselves, answered the question. At the first heavy
undergrowth, they stopped the horse and proceeded carefully to conceal
the tools. This accomplished, they drove off toward the town.

"Hum!" said Macloud. "So you're coming back are you? I wonder what you
intend to do?"

"I wish we knew," Croyden returned. "It might help us--for quite
between ourselves, Macloud, I think we're stumped."

"Our first business is to move on Washington and get the permit,"
Macloud returned. "Hook-nose and his friend may have the Point, for
to-day; they're not likely to injure it. Come along!"

They were pas