lready; and all for the want of a month's
time."

Leopold was very sad; but in this emergency he thought of the hidden
treasure of High Rock. But he had already made up his mind that this
money did not belong to him. He even felt that it would be stealing for
him to take it. In his father's sore embarrassment he was tempted to
appropriate the treasure, and let him use it as a loan. But then, if his
father should fail, and the heirs of Wallbridge should appear, he could
not satisfy them, or satisfy his own conscience.

But the temptation was very great; and the next time he went out alone
in the Rosabel, he visited the beach under High Rock. It was the first
time he had been there this season. He landed, and commenced the search
for the projecting rock which was shaped like a coffin. He walked from
one end of the beach to the other, without discovering any rock which
answered to Harvey Barth's description. He started to retrace his steps,
remembering that the writer of the journal had been unable to observe
the singular form of the rock after he had changed his position. The
tide was low, and he walked on the edge of the water; but by going in
this direction he had no better success. After spending an hour in
looking for it, he could discover no rock which looked like the emblem
of death. He returned to Rockhaven, almost convinced that Harvey Barth
had imagined the scene he had described in his diary.

The next day, just at dark, a thunder-storm, the first of the season,
came up. The weather had been warm and sultry for a week, and the
farmers declared that the season was a fortnight earlier than usual. The
roaring thunder and the flashing lightning reminded Leopold of the scene
described in Harvey's journal, and especially of the burying of the
twelve hundred dollars in gold. Without saving anything to any one of
his intention, he left the hotel, and embarked in the Rosabel, with no
dread of the rain, or a squall. There was wind enough to take him down
as far as the ledges, and then it suddenly subsided. Leopold furled his
mainsail, for the calm indicated a coming squall. It wanted an hour of
high tide, and he anchored the Rosabel at a considerable distance from
the shore, paying out the cable till the stern of the boat was in water
not more than three feet deep. Pulling upon the rope till he was
satisfied that the anchor had hooked upon one of the sharp rocks below
the beach, he prepared to go on shore. The beach slo