n spirit at the recollection. He looked at Matt
Abrahamson's leathery face, at his lantern jaws cavernously and stolidly
chewing at a tobacco leaf, and it seemed monstrous to him that the old
man should be so unconscious of the black cloud that wrapped them all
about.

When the boat reached the shore again he leaped scrambling to the beach,
and as soon as his dinner was eaten he hurried away to find the Dominie
Jones.

He ran all the way from Abrahamson's hut to the parson's house, hardly
stopping once, and when he knocked at the door he was panting and
sobbing for breath.

The good man was sitting on the back-kitchen doorstep smoking his
long pipe of tobacco out into the sunlight, while his wife within was
rattling about among the pans and dishes in preparation of their supper,
of which a strong, porky smell already filled the air.

Then Tom Chist told his story, panting, hurrying, tumbling one word over
another in his haste, and Parson Jones listened, breaking every now and
then into an ejaculation of wonder. The light in his pipe went out and
the bowl turned cold.

"And I don't see why they should have killed the poor black man," said
Tom, as he finished his narrative.

"Why, that is very easy enough to understand," said the good reverend
man. "'Twas a treasure box they buried!"

In his agitation Mr. Jones had risen from his seat and was now stumping
up and down, puffing at his empty tobacco pipe as though it were still
alight.

"A treasure box!" cried out Tom.

"Aye, a treasure box! And that was why they killed the poor black man.
He was the only one, d'ye see, besides they two who knew the place
where 'twas hid, and now that they've killed him out of the way, there's
nobody but themselves knows. The villains--Tut, tut, look at that now!"
In his excitement the dominie had snapped the stem of his tobacco pipe
in two.

"Why, then," said Tom, "if that is so, 'tis indeed a wicked, bloody
treasure, and fit to bring a curse upon anybody who finds it!"

"'Tis more like to bring a curse upon the soul who buried it," said
Parson Jones, "and it may be a blessing to him who finds it. But tell
me, Tom, do you think you could find the place again where 'twas hid?"

"I can't tell that," said Tom, "'twas all in among the sand humps, d'ye
see, and it was at night into the bargain. Maybe we could find the marks
of their feet in the sand," he added.

"'Tis not likely," said the reverend gentleman, "for the storm last