that locker until I've
strapped this yer box."

"But what does it all mean, father?" said Rosey, taking the old man by
the lappels of his pea-jacket, and slightly emphasizing her question.
"What in the name of goodness are you doing?"

"Breakin' camp, Rosey dear, breakin' camp, jist ez we uster," replied
Nott with cheerful philosophy. "Kinder like ole times, ain't it? Lord,
Rosey," he continued, stopping and following up the reminiscence, with
the end of the rope in his hand as if it were a clue, "don't ye mind
that day we started outer Livermore Pass, and seed the hull o' the
Kaliforny coast stretchin' yonder--eh? But don't ye be skeered, Rosey
dear," he added quickly, as if in recognition of the alarm expressed in
her face. "I ain't turning ye outer house and home; I've jist hired
that 'ere Madrono Cottage from the Peters ontil we kin look round."

"But you're not leaving the ship, father," continued Rosey,
impetuously. "You haven't sold it to that man Sleight?"

Mr. Nott rose and carefully closed the cabin-door. Then drawing a large
wallet from his pocket, he said, "It's sing'lar ye should hev got the
name right the first pop, ain't it, Rosey? but it's Sleight, sure
enough, all the time. This yer check," he added, producing a paper from
the depths of the wallet, "this yer check for 25,000 dollars is wot he
paid for it only two hours ago."

"But," said Renshaw, springing to his feet furiously, "you're duped,
swindled--betrayed!"

"Young man," said Nott, throwing a certain dignity into his habitual
gesture of placing his hands on Renshaw's shoulders, "I bought this yer
ship five years ago jist ez she stood for 8,000 dollars. Kalkilatin'
wot she cost me in repairs and taxes, and wot she brought me in since
then, accordin' to my figgerin', I don't call a clear profit of 15,000
dollars much of a swindle."

"Tell him all," said Rosey, quickly, more alarmed at Renshaw's
despairing face than at the news itself. "Tell him everything,
Dick--Mr. Renshaw; it may not be too late."

In a voice half choked with passionate indignation Renshaw hurriedly
repeated the story of the hidden treasure, and the plot to rescue it,
prompted frequently by Rosey's tenacious memory and assisted by her
deft and tactful explanations. But to their surprise the imperturbable
countenance of Abner Nott never altered; a slight moisture of kindly
paternal tolerance of their extravagance glistened in his little eyes,
but nothing more.

"Ef the