e vacant hours
of the long, bright night, have given the rumor time to pervade the
mountains, and set all the idlers astir before he should strike the
decisive blow?

There, at last, was the cliff, beetling far over the mist-filled valley
below. A slant of sunshine fell on the surging vapor, and it gleamed
opalescent. There was the niche, with the lilies all a-bloom. He came
panting up the slope under the dripping trees, with a dash of wind in
his face and the odor of damp leafage and mold on the freshening air.

He struck the decisive blow with a will. The lilies shivered and fell
apart. The echoes multiplied the stroke with a ringing metallic
iteration.

The loiterers were indeed abroad. The sound lured them from their own
devious points of search, and a half dozen of the treasure-seekers burst
from the invisibilities of the mists as Ozias Crann's pickaxe cleaving
the mold struck upon the edge of a small japanned box hidden securely
between the rocks, a scant foot below the surface. A dangerous spot for
a struggle, the verge of a precipice, but the greed for gain is a
passion that blunts the sense of peril. The wrestling figures, heedless
of the abyss, swayed hither and thither, the precious box among them;
now it was captured by a stronger grasp, now secured anew by sheer
sleight-of-hand. More than once it dropped to the ground, and at last in
falling the lock gave way, and scattered to the wind were numberless
orderly vouchers for money already paid, inventories of fixtures, bills
for repairs, reports of departments--various details of value in
settling the accounts of the mine, and therefore to be transmitted to
the main office of the mining company at Glaston.

"Ef I hed tole ye ez the money warn't thar, ye wouldn't hev believed
me," Loralinda Byars said drearily, when certain disappointed wights,
who had sought elsewhere and far afield, repaired to the cabin laughing
at their own plight and upbraiding her with the paucity of the _cache_.
"I knowed all the time what war in that box. The man lef' it thar in the
niche arter he war shot, it bein' heavy ter tote an' not wuth much. But
he brung the money with him, an' tuk it off, bein', he said, without
orders from the owners, the miners hevin' burnt down the offices, an'
bruk open the safe an' destroyed all the papers, ceptin' that leetle
box. I sewed up the man's money myself in them feather beds what he lay
on whenst he war wagined down 'ter Colb'ry ter take the