of any
boy of the locality who had heard the common gossip of his elders, but
to Johnny's fancy an idea was kindled peculiarly his own! Here was a
cavern like that of the "Forty Thieves" in the story book, and he was
the "Ali Baba" who knew its secret! He was not obliged to say "Open
Sesame," but he could say it if he liked, if he was showing it off to
anybody!

Yet alas he also knew it was a secret he must keep to himself. He had
nobody to trust it to. His father was a charcoal-burner of small means;
a widower with two children, Johnny and his elder brother Sam. The
latter, a flagrant incorrigible of twenty-two, with a tendency to
dissipation and low company, had lately abandoned his father's roof,
only to reappear at intervals of hilarious or maudlin intoxication.
He had always been held up to Johnny as a warning, or with the gloomy
prognosis that he, Johnny, was already following in his tortuous
footsteps. Even if he were here he was not to be thought of as a
confidant. Still less could he trust his father, who would be sure to
bungle the secret with sheriffs and constables, and end by bringing down
the vengeance of the gang upon the family. As for himself, he could not
dispose of the gold if he were to take it. The exhibition of a single
flake of it to the adult public would arouse suspicion, and as it was
Johnny's hard fate to be always doubted, he might be connected with the
gang. As a truant he knew he had no moral standing, but he also had
the superstition--quite characteristic of childhood--that being in
possession of a secret he was a participant in its criminality--and
bound, as it were, by terrible oaths! And then a new idea seized him.
He carefully put back everything as he had found it, extinguished the
candle, left the cave, remounted the tree, and closed the opening again
as he had seen the others do it, with the addition of murmuring "Shut
Sesame" to himself, and then ran away as fast as his short legs could
carry him.

Well clear of the dangerous vicinity, he proceeded more leisurely for
about a mile, until he came to a low whitewashed fence, inclosing a
small cultivated patch and a neat farmhouse beyond. Here he paused,
and, cowering behind the fence, with extraordinary facial contortions
produced a cry not unlike the scream of a blue jay. Repeating it at
intervals, he was presently relieved by observing the approach of a
nankeen sunbonnet within the inclosure above the line of fence. Stopping
bef