d and
worn out, partly from lack of food, no doubt.

As there was no food to be had, I recalled the old French proverb, "He
eats who sleeps"--or something to that effect--and I determined to
husband my strength once more with a brief rest. However, as I turned to
throw some more wood on my fire--preparing to indulge myself with a
little camp-fire cheerfulness as I dozed off--my eyes fell once more on
that grim line of locked doors; and my curiosity, and an idea, made me
wakeful again. I had burned down one door--why not another? Why not,
indeed?

So I raked over my fire to the family vault nearest to me, and presently
had it roaring and licking against the stout door. It was, apparently,
not so solid as the gallery door had been. At all events, it kindled
more easily, and it was not long before I had the satisfaction of
battering that down too.

As I did so, I caught sight of something in the interior that made me
laugh aloud and behave generally like a madman. Of course, I didn't
believe my eyes--but they persisted in declaring, nevertheless, that
there in front of me was a great iron-bound oaken chest, to begin with.
It might not, of course, contain anything but bones--but it might--! The
thing was too absurd. I must have fallen asleep--must be already
dreaming! But no! I was labouring with all my strength to open it with
one of those rusty cutlasses. It was a tough job, but my strength was as
the strength of ten, for the old treasure-hunting lust was upon me, and
I had forgotten everything else in the world.

At last, with a great wooden groan, as though its heart were breaking at
having to give up its secret at last, it crashed open. I fell on my
knees as though I had been struck by lightning, for it was literally
brimming over with silver and gold pieces--doubloons and pieces of
eight; English and French coins, too--guineas and louis d'or: "all"--as
Tobias's manuscript had said--"all good money."

For a while I knelt over it, dazed and blinded, lost; then I slowly
plunged my hands into it, and let the pieces pour and pour through them,
literally bathing them in gold and silver, as I had read of misers
doing.

Meanwhile, I talked insanely to myself, made all sorts of inarticulate
noises, sang shreds of old songs. Rising at length, I capered up and
down the gallery, talking aloud to the "King" as though he had been
there, and anon breaking out again into absurd song, roaring it out at
the top of my voice, lau