ien and his companions were among the first to reach the
scene.

There lay the fallen giant, the greater part of its colossal crest far
beyond the extreme end of the demolished building. Only a few of the
lower, bare branches, just beneath the foliage, had caught the house,
these and the trunk. But the wreckage was complete. The walls had
fallen as though they had been made of loose sand, walls that had
withstood the storms of years, and the old, heavy-timbered roof was
torn to shreds, and lay strewn about like matchwood.

As the eager crowd swarmed over the _debris_ an extraordinary sight
awaited them. The weight of the tree, and the falling roof timbers,
had almost completely destroyed the flooring, and there, in its place,
gaped an open cavity extending the length of the building. The place
was undermined by one huge cellar, divided by now crushed and broken
cross-supporting walls.

The searching eyes of the saloonkeeper and his companions lost no
detail. Nor did the prevailing astonishment at the discovery seem to
concern them. With some care they clambered among the _debris_ to add
further to the discovery, if such additions were to be made. And their
efforts were rewarded without stint. The all-unsuspected and unknown
cellar was no simple relic of a bygone age, but displayed every sign
of recent usage. Furthermore, it was stocked with more than a hundred
liquor kegs, many of which were empty, but, also, many of which were
full of smuggled rye whisky.

Within five minutes the entire village, from Mrs. John Day down to the
youngest child, knew that the cache of the whisky-runners had been
laid bare by the fall of the old pine.

The wave of sentimental superstition again broke out and fastened
itself upon the minds of the people, and the miracle of it was spoken
of among them with almost bated breath.

But O'Brien had no time to waste upon any such thought. He clambered
round through the cellars with eyes and wits alert. And he chuckled
delightedly, as, groping in the half-light among the kegs, he
discovered and recognized his own markings upon many of the empty
kegs.

The whole thing amused him vastly, and he dilated upon his various
discoveries to those who accompanied him.

"Say, Danny, boy, don't it beat hell?" he cried gleefully. "While all
them psalm-smiters were busy to death sweepin' the cobwebs out o'
their muddy souls upstairs, the old wash-tub o' sins was full to the
bung o' good wholesome rye u