"You don't look like it."

"I don't; I acknowledge it."

"How did you lose your property, if you ever had any?"

"By signin' notes for my brother. It swept off all my possessions."

"Then I pity you. That's the way my man lost five hundred dollars, nearly
all he had. What can I do for you?"

"Madam, I am hungry--very hungry."

"Set right down on the settee, and I'll give you what's left of our
breakfast."

Tom Burns obeyed with alacrity.

A plate of cold bacon, a cold potato and some corn bread were placed
before him, and he ate them voraciously. There had been times in his life
when he would have turned up his nose at such fare, but not now.

"My good lady," he said, "you have saved my life."

"Well, you must 'a' been hungry," said the woman. "A man that'll eat cold
vittles, especially cold potato, ain't shammin'."

"I wish I had money to offer you----"

"Oh, never mind that; you're welcome. Can I do anything more for you?"

"I feel sick, and sometimes, though I am a temperance man, I take whisky
for my health, if you had just a sup----"

"Well, we haven't any, and if we had I wouldn't give you any."

"You misjudge me, madam. You must not think I am a drinker."

"It's no matter what I think. You can't get any whisky here."

At Daneboro Tom fared better. He changed his gold piece, drank a pint of
whisky, and the next day retraced his steps to old Peter's cabin. He felt
satisfied that somewhere near the cabin there was treasure concealed.

CHAPTER V

BURNS RETURNS

When Peter Brant was laid away under a tree not far from the cabin where
he had ended his days Ernest felt that he was at liberty to begin the new
life that lay before him. Despite the natural sadness which he felt at
parting with his old friend, he looked forward not without pleasant
anticipations to the future and what it might have in store for him.

Oak Forks had few attractions for him. He had a literary taste, but could
not get books. Peter Brant had about a dozen volumes, none of which he had
read himself, but Ernest had read them over and over again. None of the
neighbors owned any books. Occasionally a newspaper found its way into the
settlement, and this, when it came into Ernest's hands, was read,
advertisements and all.

How, then, was his time passed? Partly in hunting, partly in fishing--for
there was a small river two miles away--but one could not fish or hunt all
the time. He had often felt a vague yearning