The men finished with the letter. Hook-nose went on to the Point, and stood looking at the ruins of the light-house out in the Bay; the other turned and viewed the trees that were nearest. "Much comfort you'll get from either," muttered Croyden. Hook-nose returned, and the two held a prolonged conversation, each of them gesticulating, now toward the water, and again toward the timber. Finally, one went down to the extreme point and stepped off two hundred and fifty paces inland. He marked this point with a stone. Bald-head pointed to the trees, a hundred yards away, and shook his head. More talk followed. Then they produced a compass, and ran the additional distance to the North-east. "Dig! damn you, dig!" exclaimed Macloud. "The treasure's not there." "You'll have to work your brain a bit," Croyden added. "The letter's not all that's needed, thank Heaven! You've stolen the one, but you can't steal the other." The men, after consulting together, went to the buggy, took out two picks and shovels, and, returning to the place, fell to work. "Did you ever see such fools?" said Macloud. "Dig! damn you, dig!" After a short while, Bald-head threw down his pick and hoisted himself out of the hole. An animated discussion followed. "He's got a glimmer of intelligence, at last," Croyden muttered. The discussion grew more animated, they waved their arms toward the Bay, and toward the Severn, and toward the land. Hook-nose slammed his pick up and down to emphasize his argument. Bald-head did likewise. "They'll be doing the war dance, next!" laughed Macloud. "'When thieves fall out, honest men come by their own,'" Croyden quoted. "_More_ honest men, you mean--the comparative degree." "Life is made up of comparatives," said Croyden. "What's the matter now?" as Bald-head faced about and stalked back to the buggy. "Has he quit work so soon?" "He has simply quit digging a hole at random," Macloud said. "My Lord, he's taking a drink!" Bald-head, however, did not return to his companion. Instead, he went out to the Bay and stood looking across the water toward the bug-light. Then he turned and looked back toward the timber. He was thinking, as they had. The land had been driving inward by the encroachment of the Bay--the beeches had, long since, disappeared, the victims of the gales which swept the Point. There was no place from which to start the measurements. Beyond the fact that, somewhere near by, old Parmenter had buried his treasure, one hundred and ninety years before, the letter was of no definite use to anyone. From the Point, he retraced his steps leisurely to his companion, who had continued digging, said something--to which Hook-nose seemingly made no reply, save by a shovel of sand--and continued directly toward the timber. "Has he seen us?" said Croyden.