“No, no, Mr. Dusterdeevil, we will divide equally what we find, like brother and brother. Now, look at this board that I just flung into the dark aisle out o’ the way, while Monkbarns was glowering ower a’ the silver yonder. He’s a sharp chiel Monkbarns--I was glad to keep the like o’ this out o’ his sight. Ye’ll maybe can read the character better than me--I am nae that book learned, at least I’m no that muckle in practice.” With this modest declaration of ignorance, Ochiltree brought forth from behind a pillar the cover of the box or chest of treasure, which, when forced from its hinges, had been carelessly flung aside during the ardour of curiosity to ascertain the contents which it concealed, and had been afterwards, as it seems, secreted by the mendicant. There was a word and a number upon the plank, and the beggar made them more distinct by spitting upon his ragged blue handkerchief, and rubbing off the clay by which the inscription was obscured. It was in the ordinary black letter. “Can ye mak ought o’t?” said Edie to the adept. “S,” said the philosopher, like a child getting his lesson in the primer--“S, T, A, R, C, H,--Starch!--dat is what de woman-washers put into de neckerchers, and de shirt collar.” “Search!” echoed Ochiltree; “na, na, Mr. Dusterdeevil, ye are mair of a conjuror than a clerk--it’s search, man, search--See, there’s the Ye clear and distinct.” “Aha! I see it now--it is search--number one. Mein himmel! then there must be a number two, mein goot friend: for search is what you call to seek and dig, and this is but number one! Mine wort, there is one great big prize in de wheel for us, goot Maister Ochiltree.” “Aweel, it may be sae; but we canna howk fort enow--we hae nae shules, for they hae taen them a’ awa--and it’s like some o’ them will be sent back to fling the earth into the hole, and mak a’ things trig again. But an ye’ll sit down wi’ me a while in the wood, I’se satisfy your honour that ye hae just lighted on the only man in the country that could hae tauld about Malcolm Misticot and his hidden treasure--But first we’ll rub out the letters on this board, for fear it tell tales.” And, by the assistance of his knife, the beggar erased and defaced the characters so as to make them quite unintelligible, and then daubed the board with clay so as to obliterate all traces of the erasure.