"Sure, if he says so. I can see most as well with my hand over one eye as with my two eyes." Paul in pantomime covered one eye and winked at Phil, who was obliged to laugh. "Well, what does this tramp do? Why, he waits round in hiding until them galoots go off after burying their loot. Then he, like a fool, goes off to sleep. When he woke up his good eye pained him so that he only marked the spot as best he could and struck for the nearest house, which happened to be this old tavern." "I see," remarked Phil ruminatively. "From this it appears he got better and stayed, making himself so useful, choring about, that they kept him on. Of course it was the boodle that kept him at work, doubtless meaning to leave when he got better. Once he sneaked over to this big hemlock and tried to dig for the money, but owing to the great rock they had piled over it, and being weak from his sickness, he had to let it go, meaning, of course, to come back when he was strong again. But he didn't get strong. His other eye became more affected and in time he went blind. After that the tavern folks sent him to the county almshouse, and there he finally died." "Right-o, Phil!" exclaimed Paul, unable longer to keep silence. "Just before he pegged out, along came this same Coster's brother, also a tramp. Tramp number one wouldn't tell the tavern folks because they put him in the almshouse; but he did tell tramp number two, Coster's brother, just because he was a tramp like himself, I guess. Coster's brother belonged somewhere around here and loafed his time away, always intending to visit the spot. But he, too, got sick and before he died passed the secret along to Coster. The original thieves never came back because they were later arrested for another crime, that of killing one of themselves in a row, and the survivor or survivors were sent up for life or hanged, I reckon. Anyway, they never bothered any one any more." "But this old printed paper doesn't tell exactly where the boodle was hid, except that it was close to a big hemlock and under a big rock." Phil was shaking his head doubtfully. "Where would that hemlock be? There are hemlocks scattered in the woods all around here." "Here's something that Coster gave me while he was in jail, towards the last. You see, I'd been sort of kind to him, or he took it that way. I carried him some tobacco. When he found that he was in for a serious time, he handed out to me not only this paper but a scrawl he'd made on the back of an old envelope with a bit of pencil I'd given him some days before. At the time I couldn't make much of what he was up to. But I guess his bad luck in general was too much for him. After Rack landed him he seemed to give up. Anyway he gave me both these," meaning the printed bit of crumpled paper and the old envelope which Paul now passed to Phil. "Why didn't you tell us before, eh?" asked Phil sharply. "Aren't we all comrades together?"