With that we found our way to a hut which some one had built as a temporary shelter, and a few minutes later Eli had lit another candle. The wind which had risen howled across Goonhilly Downs, on which the hut was built, but the place was sufficiently sheltered to allow the candle to burn steadily. "Here 'tes," cried Eli, safely; "raid, Maaster Jasper, raid." A nervous dread again laid hold of me as I took the thing in my hands, but mastering my weakness, I cut the threads, and a few minutes later I had smoothed out the piece of paper on which the directions, of which Eli had so often spoken, were written. The following is a copy, as nearly as I can make it, although it is impossible for me to reproduce the peculiar characters in which it was written. CILLYILES ANNETT NOBODELIVIN KAMSAY. LAWTID _Be sur ov this_ DOO SOTH. VURS KUNGIT. SOTH AGIN _Lik thiky_ DEVILS POINT [Illustration: Diagram] BLAKPLAS ELLS MOTH S W. BILYSED N. W. PIK BAR SHOWL IREBOX JAMTITE _Loard be marciful to we_. I pored over the directions for a long time, while Eli looked over my shoulder, as if trying to decipher the characters. "Eli bea'nt no schullard," he grunted at length; "Jasper be, Jasper raid et to Eli." "Wait a bit, Eli," I said, trying to remember some of the things I had learnt at school, "it's beginning to get plain to me." "Wish I was schullard," he cried excitedly. Again I pored over the paper, and presently I translated it to mean as follows: _Scilly Isles._ _Name of Island: Annette. Uninhabited._ _Calm sea. (Be sure of this.)_ _Due south of the island. Go as far as possible. Here southward still is a rock, of which a rough sketch is given. The treasure is laid at the point indicated by the black spot, called the Devil's Point._ _Hell's Mouth S.W. Billy's Head N.W. An iron box jammed tight. Take pick, crowbar, and shovel._ The longer I looked at the paper the more certain I was that I had given the correct meaning to it, and yet the whole idea of a buried treasure became absurd. "Eli," I said, "are you sure this is intended to tell where a treasure is?" "Iss." "Look, Eli, tell me the history of this paper. Tell me who wrote it, and what Granfer Fraddam had to do with it. Tell me how it came into your mother's hands and into yours." "Shaan't tell 'ee nothin' more," grunted Eli. "'Tes there. Give et to me ef you doan't want et." I sat for a long time in deep thought, for I scarcely knew what step to take. Presently, however, my mind was made up. I would, at any rate, see if these rudely drawn characters had any meaning. By this means I might get back Pennington, and I should not take Naomi to the altar a penniless outcast.