During the past twelve months or more there had been thefts of money, usually of petty sums, in Brine's Rip Mills and the neighbourhood, and all Tug Blackstock's detective skill had failed to gain the faintest clue to the perpetrator. Suspicions there had been, but all had vanished into thin air at the touch of investigation. Woolly Billy's amazing statement, therefore, was like a little bombshell in the shop. Every one of his audience stiffened up with intense interest. One swarthy, keen-featured, slim-waisted, half-Indian-looking fellow, with the shapely hands and feet that mark so many of the Indian mixed-bloods, was sitting on a bale of homespun behind Long Jackson, and smoking solemnly with half-closed lids. His eyes opened wide for a fraction of a second, and darted one searching glance at the child's face. Then he dropped his lids slowly once more till the eyes were all but closed. The others all stared eagerly at Woolly Billy. Pleased with the interest he had excited, Woolly Billy glanced about him, and shook back his mop of pale curls self-consciously. "Lots more!" he repeated. "Big handfuls." Then he remembered his discretion, his resolve to tell no one but Tug Blackstock about his discovery. Seeking to change the subject, he beamed upon Long Jackson. "Thank you, Long," he said politely. "I _love_ peppermints. An' Jim loves them, too." "_Where_ did you say that hole in the tree was?" asked Long Jackson, reaching for the box that held the peppermints, and ostentatiously filling a generous paper-bag. Woolly Billy looked apologetic and deprecating. "Please, Long, if you don't mind very much, I can't tell anybody but Tug Blackstock _that_." Jackson laid the bag of peppermints a little to one side, as if to convey that their transfer was contingent upon Woolly Billy's behaviour. The child looked wistfully at the coveted sweets; then his red lips compressed themselves with decision and resentment. "I won't tell anybody but Tug Blackstock, _of course_," said he. "An' I don't want any peppermints, thank you, Long." He picked up his package of tea and turned to leave the shop, angry at himself for having spoken of the secret and angry at Jackson for trying to get ahead of Tug Blackstock. Jackson, looking annoyed at the rebuff, extended his leg and closed the door. Woolly Billy's blue eyes blazed. One of the other men strove to propitiate him. "Oh, come on, Woolly Billy," he urged coaxingly, "don't git riled at Long. You an' him's pals, ye know. We're all pals o' yourn, an' of Tug's. An' there ain't no harm _at all_, at all, in yer showin' us this 'ere traysure what you've lit on to. Besides, you know there's likely some o' that there traysure belongs to us 'uns here. Come on now, an' take us to yer hole in the tree." "Ye ain't agoin' to git out o' this here store, Woolly Billy, I tell ye that, till ye promise to take us to it right off," said Long Jackson sharply.