“Treasure Jack,” urged Tom. “And let me tell you something,” he added, waxing very excited. “Mink was probably the only name he remembered. When a person who runs foul of the law doesn’t know his name or refuses to give it or gives a name that they know isn’t right, they put him down in the records as John. Public insane asylums are full of Johns. It’s sort of--a name they use like John Doe. Why, anybody with any sense at all would know this was Mink Havers!” “Well,” I laughed, “I suppose I haven’t any sense, then. I _don’t know_ that this is your unknown friend of long ago, Mink Havers--I tell you frankly. But it may be, for all I know.” “He talked of treasure and they called him Treasure Jack,” said Tom, conclusively. “All right, Tomasso,” I laughed, “if we’re going to match facts, the man seems likely to have been a sailor; he had an anchor tattooed on his arm.” “He might have been a sailor once upon a time,” Tom shot at me. “Do sailors become hunters?” I ventured. “Why not?” “All right, then,” I said, “here’s another. He spoke of money he hid away as being in a bait-box. Bait-boxes, all that I’ve ever seen, are quite large and made of metal. Did old Buck carry his precious money from New York in a metal bait-box and hand that over to his partner? Is that the way you carry your money? You can put three thousand dollars in a wallet.” “Maybe they had only coin in those days.” “And maybe they hadn’t,” I laughed. “Look here, Tomasso,” I added, folding the newspaper up and rapping him on the head with it. “If you want to go treasure hunting, go ahead and do it. So far as I can see, the matter stands about as it did a month ago.” “Then you don’t think that that man out west there may have had an inspiration about his treasure--that he may remember where he put it? You don’t?” I shook my head skeptically, sorry at the same time that I had not the assurance and enthusiasm of youth. “And that he may be on his way east--to Rattlesnake Gulch?” “Clearly he is not capable of enterprise yet,” I said; “even assuming him to be Havers, which is possible, of course. I doubt if he would get so far--without money.” “Half of it belongs to the child, doesn’t it?” he shot at me. “Yes, I suppose so,” I conceded. “Of course, you don’t think it’s there,” he said. “You think old Sanderson was right about what became of it.” “Yes, I’m afraid I do,” I laughed. “All right,” said he. “Here’s one for you, and I didn’t read it in a newspaper. I did some investigating while you’ve been playing golf.” I smiled, “Yes?”