ound over to
solve the disappearance of the money, but in vain.

When Bob reached Sydney, like other sailors, he visited several barrooms
where he told the story of his strange loss. In one of the places, in a
corner, sat an old Scotch crone, smoking her pipe and quietly listening
to the conversation. At midnight when Bob was about to leave, the old
woman said, "What will ye gie me if I find yer money for ye?"

"What will I give ye, mother?" cried Bob. "Why, I'll give ye a silk
dress and a ten-pound note."

"It's a bargain!" she cried; and then she told him what to do.

He was to be ready at four the next morning with a horse and trap which
he could obtain from the landlord. If he would take along an axe, a roll
of string, and a newspaper, she would find his money for him, she said.

Though much in doubt about the power of such articles to find his money,
Bob did as old Maggie had directed, and sharply at four in the morning
the two started back to his bathing place. It took but a short time to
drive back ten miles to the creek and the hollow log on which Bob sat
when he pulled off his boots.

"Now, show me the place where ye put the money down," said Maggie.

After carefully looking around she seemed to be satisfied with the
conditions.

"Now, gie me the paper and the twine," she said. Taking a portion of the
paper and tying it with a long piece of twine she laid it down just
where the notes had been placed. Then Maggie said, "Let us seek a shady
place a short distance away and I'll play ye at cribbage." Bob took
little stock in these seemingly foolish arrangements; nevertheless he
determined to be game to the end.

She led the way to a cool place on the creek bank a hundred yards
distant where they sat down. She then drew out of her pocket a dirty
pack of cards and a bar of soap punched with holes to be used as a
cribbage board.

Two games were leisurely played, both of which Maggie won. "Now," said
she, "Come wi' me." She hobbled back to where the paper tied with a
string had been left. No paper was in sight, but hanging out of the
hollow log where Bob had removed his boots was the end of the string.
Maggie chuckled, and pointing to the log, cried, "Now rip it up wi' the
axe."

Bob set to work with a will and soon had a big hole chopped out of the
hollow log, and behold! there were the bank-notes and the newspaper,
forming a cozy nest for some little speckled native cats calling for
their breakfast, whi