e coat?" I asked the Mex.

"I ween heem at monte off Antonio Curvez," said he.

"Maybe," growled the sailor.

He still held the hook under the man's jaw, but with the other hand he
ran rapidly under and over the Mexican's left shoulder. In the half
light I could see his face change. The gleam died from his eye; the
snarl left his lips. Without further delay he arose to his feet.

"Get up and give it here!" he demanded.

The Mexican was only too glad to get off so easy. I don't know whether
he'd really won the coat at monte or not. In any case, he flew poco
pronto, leaving me and my friend together.

The man with the hook felt the left shoulder of the coat again, looked
up, met my eye, muttered something intended to be pleasant, and walked
away.

This was in December.

During the next two months he was a good deal about town, mostly doing
odd jobs. I saw him off and on. He always spoke to me as pleasantly
as he knew how, and once made some sort of a bluff about paying me back
for my trouble in bringing him around. However, I didn't pay much
attention to that, being at the time almighty busy holding down my card
games.

The last day of February I was sitting in my shack smoking a pipe after
supper, when my one-armed friend opened the door a foot, slipped in,
and shut it immediately. By the time he looked towards me I knew where
my six-shooter was.

"That's all right," said I, "but you better stay right there."

I intended to take no more chances with that hook.

He stood there looking straight at me without winking or offering to
move.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"I want to make up to you for your trouble," said he. "I've got a good
thing, and I want to let you in on it."

"What kind of a good thing?" I asked.

"Treasure," said he.

"H'm," said I.

I examined him closely. He looked all right enough, neither drunk nor
loco.

"Sit down," said I--"over there; the other side the table." He did so.
"Now, fire away," said I.

He told me his name was Solomon Anderson, but that he was generally
known as Handy Solomon, on account of his hook; that he had always
followed the sea; that lately he had coasted the west shores of Mexico;
that at Guaymas he had fallen in with Spanish friends, in company with
whom he had visited the mines in the Sierra Madre; that on this
expedition the party had been attacked by Yaquis and wiped out, he
alone surviving; that his blanket-mate before expiring had