d him so, he put it back into the bag, tied it up, and
replaced it in the hide, and went away in a rage. He never came back.
There was a storm from the east'ard that night. Two or three boats
were capsized, and my mate and one or two more lads were drowned. The
guineas have lain in the hide ever since. I've often thought o' usin'
them; but somehow or other never could make up my mind. You may call
this foolish, mayhap it was; anyhow I now leave the gold to you;--to
Tommy, if you never come back, or to Guy if he don't turn up.
Bluenose don't want it: it would only bother him if I put it in his
way.

"This is all I've got to say: The old house ain't worth much, but such
as it is, it's yours, or it may go the same way as the guineas.

"Now, Bax, may God bless you, and make you one of His own children,
through Jesus Christ. My heart warms to you for your own sake, and
for the sake of her whose name you bear. Farewell.--Your old friend
and mate, JEPH."

Bax stooped over the bed, and pressed his lips to the dead man's
forehead, when he had finished reading this letter. For some time the
two friends sat talking of old Jeph's sayings and doings in former days,
forgetful of the treasure of which the epistle spoke. At last Bax rose
and drew a table to the corner mentioned in the letter. Getting upon
this, he found an old board nailed against the wall.

"Hand me that axe, Guy; it must be behind this."

The board was soon wrenched off, and a small door revealed in the wall.
The key opened it at once, and inside a bag was found. Untying this,
Bax emptied the glittering contents on the table. It was a large heap,
amounting to five hundred guineas!

"I congratulate you, Bax," said Guy; "this removes a great difficulty
out of your way. Five hundred guineas will give you a fair start."

"Do you suppose that I will appropriate this to myself?" said Bax. "You
and Tommy are mentioned in the letter as well as me."

"You may do as you please in regard to Tommy," said Guy, "but as for me,
I have a good salary, and won't touch a guinea of it."

"Well, well," said Bax, with a sad smile, "this is neither the time nor
place to talk of such matters. It is time to give notice of the old
man's death."

Saying this, he returned the gold to its former place, locked the hide,
and replaced the board. As he was doing this, a peculiar cut in the
beam over his head caught his eye.

"I do believe he