e
shook the board again, and another bag came this time. Then he pulled
it away, and the sail which had formed his bed in the loft rolled down.
Overhauling this, he found a third bag; and this was the last he could
find. Picking up the lamp till it blazed like a torch, he renewed the
search; but no more of these heavy blessings were available.

Mr. Ebenier was satisfied, and he set his lamp down on the ground,
intending to open one of the bags, and ascertain the nature of its
contents. Under ordinary circumstances the steward would have been too
careful to set his lamp down so near a pile of dry seaweed as he did on
the present occasion. But his mind was, probably, so confused by the
hard knocks his head had received, and by the excitement of finding the
gold, that he took little note of his surroundings. His thought was
concentrated upon the bags of gold. He did not even think of the two
men whose conference he had disturbed, and did not seem to fear that
they would return and deprive him of his booty.

He was about to untie the string of one of the heavy bags, when a
bright glare overspread the space before him. The pile of dry seaweed,
which had been used to cover a sail-boat in the winter, was all in a
light blaze. The steward tried to quench the flames with his feet, but
his efforts were unavailing. The dry stuff burned like shavings, and
the more he kicked, the more the fire leaped up and spit at him. He
fought the flames as long as his courage held out, and then he
"allowed" that the Hotel de Poisson was a doomed structure.

Taking the money-bags, he retreated down the peninsula towards the
landing-place at the Point, lighted on his way by the burning building.
Crossing the plank, he reached the shore. There was a dory there, and
putting the three bags into it, the steward launched it, and pulled off
to the yacht. The treasure was conveyed to the cabin, and deposited
temporarily in a locker under a berth. The dory was towed back to the
shore, and placed where the steward had found it, that no early
fisherman might be deprived of his morning trip. Augustus was in a
flurry of excitement all this time, and had not even considered what he
should do with the bags. His present object was to secure the plunder
so that it could not be recovered by the robbers; and, having done
this, he was entirely satisfied with himself, and everybody else,
except Dock Vincent, to whom he owed a balance on account, for that
night's b