as a child to Flint.
The Spaniards were so prodigiously afraid of him, that I tell you, sir, I
was sometimes proud he was an Englishman. I've seen his top-sails with
these eyes, off Trinidad, and the cowardly son of a rum-puncheon that I
sailed with put back--put back, sir, into Port-of-Spain."

"Well, I've heard of him myself, in England," said the doctor. "But the
point is, had he money?"

"Money!" cried the squire. "Have you heard the story? What were these
villains after but money? What do they care for but money? For what would
they risk their rascal carcases but money?"

"That we shall soon know," replied the doctor. "But you are so
confoundedly hot-headed and exclamatory that I cannot get a word in. What
I want to know is this: Supposing that I have here in my pocket some clue
to where Flint buried his treasure, will that treasure amount to much?"

"Amount, sir!" cried the squire. "It will amount to this: if we have the
clue you talk about, I fit out a ship in Bristol dock, and take you and
Hawkins here along, and I'll have that treasure if I search a year."

"Very well," said the doctor. "Now, then, if Jim is agreeable, we'll open
the packet;" and he laid it before him on the table.

The bundle was sewn together, and the doctor had to get out his
instrument-case, and cut the stitches with his medical scissors. It
contained two things--a book and a sealed paper.

"First of all we'll try the book," observed the doctor.

The squire and I were both peering over his shoulder as he opened it, for
Dr. Livesey had kindly motioned me to come round from the side-table,
where I had been eating, to enjoy the sport of the search. On the first
page there were only some scraps of writing, such as a man with a pen in
his hand might make for idleness or practice. One was the same as the
tattoo-mark, "Billy Bones his fancy;" then there was "Mr. W. Bones,
mate." "No more rum." "Off Palm Key he got itt;" and some other snatches,
mostly single words and unintelligible. I could not help wondering who it
was that had "got itt," and what "itt" was that he got. A knife in his
back as like as not.

"Not much instruction there," said Dr. Livesey, as he passed on.

The next ten or twelve pages were filled with a curious series of
entries. There was a date at one end of the line and at the other a sum
of money, as in common account-books; but instead of explanatory writing,
only a varying number of crosses between the two. On the