windstorm would have covered it up, and all that afterward happened
never would have occurred. "Look, sir," he said, as he struck the sand
from it, "it hath writing on it."

"Let me see it," said Parson Jones. He adjusted the spectacles a
little more firmly astride of his nose as he took the paper in his
hand and began conning it. "What's all this?" he said; "a whole lot of
figures and nothing else." And then he read aloud, "'Mark--S. S. W. S.
by S.' What d'ye suppose that means, Tom?"

"I don't know, sir," said Tom. "But maybe we can understand it better
if you read on."

"'Tis all a great lot of figures," said Parson Jones, "without a grain
of meaning in them so far as I can see, unless they be sailing
directions." And then he began reading again: "'Mark--S. S. W. by S.
40, 72, 91, 130, 151, 177, 202, 232, 256, 271'--d'ye see, it must be
sailing directions--'299, 335, 362, 386, 415, 446, 469, 491, 522, 544,
571, 598'--what a lot of them there be--'626, 652, 676, 695, 724, 851,
876, 905, 940, 967. Peg. S. E. by E. 269 foot. Peg. S. S. W. by S. 427
foot. Peg. Dig to the west of this six foot.'"

"What's that about a peg?" exclaimed Tom. "What's that about a peg?
And then there's something about digging, too!" It was as though a
sudden light began shining into his brain. He felt himself growing
quickly very excited. "Read that over again, sir," he cried. "Why,
sir, you remember I told you they drove a peg into the sand. And don't
they say to dig close to it? Read it over again, sir--read it over
again!"

"Peg?" said the good gentleman. "To be sure it was about a peg. Let's
look again. Yes, here it is. 'Peg S. E. by E. 269 foot.'"

"Aye!" cried out Tom Chist again, in great excitement. "Don't you
remember what I told you, sir, 269 foot? Sure that must be what I saw
'em measuring with the line."

Parson Jones had now caught the flame of excitement that was blazing
up so strongly in Tom's breast. He felt as though some wonderful thing
was about to happen to them. "To be sure, to be sure!" he called out,
in a great big voice. "And then they measured out 427 foot
south-southwest by south, and they then drove another peg, and then
they buried the box six foot to the west of it. Why, Tom--why, Tom
Chist! if we've read this aright, thy fortune is made."

Tom Chist stood staring straight at the old gentleman's excited face,
and seeing nothing but it in all the bright infinity of sunshine. Were
they, indeed, about to fi