p of the precipice, and so swing around the shoulder of
the mountain. I did not feel inclined to attempt it. The cliffs
at this point offered no means of descent, and the few yards of
sand which the receding tide had left bare at their foot led
nowhere.

So far I had seen no pig, and I began to think they must all be
feeding on the other side of the island. I turned to go back, and
at that moment I heard an outcry in the bushes and Benjy came
tearing out at the heels of a fine young porker. I threw up my gun
to fire, but the evolutions of Benjy and the pig were such that I
was as likely to hit one as the other. The pig, of course, made
desperate efforts to escape from the cul-de-sac in which he found
himself. His only hope was to get back into the woods on the
point. Benjy kept him headed off successfully, and I began to edge
up, watching my chance for a shot. Suddenly the pig came dashing
straight toward me--oblivious, I suppose, to everything but the
white snapping terror at his heels. Taken by surprise, I
fired--and missed. The pig shot between my knees, Benjy after him.
I withstood the shock of the pig, but not of Benjy. I fell,
clawing wildly, into a matted mass of creepers that covered the
ground beside me.

I got to my feet quickly, dragging the whole mass of vines up with
me. Then I saw that they had covered a curiously regular little
patch of ground, outlined at intervals with small stones. At one
end was a larger stone.

The patch was narrow, about six feet long--instantly suggestive of
a grave. But swift beyond all process of reason was the certainty
that flashed into my mind. I fell on my knees beside the stone at
the head and pulled away the torn vine-tendrils. I saw the letters
B. H. and an attempt at cross-bones rudely cut into the surface of
the stone.

I closed my eyes and tried to steady myself. I thought, I am
seeing things. _This is the mere projection of the vision which
has been in my mind so long_.

I opened my eyes, and lo, the fantasy, if fantasy it were,
remained. I smote with my fist upon the stone. The stone was
solid--it bruised the flesh. And as I saw the blood run, I
screamed aloud like a madman, "_It's real, real, real_!"

Under the stone lay the guardian of the treasure of the _Bonny
Lass_--And his secret was within my grasp.

I don't know how long I crouched beside the stone, as drunk with
joy as any hasheesh toper with his drug. I roused at last to find