“Let’s have the purse, Charley.”

Charles hesitated; but the struggle was soon over in his bosom, and he took from his pocket a silken purse and handed it to Tim.

“We are doing wrong, Tim,” said he, as a twinge of conscience brought to his mind a realizing sense of his position.  “Give me back the purse, and I will try to find the owner.”

“No, you don’t!” replied Tim, as he opened one end of the purse and took therefrom a roll of bank bills, which he proceeded to count.

“Do give it back to me!  I am sure the owner has missed it by this time.”

“No matter if he has; he won’t get it again in a hurry,” answered the Bunker, coolly.  “Sixty dollars in bills!  Good!”

“Give it to me, or I will go to Captain Sedley and tell him you have it.”

“Will you?”

“I will.”

“If you do, I’ll smash your head,” said Tim, looking fiercely at him.  “Don’t be a fool!  With this money we can have a first-rate time, and nobody will be any the wiser for it.”

“I am afraid we shall be found out.”

Probably Charles was more afraid of that than of the wicked act which he had permitted himself to think of doing.  He had found the purse on the beach a little while before.  When he had told Tim of it, the reckless fellow, still the same person as before, notwithstanding his promises and his altered demeanor, had led him over to this retired spot in order to get possession of the purse.

“Nonsense!  Nobody will suspect you,” replied Tim, as he poured out the silver and gold in the other end of the purse.

“I never did such a thing in my life.”

“No matter; there must be a beginning to everything.”

“What would my mother say?”

“She will say you are a clever fellow if you don’t get found out.  Eleven dollars and a quarter in specie!  That makes seventy-one twenty-five—­don’t it?”

“Yes.”

“All right!  We will just dig a little hole here, and put the purse into it,” continued Tim, as he scooped out a hole in the sand, and dropped the ill-gotten treasure into it.

Filling up the hole, he placed a large flat stone upon the spot, which further secured the purse, and concealed the fact that the sand had been disturbed.

“I am sure we shall get found out,” said Charles, trembling with apprehension.

“Nonsense!  Keep a stiff upper lip; don’t stop to think, and all will go well.  But, my hearty, if you peach on me, I give you my word, I will take your life before you are one month older—­do you hear?” And Tim’s fierce looks gave force to his words.  “Now, we will go back to the rest on ’em before they miss us.  Mind you don’t say anything, nor look anything.”

Charles followed Tim back to the other side of the island, and both of them joined the sports of the day.  The afternoon passed away, and nothing was said of the purse.  The owner had not missed it, and Tim congratulated himself on the circumstance.  Charles tried to be joyous, and though he did not feel so, he acted it so well that no one suspected him of harboring so vile a sin within his bosom.