“Which of you would like to accompany me on a short journey, and be absent for a week or two, eh?”

“We have not time to spare for that,” I said.

“But one of you can go as well as not; that fellow, Barney, whom I see hanging around here, waiting for Smith, can be made to assist the one who remains in the store.”

“Where do you propose going?”

“I will tell you,” replied Mr. Brown, hitching his chair still nearer, and dropping his voice to a whisper; “I am going to make search for a buried treasure!”

We started, and pricked up our ears.  Here was something worth listening to.

“Do you think that one of you can go?” Mr. Brown continued, with a sly wink.

“Well, you have altered our minds slightly, already; but to have our free consent, state the case frankly.”

“I will.  You remember when we made an excursion into the country some three months since, that we had a brush with a party of bushrangers, and that we captured a number, and among them Bill Swinton, the leader?”

We nodded.  We began to comprehend him.  Mr. Brown continued, after first glancing around the room to see that no one was listening save ourselves,—­

“You will also recollect, if you tax your mind, that I endeavored to get Bill to make some revelations concerning a quantity of dust which he helped rob a guard of many months since.”

We remembered the circumstance, and also the furious manner in which Bill had refused to divulge his knowledge of the transaction.

“I told him then that I should learn in what part of the country he had buried his share of the treasure, but if I am not mistaken, I was laughed at and defied.”

We confirmed Mr. Brown’s words in that respect.

“Well,” continued the ex-officer, “poor Bill has taken leave of this world, and I hope has gone to a better one.  He was hardly suited for this bustling sphere, and I think his cares were too much for him.”

“When did he die?” I inquired.

“Last night.”

“Did he make a confession? who was with him when he died?” we asked, eagerly.

“Softly; you would hardly have required me to bother the poor fellow with questions, when his breath was scant, and his thoughts were on things not of this earth.  I was with him, but he spoke not, excepting to utter the words,—­

“‘I am going—­remember the shadow!’”

“To what did he refer?”

“That is precisely what the watcher, who was with Bill when he breathed his last, wanted to know.”

“He was probably wandering in his mind, and knew not what he said.”

“I think that he was sensible of what was going on around him, and uttered the expression to convince me of his sincerity.”

“Make us your confidant, and we will endeavor to think as you do.”

“I will, because in the first place I owe my life to your devotion on that day, and therefore you shall share in all the benefits that are likely to arise from Bill’s death; and in the second place it is necessary for me to have a companion to prosecute my searches for the treasure.”