CHAPTER LXVII.

THE HUNT FOR THE BURIED TREASURE.

“How do you feel?” I asked of my companion, who was sitting where he had fallen the second time.

“Feel,” he replied, placing his hand upon that portion of his body supposed to be the sorest, “why I could readily imagine that I had ridden a hard trotting horse all day.”

“Why didn’t you spring aside?” I asked; “you saw the animal measuring the distance, and could have got out of the way.”

“Can a man dodge a streak of lightning or a thunder bolt?  If he could, there would he some use attempting to get beyond the reach of that crooked horn devil when he starts on a butting expedition.  I believe no bones are broken, for which, I suppose, I must feel thankful.”

My friend arose, shook himself, and then declared that he felt no serious inconvenience from his bruises; and while I started a fire he undertook to skin the sheep, and get a portion of his meat ready for dinner.

It was near four o’clock before we got ready to commence our explorations of the island where we supposed the treasure to be concealed.  I suggested carrying the shovel, but Mr. Brown, with a degree of superstition that I was not prepared to give him credit for, would not listen to the idea for a moment, on the pretence that if we made any movement for the treasure, except during the night time, we should be defeated in our purpose.

I laughed at such a whim; but it was in vain that I attempted to change his ideas, and then to humor him, so that in case we were not successful in our search, no blame could be attached to me, I consented to be governed as he wished, and we walked towards the spot which corresponded with the directions of Bill Swinton.

We found the island, a rather small spot of earth, as he had stated, surrounded by bogs, with the exception of a narrow peninsula, not over a foot in width, and more than forty in length.  It was a singular formation, surrounded as it was on all sides by soft mud, black and bottomless, for I attempted with the branch of a tree, some thirty feet long, to sound, but the limb sunk slowly out of sight, and the slime quickly gathered in the opening, and hid the place where the pole went down.  I thought if one of us should lose his balance and fall while crossing the natural bridge, what little probability there would be of a rescue.  The same sentiments disturbed the mind of my friend, for he uttered words of caution, and even removed a good sized stone that was lying on the path, for fear of stumbling over it in the night time.

We walked carefully to the island—­as I shall call it—­and then examined the unequal surface of the ground for indications of what we sought.  The grass was dried up, and seemed to be of equal length in every gulley and every hole that we passed over; neither could we discover any indications that the earth had been moved for many years, but that was not surprising, for the winter rains would have washed away all superfluous soil, even if a man like Swinton, who was cunning and up to all kinds of dodges, had not taken the precaution to remove all traces of his concealed treasure.