“I don’t know what you’ve got in there, nor why it acts that way,” said the showman, “but from what I know about money, the most of it’s well taken care of by the men that own it; and just what good it’s goin’ to do to play pointer-dog with that thing there, and go round and flush loose change and savin’s-banks, is more than I can figger.”

Mr. Bodge merely smiled a mysterious and superior smile.

“Cap’n Sproul,” said he, “in your seafarin’ days didn’t you used to hear the sailormen sing this?” and he piped in weak falsetto: 

   “Oh, I’ve been a ghost on Cod Lead Nubble,
      Sence I died—­sence I died. 
    I buried of it deep with a lot of trouble,
    And the chist it was in was locked up double,
    And I’m a-watchin’ of it still on Cod Lead Nubble,
      Sence I died—­sence I died.”

“It’s the old Cap Kidd song,” admitted the Cap’n, a gleam of new interest in his eyes.

“As a seafarin’ man you know that there was a Cap’n Kidd, don’t you?”

Cap’n Sproul wagged nod of assent.

“He sailed and he sailed, and he robbed, and he buried his treasure, ain’t that so?”

“I believe that’s the idea,” said the Cap’n, conservatively.

“And it’s still buried, because it ain’t been dug up, or else we’d have heard of it.  Years ago I read all that hist’ry ever had to say about it.  I said then to myself, ‘Bodge,’ says I, ’if the treasure of old Cap Kidd is ever found, it will be you with your wonderful powers that will find it!’ I always said that to myself.  I know it now.  Here’s the tool.”  He shook the cow’s horn under the Cap’n’s nose.

“Why ain’t you been down and dug it up?” asked Hiram, with cold practicality.

“Diggin’ old Cap Kidd’s treasure ain’t like digging a mess of potaters for dinner, Mr. Look.  The song says ‘Cod Lead Nubble.’  Old Cap Kidd composed that song, and he put in the wrong place just to throw folks off’m the track.  But if I had capital behind me I’d hire a schooner and sail round them islands down there, one after the other; and with that power that’s in me I could tell the right island the minute I got near it.  Then set me ashore and see how quick this divinin’-rod would put me over that chist!  But it’s buried deep.  It’s goin’ to take muscle and grit to dig it up.  But the right crew can do it—­and that’s where capital comes in.  Capital ain’t ever tackled it right, and that’s why capital ain’t got hold of that treasure.”

“I reckon I’ll be movin’ along,” remarked Hiram, with resentment bristling the horns of his mustache; “it’s the first time I ever had a man pick me out as a candidate for a gold brick, and the feelin’ ain’t a pleasant one.”

But the Cap’n grasped his arm with detaining grip.

“This thing is openin’ up.  It ain’t all clear, but it’s openin’.  I had instink that I could use him.  But I couldn’t figger it.  It ain’t all straightened out in my mind yet.  But when you said ‘gold brick’ it seemed to be clearer.”