Cap’n Sproul and Hiram Look, stepping from the yawl upon the beach a half-hour later, saw the Colonel’s gaunt frame outlined against the morning sun.  He was leaning over the hole, hands on his knees, and appeared to be very intently engaged.

“There’s something underhanded going on here, and I propose to find out what it is,” growled the Cap’n.

“Noticed it, have you?” inquired Hiram, cheerfully.

“I notice some things that I don’t talk a whole lot about.”

“I’m glad you have,” went on Hiram, serenely overlooking a possible taunt regarding his own reticence.  “It’s a part of the plot, and plot aforesaid is now ripe enough to be picked.  Or, to put it another way, I figger that the esteemed relative has bit and has swallered the hook.”

“Ain’t it about time I got let in on this?” demanded the Cap’n, with heat.

With an air as though about to impart a vital secret, Hiram grasped the Cap’n’s arm and whispered:  “I’ll tell you just what you’ve got to do to make the thing go.  You say ‘Yes’ when I tell you to.”

Then he hurried up the hill, Cap’n Sproul puffing at his heels and revolving venomous thoughts.

It was a deep hole and a gloomy hole, but when the two arrived at the edge they could see Mr. Bodge at the bottom.  His peg-leg was unstrapped, and he held it clutched in both hands and brandished it at them the moment their heads appeared over the edge.

“And there you be, you robber!” he squalled.  “You would pick cents off’m, a dead man’s eyes, and bread out of the mouths of infants.”  He stopped his tirade long enough to suck at the neck of a black bottle.

“Come on!  Come one, come all!” he screamed.  “I’ll split every head open.  I’ll stay here till I starve.  Ye’ll have to walk over my dead body to get it.”

“Well, he’s good and drunk, and gone crazy into the bargain,” snorted the Cap’n, disgustedly.

“It’s a sad thing,” remarked Colonel Ward, his little, hard eyes gleaming with singular fires, and trying to compose his features.  “I’m afraid of what may happen if any one tries to go down there.”

“I’ll come pretty near to goin’ down into my own hole if I want to,” blurted the Cap’n.

“I’ll kill ye jest so sure’s hell’s a good place to thaw plumbin’,” cried Mr. Bodge.  “I’ve got ye placed.  You was goin’ to steal my brains.  You was goin’ to suck Bodge dry and laugh behind his back.  You’re an old thief and liar.”

“There’s no bald-headed old sosh that can call me names—­not when I can stop it by droppin’ a rock on his head,” stated the Cap’n with vigor.

“You don’t mean to say you’d hurt that unfortunate man?” inquired Colonel Ward.  “He has gone insane, I think.  He ought to be treated gently.  I probably feel different about it than either of you, who are comparative strangers in Smyrna.  But I’ve always known Eleazar Bodge, and I should hate to see any harm come to him.  As it is, his brain has been turned by this folly over buried treasure.”  The Colonel tried to speak with calmness and dignity, but his tones were husky and his voice trembled.  “Perhaps I can handle him better than any of the rest of you.  I was talkin’ with him when you came up.”