Benedict.—­Ow yaw, in the earth, that is what I say.  There is much more treasure below the earth than above it.

Myself.—­Since I last saw you, have you discovered the place in which you say the treasure is deposited?

Benedict.—­O yes, I know all about it now.  It is buried ’neath the sacristy in the church of San Roque.

Myself.—­How have you been able to make that discovery?

Benedict.—­I will tell you:  the day after my arrival I walked about all the city in quest of the church, but could find none which at all answered to the signs which my comrade who died in the hospital gave me.  I entered several, and looked about, but all in vain; I could not find the place which I had in my mind’s eye.  At last the people with whom I lodge, and to whom I told my business, advised me to send for a meiga.

Myself.—­A meiga!  What is that?

Benedict.—­Ow! a haxweib, a witch; the Gallegos call them so in their jargon, of which I can scarcely understand a word.  So I consented, and they sent for the meiga.  Och! what a weib is that meiga!  I never saw such a woman; she is as large as myself, and has a face as round and red as the sun.  She asked me a great many questions in her Gallegan, and when I had told her all she wanted to know, she pulled out a pack of cards and laid them on the table in a particular manner, and then she said that the treasure was in the church of San Roque; and sure enough, when I went to that church, it answered in every respect to the signs of my comrade who died in the hospital.  O she is a powerful hax, that meiga; she is well known in the neighbourhood, and has done much harm to the cattle.  I gave her half the dollar I had from you for her trouble.

Myself.—­Then you acted like a simpleton; she has grossly deceived you.  But even suppose that the treasure is really deposited in the church you mention, it is not probable that you will be permitted to remove the floor of the sacristy to search for it.

Benedict.—­Ow, the matter is already well advanced.  Yesterday I went to one of the canons to confess myself and to receive absolution and benediction; not that I regard these things much, but I thought this would be the best means of broaching the matter, so I confessed myself, and then I spoke of my travels to the canon, and at last I told him of the treasure, and proposed that if he assisted me we should share it between us.  Ow, I wish you had seen him; he entered at once into the affair, and said that it might turn out a very profitable speculation:  and he shook me by the hand, and said that I was an honest Swiss and a good Catholic.  And I then proposed that he should take me into his house and keep me there till we had an opportunity of digging up the treasure together.  This he refused to do.

Rey Romero.—­Of that I have no doubt:  trust one of our canons for not committing himself so far until he sees very good reason.  These tales of treasure are at present rather too stale:  we have heard of them ever since the time of the Moors.