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"I have always heared," said Silas, aloud (whenever he thought himself safely out of hearing, he invariably gave utterance to the thoughts that were in his mind)—"I have always heared 'em say that all this country around here is historical, and that if these mountings could speak, they'd tell tales that would make your eyes stick out as big as your fist.

"They do say that there's been a heap of stealing and plundering going on about here in the days gone by"—as Silas said this he glanced around him a little apprehensively—"and that there's heaps and stacks of gold and silver hid away where nobody won't ever think of looking for 'em. If I thought that was so, wouldn't I try my level best to find some of it? I'd leave Joe and Dan to run the ferry, and then I'd put a shovel on to my shoulder and come up here, and never leave off digging till I'd turned some of these mountings t'other side up. But I guess I won't smoke. I was fool enough to come away and leave my matches to home."

Silas held his pipe in his hand, and ran his eye along the wood-pile as if he were looking for a light.