“I’d like to pick up eight or ten thousand dollars,” Pepper had put in. “Mr. Strong, have you any idea where this fortune you speak of is located?”
“A very faint idea.”
“If you’ll tell us,—and the place is close by,—we might look for it for you.”
“A letter was left by my great-grandfather in which the pot of gold was mentioned as resting at the foot of the tree with the stone in its roots, twenty paces north of the old well. I have never been able to locate either the well or the tree.”
“But was it around here?” Jack had questioned with interest.
“Somewhere in this vicinity, for the farm belonging to my great-grandfather was located not many miles from here.”
“I thought the Indians were here at that time.”
“So they were, but my great-grandfather had some Indian blood in his veins and was a frontiersman, and the red men did not molest him very much.”
“Haven’t you ever hunted for the pot of gold?”
“A great many times—years ago. But I at last gave it up as useless. More than likely the old well mentioned has fallen in and the tree rotted away, so the landmarks are all gone and nothing is left by which to locate the treasure.”