"What! diga for golda?" exclaimed Garibaldi, in surprise.
"That's the size of it, boys, and it belongs to me by rights. How, it would take too long to explain; but help me out, and I promise that you shall have your share."
"You beta we willa!" cried the little Italian, throwing aside his jacket and seizing one of the spades. "Showa whera diga, I finda him, donta forget it."
Sandy likewise gave full assent.
"Then listen, boys," said Frank, pulling a paper from his pocket, and holding it up to the lantern on the box—it was a copy of a portion of the contents of the parchment—"this will tell us what to do."
He read as follows:
"Descend to the cellar. Measure ten feet from the north chimney, then five due west. Here a flat stone will be found, beneath which the treasure lies. It is for my grandson if he be found worthy, for my friend, Elijah Callister, if he is not. If it shall fall into the hands of Frank Mansfield, let him so dispose of it as to shed luster upon the name he bears.
"Jeremiah Mansfield.
"Three Oaks, January 1, 1879."
"Now for it, boys!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "This is the cellar, and we are here ready to work. Barney, the tape-line. Lay over to that chimney, now, while I run out ten feet."
The distance was measured off and marked upon the cellar floor.
"Now, then, five feet to the west. That's the idea! By gracious! here's the flat stone just as the paper says!"