As the three walked along, Tailor Vertz beguiled the way with stories of the departed Swede, and how his ghost still haunted the ruins—how it was apt to appear to treasure-hunters, laying its grisly hand upon them at the very moment of finding the sought-for treasure, until the very hearts of his listeners quaked with dread. Probably they would willingly have sacrificed their hopes of treasure and turned back, but neither of them liked to propose such a measure. The lantern cast a ghostly flitting light on the fence posts and trees as they walked along, and so drew near the ruined house, the chimney of which stood black against the sky.
"Now dere is von tings to remember," said Tailor Vertz, as they stood on the shapeless pile of stones that marked the ruin. He spoke impressively. "Now dere is von tings to remember. From de moment de stick pegins to p'int, you mustn't speak von vord, for shoost as soon as you do—poof!—de magics all goes out of de stick, de silfer turns into lead, and de treasure all melt like ice on a hot stove. If you see a ghost, den mind, shoost don't pay no notice to him, but go on vorkings, and say nodings. Are you ready?"
"Suppose you take the crowbar, and I'll hold the lantern," said Billy.
"No, I've carried it all the way, and I'm tired," said Ned.
They both thought there was less danger from the ghost to the one that held the lantern than to the one that laid a hand on his buried treasure. However, it was finally determined that Ned should begin, and work until he was tired, and then Billy should take a turn. The tailor stepped forward, holding the wand by the middle between his finger and thumb. In this way the slightest movement of the fingers would direct it. The boys watched him with the most intense interest. The willow wand moved slowly this way and that, and finally pointed toward a great beam that reached across the chimney just over the fire-place, thus indicating it as the place where a treasure must be. The boys approached cautiously, Billy holding the lantern, and Ned firmly grasping the crowbar, both wrought up to a high pitch of nervous excitement, while the tailor stood a little back from them. It was a hopeless-looking piece of work for two boys to remove such a beam, so imbedded in the stone and mortar, and probably that was why the tailor had selected it. Ned struck the crowbar between the stones just under the beam, but it was a quarter of an hour's job to loosen the first stone, which was very large; but finally it came, and then another. Then Ned, whose face was beaded with perspiration, handed the crowbar to Billy. By this time they were beginning to regain their courage. Billy examined the chimney carefully, and seeing a stone looser than the rest, just over the beam, determined to begin the attack in that quarter; so he stuck the crowbar between that stone and the next, and began to prize. In the mean time, Tailor Vertz had grown tired, and determined to hasten matters; accordingly, just as the stone was loosening, he gave an unearthly groan.
"What's that?" cried Billy, and let go of the crowbar. It fell clanking on the stones, and with it fell the stone he was loosening. The groan, and the noise of the falling of the crowbar and the stone, frightened Ned so that he dropped the lantern; and the boys, leaping over the pile of stones, fled up the road like frightened deer, closely followed by the tailor, who was scarcely less frightened than they were. At length they stopped, and stood panting about a hundred yards up the road.
"Ach! mein Himmel!" cried Tailor Vertz, stamping his foot, "what you speak for? You have shpoilt all de magic of de vitch-villow. Vy did you not hold your tongue?"
"Did you hear that groan?" said Billy, in an awful voice.
"It must have been the ghost," said Ned. Then, in a very loud voice, "I don't want the money anyhow," cried he.
"But you dropped father's lantern back there."