CHAPTER XXVII.

What Neville saw as he leaned down from the branch was a round tin canister, such as cocoa or coffee is packed in, lying at the bottom of the hole which the old man had dug. The man took up the box, forced open the lid, and drew out—not a bag of gold, or a string of jewels—but a roll of paper. This he placed carefully in his breast pocket; then, flinging the empty can into the hole, he filled in the dirt, stamped it down, and strewed some of the dead leaves and twigs over the spot. Then he sat down, lit a pipe, and…