272 MARTIN RATTLER.

at him again, Martin. It was he who came to the

2

mine a week ago to buy a horse, and now——” Barney
sighed as he stooped and turned the body over in
order to ascertain whether he had been murdered, but
there were no marks of violence to be seen. There
was bread, too, in his wallet; so they could come to
no other conclusion than that the unhappy man had
been seized with fatal illness in the lonesome wood
and died there.

As they searched his clothes they found a small
leathern bag, which, to their amazement, was filled
with gold-dust, and in the midst of the gold was
another smaller bag containing several small diamonds.

“Ha!” exclaimed Martin, “that explains his hurry.
No doubt he had made off with these, and was anxious
to avoid pursuit.”

“No doubt of it,’ said Barney. “Well, thief or no
thief, we must give the poor eratur dacent burial.
There’s not a scrap o’ paper to tell who he is or where
he came from—a sure sign that he wasn’t what he
should ha’ been. Ah, Martin, what will we not do
for the sake o money? and, after all, we can’t keep it
long. May the Almighty niver let you or me set our
hearts on it!”

They dug a shallow grave with their hands in a

sandy spot where the soil was loose, in which they