a Spanish priest who was in on the treasure-burying, and who died many
years before--no, afterward--in old Rundle's house. Old Rundle wrote it
down from dictation.

"Why didn't your father look this up?" I asked young Rundle.

"He went blind before he could do so," he replied.

"Why didn't you hunt for it yourself?" I asked.

"Well," said he, "I've only known about the paper for ten years. First
there was the spring ploughin' to do, and then choppin' the weeds out of
the corn; and then come takin' fodder; and mighty soon winter was on us.
It seemed to run along that way year after year."

That sounded perfectly reasonable to me, so I took it up with young Lee
Rundle at once.

The directions on the paper were simple. The whole burro cavalcade laden
with the treasure started from an old Spanish mission in Dolores County.
They travelled due south by the compass until they reached the Alamito
River. They forded this, and buried the treasure on the top of a little
mountain shaped like a pack-saddle standing in a row between two higher
ones. A heap of stones marked the place of the buried treasure. All the
party except the Spanish priest were killed by Indians a few days later.
The secret was a monopoly. It looked good to me.

Lee Rundle suggested that we rig out a camping outfit, hire a surveyor
to run out the line from the Spanish mission, and then spend the three
hundred thousand dollars seeing the sights in Fort Worth. But, without