"The variation of the magnetic compass," said Goodloe, "from the true
meridian."

He smiled in his superior way; and then I saw come out in his face the
singular, eager, consuming cupidity of the seeker after buried treasure.

"Sometimes," he said with the air of the oracle, "these old traditions
of hidden money are not without foundation. Suppose you let me look over
that paper describing the location. Perhaps together we might--"

The result was that Goodloe Banks and I, rivals in love, became
companions in adventure. We went to Chico by stage from Huntersburg,
the nearest railroad town. In Chico we hired a team drawing a covered
spring-wagon and camping paraphernalia. We had the same surveyor run
out our distance, as revised by Goodloe and his variations, and then
dismissed him and sent him on his homeward road.

It was night when we arrived. I fed the horses and made a fire near the
bank of the river and cooked supper. Goodloe would have helped, but his
education had not fitted him for practical things.

But while I worked he cheered me with the expression of great thoughts
handed down from the dead ones of old. He quoted some translations from
the Greek at much length.

"Anacreon," he explained. "That was a favorite passage with Miss
Mangum--as I recited it."

"She is meant for higher things," said I, repeating his phrase.