BURIED TREASURE The Old Timer's voice broke a little.

We had leisure to notice that even the drip from the eaves had ceased.

A faint, diffused light vouchsafed us dim outlines of sprawling figures and tumbled bedding.
Far in the distance outside a wolf yelped.
We could do nothing for him except shelter him from the sun, and wet his forehead with sea-water; nor could we think clearly for ourselves as long as the spark of life lingered in him.

His chest rose and fell regularly, but with long pauses between.

When the sun was overhead he suddenly opened his eyes.
"Fellows," said he, "it's beautiful over there; the grass is so green, and the water so cool; I am tired of marching, and I reckon I'll cross over and camp." Then he died.