Benjy
came and sniffed at them indifferently, unable to understand his
master's preoccupation. He thrust his nose into my face and
barked, and said as clearly as with words, _Come, hunt pig_!
"Benjy," I said, "we'll leave the pork alone just now. We have
work enough to count our money. We're rich, old boy, rich, rich!"
Of course, I don't yet know exactly what the value of the treasure
is. I have counted the bags in the chest; there are one hundred
and forty-eight. Each, so far as I have determined, contains one
thousand doubloons, which makes a total of one hundred and
forty-eight thousand. Estimating each coin, for the sake of even
figures, at a value of seven dollars--a safe minimum--you get one
million, thirty-six thousand dollars. And as many of the coins are
ancient, I ought to reap a harvest from collectors.
Besides the coin, I found, rather surprisingly, laid between the
upper layers of bags, a silver crucifix about nine inches long. It
is of very quaint old workmanship, and badly tarnished. Its money
value must be very trifling, compared to the same bulk of golden
coins. I think it must have had some special character of
sacredness which led to its preservation here. It is strange to
find such a relic among a treasure so stained by blood and crime.
And now I have to think about moving the gold.
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