This was now the case with le Bourdon, who was
called on from all sides to point out the precise spot where the
young men were to commence digging in order to open on the treasure.
Our hero knew that his only hope of escape was connected with his
steadily maintaining his assumed character; or of maintaining this
assumed character, with his going on, at once, to do something that
might have the effect, temporarily at least, of satisfying the
impatience of his now attentive listeners. Accordingly, when the
demand was made on him to give some evidence of his power, he set
about the task, not only with composure, but with a good deal of
ingenuity.
Le Bourdon, it will be remembered, had, with his own hands, rolled
the two barrels of whiskey down the declivity. Feeling the great
importance of effectually destroying them, he had watched their
descent, from the top to the bottom of the hill, and the final
disappearance of the staves, etc., into the torrent which brawled at
its foot. It had so happened that the half-filled cask broke and let
out its liquor at a point much more remote from the stream, than the
filled. The latter had held together until it went over the low
rocky precipice, already mentioned, and was stove at its base,
within two yards of the torrent, which received all its fragments
and swept them away, including most of the liquor itself; but not
until the last had been spilled.
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