one　of　those　old　habitual　beings　that　live　about　a　neighborhood
  until　they　wear　themselves　a　place　in　the　public　mind；　and　become；
  in　a　manner；　public　characters。　　There　was　not　an　unlucky　urchin
  about　town　that　did　not　know　Sam　the　fisherman；　and　think　that　he
  had　a　right　to　play　his　tricks　upon　the　old　negro。　　Sam　had　led　an
  amphibious　life　for　more　than　half　a　century；　about　the　shores　of
  the　bay　and　the　fishing　grounds　of　the　Sound。　　He　passed　the
  greater　part　of　his　time　on　and　in　the　water；　particularly　about
  Hell　Gate；　and　might　have　been　taken；　in　bad　weather；　for　one　of
  the　hobgoblins　that　used　to　haunt　that　strait。　　There　would　he　be
  seen；　at　all　times　and　in　all　weathers；　sometimes　in　his　skiff；
  anchored　among　the　eddies；　or　prowling　like　a　shark　about　some
  wreck；　where　the　fish　are　supposed　to　be　most　abundant；　sometimes
  seated　on　a　rock　from　hour　to　hour；　looking；　in　the　mist　and
  drizzle；　like　a　solitary　heron　watching　for　its　prey。　　He　was　well
  acquainted　with　every　hole　and　corner　of　the　Sound；　from　the
  Wallabout＇1＇　to　Hell　Gate；　and　from　Hell　Gate　unto　the　Devil's
  Stepping…Stones；　and　it　was　even　affirmed　that　he　knew　all　the　fish
  in　the　river　by　their　Christian　names。
  ＇1＇　A　bay　of　the　East　River；　on　which　the　Brooklyn　Navy　Yard　is
  situated。
  Wolfert　found　him　at　his　cabin；　which　was　not　much　larger　than　a
  tolerable　dog　house。　　It　was　rudely　constructed　of　fragments　of
  wrecks　and　driftwood；　and　built　on　the　rocky　shore　at　the　foot　of
  the　old　fort；　just　about　what　at　present　forms　the　point　of　the
  Battery。＇1＇　　A　〃very　ancient　and　fishlike　smell〃＇2＇　pervaded　the
  place。　　Oars；　paddles；　and　fishing　rods　were　leaning　against　the
  wall　of　the　fort；　a　net　was　spread　on　the　sand　to　dry；　a　skiff　was
  drawn　up　on　the　beach；　and　at　the　door　of　his　cabin　was　Mud　Sam
  himself；　indulging　in　the　true　negro　luxury　of　sleeping　in　the
  sunshine。
  ＇1＇　The　southern　extremity　of　New　York　City。
  ＇2＇　See　Shakespeare's　The　Tempest；　act　ii。；　sc。　2。
  Many　years　had　passed　away　since　the　time　of　Sam's　youthful
  adventure；　and　the　snows　of　many　a　winter　had　grizzled　the　knotty
  wool　upon　his　head。　　He　perfectly　recollected　the　circumstances；
  however；　for　he　had　often　been　called　upon　to　relate　them；　though
  in　his　version　of　the　story　he　differed　in　many　points　from　Peechy
  Prauw；　as　is　not　infrequently　the　case　with　authentic　historians。
  As　to　the　subsequent　researches　of　money　diggers；　Sam　knew　nothing
  about　them；　they　were　matters　quite　out　of　his　line；　neither　did
  the　cautious　Wolfert　care　to　disturb　his　thoughts　on　that　point。
  His　only　wish　was　to　secure　the　old　fisherman　as　a　pilot　to　the
  spot；　and　this　was　readily　effected。　　The　long　time　that　had
  intervened　since　his　nocturnal　adventure　had　effaced　all　Sam's　awe
  of　the　place；　and　the　promise　of　a　trifling　reward　roused　him　at
  once　from　his　sleep　and　his　sunshine。
  The　tide　was　adverse　to　making　the　expedition　by　water；　and　Wolfert
  was　too　impatient　to　get　to　the　land　of　promise　to　wait　for　its
  turning；　they　set　off；　therefore；　by　land。　　A　walk　of　four　or　five
  miles　brought　them　to　the　edge　of　a　wood；　which　at　that　time
  covered　the　greater　part　of　the　eastern　side　of　the　island。　　It　was
  just　beyond　the　pleasant　region　of　Bloomen…dael。＇1＇　　Here　they
  struck　into　a　long　lane；　straggling　among　trees　and　bushes　very
  much　overgrown　with　weeds　and　mullein　stalks；　as　if　but　seldom
  used；　and　so　completely　overshadowed　as　to　enjoy　but　a　kind　of
  twilight。　　Wild　vines　entangled　the　trees　and　flaunted　in　their
  faces；　brambles　and　briers　caught　their　clothes　as　they　passed；　the
  garter　snake　glided　across　their　path；　the　spotted　toad　hopped　and
  waddled　before　them；　and　the　restless　catbird　mewed　at　them　from
  every　thicket。　　Had　Wolfert　Webber　been　deeply　read　in　romantic
  legend　he　might　have　fancied　himself　entering　upon　forbidden；
  enchanted　ground；　or　that　these　were　some　of　the　guardians　set　to
  keep　watch　upon　buried　treasure。　　As　it　was；　the　loneliness　of　the
  place；　and　the　wild　stories　connected　with　it；　had　their　effect
  upon　his　mind。
  ＇1＇　At　the　time　this　story　was　written　Bloomen…dael　（Flowery
  Valley）　was　a　village　four　miles　from　New　York。　　It　is　now　that
  part　of　New　York　known　as　Bloomingdale；　on　the　west　side；　between
  about　Seventieth　and　One　Hundredth　Streets。
  On　reaching　the　lower　end　of　the　lane　they　found　themselves　near
  the　shore　of　the　Sound；　in　a　kind　of　amphitheater　surrounded　by
  forest　trees。　　The　area　had　once　been　a　grass　plot；　but　was　now
  shagged　with　briers　and　rank　weeds。　　At　one　end；　and　just　on　the
  river　bank；　was　a　ruined　building；　little　better　than　a　heap　of
  rubbish；　with　a　stack　of　chimneys　rising　like　a　solitary　tower　out
  of　the　center。　　The　current　of　the　Sound　rushed　along　just　below
  it；　with　wildly　grown　trees　drooping　their　branches　into　its　waves。
  Wolfert　had　not　a　doubt　that　this　was　the　haunted　house　of　Father
  Red…cap；　and　called　to　mind　the　story　of　Peechy　Prauw。　　The　evening
  was　approaching；　and　the　light；　falling　dubiously　among　the　woody
  places；　gave　a　melancholy　tone　to　the　scene　well　calculated　to
  foster　any　lurking　feeling　of　awe　or　superstition。　　The　night　hawk；
  wheeling　about　in　the　highest　regions　of　the　air；　emitted　his
  peevish；　boding　cry。　　The　woodpecker　gave　a　lonely　tap　now　and　then
  on　some　hollow　tree；　and　the　firebird＇1＇　streamed　by　them　with　his
  deep　red　plumage。
  ＇1＇　Orchard　oriole。
  They　now　came　to　an　inclosure　that　had　once　been　a　garden。　　It
  extended　along　the　foot　of　a　rocky　ridge；　but　was　little　better
  than　a　wilderness　of　weeds；　with　here　and　there　a　matted　rosebush；
  or　a　peach　or　plum　tree；　grown　wild　and　ragged；　and　covered　with
  moss。　　At　the　lower　end　of　the　garden　they　passed　a　kind　of　vault
  in　the　side　of　a　bank；　facing　the　water。　　It　had　the　look　of　a　root
  house。＇1＇　　The　door；　though　decayed；　was　still　strong；　and　appeared
  to　have　been　recently　patched　up。　　Wolfert　pushed　it　open。　　It　gave
  a　harsh　grating　upon　its　hinges；　and　striking　against　something
  like　a　box；　a　rattling　sound　ensued；　and　a　skull　rolled　on　the
  floor。　　Wolfert　drew　back　shuddering；　but　was　reassured　on　being
  informed　by　the　negro　that　this　was　a　family　vault；　belonging　to
  one　of　the　old　Dutch　families　that　owned　this　estate；　an　assertion
  corroborated　by　the　sight　of　coffins　of　various　sizes　piled　within。
  Sam　had　been　familiar　with　all　these　scenes　when　a　boy；　and　now
  knew　that　he　could　not　be　far　from　the　place　of　which　they　were　in
  quest。
  ＇1＇　〃Root　house；〃　i。e。；　a　house　for　storing　up　potatoes；　turnips；
  or　other　roots　for　the　winter　feed　of　cattle。
  They　now　made　their　way　to　the　water's　edge；　scrambling　along
  ledges　of　rocks　that　overhung　the　waves；　and　obliged　often　to　hold
  by　shrubs　and　grapevines　to　avoid　slipping　into　the　deep　and
  hurried　stream。　　At　length　they　came　to　a　small　cove；　or　rather
  indent　of　the　shore。　　It　was　protected　by　steep　rocks；　and
  overshadowed　by　a　thick　copse　of　oaks　and　chestnuts；　so　as　to　be
  sheltered　and　almost　concealed。　　The　beach　shelved　gradually　within
  the　cove；　but；　the　current　swept　deep　and　black　and　rapid　along　its
  jutting　points。　　The　negro　paused；　raised　his　remnant　of　a　hat；　and
  scratched　his　grizzled　poll　for　a　moment；　as　he　regarded　this　nook；
  then　suddenly　clapping　his　hands；　he　stepped　exultingly　forward；
  and　pointed　to　a　large　iron　ring；　stapled　firmly　in　the　rock；　just
  where　a　broad　shelf　of　stone　furnished　a　commodious　landing　place。
  It　was　the　very　spot　where　the　red…caps　had　landed。　　Years　had
  changed　the　more　perishable　features　of　the　scene；　but　rock　and
  iron　yield　slowly　to　the　influence　of　time。　　On　looking　more
  closely　Wolfert　remarked　three　crosses　cut　in　the　rock　just　above
  the　ring；　which　had　no　doubt　some　mysterious　signification。　　Old
  Sam　now　readily　recognized　the　overhanging　rock　under　which　his
  skiff　had　been　sheltered　during　the　thunder　gust。　　To　follow　up　the
  course　which　the　midnight　gang　had　taken；　however；　was　a　harder
  task。　　His　mind　had　been　so　much　taken　up　on　that　eventful　occasion
  by　the　persons　of　the　drama　as　to　pay　but　little　attention　to　the
  scenes；　and　these　places　looked　so　different　by　night　and　day。
  After　wandering　about　for　some　time；　however；　they　came　to　an
  opening　among　the　trees　which　Sam　thought　resembled　the　place。
  There　was　a　ledge　of　rock　of　moderate　height；　like　a　wall；　on　one
  side；　which　he　thought　might　be　the　very　ridge　whence　he　had
  overlooked　the　diggers。　　Wolfert　examined　it　narrowly；　and　at
  length　discovered　three　crosses　similar　to　those　on　the　above　ring；
  cut　deeply　into　the　face　of　the　rock；　but　nearly　obliterated　by
  moss　that　had　grown　over　them。　　His　heart　leaped　with　joy；　for　he
  doubted　not　they　were　the　private　marks　of　the　buccaneers。　　All　now
  that　remained　was　to　ascertain　the　precise　spot　where　the　treasure
  lay　buried；　for　otherwise　he　might　dig　at　random　in　the
  neighb