CHAPTER XVI
THE GOLDEN COIN LOST AGAIN
"Let's look, Tim! Let me see. Say, where'd you find it? Bring it here tothe light."
The crowd of boys, much excited, was jostling Little Tim, plying himwith more questions than he could answer, and each one trying to graspat something that he held in his hand.
Proceeding into the main room of the mill, Tim held his prize close tothe light of three lanterns. It was a small box, tied with cords, andcontained apparently something like coin, by the clinking sound thatcame from within.
"I found it out in the mill, where the water comes in and where the bigwheels are," said Tim, breathlessly. "Sounds as though there was moneyin it, don't it? It was just where one of the shafts goes through partof a beam. The beam is cut away there, and room enough left for this,right under the shafting. Nobody'd ever think of going near it when themill was running; but I climbed up there and took hold of the shaft, andI spied it."
He was tearing off the cords as he spoke; and now, as he opened thecover, sure enough, there was disclosed a handful or two of small coin:some quarters and dimes and pennies--but nothing of great value. Thesewere intermingled with some papers, folded small.
John Ellison snatched at these and quickly unfolded them. But they readdisappointment for him. They were nothing more than a lot of receiptedbills, for supplies brought to the miller. Then they counted the coin.There was a dollar and eighty odd cents in cash.
Tim Reardon was elated enough, and evidently thought the discoveryjustified any amount of laborious searching; but the faces of JohnEllison and Henry Burns were eloquent of disappointment.
"Too bad, John," remarked Henry Burns, putting his hand on the other'sshoulder. "I thought we'd struck it at last. Want to hunt any more?"
John Ellison shook his head. "I've got enough," he said. "I give it up.We've looked everywhere I can think of."
"And who gets the money?" inquired Tim, eagerly.
"I don't know," replied John Ellison, "and I don't care much. But Idon't know as we've got any right to it--though these bills aren'tWitham's, and I suppose the money isn't. The mill is his now, and Iguess we haven't any right to come in here and take this."
"Well," suggested Henry Burns, "why not ask Witham about it?"
"Ask Witham!" exclaimed John Ellison. "I won't. I don't want ever tospeak to him again. You can, though, if you want to."
"All right," said Henry Burns. "I'll ask him. And I'll get the money foryou."
"I don't want it," exclaimed John Ellison, whose disappointment wasevident in his tone of bitterness. "Give it to Tim--if you get it."
"All right," said Henry Burns.
Tim's eyes twinkled.
It was evening of the following day, and Colonel Witham sat on the porchof the Half Way House, smoking his pipe. It had been a puzzling day forhim, and he was thinking it over. Going through the mill, along in theafternoon, he had come upon an extraordinary looking object in thegarret--an old wash-boiler, inverted, with a resined cord running fromthe bottom of it up to a beam. And near by lay a sort of bow, strungwith horse-hair.
What on earth could that be, and how had it come there? Colonel Witham,at first, had thought it might be some sort of an infernal machine, putthere to destroy the mill. But he had investigated, cautiously, anddemonstrated its harmlessness. And about the floor were a few halfburned matches. Somebody had been in the mill. A faint perception beganto dawn upon him, as the day passed, that it might have been the boys;but he couldn't wholly figure it out, and it bothered him not a little.
He thought of notifying the police--but he didn't want them huntingabout the mill--or anybody else. The best thing, he decided, was to keepquiet, and watch out sharper than ever.
He was not in a friendly mood, therefore, when, gazing down the road, heespied Henry Burns approaching on a bicycle, followed closely by JackHarvey and Tim Reardon. Moreover, his suspicions were aroused. He wassomewhat surprised, however, when the boys dismounted at a littledistance, leaned their wheels against some bushes and approached theporch.
Greater still was the colonel's surprise--indeed, he was fairly takenaback--when Henry Burns, having bade him good-evening, broached hissubject abruptly, without any preliminaries.
"Colonel Witham," said Henry Burns, coolly, "we were up in the mill lastnight."
The colonel's eyes stuck out, and he glared at Henry Burns with mingledastonishment and wrath.
"Eh, what's that?" he exclaimed, "you were in my mill! Why, you youngrascals, don't you know I could have you all arrested as burglars?"
"No," replied Henry Burns, "we didn't go to take anything of yours. Wewere after some papers that belonged to John Ellison's father. Weweren't going to keep them either, if we found them; just turn them overto Lawyer Estes."
"Well, then, it was trespass," cried Colonel Witham, wrathfully. "Whotold you there were papers in the mill. Lawyer Estes didn't--he knowsbetter."
"No," replied Henry Burns, "but you told the fortune-teller so."
"I didn't say that," bellowed Colonel Witham, rising from his chair. Butit was plain the suggestion of the fortune-teller worried him. "What didyou do in there?" he added. "If you did any harm, you'll suffer for it."
"We didn't," said Henry Burns. "We only played on a horse-fiddle once ortwice. You know there are rats in the mill, colonel. I guess theyscampered when they heard that."
Colonel Witham had been about to burst forth with an angry exclamation;but the thought of his own ignominious flight made him pause. Rats,indeed! He knew there wasn't a rat in the whole mill that had been halfso terrified as he.
"Now see here," he said, shaking his fist for emphasis, "I know youdidn't do any harm in the mill. It was one of your crazy pranks. Butdon't you ever go in there again, or I'll make trouble for you."
"We're not going to," said Henry Burns.
"There isn't anything in there, anyway," urged Colonel Witham. "I'veheard that talk, around Benton, and it's all nonsense. You couldn't findanything in there, if you hunted a hundred years."
"But we did find something," said Henry Burns, in a matter-of-fact way.
Colonel Witham's jaw dropped, and he looked at Henry Burns almosthelplessly. He couldn't speak for a moment. Then he asked, huskily,"What was it you found? None of your pranks now; what did you find?"
"A small box, with some coins in it," replied Henry Burns; and hedescribed the hiding place. "There was a dollar and eighty-six cents."
Colonel Witham looked relieved. "Give them to me," he cried. "You've gotno right to the stuff."
"Wasn't it Ellison's?" inquired Henry Burns.
"Never you mind whose it was," cried Colonel Witham. "It was in my mill.Give it to me, or I'll have the law on you."
"There were some papers, too," continued Henry Burns.
Colonel Witham staggered again. The hand that held his pipe shook. Thenhis eyes twinkled craftily.
"Well, you're right smart boys," he said. "Keep the money, if you wantit, or give it to John Ellison. Yes, it was Jim Ellison's--the moneywas. But the papers are mine. Have you got them? Give me the papers, andkeep the money. I don't claim the money."
"Yes, I've got the papers," replied Henry Burns. "Here they are. There'sall there were."
He handed the package to Colonel Witham, who took it with tremblinghand. Then Henry Burns and his friends made a hurried departure. By thetime the colonel had made an examination of the papers, and had turned,white with anger, to vent his rage upon them, they were spinning downthe road.
"Tim," said Henry Burns, as they rode along, "you get the money."
It was a day or two later, on a sultry afternoon, and Bess Thorntonstood in the doorway of the old house where she and Granny Thorntonlived, looking forth at the sky. A passing shower was sprinkling thedoorsteps with a few big drops, and the girl drew back with a look ofdisappointment on her face.
"It always rains when you don't want it to," she said. "Wish there wassomebody to play with. It's pokey here, with gran' gone to Wi
tham's. Idon't know what to do."
Something suggested itself to her mind, however, for presently sheopened the door leading to the attic and went up the stairs. It was darkand silent in the attic, but she threw open a window at either end,unfastened the blinds, and the daylight entered. It disclosed a clutterof old household stuff: some strings of pop-corn and dried apples andherbs hanging from the rafters, and a lot of faded garments, suspendedfrom nails.
She tried on an old-fashioned poke-bonnet, looked at herself in a bit ofcracked mirror that leaned against a wash-stand, and laughed at the oddpicture she made. Then, by turns, she arrayed herself in some of theantiquated garments. She rummaged here and there, until she came to theold bureau.
"Gran' always keeps that locked," she said. "I guess nobody'd want tosteal anything from this old place, though. She needn't be soparticular. I wonder where she keeps the key."
There was no great difficulty in finding that, either, once she had setabout it; for soon her hand rested on the key, as she felt along thetops of the beams, and came to the one where Granny Thornton had laidit.
"I'm going to have a look," said the girl softly to herself. "Gran'salways telling me to keep out of here." Then, as the thought struck her,she exclaimed, "I'll bet here's where she put the coin."
The lock of the upper drawer of the bureau yielded readily to thepressure of the key; she drew the drawer out, and looked within. Therewas a mixture of curious odds and ends, from which she picked up a tinywhite dress.
"That's funny," she exclaimed. "It's a baby's dress. I wonder what gran'keeps it for; perhaps 'twas mine. It's small, though. Wonder if I wasever as little as that."
She took the tiny garment by the sleeves, and held it up againstherself. Then she laughed merrily. "I wish I could ask gran' about it,"she said.
A small box attracted her eye and she seized that. She got a surprisethen. She had thought that perhaps it might contain the coin. But itcontained that and more. There, indeed, was the golden coin; but,strangely enough, it was not as she and Tim Reardon had found it, butaffixed to a small golden chain.
"Oh!" she exclaimed; "Gran' was right, then. It did belong to us, afterall. My, it's pretty, too. Gran' ought to let me wear it."
She tried to hang it about her neck, but the chain was too short. Sheremedied that, however, by piecing it out with two bits of ribbon whichshe found in the drawer. These she knotted in a bow at the back of herneck, and danced over to the mirror, to note the effect of the chainwith its ornament. It was a rare piece of finery in her eyes, and shegazed upon it long and wistfully.
"I'm going to wear it awhile," she exclaimed. "It won't hurt it any.Gran' said I wore it once, when I was little. It's mine, I guess,anyway."
She continued her rummaging through the drawer, but it yielded nothingmore to her fancy. She shut the drawer and locked it, and went to lookat herself once more in the piece of mirror. The sun came out frombehind the passing clouds, and, as it streamed in at one of the windows,it shone on the chain and the coin and on the girl's face.
"I just can't take it off yet," she said; and, closing the blinds,tripped down the stairs. But, as she looked out the door, she espiedGranny Thornton coming in at the gate. She thought of the chain and itscoin; and, realizing it was too late to regain the attic and replace it,slipped quietly out at the shed door and ran down through the fields tothe brook, before Granny Thornton had espied her.
As she came to the edge of the brook, a small boy, that had been lyingface down on the turf, with an arm deep in the water, rose up andgreeted her.
"Why, hello, Tim," she said, surprised; "what are you doing?"
"Trying to tickle that big trout," replied Tim Reardon. "I've been herehalf an hour, without moving, but I can't find him. There's where helies, though; I've seen him often. But he won't come near; he's toosmart. I'm going to try the pickerel. See here, look what I've got."
He put a hand into his trousers pocket, and drew forth an object wrappedin a piece of newspaper. It proved to be a new spoon hook, bright andshiny, with gleaming red and silver, and a bunch of bright featherscovering the hooks at the end.
"Isn't that a beauty!" he exclaimed. "Cost a quarter. I bought it. JohnEllison gave me that money I found in the mill."
"It's fine," replied the girl. "Going to try it?"
"Sure," answered Tim. "My rod's hid down by the stream. I wanted to tryto tickle a trout when the shower ruffled the water here. Ever tickle atrout?"
Bess Thornton laughed. "No," said she; "nor you, either, I guess."
"Honest injun, I have," asserted Tim, warmly. "You just put your handdown in the water, and keep it still for an awful while; and by and byperhaps a fish'll brush against it. Then he'll keep doing it, and thenyou just move your hand and your fingers easy like, and the trout, hekind er likes it. Then, when you get a good chance, you just grab quickand throw him out on shore."
"Hm!" exclaimed the girl; "I'd like to see you do it."
They went along the brook to the road, passed up the road to a pointsome way above the dam, when Tim Reardon presently disappeared in aclump of bushes; from this he soon emerged, with his bamboo fish-pole.They went down through the field to the shore.
Jointing up the rod and affixing the reel, Tim Reardon ran out his line,tied on the bright spoon-hook and began trolling. The allurement provedenticing, and presently he hooked a fish. Tim gallantly handed the rodto Bess Thornton.
"Pull him in," he said. "I've caught lots of 'em. You can land thisone."
The girl seized the rod, with a little cry of delight, and lifted thefish out of water. Then she swung it in on shore, where it lay, with itsgreen body twisting about in the grass, and its great jaws distended,showing its sharp teeth.
"My, isn't he ugly looking!" she exclaimed. "You take the hook out, willyou, Tim?"
Tim, grasping the squirming fish tightly behind the gills, disengagedthe hook and threw the fish down in the grass again. "That one's yours,"he said.
The girl still held the pole.
"Let me try just a minute, will you?" she asked. "If I get another, youcan have it."
Tim assented readily, and she swung the pole and cast the hook far outupon the water. She drew it back and forth past a clump of lily pads,and then cast again. She was not as skilful with the long rod as the boyhad been, however; and once, as she cast, the line did not have time tostraighten out behind her, and the hook fell in the water close by theshore. She jerked it out and tried to cast again.
The hook swung in, almost striking her in the face; and both she and TimReardon dodged. The next moment, she made a sweep with the rod, to throwthe hook back toward the water. Something caught, and she felt a slighttug at her neck. She dropped the rod and uttered a cry of dismay.
"What's the matter?" cried Little Tim. "Did you get hooked?"
But the girl made no answer. She stood, holding the ends of the brokenchain in either hand, anxiously looking all about her.
"The coin!" she gasped. "Tim, I've lost the coin. Oh, won't gran' giveit to me if I've lost that again!"
They hunted everywhere about them, parting the tufts of grass carefullyand poking about on hands and knees. But the coin was nowhere to beseen.
"I tell you what," suggested Tim, "it's gone into the water. Never mind,though; I can get it. I'll dive for it."
They were at the edge of a little bank, from which the water went offdeep at a sharp angle. They gazed down into the water, but there was notlight enough within its depths, nor was it sufficiently clear to enablethem to see the bottom.
"I'm going in after it, too," exclaimed Bess Thornton; "but I can't inthis dress." She glanced at the sailor-suit she wore. "I'm going back tothe house and put on the old one. You try for it while I'm gone, won'tyou, Tim?"
The boy nodded; and Bess Thornton, half in tears, started off on a smartrun to the old house. In her dismay, she had forgotten that GrannyThornton had returned from the inn; but she was speedily aware of thatfact as she darted in at the kitchen door. There stood Gran
ny Thornton,with mingled anger and alarm depicted on her countenance.
"Oh," she cried, "I'd just like to shake you, good. Give me back thatchain and the coin. Don't say you didn't take it. I found it gone. Whatdo you mean by going into that drawer? Don't you ever--"
She stopped abruptly, for Bess Thornton was facing her, the tearsstanding in her eyes, and she held in her hand the broken chain.
"Oh, gran'," she cried, "don't scold. I didn't mean any harm. I justwanted to wear it a little while. But it's--it's gone."
And she told the story of the loss of the coin.
Granny Thornton stared at the girl in amazement. Then she burst forth inquerulous tones, seemingly as though she were addressing the girl andsoliloquizing at the same time.
"It's gone!" she gasped. "Gone again--and sure there's a fate in it.Plenty of chains like that to be had, but never another coin of the kindseen about these parts. Oh, but you've gone and done it. Don't you knowthat coin meant luck for you, girl? You might have gone to the big houseto live some day; but you'll never go now. You've lost the luck. You'rebad--bad. There's no making you mind. Give me the chain."
Her voice grew more harsh and angry. "Let the coin go," she said."You've lost it, and you can suffer for it. You'll not go out of thishouse again to-day."
Puzzled at her strange words, and hurt at the scolding, Bess Thorntonsat sullenly. "I'll get it back to-morrow, if I can't to-day," she said."I'm going to dive for it."
"You keep away from the water, do you hear?" replied Granny Thornton;but, a half-hour later, she seemed to have changed her mind. "Go and getit, if you can," she said, shortly. "Change that dress--and don't getdrowned."
But Little Tim, in the mean time, had not been idle. Hastily throwingoff his clothing, he dived again and again into the deep pool, swimmingto the bottom and groping about there. He brought up handfuls of sticksand small stones, and the debris of the water's bed. A dozen times hewas unsuccessful--and then, at last, as he clung to the bank and openedhis fist for the water to thin the mud and ooze that he had clutched,there lay the golden coin, bright and shining in his palm.
He scrambled out, had his clothes on in a twinkling, dropped the coininto one of his pockets, and started off on a run down the road.
Perhaps old Granny Thornton had been right, however, when she exclaimedthat there was a fate in the mysterious foreign piece; for when TimReardon reached his hand into his pocket presently, to see that the coinwas safe--lo, it had once more disappeared. Little Tim, with a look ofchagrin, turned his pocket inside out. A tell-tale hole in one corneraccounted for the disappearance. Tim, muttering his disgust, slowlyretraced his steps, kicking away the dust with his bare feet.
He was still searching for the coin when Bess Thornton returned. Theywere both searching for it an hour later. But the coin was lost.
"I'm awful sorry," said Tim, as they finally relinquished the search."I'll tell you what, though. It's my fault, and I've got a dollar andsixty cents left at home, and I'll give you that."
The girl shook her head sadly. "I wouldn't take it," she replied.
Two hours later, Benny Ellison, strolling homeward, with gun overshoulder, and two pickerel dangling from a crotched stick, espiedsomething gleaming in the grass by the roadside. He stooped and pickedup a golden coin.
"What luck!" he exclaimed. He put the coin in his pocket and carried ithome. He had a collection of curiosities there, in an old cabinet, thathe valued highly: coins, stamps, birds' nests, queer bits of stone andodds and ends of stuff. Seeing that the coin was punched, and foreign,and not available for spending money, he placed it among his treasures.He was a curiously unsocial youth; had few pleasures that he shared withhis cousins, but gloated over his own acquisitions quietly like a miser.He rejoiced silently in this new addition to his hoard, and said nothingabout it.
The Rival Campers Ashore; or, The Mystery of the Mill Page 16