hest and what was in it; and
if they don't come to-day, they'll be besieging you all day to-morrow.
When a thing like this happens, it belongs to the town."

"Don't neither; belongs to _me_. I found it. I'll keep it. I dare ye!"

"All right, lad. Don't worry. I wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole.
I've heard of such things afore now, and never once that they didn't
bring trouble. All I'm thankful for is you didn't kill anybody nor smash
up the house with your fool blastin'. You won't get another chance to
try, if I have to come right here and stay myself;" and he smiled
sweetly toward Cleena, who ignored the smile, but agreed with the
suggestion.

"Yes; that's right. That's sense. What for no? Troth, to-morrow's a
Sunday, an' not to be disturbed o' none such havers. What's a bit of old
dollars dug out o' the mud? An' Monday's me wash. Faith, it's sense in
small matters ye're havin', Teamster John. Drive yon an' make haste
back. I'll spread me a cloth on the grass an' each may eat like a
heathen, does he like, that same as he was down in the woods."

"But they shan't touch it--they shan't even see it! It's mine. I'll keep
it, understand?"

Cleena understood not only the words, but the lad with whom she had to
deal.

"Whist, alanna, would you hide yourself, then? Faith, no; run avick. Put
on your Sunday suit, brush yer hair, make yerself tidy, then stand up
like a showman at Donnybrook fair, an' pass the time o' day with who
comes. What for no? The box an' the gold must be showed. Such a thing
can't be hid. Well, then, gossoon, just show it yerself."

So when, not long after, the whole band of merrymakers came trooping
over the knoll of Bareacre, they found not only their belated supper
spread for them, but a sight to amuse their curiosity in the buried
treasure, estimated at various sums by the excited beholders, and with
an ever increasing value as the story passed from mouth to mouth.

"It will belong to 'Bony,' of course."

"No; to the Kayes. He doesn't own the house."

"Nor they. If they did, they wouldn't take it from him. They're not that
sort of folks."

"But they're as poor as anybody now."

"Archibald Wingate owns the property. I should think it belonged to
him."

"The 'Supe' will probably take it in charge."

So the talk bandied back and forth till poor Fayette's weak brain was in
a whirl; and amid it all there was one name that fell upon his hearing
with a sense of pain,--"Archibald Wingat