w, it seemed that I
had never said aught about it."

Dame Brinker started forward. Hans caught her arm.

"Hist! Mother," he whispered, hastily leading her away, "we must be very
careful." Then, while she stood with clasped hands waiting in breathless
anxiety, he once more approached the cot. Trembling with eagerness he
said, "That was a troublesome dream. Do you remember WHEN you buried the
money, Father?"

"Yes, my boy. It was just before daylight on the same day I was hurt.
Jan Kamphuisen said something, the sundown before, that made me distrust
his honesty. He was the only one living besides Mother who knew that we
had saved a thousand guilders, so I rose up that night and buried the
money--blockhead that I was ever to suspect an old friend!"

"I'll be bound, Father," pursued Hans in a laughing voice, motioning to
his mother and Gretel to remain quiet, "that you've forgotten where you
buried it."

"Ha! ha! Not I, indeed. But good night, my son, I can sleep again."

Hans would have walked away, but his mother's gestures were not to be
disobeyed. So he said gently, "Good night, Father. Where did you say you
buried the money? I was only a little one then."

"Close by the willow sapling behind the cottage," said Raff Brinker
drowsily.

"Ah, yes. North side of the tree, wasn't it, Father?"

"No, the south side. Ah, you know the spot well enough, you rogue. Like
enough you were there when your mother lifted it. Now, son, easy. Shift
this pillow so. Good night."

"Good night, Father!" said Hans, ready to dance for joy.

The moon rose very late that night, shining in, full and clear, at the
little window, but its beams did not disturb Raff Brinker. He slept
soundly; so did Gretel. As for Hans and his mother, they had something
else to do.

After making a few hurried preparations, they stole forth with bright,
expectant faces, bearing a broken spade and a rusty implement that had
done many a day's service when Raff was a hale worker on the dikes.

It was so light out of doors that they could see the willow tree
distinctly. The frozen ground was hard as stone, but Hans and his mother
were resolute. Their only dread was that they might disturb the sleepers
in the cottage.

"This ysbreeker is just the thing, Mother," said Hans, striking many a
vigorous blow, "but the ground has set so firm it'll be a fair match for
it."

"Never fear, Hans," she answered, watching him eagerly. "Here, let me
try awhile."

The