“I found it,” he said quietly, “I was digging.”
“I got it out,” said Ambrose, still bending over the treasure.
“You’d have given up digging without me,” persisted David. “It’s just as much mine as yours.”
“Well, anyhow, we settled to go halves in all we found,” said Ambrose, “and you wouldn’t have known it was valuable without me. A honey-pot indeed!”
He laughed jeeringly.
David was becoming more and more hurt in his mind. He sat looking sulkily at the antique, and when Ambrose laughed he had half a mind to take up his spade and smash it. Instead of this he suddenly put out his hand, took off the lid, and felt inside it. His fingers touched something cold.
“There’s money in it!” he exclaimed. “Oh, Ambrose, look!”
On his outstretched palm there glittered three bright golden pieces.
“Coins?” said Ambrose, looking impressively at his brother.
He took one in his hand and examined it carefully, turning it over and over. There was a head on it, and some queer figures he could not understand, but he knew they were numbers.