I approached without being observed, and did not hail them, for I did not wish to intrude too suddenly upon what appeared to be a very amusing subject of conversation. I heard Jamesby say laughingly, "Why, it was in the paper this morning—five or six columns of it! It was a great big yarn. I can't imagine why he never told you anything about it."
I knew what they were talking about. I was well aware that I had told my tale of Money Island for publication; for had I not been sought after by men, women, and children for every imaginable explanation and sidelight relating to the story which might have been omitted from the MS furnished the printer? And had I not been asked to repeat by living voice facts in the narrative which I had written, as I thought, with entire clearness in the published story? The boys had all read the story, and I had been put to my wits' end to answer the questions asked by them; but I had assured several of them that if they would take a copy of the paper, go to the Island and there read it on the very spot where the treasure had been buried, and then and there take a careful survey of the situation, there would be no difficulty in their comprehending even the slightest detail. This seemed to me to be a very sensible suggestion; and I suppose some of them will carry it out.
While I really enjoyed the experience of having entertained so many people that day, I was fairly well fatigued when I reached home, where I thought I could at least be quiet and free from the constant inquiries of interested friends.
But here was Jamesby with designs against me! He had dashed my fond hopes of rest; although he was somehow always considerate and endurable. I could never become impatient with him, even if I knew he was going to make demands upon me for more information concerning Money Island.
"What is Uncle Henry telling you, Jamesby?" I asked on drawing closer to them.
"Oh," he answered in a somewhat self-conscious manner, "he was about to tell me of an experience of his in money digging."
Now, I had heard old Henry tell that story before. It was one which seemed to justify his very sober ideas as to money getting by any other means than by one's daily work.
"Well, Henry," I said, taking my seat also on the box, "did you really ever dig for money?"—as if I had never before heard him say anything about it. The implied doubt would, I knew, make him all the more ready to talk.
He replied promptly, with a grin of interest, "Yes, sah, cose I tried money diggin'."
Then he paused as if to await an invitation to proceed. "Go on, Uncle Henry," urged Jamesby.