Whilst this talk was going on, Marmaduke—much to the secret satisfaction of both boys—was busy, trying, by using the spade and paddles as levers, to get the iron-bound box out of the hole. Not finding it so heavy as he expected, he succeeded without much effort.
Now that it was out of the ground, George, Stephen, and Marmaduke, pounced on it, pried off the lid, and found—what?
A heap of mouldy old boots, a cracked cow-bell, a worn-out vest, several broken articles, a few door-knobs, a defaced copy of the Constitution, rusty nails, the works of a clock, the rudder of a toy ship, a heavy flat-iron, the head of a medieval image, rubbish, all sorts of things.
Steve, foolish boy, laughed till he was obliged to sit down. As for the other two, they were, to use a polite expression, “deeply chagrined.”
As soon as Steve recovered himself he said, “This is some of Crazy Tom’s work! Of course you two have heard of him; he used to live in these parts, and spent all his time gathering up all kinds of trash, and the boys say he buried it sometimes. Now I know that story is true. Oh! what a treasure we have found! Our fortune is made!”
George and Marmaduke were familiar with the legends respecting Crazy Tom, and they were mute.
“Oh dear,” groaned Steve, “we must get this box back into the hole, and shovel in the dirt, before we can go home.”
This proves that there was something good in Stephen, after all. A great many boys would have gone away, leaving everything in confusion.
“There might be something valuable in it,” Marmaduke suggested.