“I’ve found the treasure,” I repeated, as calmly as I could. “And, oh, Tom, don’t squeeze my hands so—we must drive to town right away—to the notary’s office—maybe we’ll be too late—and will you catch the horse?”
“Will I?” he cried. “Ask me if I’ll jump over the moon, Biffkins, and I’ll say yes. Get ready,” and he was off toward the pasture, where old Susan was placidly grazing, quite unconscious of the great mission that awaited her.
I folded up the quilt and got on my hat and went down to the door; and here in a moment came Tom, driving like mad. And Jane was standing there rocking her arms—
“Hop in, Biffkins!” cried Tom, drawing up with a great scattering of gravel. And I hopped in.
“God bless you!” cried Jane, from the steps. “God bless you!” and as we turned out into the road, I looked back and saw her still standing there waving her apron after us.
“Is that the treasure?” asked Tom, when we were fairly in the road and headed for town, looking at the quilt in my arms. “It doesn’t look much like a treasure, I must say. Is that it?”
“Yes—that is, I think it is, Tom.”
“Don’t you know?” he asked.
“I—I believe it is, Tom,” I stammered, my heart sinking a little. “I didn’t want to stop to look. Feel right here.”
He took one hand from the reins and felt carefully.