"He didn't," said Fibsy.
"Oho! And is he in there yet?"
"Nope. But I can't waste any more time on you, friend Hughes, I've sumpthing to attend to. Mr. Stone, I'll go and get that dime now, shall I?"
"Go ahead, Fibs," Stone returned, absently, "and I'll go along with you, Hughes, and see if I can make anything out of your new prisoner."
Fibsy went first in search of Sam, and having found that defective-minded but sturdy-bodied lad, undertook to inform him as to their immediate occupation.
"See," and Fibsy showed Sam a dime, "you find me one like that in the grass, and I'll give you two of 'em!"
"Two—two for Sam!"
"Yes, three if you find one quick! Now, get busy."
Fibsy showed him how to search in the short grass of the well-kept lawn, and he himself went to work also, diligently seeking the dime Iris had flung out of the window in her irritation.
While Sam lacked intellect, he had a dogged perseverance, and he kept on grubbing about after Fibsy had become so weary and cramped that he was almost ready to postpone further search until afternoon.