Thomas Trafton rowed back to the vessel that night. Bart was carried to town the next day. Bart reached home at sundown, and first told granny about the affair of the box as far as he had been able to pick up the threads of the details and weave them into a story; then he asked, "Where is father's spy-glass?"
"Behind the clock, Bartie," said granny. "What do you want it for?"
"Just to look off," he said, seizing the glass and bearing it out-doors. Granny followed him into the yard and there halted; for Bart was going farther, already bestriding the fence.
"Where is that boy going?" wondered granny.
"Bartie!" she called aloud, "it is a-gittin' too late to see things clear."
He was now mounting a hill beyond the yard.
"Back in a moment, granny!" he shouted.
She soon saw his figure standing out, clear and distinct, against the western sky, and he was elevating the glass.
"Too soon to see anything yet," he said, when he returned.
"Where you lookin', child?"