Jack was in for leaving the deserted cottage at once and continuing on the track of those who had plundered their hut, but the others demurred.
“Let’s take a look around first,” cried Boxy. “It’s fun to strike an old place like this. Let’s see what we can find. Perhaps we’ll unearth a treasure.”
“Not likely!” laughed Jack. “But there are some few old dishes in the pantry collection hunters might go wild over,” he went on, as he brought out half a dozen of the delicate blue ware variety.
“Let us take them along!” said Andy. “Evidently the original owner is dead, or has given up all claim to them.”
He and his brother continued to sort over the stuff in the pantry, while Boxy and Pickles took down several articles from the wide, old-fashioned mantelpiece.
“Here’s a candlestick from revolutionary times,” said Boxy. “I’m going to take that along and put it in father’s war collection.”
“An’ dar is an ole tinder box,” cried Pickles. “We kin use dat if we run out ob matches.”
“Here’s a bean pot half full of moldy beans,” called out Andy, presently. “Shouldn’t wonder if the fellow who once lived here was a Yankee.”
“And here’s a book on money!” shouted Jack. “Here is a name: John Applegate, his book, January 1, 1824. Phew! over seventy years ago! He must be dead by this time if he was, say twenty, when he got the volume.”
“He was more than that,” returned Boxy, “for here is his name over the door: John Applegate, 1814. He built this cottage eighty years ago. Would you believe it! I should think it would tumble down in that time.”