But he stood back, while Charley went ahead removing the coat. The unknown grasped the pockets, for the last time, and tried to hand them on to Charley.
"Keep it. You——" and he fell back, exhausted.
"We don't want your coat, my man," assured Mr. Adams, briskly rubbing the feet.
"He's got something in the pockets, dad," explained Charley. "Something heavy."
"Look and see, then," bade the long-nosed man. "Now's your chance."
"Shall I?" queried Charley, of his father, doubtfully, holding the coat.
"Why, yes, if you want to. Perhaps we ought to know."
"Here's the milk," announced Mrs. Adams, hurrying in bearing glass and steaming pitcher.
Charley, with the long-nosed man peering curiously, and Mr. and Mrs. Adams looking, as well, fished out the weight from the right-hand coat pocket. It was a little buckskin sack, round and heavy with its contents.
"By thunder!" exclaimed the long-nosed man. "Hooray! I suspicioned it. This fellow's from the Californy gold mines, and that sack's stuffed with gold dust, as they call it. Open her up and see. Where's the other one? He's got the mate in t'other pocket, I'll bet you."