Bill laid the light on the shelf and pointed it so Ronnie and Phil could use it, too. Ronnie lifted another of the crates to the floor. One by one he removed a set of six wine-glasses and a decanter to match and placed them on the floor in a nest of excelsior.
Phil, however, had his eye on something different. He was interested in a small metal box at the end of the shelf. He took it down, brushed off the flakes of rust and tried to open the lid. It was rusted fast.
Bill had reached the bottom of his crate, and now he was carefully packing the contents back as he had found them. He turned to Ronnie. “It’s not going to be easy getting these crates out of here,” he said. “We don’t want to break any.”
Ronnie nodded. “I know. Yet we can’t leave them here for Caldwell to claim. One of us will have to go for a rope.”
“There’s one in the Glassworks building that we were using to haul junk outside. Maybe we can persuade Phil to go and get it.”
“Fat chance of doing that!”
A sudden squeal of surprise and wonderment from Phil interrupted their discussion. Phil came over to them with the opened metal box in his hands. “Boy, oh, boy!” he exclaimed. “Have I hit real pay dirt. Just focus your eyes on what’s inside this box!”
Ronnie peered inside while Phil held the box so the light from the flashlight could reach the interior. “Th-the money!” Ronnie gasped.
“You bet it’s the money!” Phil echoed. He took out a roll of bills and a handful of gold and silver coins. “And plenty of it, too!”
“Wow!” Bill exclaimed. “Now we can save the village. We can build the dam! How much is there, Phil?”