"Then I will give her plenty of time to consider matters, Mr. Gardner."
In a little while, charged with messages of remembrance to his father, and bearing the letter of introduction to the widow, Fred was on his way home. He stepped out at a quick pace, for in spite of his long walk that morning he did not feel tired, as he was busy thinking of a certain matter.
You have probably guessed that it was the buried treasure, though Fred had only the most hazy notion where it was, and he knew that it was almost entirely out of the question for him to go in search of it. Nevertheless, as do all lads, he had hopes, and it was these hopes which made the way seem short to him, so that he did not mind the long mountain trail.
"Well, Fred, any luck?" asked his father, when he got home, about dusk.
"No, dad," yet the answer was not given in a despondent tone.
"I was afraid you wouldn't have. A new digging is usually quickly overrun with miners, and there are two applicants for every place."
Fred described the incidents of the day, and gave his father the message from Mr. Gardner.
"Yes, I remember him very well," said the miner. "He was a peculiar man."
"He is yet," and Fred told of the various names applied to the little donkey.