“What, didn’t you look?” cried Wilton.
“No; the exertion he made in trying to lift himself so that I could draw away the belt was too much for him, and every thought went to the effort to revive him from his swoon; but it was all in vain, the poor fellow came to sufficiently to show that he was conscious, and caught my hand in his to draw it towards where the belt lay. He pressed my fingers round it, and then lay gazing at me wildly as I bathed his face, till I awoke to the feet that I was trying to revive the dead.”
There was silence then for a few moments before Wilton spoke the words that the two boys were eager to utter.
“I’m afraid it’s all the poor fellow’s dream,” he said. And then, “I have no hunger or thirst for gold, but I must confess to a feeling of excitement and desire to know what is in the belt.”
“Open it then, and let’s all see,” said the doctor, and he drew what looked like the well-rubbed and stained skin of a serpent about four feet long from his jacket pocket, and laid it upon the table.
“Skin of a rattler—a copperhead, I should say,” cried Griggs. “Well, not a bad idea for a cash belt. There’s something hard in it anyhow,” he continued, as the doctor let the end drop. “But I say, look here: don’t open it for a few moments, because I don’t want for us to be disappointed.”
“I don’t think we shall be,” said Bourne. “It is quite possible that in his wanderings the poor fellow found gold, even if he magnified his findings in his imagination.”
“That’s right, parson,” cried Griggs, “but you don’t see my point. What I meant about being disappointed was this—supposing this long shot-belt sort of thing does hold so many nuggets of gold, what then?”
“What then?” cried Wilton. “Why, it is gold.”
“To be sure; but what about finding the tons, doctor?”