“Oh, I don’t know that,” replied Wilton. “The idea of discovering tons of gold does stir one a bit.”
“Hah!” sighed Chris, who was indulging in a golden dream, and he kicked out one leg under the table, involuntarily catching Ned on the side of the ankle in a way which made him utter a yell.
“Here, don’t shout like that, young squire, because you’re a bit disappointed,” cried Griggs; and without waiting for an explanation, he continued, “Well, doctor, I vote that the belt be opened. P’r’aps, after all, these inside are only bits of glittering stuff such as some people think is gold, but which is only iron and sulphur. Anyhow, let’s look.”
“Open it, Wilton,” said the doctor, and the former sat with his elbows on the table holding the snakeskin belt with his hands near the ends, so that they hung down over the fingers, softly lissome, while the horny middle sank in a curve.
“Let’s have it, squire,” cried Griggs. “Go on ahead. You look as if you were making a plan for a suspension bridge over our creek when it’s full of water.”
“The skin seems to have been slipped off the snake by turning it over from the mouth,” said Wilton, whose voice now sounded rather hoarse. “Those ends are wonderfully soft too, as if the skin had been well tanned.”
“Not it,” said Griggs; “say it was only dried in the sun, and then rubbed soft. There, let’s see what is in it. Hold it up by the tail, and the nuggets’ll all fall out.”
Wilton did as he was told, but the nuggets—if there were any—did not fall out, for the neck of the snake had been strained and dragged out till it was thin like the tail part, and had doubtless shrunk to its present proportions after the stones or metal had been carefully placed inside. The consequence was that Wilton shook and shook in vain.
“I should take out my knife, open it, and slit the skin right up, if it was my job,” said Griggs indifferently.
“No, no; it would be a pity,” cried Bourne.