With what feelings the three raised the buried box may be imagined.
“Hold, my son!” said his father. “This treasure, if it shall prove such, has been found on the property of another man. It is not ours.”
“By as good a right, and better, than any one else’s,” said Dr. Menter. “This property is now in the hands of Deacon Cornhill, who came into possession by a collector’s deed, it being sold for taxes some eighteen or nineteen years ago. A deed of this kind is open to contest for twenty years. So as the heir to Timothy Bayne, it looks to me as if you could hold the treasure. But here we are arguing over what may be a valueless thing. Then, too, the deacon is an honest man, and will not try to hold what does not belong to him.”
It was decided not to open the box until another day, and further investigation had been made, so the three returned to those who were anxiously awaiting in the room above.
It was not told to the outsiders of the discovery that had been made, but the inmates of the house listened to the description of the find with unbounded interest.
Never was day waited for more eagerly than by the party here, and as its first rosy light appeared, the harbinger of a fair and a happy day, Dr. Menter started for the village, taking one of the men with him. In a few hours Sheriff Stanyan came, but he brought no terror to the members of Ragged Rob’s young republic.
He spoke graciously to them, and complimented Rob on his good fortune.
“The ’squire is pretty badly cut up over Phil, and well he should be, for he is a bad boy. It will take a good slice of the old man’s property to settle this matter, but I do not think Phil will have to go to jail.”
With these words the sheriff took away the sullen prisoners from the red house, leaving the others in easier spirits.
Half an hour later Dr. Menter returned accompanied by Deacon Cornhill, who greeted his colonists with great affection.