The ferryman couldn't stand it any longer, for the boy was getting too near the truth to suit him. He began looking about on the ground for something to throw at him; whereupon Dan turned and took to his heels again, and quickly disappeared around the corner of the cabin.
"I wish that black-whiskered man had them setter dogs, and that I was shet of them," muttered Silas, as he walked slowly up the bank. "I did think that mebbe I could get a big reward for giving them back; but I don't care for such things now. The money that's hid in the cave is what I'm thinking of these times."
The ferryman was left to his own devices for the rest of the day; for Joe, highly elated over his unexpected fortune, had gone to meet his mother, so that he might tell her the good news without being overheard by any of the rest of the family, and Dan was on his way to Mr. Hallet's to offer him his services as game-warden.
But Silas was glad to be alone at this particular time, for he had something mysterious and exciting to think about—a cave in the mountains that had an abundance of treasure in it. He had long looked forward to something of this sort, for he had often dreamed about it; and when he read in a torn newspaper, which came from the store wrapped around one of his wife's bundles, that some workmen, while digging for the foundations of a public building in a distant city, had come upon an earthen jar that was filled to the brim with American and Mexican coins of ancient date—when he read this, Silas took it as an omen that his bright dreams of acquiring wealth without labor were on the eve of being realized.
The man's first care was to let out the dogs and unhitch the horse from the wood-rack, and his second to hunt up a shady spot on the bank and look for the letter which he had stowed away in his pocket.
But it was not to be found. The ferryman's clothes, like all the other things that belonged to him, were sadly in need of repairs, and when he went to shut up the dogs, the letter had worked its way through his pocket, down the leg of his trowsers, and fallen to the ground in front of the wood-shed door, where it lay until Dan came along and picked it up.
Meanwhile Joe was strolling leisurely along the road in the direction from which he knew his mother would come, when her day's work was over.
"She will be glad to learn that she has done her last washing and scrubbing for other folks," the boy kept saying to himself. "When winter comes, and the roads are blocked with drifts, she can sit down in front of a warm fire and stay there, instead of wading through the deep snow to earn a dollar. I am in a position to take care of her now, and I could do it easy enough if father and Dan would only let me alone. They call me stingy because I will not share my hard earnings with them; but they never think of sharing with me, nor did I ever see one of them give mother anything. On the contrary, if they know that she's got a dime or two saved up for a rainy day, they never give her a minute's peace till they get it for themselves. Now, is there any way I can work it so that mother can have everything she wants, and yet be able to say that she hasn't got a cent in the house?"
While Joe was revolving this problem in his mind, he heard a familiar bark behind him, and faced about to see his brother Dan approaching on a dog-trot. He was followed by the only friend and companion he had in the world—a little black cur, which no self-respecting boy would have accepted as a gift.
But mean and insignificant as he looked, Bony was of great use to his master. He was the best coon, grouse and squirrel dog in the country for miles around, and it was by his aid that Dan earned money to buy his clothes and ammunition. Bony got more kicks than caresses in return for his services, but that did not seem to lessen his affection for Dan.