“Three, if he stays and is loyal.
“Four. All for him when I go out, if only he is true.”
Then the bag would jingle. Then would follow a rattling sound.
“Five, six, seven, eight,” and so on, adding up to a hundred. He seemed to be counting coin.
Then there would be a sound of sweeping hands. Was he gathering up coin—gold coin? Presently there would be sounds of chubby feet, and a chest would seem to open, and the lid to close, and to be bolted.
“All, all for him,” the old man would say, “if he only stays with me and is loyal to the King, whose arms are like those of the lion and the unicorn.”
Then he would lie down, saying, “All for him,” and the house would become still in the still world of the cedars.
The boy wondered if “him” were the King, or if it were he, or some unknown relative, or friend. He could hardly doubt that the old man had treasure, and counted it at night, either for the King, or for himself.
So now, often when the great moon shone on the cedars, he lay awake and wondered what the old man meant. Had he missed a fortune by his patriotic feeling?