“Poor boy?” (Hank dug into his melon again.)
“Yes; I never had anything,—I never had even a chance for myself till now.”
“Take another slice,” said Hank. “Now you’ve got a chance for yourself?”
“I thought I had; but this old man here comes down on me, and claims the money which I found in that hollow log.” And Jack, with the indulgence of the august court,—holding his second slice of melon in his hand,—poured forth his story.
“Now what have you got to say to all that?” said Hank, turning to the squire. “Have a bite? ye better,” holding out a piece of melon on the blade of his jack-knife.
Peternot declined to regale himself, and made answer: “I say what I’ve said to him,—the money (if ’t is money, though in all probability it’s bogus) was found on my premises, it has not been taken from my premises, and I forbid his takin’ it. But I’ve offered him a liberal reward for findin’ on ’t, and I offer it again.”
“Squire,” said Hank, “you’re a fair man, an’ I must say your melons are excellent. What do ye think, boys?”
Now the boys were unanimously of the opinion (with the exception of Hod) that the coin was spurious, and consequently good for nothing but to help them make their peace with Peternot. Jack saw them winking at each other, and knew their thoughts.
“You sha’n’t take it away from me!” he cried, throwing himself upon the basket. “I’ll die first! and you’ll have to kill my dog! O, I wish Mr. Chatford was here!”
“That’s the most sensible idee yit,” said Dock. “Boys, we don’t want to mix up with this business, only to see fair play. Better let the deacon settle it. He’s hum from meetin’ by this time. Go fer him, Bub; I’ll take care of your basket.”