Small Porges stood very still, and gazed up at the moon's broad, yellow disc, and, as he looked the tears welled up in his eyes again, and a great sob broke from him.
"I'm so—glad!" he whispered. "So—awful—glad!" Then, suddenly, he dashed away his tears and slipped his small, trembling hand into Bellew's.
"Quick, Uncle Porges!" said he, "Mr. Grimes is coming to-night, you know—an' we must find the money in time. Where shall we look first?"
"Well, I guess the orchard will do—to start with."
"Then let's go—now."
"But we shall need a couple of spades, Shipmate."
"Oh!—must we dig?"
"Yes,—I fancy that's a—er—digging moon, my Porges, from the look of it. Ah! there's a spade, nice and handy, you take that and I'll—er—I'll manage with this pitchfork."
"But you can't dig with a—"
"Oh! well—you can do the digging, and I'll just—er—prod, you know.
Ready?—then heave ahead, Shipmate."