“Something struck me,” he said. “What was it and who did it?”
Even in his half-dazed state it never occurred to him to think of Jacob Winter as his assailant.
“Ha! I remember now. It was the boys,” he said after an effort of memory. “They’ve got twice as much pluck as the old man. But I’d like to smash ’em for all that. They’ve stepped in between me and a good bit of money. But I’ll have it yet.”
The tramp rose to his feet and began to take an inventory of his bodily disabilities. His head ached and felt sore, and there was a bruise where he had been hit by the shovel. His limbs were all right, however.
“I wonder how long I’ve been lying here,” he thought, “and where that gold is?”
He was not long in deciding that the farmer had carried the pieces home. He knew where this was, for he had been lurking about the town for a couple of days, and had made inquiries.
“I’d like to get it yet,” he said to himself. “I might break into the house and carry it off.”
The more he thought of this the better the plan pleased him. Without knowing positively he thought it probable that Jacob Winter was the only man in the house, and for his prowess he felt absolute contempt.
“I’ll scare him out of his seven senses,” the tramp concluded with an amused smile. “The man is about as brave as a mouse.”
Of course it would not be prudent to make the visit he meditated just yet. Towards twelve o’clock there would be more chance of finding everybody asleep.