“I’ll pay you a dollar on account to-morrow.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Yes. Bob’s got some money of mine—over a dollar. I’ll get it to-night and bring it round to-morrow.”
“Of course, Trafton, If you’ll keep your credit good, I won’t mind trusting you. Well, what shall it be?”
John Trafton gave his order and sat down again in the barroom. He felt so comfortable that he easily persuaded himself that there was no hurry about collecting the money in his nephew’s hands. Robert was at home by this time and would have no way of spending the balance of his cash.
“It’s all right,” said the fisherman; “I’ll wait till ten o’clock and then I’ll go home.”
Meanwhile Robert went out on the cliff and looked about him. He looked down upon the waves as they rolled in on the beach and he enjoyed the sight, familiar as it was, for he had a love of the grand and beautiful in nature.
“I think if I were a rich man,” thought the poor fisherman’s boy, “I would like to build a fine house on the cliff, with an observatory right here, where I could always see the ocean. It’s something to live here, if I do have to live in a poor cabin. But I must consider where I will hide my money.”
At his feet was a small tin box, which had been thrown away by somebody, and it struck Robert that this would make a good depository for his money. Fortunately the cover of the box was attached to it.
He took the money from his vest pocket and dropped it into the box. Then he covered it, and, finding a good place, he scooped out the dirt and carefully deposited the box in the hole.