“An’ so you shall,” said Uncle Naboth, with an approving nod.
We feasted royally at dinner, and afterward Uncle Naboth took me to the theatre, where we sat in the top gallery among the crowd of laborers and sailors, but enjoyed the play very much indeed.
“Some folks who had just banked fifty thousand,” remarked my Uncle, reflectively, “would want to sit down there among them nabobs, in a seat that costs a dollar apiece—or perhaps two dollars, for all I know. But what’s the use, Sam? Do they hear or see any better than we do up here?”
“Probably not,” I answered, with a smile.
“Then we’re getting as much fun for our quarter as they get for a dollar,” declared Uncle Naboth, chuckling, “an’ tomorrow mornin’ we’ll be so much richer, an’ nothin’ lost by it. Sam, the secret o’ spendin’ money ain’t in puttin’ on airs; it’s in gettin’ all the pleasure out of a nickel that the nickel will buy. ‘Live high,’ is my motto; but do it economical. That’s the true philosophy o’ life.”
Next morning, as we were sitting in Uncle Naboth’s little room, we were surprised by the entrance of Captain Gay. He was accompanied by two of the sailors from the “Flipper,” bearing in their arms the easily recognized canvas sacks of gold from the island.
The Captain motioned his men to place the sacks upon the rickety table, (which nearly collapsed beneath the weight), and then ordered them to leave the room. When they were gone he carefully closed the door and turning to my Uncle said, abruptly:
“There, sir, is every grain of gold I got in that accursed island. The most of it was given me for turning the bed of the mountain stream, as you will remember.”
“No more than you deserved, sir,” said Uncle Naboth, puffing his pipe vigorously.
“It ought to be worth a good deal of money,” continued the Captain, his voice faltering slightly.