“It turns everything to gold all of a sudden,” even Pee-wee said; “look at the trunk of the tree.”
“Some bunch of treasure hunters!” Harry said. “Pee-wee, I’m surprised at you. Where are your pan and your rolling-pin and your burlap bags? I thought you were Captain Kidd, Junior.”
“It’s time enough in the morning, isn’t it?” the kid said. “Then we’ll get to work in earnest. We have to get our fire started, don’t we?”
“Oh, sure,” Harry said.
“We belong to the Union,” Brent said, “and we don’t shovel dirt after three in the afternoon. We believe in the two hour day. Don’t bother us.”
Pretty soon the fire was burning up, and it made the tree all bright—kind of flickery, like. We could look away into the dark woods—they were awful black. But right near us it was bright, just like gold. There was an owl hooting some-where—maybe he was up in that tree.
We all sat down around the fire to rest a minute. Harry pulled a log over close to the big trunk of the tree and out of the heat of the fire and sat down on it, and leaned back against the trunk. He said, “I guess I’ll have my bench under the Dahadinee poplar. Look here, you fellows.”
He held out his hand and in the middle of the palm was just a little yellow dust.
IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS PALM WAS A LITTLE YELLOW DUST.