“It’s gold!” Pee-wee shouted.
Brent said, “Yellow gold, by gum!”
We all just stood around him, looking at it; gee whiz, I just couldn’t take my eyes off it.
“There’s a clincher for you,” Harry said; “the treasure is here all right. All we have to use is some elbow grease to get it. You see we’ll have to chop her down first, because if we go to undermining her, she may fall. Then all we’ll have to do is to dig around among the upper roots, and keep our eyes open, and scrape up the dust. We won’t get anywhere near as much as was here, but we’ll get enough to buy some wireless outfits and bicycles and things,—or I’m mistaken. Of course, the bags must have rotted away years ago. Put some wood on the fire, Grove.”
“It shows how much those seeds wanted to live to push right up through those bags,” Pee-wee said.
Harry said, “I declare! Listen to Pirate Harris!”
“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” Pee-wee said. It was awful funny.
“Oh, sure, they wanted to live all right,” Harry said; “a lot they cared about gold. A scout is a friend to gold——”
“He’s a friend to everything that lives,” little Alf spoke up.
Brent Gaylong went over and put some wood on the fire and the blaze jumped up, and everything around there was all flickered up and bright. Then he lay down on his back and put one knee up over the other and looked up into the sky. That’s always the way he does when he’s around camp-fire.