"Why, what's this mean?" ejaculated Ethan; "looks like you've gone and struck a silver mine, X-Ray! That's a half dollar, ain't it? D'ye mean to say you found it on this same floor?"
"Just what I did, and deep down in a crack, where it must have slid, so nobody noticed it!" exclaimed the other, exultantly. "Now, needn't all get busy looking, because I reckon it's the only coin there is. That's my reward for keeping everlastingly at it. You fellows are ready to give up too easy. Say, did you ever see a brighter half dollar than that? Looks like she just came from the mint, hey?"
"Perhaps it did!" said Phil, solemnly.
When he said that the others all focussed their eyes on Phil's face. They knew he would not have spoken in such a strain unless he had some good reason for saying what he did.
"Explain what you mean, please, Phil; that's a good fellow," urged Lub.
X-Ray was not so dense, for he instantly exclaimed.
"Why, don't you see, Phil reckons that this half-dollar may have been coined right here in this birch bark cabin!"
"Whew! counterfeit, is it?" gasped Ethan, whose breath had almost been taken away with the momentous discovery. "Then I guess I ain't going to bother getting down on my knees, and doing any hunting for bogus money."
The finder apparently did not much fancy having his prize counted so meanly. He immediately proceeded to bite the coin, and then started to ringing it on the hard surface of the oak table that had all the scorched spots on it, mentioned by Phil.
"It tastes good; and listen to the sweet ring, would you, fellows?" X-Ray hastened to say. "If it's a punk fifty-center, then it's the greatest imitation ever was. I'd just like to have a cartload of the same; I think I'd call myself rich."