Luck, however, was with me!
On one particular spot, at some distance from the church, pieces of skeletons again began to be dug up. The workmen examined the earth to see if it contained anything of value, but found nothing. My eager eye, however, spied among the clods a lump of a different colour. I loosened the earth from it, and found, to my great joy, a flattened bullet.
That was a discovery!
I turned over the heap of earth, and thus came into possession of six bullets, and a little copper plate covered with earth and rust.
The bullets!—My hero was found!
Reverently I picked up some bones which had been thrown aside, and carefully packed the remains of my hero in my school satchel.
My hero!—a real hero now!—not an imaginary one, like Frans, the odd man.
When I came home, in a tumult of joyful excitement, I secured my treasure safely in my play-box, to which I had a key. And then I had my hero safe—all to myself!
At dinner, I looked round triumphantly, and felt the deepest disdain for my parents and sisters. They had never made such a discovery! They could not even understand what it is to possess the very remains of a hero—the hero himself! I scarcely ate anything for pride and joy, till my mother said—
“Why, Con, you’re not eating. Are you not well?”