"'Twould be like hunting for a pin in a haystack," said the Reverend Hillary Jones.
As Tom walked away home, it seemed not only as though a ton's weight of gloom had been rolled away from his soul, but as though he could hardly contain himself with the prospect of treasure-hunting the next day to look forward to.
V.
The next day, early in the afternoon, Parson Jones and Tom Chist started off together, Tom carrying a spade over his shoulder, and the reverend gentleman walking along with his cane. As they jogged along up the beach they talked together about the only thing they could talk about—the treasure-box. "And how big did you say 'twas?" quoth the good gentleman.
"About so long," said Tom Chist, measuring off upon the spade, "and about so wide and this deep."
"And what if it should be full of money, Tom?" said the reverend gentleman, swinging his cane around and around in wide circles in the excitement of the thought, as he strode along briskly. "Suppose it should be full of money, what then?"
"By Moses!" said Tom Chist, hurrying to keep up with his friend, "I'd buy a ship for myself, I would, and I'd trade to Injy and to Chiny to my own boot, I would. Suppose the chist was all full of money, sir, and suppose we should find it; would there be enough in it, d'ye suppose, to buy a ship?"
"To be sure there would be enough, Tom; enough and to spare, and a good big lump over."
"And if I find it 'tis mine to keep, is it, and no mistake?"
"Why, to be sure it would be yours!" cried out the parson, in a loud voice. "To be sure it would be yours!" He knew nothing of the laws, but the doubt of the question began at once to ferment in his brain, and he strode along in silence for a while. "Whose else would it be but yours if you find it?" he burst out. "Can you tell me that?"