"What is it, Toby? What's the matter?" asked the old driver, as he peered out into the darkness ahead, as if he feared some danger threatened them from that quarter. "I don't see anything. What is it?"
"Mr. Stubbs has thrown all my money away," cried Toby, holding up the almost empty bag, which a short time previous had been so well filled with silver.
"Stubbs—thrown—the—money—away?" repeated Ben, with a pause between each word, as if he could not understand that which he himself was saying.
"Yes," sobbed Toby, as he shook out the remaining contents of the bag; "there's only half a dollar, an' all the rest is gone."
"The rest gone?" again repeated Ben. "But how come the monkey to have the money?"
"He tried to get at it out in the woods, an' I s'pose the moment I got asleep he felt for it in my pockets. This is all there is left, an' he threw away some just as I woke up."
Again Toby held the bag up where Ben could see it, and again his grief broke out anew.
Ben could say nothing; he realized the whole situation: that the monkey had got at the money bag while Toby was sleeping, that in his play he had thrown it away piece by piece; and he knew that that small amount of silver represented liberty in the boy's eyes. He felt that there was nothing he could say which would assuage Toby's grief, and he remained silent.
"Don't you s'pose we could go back an' get it?" asked the boy, after the intensity of his grief had somewhat subsided.