Part 9 (2/2)

outdoors on that night for anything, sir?”

”I don't even remember walking around that way,” replied Mr. Rollins, hastily, and looking as though he did not know whether Jo were trying to play some sort of joke on him, or not, ”but go on and tell the rest.

What did I do? Did you stop long enough to see?”

”Well,” continued the farm hand, ”I saw you go over to the old Dutch oven that hasn't been used this twenty years, and move around there a bit; but it wasn't none of my business, Mr. Rollins, and so I went along home. I guess any gentleman's got the right to go wanderin' around his own premises in the middle of the night, if he wants to, and n.o.body ain't got any right to complain because he don't make the trouble to put on his day clothes.”

The farmer looked helplessly at Paul. Plainly his wits were in a stupor, and he could not make head or tail of what Jo was telling him.

”Can you get a pointer on to what it all means?” he asked, almost piteously.

Paul had conceived a wonderful idea that seemed to give great promise of solving the dark puzzle.

”You just as much as said that you could not remember having come out of your house that night; and that you never knew yourself to walk around out of doors in your pajamas; is that so, sir?” he asked.

”That's what I meant; and if I was put on the stand right now, I could lift my right hand, and take my solemn affidavit that I didn't do any such thing--unless by George! I was walking in my sleep!”

”That's just the point I'm trying to get at, Mr. Rollins,” said Paul, quietly. ”Jo, here, says he _saw_ you as plain as anything, and yet you don't recollect doing it. See here, sir, can you ever remember walking in your sleep?”

”Why, not for a great many years,” answered the farmer, somewhat confused, and yet with a new gleam of hope appearing in his expectant eyes.

”But you admit then that you _have_ done such a thing?” pursued the scoutmaster.

”Yes, as a boy I did a heap of queer stunts when asleep. They had to lock my door for a time, and fasten my windows. Why, one night they found me sitting on top of the chimney, and had to wait till I took the notion to come down; because, if they woke me, it might mean a nasty tumble that would like as not break my neck. But I haven't done anything in that line for thirty years.”

”Until one night a week ago, Mr. Rollins,” continued Paul, convincingly, ”when dreaming that your money was in danger, you got out of your bed, went up and took it from the garret where you had it hidden, walked downstairs, pa.s.sed outside, and stowed it nicely away inside the big old Dutch oven. And chances are you'll find it right there this minute.”

”Oh! do you really think so, my boy?” exclaimed the delighted farmer, ”then I'm going off right away and find out. If you'll go with me I'll promise to hitch up, and carry the lot of you back to your camp, no matter where that may be.”

”What say, shall we go, fellows?” asked the patrol leader, turning to the others.

There was not one dissenting voice. Every boy was just wild to ascertain how this strange mystery would turn out. And as it would be just about as long a walk to Alabama Camp as going to the farmer's place, they decided the matter without any argument.

”And you just bet I'm going along, after what I've heard about this thing,” declared Jo Davies, ”maw, you ain't afraid to stay alone a little while longer, be you? You c'n sit on this blessed windfall while I'm gone, but don't go to fingerin' the same, because walls often have eyes as well as ears, remember.”

When the six scouts started off in company with Mr. Rollins, Jo Davies tagged along with them. In his own good fortune the farm hand was only hoping that the money which his employer had missed might be found in the old Dutch oven, just like this smart Boy Scout had suggested.

They covered the distance in short order. You would never have believed that those agile lads had been walking for nearly twelve hours that day, if you could see how they got over the ground, even with two of them limping.

It can be easily understood that there was more or less speculation among the scouts as they hurried along. Would the farmer find his missing wad snugly secreted in the old Dutch oven, as Paul so confidently suggested? And if such turned out to be the case, wouldn't it prove that the scoutmaster was a wonder at guessing things that were a blank puzzle to everybody else?

So they presently came again to the farm. The ashes were still glowing where the big barn had so recently stood. Here and there a cow or a horse could be seen, nosing around in the half light, picking at the gra.s.s in forbidden corners, and evidently about done with their recent fright.

Straight toward the back of the house the farmer led the way, and up to the old Dutch oven that had been built on to the foundation, for the baking of bread, and all family purposes, many years back; but which had fallen into disuse ever since the new coal range had been placed in the kitchen.

Everybody fairly held their breath as Mr. Rollins dropped down on his hands and knees, struck a match, and half disappeared within the huge receptacle. He came backing out almost immediately; and before his head and shoulders appeared in view Paul knew that he had made a glorious find, because they could hear him laughing almost hysterically.

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