The coin was a dollar, and it was as black as coal, the way silver gets when it isn’t kept polished. I scraped and scraped, after that, but it was no use--that was all the treasure we found. The fellows pulled me out of the hole. By this time it was plumb dark, and we lighted matches and looked at the dollar we had found. It was an old one, but not worn at all--it was as clean and sharp as the day it was made. Tad was looking at it, and all at once he kicked up and threw his cap on the cellar floor and jumped on it, and shouted like a crazy man. “Oh, boy!” he yelled. “Oh, you boy, you!” As soon as we had looked at the dollar and had seen what Tad had seen, we jumped and yelled, too. Then we piled out of the cellar and ran to where Jibby Jones was still standing by the old pine tree. We were all shouting and kicking up and yipping like mad, but Jibby, when we reached him, just sighed as if there was no more hope in the world. “Oh, you Jibby!” I shouted. “What do you think we found?” Jibby shook his head. He was not interested at all. “I can’t think it out!” he said, drawling like he always does. “That John A. Murrell treasure ought to be somewhere, but I can’t think where it is. He would send it here by a trusty messenger, and the man here would hide it. It would have to be hidden in a safe place, and in a place that John A. Murrell could find, even if the man here moved away and the house and barn burned and every one died. But I can’t think where--” “But what do you think we found?” we shouted. “We found it in the old cistern. Look, Jibby! An 1804 dollar! And as good as the day it was minted.” “That’s nice,” he said, careless-like, and he went on thinking. “But it’s an 1804 dollar, Jibby!” I yelled at him. “Don’t you know what that means? It is worth a thousand dollars, maybe; it is the rarest of all the dollars. A thousand dollars! We’ll sell it and divide the money.” I don’t believe he heard a word. Did you ever hear of such a fellow? We had found an 1804 dollar, and we shouted it at him, and he took no more notice of us than if we had been four gnats buzzing around him. He was more interested in leaning up against an old pine tree, trying to think where some old land pirate might have hid some old treasure--if there ever was any treasure--than he was in a genuine 1804 dollar. And he looked so glum over it that I thought he was going to cry. “Well, we’ve got to go home,” he said. “It’s dark now. I don’t know what is the matter with this old head of mine. I thought it was good for something, but I guess not. I guess my brains have got glued together.” “But, say!” I said. “You did not really think you could stand here and think exactly where the treasure was buried, so we could walk right to it, did you?” I asked Jibby. “Why, of course, I did!” Jibby Jones said. “That ought to be easy, oughtn’t it? If this old head of mine wasn’t off on a vacation or something, we would have had that treasure by now.”