“By as good a right, and better, than any one else’s,” said Dr. Menter. “This property is now in the hands of Deacon Cornhill, who came into possession by a collector’s deed, it being sold for taxes some eighteen or nineteen years ago. A deed of this kind is open to contest for twenty years. So as the heir to Timothy Bayne, it looks to me as if you could hold the treasure. But here we are arguing over what may be a valueless thing. Then, too, the deacon is an honest man, and will not try to hold what does not belong to him.” It was decided not to open the box until another day, and further investigation had been made, so the three returned to those who were anxiously awaiting in the room above. It was not told to the outsiders of the discovery that had been made, but the inmates of the house listened to the description of the find with unbounded interest. Never was day waited for more eagerly than by the party here, and as its first rosy light appeared, the harbinger of a fair and a happy day, Dr. Menter started for the village, taking one of the men with him. In a few hours Sheriff Stanyan came, but he brought no terror to the members of Ragged Rob’s young republic. He spoke graciously to them, and complimented Rob on his good fortune. “The ’squire is pretty badly cut up over Phil, and well he should be, for he is a bad boy. It will take a good slice of the old man’s property to settle this matter, but I do not think Phil will have to go to jail.” With these words the sheriff took away the sullen prisoners from the red house, leaving the others in easier spirits. Half an hour later Dr. Menter returned accompanied by Deacon Cornhill, who greeted his colonists with great affection. “The light is breaking,” he said, gladly, “and you are coming out all right, thanks to Rob, here.” “Not more to me than to our friends,” said Little Hickory. The deacon had aged in appearance more than ten years since the others had last seen him, and the hearts of all went out to the kind-hearted man, who had done so much for them, and had himself suffered so much. But the moment of darkness was already fleeting, and a new light was coming into their lives. The iron-bound box was soon broken into, and the overjoyed spectators beheld a sight which made them fairly wild with strange visions of joy and of mystery. It was a treasure box indeed. Made up of bank notes, government bonds, gold and silver, it held the equivalent of over fifty thousand dollars. Is it a wonder there were dancing and wild exclamations? The more sober of the party could not realize it as true, while the others did not try to realize anything but their joy. At last, when something like rational feelings again held sway, Rob suggested that it belonged to Deacon Cornhill, but he would not admit it. But there was a happy compromise.