But immediately after so speaking they fell into another silence, due to sinking feelings. They had spoken loudly and confidently, and yet they knew, somehow, that such things were not to be. According to their knowledge, it was perfectly reasonable to suppose that they would receive this fortune; but they frightened themselves in speaking of it. They knew that they COULD not have a hundred dollars for their own. An oppression, as from something awful and criminal, descended upon them at intervals. Presently, however, they were warmed to a little cheerfulness again by Penrod's suggestion that they should put a notice in the paper. Neither of them had the slightest idea how to get it there; but such details as that were beyond the horizon; they occupied themselves with the question of what their advertisement ought to “say”. Finding that they differed irreconcilably, Penrod went to his cache in the sawdust-box and brought two pencils and a supply of paper. He gave one of the pencils and several sheets to Sam; then both boys bent themselves in silence to the labour of practical composition. Penrod produced the briefer paragraph. (See Fig. I.) Sam's was more ample. (See Fig. II.) ------------------[Transcribed from handwritten illustration for Project Gutenberg:] FIG. I. Reward. White horse in Schofields ally finders got him in Schofields stable and will let him taken away by by (crossed out: pay) paying for good food he has aten while (crossed out: wat w) while (crossed out: wat) waiting and Reward of (crossed out: $100 $20 $15 $5) $10. FIG II. FOND Horse on Saturday morning owner can get him by (crossed through word, unreadable) replying at stable bhind Mr. Schofield. You will have to proof he is your horse he is whit with hind of brown (crossed out: spec) speks and worout (crossed out: tail) tale, he is geting good care and food, reword (crossed out: $100 $20) sevntyfive cents to each one or we will keep him lokked up.---------------- Neither Sam nor Penrod showed any interest in what the other had written; but both felt that something praiseworthy had been accomplished. Penrod exhaled a sigh, as of relief, and, in a manner he had observed his father use sometimes, he said: “Thank goodness, THAT'S off my mind, anyway!” “What we goin' do next, Penrod?” Sam asked deferentially, the borrowed manner having some effect upon him. “I don't know what YOU'RE goin' to do,” Penrod returned, picking up the old cigarbox that had contained the paper and pencils. “I'M goin' to put mine in here, so's it'll come in handy when I haf to get at it.” “Well, I guess I'll keep mine there, too,” Sam said. Thereupon he deposited his scribbled slip beside Penrod's in the cigarbox, and the box was solemnly returned to the secret place whence it had been taken. “There, THAT'S 'tended to!” Sam said, and, unconsciously imitating his friend's imitation, he gave forth audibly a breath of satisfaction and relief.