“I can support myself, Uncle John, and for the last two years I’ve done it and helped Aunt Jane besides. There isn’t any danger of my going to the poorhouse. I would leave Cook’s Harbor to-morrow if I thought Aunt Jane were sure of a comfortable support, but I am afraid you would let her starve.” Robert had never spoken so plainly before and his uncle was almost struck dumb by the boy’s bold words. He knew they were deserved, but he was angry nevertheless and he was as firm as ever in his determination to have the money. “Boy,” he said, “you are too young to lecture a grown man like me. I know what’s best to do. Where did you get the money?” he demanded with sudden curiosity. “Did you find it in any of my pockets?” “There wouldn’t be much use in searching your pockets for money. You never leave any behind.” “Where did you get it then?” “Mr. Tudor, who boards at the hotel, gave it to me.” “That’s a likely story.” “He gave it to me because I ran after his hat, which was blown off by the wind, and brought it back to him. It was a very expensive hat, so he said.” “I know; it is a Panama hat.” “That’s what he called it.” “Did you have that money when I saw you coming out of the tavern yard?” “No.” “When you got it, why didn’t you come and bring it to me?” “Because it was my own money. You had no right to claim it,” said Robert firmly. “He is right, John,” said Mrs. Trafton, who had listened uneasily to the conversation, but had not yet seen an opportunity to put in a word in Robert’s favor. “Shut up, old woman!” said the fisherman roughly. “Well,” said he, turning to Robert, “I’ve heard what you’ve got to say and it don’t make a bit of difference. I must have the money.” “I refuse to give it to you,” Robert said, pale but firm. “Then,” said John Trafton with a curse, “I’ll take it.” He snatched Robert’s pants from the chair on which they were lying and thrust his hand into one pocket after the other, but he found nothing. He next searched the vest in the same manner, but the search was equally unavailing. “You needn’t search, for I haven’t got the money,” said Robert. “Then where is it?” “It is safe.” “Did he give it to you, Jane?” demanded the fisherman, turning to his wife. “No.” “Do you know where it is?” “No.” “Boy, where is that money?” demanded Trafton, his face flushed. “Go and get it directly!” “I can’t. It isn’t in the house.” “Where is it then?” “I hid it.” “Where did you hide it?” “I dug a hole and put it in.” “What made you do that?” “Because I was afraid you would get hold of it.” “You were right enough there,” said John Trafton grimly, “for I will get hold of it. Get right up and find it and bring it to me.” Here Mrs. Trafton again interposed. “How can you ask such a thing, John?” she said. “The night is as dark as a pocket. How do you expect Robert is going to find the money in the dark?”