All of us were instantly filled with a desire to follow in the footsteps of the great. Here was the tree, and here was the bark. But the coins were lacking. The only one we had possessed that afternoon had gone for peppermint lozenges. Fourth of July money must not be touched. Perhaps, however, a special appeal to the authorities would be successful. We agreed to make application to the lords of the treasuries, and each to come to-morrow provided with a cent. The agreement was kept, and the following morning saw us at work on the bark of the apple tree. Three incisions were made (each one working at that part of the branch nearest his initials) and three copper cents were duly deposited. Then we descended the tree, and left our treasure to the silent years. "How long do you suppose it will take the bark to grow over them?" inquired Ed Mason. "Oh, I don't know. Years and years. Washington, or whoever it was, didn't come back till he was an old man." "Well, then, we ought not. They ought to be left there for sixty or seventy years, anyhow." It was unanimously agreed that not less than seventy years must elapse before the coins should be disturbed. We wandered out of the garden, down the street, and through the grounds of the Universalist Church. Drippings from the eaves of that building had unearthed hundreds of pebbles, and Ed Mason began selecting round ones for his sling-shot. Then he took that instrument out of his pocket and discharged the pebbles at a distant fence. But the sling-shot worked indifferently, and Ed pronounced the elastic worn out. "You can get a dandy piece for a cent down at Higginson's," I observed. Then the significance of the remark struck me, and I glanced guiltily away. There was a pause in the conversation, until the sound of a horn suggested the approaching Fourth of July. "Only nine days till the Fourth," declared Jimmy Toppan. "How many bunches you fellers goin' to have?" We counted on at least fifteen apiece. "So do I," said Jimmy; "and torpedoes, and a horn." "Horns are foolish," remarked Ed Mason; "girls and babies always have horns." "That's all right," retorted Jimmy; "they _last_. You'll prob'ly be round Fourth of July afternoon, when you've fired off all your fifteen bunches of fire-crackers, wantin' to blow on my horn." I put in a remark here. "I'm goin' to have six sticks of slow-match, an' five boxes of Ajax torpedoes." But it did not impress Ed Mason. "Ajax ain't half as good as Ironclad," he announced. Jimmy Toppan also had preferences. "Have you seen those Chinese Aërial Bombs down at Johnson's? They're the biggest torpedoes you ever saw--each one as big as your fist! Gee! I'd like to hear one of 'em go off! They cost a cent apiece, an'--" He stopped. Somehow the conversation would get around to the subject of things costing a cent. It was most embarrassing. We had invested our capital for seventy years, and were already feeling the pinch.