“Hush!” he whispered, though not a soul was in sight; “the difficulty will be to avoid observation when we bring it back full. I dare say they’re honest here, Richard; but it’s a wrong business principle to presume upon a sentiment. We must dine and sup out--I’ve brought some sandwiches with me, and Mr. Sant will excuse you for once--and return with our booty after dark.” “Do you expect to fill _that_, Uncle?” I said, aghast for all my infancy. “Well,” he answered, laughing joyously but privately, “I hope not _quite_, or it would puzzle us to carry it. But, in common wisdom we must make the best we can of this rare opportunity.” He hung the sack over his arm, and we started off. The storm had certainly overturned the shingle, and scattered much of it abroad in a tangle of seaweed and dead dog-fish. For hours we hunted on, groping sedulously among the litter; and at last, late in the afternoon, we found a penny. At least, _I_ was convinced it was one, being intimately acquainted, like most boys, with the coin. But Uncle Jenico would not hear of it. He was shaking with excitement as he examined it. It was so rubbed by the action of the waves as to exhibit nothing but a near-obliterated bust, which I was sure was that of our late lamented King. My uncle, however, pointed out to me distinct traces, though I could not see them, of a Latin inscription, and was jubilant over the find. It did not make much impression on the sack, it is true; but he was careful to point out to me that the value of a nugget, such as it would take two men to carry, might all be contained in a diamond which one could slip into one’s waistcoat pocket. It was not so much quantity we needed, he said, as quality; and he was quite satisfied, entirely so, with the result of our day’s exploration. I was glad of this, at least, being dog-tired long before the sun-setting, as it justified us in going home to supper. But my faith in Morant, I am afraid, was already sadly shaken. CHAPTER IX. HARRY HARRIER. It was that obnoxious penny, I believe, which was responsible for my uncle’s continued pursuit of his new Lobby, until the hobby itself became an obsession. If we had come home that first day empty-handed, I have little doubt but that his baulked imagination would have found itself some other and more practical outlet. As it was, the discovery was held by him to justify every proverb which values itself upon small beginnings. He was so little cast down by its meagreness, that there was no limit to the golden dreams of which he made it the basis. Most crazes, I fancy, are so built upon a pennyworth of fact.