“I reckon Ollie ain’t sech a bad sort, boys, if I’m any jedge of human naitchur and I think I am. No one hain’t ever fooled me yit, and at my age I don’t think I’m likely ter be fooled. All Ollie Baxter asks in life is a good home ’n he has thet with Ol’ Pop sure enough. Why, Pop hasn’t a relative in the world and that’s what Ollie likes about staying with him. Nobuddy to bother him.” “Well, but listen, Uncle Jeb,” said Westy, his interest now thoroughly aroused. “Doesn’t Ol’ Pop make quite a lot of money during the summer season?” “Yes, indeedy, son,” he answered, chuckling, “and thar hain’t a livin’ soul knows whar he keeps it. All the folks aroun’ are thet curious to know jes’ what he does with his money. I even heard say thet thar are some who call him eccentric. Durn busybodies, thet’s what I call sech folks. Tain’t any one’s affairs what he does with his money.” “Perhaps you’re right,” said Artie seriously, “but it may be people are afraid some harm will come to him during the long winter months, when he is alone there except for Ollie. Hoarding money is a dangerous practice. I should think he’d prefer putting it in the bank anyway so it would draw some interest for him.” “Listen to the young banker!” Westy teased. “I bet you’ll never let your money get rusty in the ground!” “Not while there’s banks to put it in,” Artie retorted. “Believe me, I’m no believer in this Captain Kidd stuff anyway. It always causes a lot of trouble; people even killing one another trying to find it. You always read that in books and in the end no one finds it after all.” “Who can tell but what Ol’ Pop will die some day without having the chance to tell any one where it is,” Westy cheerfully added. “’Tain’t likely Ol’ Pop will die for a long time yit,” Uncle Jeb said, touched with the evident concern of the boys for his old friend. “Barrin’ accident he’s good fer twenty year at least, so thar’s no need to worry. I spec when he gets ready he’ll tell me.” “Let’s hope so, anyway,” Westy said as if quite willing to consign the subject to the mercy of Fate for a while. CHAPTER XXIII—THE OBJECT ON THE CLIFF The days seemed to merge themselves one into the other, and, as Westy remarked, “Night did not seem to be a dividing factor in the present scheme of things at all.” Uncle Jeb built them a canoe, showing them how it was done in true Indian fashion. They launched it in Eagle Lake, with all the ceremony one would accord some palatial yacht. One morning quite early, they set out for a swim, leaving Uncle Jeb behind whittling some wood with which to make a new bench for the cabin. It promised to be a very warm day and Artie and Westy had no sooner arrived on the shores of the lake than they were into its cooling waters. They shouted in pure exultation, trying to outdo one another in aquatic prowess. Finally tiring of this, they clambered upon the banks to rest.