“Can’t spar de time now,--mos ’portant business. De doctor allus specks me punct’ly. Got to get him his dinna. Dis is all very well for _play_; but business is business, an dat’s what me’n’ de doctor’s got to tend to. We’ve got de ’portant business ob life--de dinna ’partment.” “O, he’ll get his dinner all right,” said Arthur. “What dat? He--de doctor--widout me!” Solomon rolled up his eyes till only the whites were visible, and stood lost in wonder at the preposterous idea. “Sich chil’en as you,” said he, loftily, “don’t ond’stan de serious business ob life. Wait till you get to be sixty, an hab cooked as many dinnas as me; den you may talk.” “That’s hard for us,” said Tom, “if we have to become cooks and get to be sixty.” “Course it is--an I mean it to hit hard. A dinna’s a dinna, an no mistake. Me’n’ de doctor knows dat. Why, whar’d de ’Cad’my be, ef I wasn’t to give de doctor a rail fust-rate dinna ebery day? Me’n’ de doctor keep de ’Cad’my goin. He’s de mas’r, an I’m de one dat keeps him a goin, an so we bofe ob us keep de ’Cad’my goin.” “Solomon,” said Arthur, “you ought to be one of the teachers.” “‘Teachas!” said Solomon; “ain’t I somefin more? What’s a teacha? I’m a pro-fessa. I’m de ’fessa ob de cool an airy ’partment.” “Culinary,” said Bart. “No,” said Solomon; “cool an airy. Dat’s what de doctor said. Ses he, ‘Solomon, you hab a ’portant ’sition,--you preside ober de cool an airy _‘partment_.’ ‘What’s dat ar?’ ses I. ‘O,’ ses he, ‘it’s only de Injin’ fur cookin.’ An I ups an tales him ef he’d ony stay down on some broilin, hot day in Auguss in de kitchen, he’d’fess dat de Injin langidgo didn’t spress de idee, ef it called sich a oven of a place ‘cool an airy.’ Dat’s what I tale him,--an’ now, blubbed breddern, farewell!” Saying this, Solomon took his basket, and retired from the scene. “There’s a great lot of these cellars about,” said Arthur at last, after some silence, during which they had been sprawling on the grass beside the cellar. “There’s a great lot of them. I wonder how many there are?” “O, two or three hundred, at least,” said Bruce; “perhaps more.” “Well, for my part,” said Bart, “I believe that there’s money buried in some of them; and though our adventure was awfully ridiculous, yet that doesn’t alter the sober fact, and I think the general belief is right.” “I go in for digging again,” said Phil. “I don’t believe in finding money, but we may find something.” “Bones, for instance,” said Bruce. “Yes, bones, if you like; and then we’d give them to the museum. Anything at all would be acceptable. It would take the edge off our disappointment of the other night.” “There’s a great deal in that,” said Bruce. “I don’t like giving it up altogether,” said Bart. “We’ve begun it--let’s finish it.” “And there’s the hole,” said Tom, “inviting us to come along.” “Besides,” said Bruce, “don’t you remember we struck something hard? and I _know_ it wasn’t a stone.”