“Hurrah, Bart!” cried Bruce. “Dig away, old man! You’ll turn up the whole cellar, at that rate, before we can get down. Leave something for us, though, just for the name of the thing, you know.” “Come along,” cried Bart, throwing out his seventh shovelful. By this time they were all at the hole, and plunged in their spades. Out flew the earth. In their zealous work the shovels clashed against one another furiously, and rather impeded their progress; but in spite of this, the earth was thrown out with a rapidity that contrasted in a very striking manner with the slowness of their progress on that former occasion. Then, the earth was rigid, and hard bound with the turf that had been accumulating for generations, and Bruce’s pickaxe had to prepare the-way for the slow entrance of their spades. But now, their spades went in easily, and the pickaxe as yet was not needed. But the work of digging was an unusual one, and their violent efforts exhausted them before they had worked for a long time. They paused for a moment and rested. “We’re almost at the bottom,” said Bart. “That depends on what you mean by the bottom,” said Arthur. “Well, I mean, we’re almost as far down as we were before.” “But I wonder whether we shall strike that metallic substance that we struck before,” said Arthur. “I’ll soon see,” said Bruce. Saying this, he took the pickaxe, and giving it a swing, brought it down into the centre of the hole. It penetrated a short distance, and then stopped short, with a low, dull sound, as though it had struck something hard. That sound roused the boys once more, and stimulated them to fresh exertions. They again plunged their spades into the earth. All their first energy was now restored. They forgot their fatigue. Something was there, they knew. What it was they could not tell; but they knew that it must be the same thing that had excited them once before, and from which they had been driven by the sudden bray of that absurd donkey. Now, all that nonsense had been explained; and they knew that this last vestige of the mystery of that midnight hour lay beneath them, and would soon be exhumed and brought to the light of day. Lower and lower they went. And now their shovels struck it at every stroke. It seemed metallic. The dull ringing sound given forth could not come from wood, or brick, or stone. It must be metal! But what? Was it a pot, or an iron chest? Pooh! At any rate they were glad that the other fellow’s were not present. . Such thoughts and feelings passed through their minds as they came down nearer to the object of their search. XI. _Farther and farther down, and sudden Revelation of the Truth.--Rising superior to Circumstances.--The “Pot of Money,” and other buried Treasures.--They take all these exhumed Treasures to Dr. Porter.--Singular Reception of the excited Visitors._