“Yes, it’s safe,” said Tom, soothingly. The hermit’s tone was very different now. He seemed to have lost his vindictive spirit. “It’s safe,” went on Tom, “unless--” He thought of Mr. Skeel and the two lads, but they had slipped away. They evidently realized that, as the hermit had the box, the game was up. “It’s surely safe--if there’s any treasure in the box,” added our hero with conviction, now that he saw that the conspirators had vanished. They gave the old man some more water, and soon he was himself again, but his wild manner had gone. It seemed to vanish with the finding of the box. “There it is,” he murmured, as he sat beside it. “The box I have sought so long. I knew it was somewhere in the mill, or about it, but I never could find it, though I hunted everywhere. When I had the plan I was sure I would be successful, but we lost it. Now it doesn’t matter. Oh, I shall live in peace and happiness now!” “Maybe we’d better open the box,” suggested Tom. “It may be empty.” “Oh, don’t say that!” cried the old man in agony. “It can’t be empty. The treasure must be in it.” And it was, as they saw when Tom forced the case open with the hatchet. Not a very great treasure to be sure, but amounting to some thousands of dollars. It consisted of English gold pieces, some ancient gold and silver dishes, more valuable as antiques and relics than for the metal in them. There was also considerable jewelry that would fetch good sums for the same reason. And there were also Bank of England notes in a large sum, as good as the day they were issued. It was a treasure indeed to the old man, and would keep him in comfort the rest of his life. “Jove! but this is a great find!” exclaimed Jack. “And to think it came about by accident! You are all to the good, Tom.” “I wonder what has become of Skeel and those lads?” asked Bert. “They’re far enough off now,” said Tom. “But shall we help you down with your box?” he asked of the hermit. “No, I had rather stay here. I have lived here for many years, except when I was off in the woods looking for the treasure. I am sorry I was so harsh to you, but I thought you were trying to rob me.” “We intended giving you the treasure if we found it,” said Tom, gently. “Of course you did not mean it, but you have treated my friends very badly.” “It was that scoundrel Skeel,” murmured the old man. “He urged me to do it. I am sorry I ever trusted him.” And then he told his story. It was substantially the same as Tom had heard from his father. Years before, fearing an attack by the Indians, the early settlers of Wilden had put their wealth into the box and fled. The box was hidden in the old mill, which had been built with the secret rooms and passages as a hiding place, and one of defense against the savages.