“Yes, sir, that is a point that I want you to remember all your life,” Jonas went on. “I forgot all about Mr. Nickerson’s tobacco, and that was the reason I didn’t bring it. But I will make up for it after supper. Have you milked, Caleb? Then pick up your pail and let’s go up to the house. A keepsake,” Jonas kept saying to himself, as he walked along. “He knows that I want money worse than anything else, and that was what he meant. The idea that he should keep money in that house so long, and I was looking everywhere for it!”
Jonas was in a hurry, anybody could have seen that and he kept Caleb in a trot to keep pace with him. When he opened the door he greeted his wife with a cheerful “hello!” and picked up his youngest child and kissed him. Mrs. Keeler was as much amazed at his actions as Caleb was. She stood in the middle of the floor with her arms down by her side and her mouth open, seemingly at a loss to comprehend his movements.
“Now, then, where is Mr. Nickerson?” said Jonas, pulling an empty chair toward him.
“Mr. Nickerson,” said Caleb to himself. “There is something in the wind there. He never called him Mr. Nickerson before unless he had something to make out of him. He was always ‘that old man’ or ‘that inspired idiot’ when he wanted him to do errands for him. What’s up, I wonder?”
“I forgot all about his tobacco,” said Jonas, seating himself and repeating what he had said to Caleb. “I had a heap of trouble down town, but I will send Nat down after it as soon as we get a bite to eat. Ah, Mr. Nickerson, you are on hand, I see. What’s this?”
The old man had in his hand the “keepsake” which he intended to give to Jonas. It was a book bound in cloth. It had been well-read evidently, for some of the leaves were loose and one cover was nearly off. But the leaves were all there, and there was something in it that Jonas did not know anything about; if he had known it he would have received it very differently.
“What is that?” asked Jonas.
“It is the keepsake I promised you,” said Mr. Nickerson. “Take it, read every word of it and you will find something in it before you get through that will make you open your eyes and bless your lucky stars that you have been so good to me.”
Jonas took the book and ran his thumb over the leaves. He turned the back of the book toward him and read the name “Baxter’s Saints’ Rest” on it in gilt type. The expression of intense disgust that came upon his face when he looked at the book set Caleb to snickering, and even Nat, who was leaning against the door post a little distance away, smiled in spite of himself.
“And is this the only keepsake you have got to give me?” shouted Jonas.
“It is the only one,” said Mr. Nickerson. “Read it carefully, every word of it, and you will thank me for giving it to you.”
“Where’s the money?” exclaimed Jonas, who could not get that thing out of his mind.
“You have got all the money I have to give you. I gave you a thousand dollars – ”
Jonas became furious all on a sudden. With a muttered exclamation under his breath, he drew back the book with the intention of throwing at the old man’s head; but he stayed his hand in time. Then he turned it upon Caleb; but the boy had rushed out of the door and was safe. But Nat stood there, he had not moved at all, and instantly the book left Jonas’s hand and flew with terrific force at the boy’s head. It struck the door post and bounded out of doors, and Nat slowly straightened up and went after it. It was a work of some difficulty to pick it up, for the leaves were scattered in every direction, but Nat got it done at last and went away with it.
“Jonas, Jonas, you will be sorry for that,” said Mr. Nickerson, who covered his face with his hands.
“Get out of here! Get out, you inspired idiot!” roared Jonas, striding up and down the cabin as if he were demented. “Don’t you dare come into this house again.”
“Oh, father!” exclaimed Mrs. Keeler.
“Shut up your yawp, old woman,” said Jonas, turning upon her. “That was the keepsake he had to give to me, was it? I thought it was money, dog-gone it, and here he comes and presents me with a book! He shan’t stay in my house no longer.”
Mr. Nickerson went out and tottered to the barn, and when Nat found him there a few minutes later he was doubled up with his elbows on his knees, but his jaws were working vigorously. If there was nothing else which could comfort him, he found it in his tobacco.
“Here’s your book, Mr. Nickerson,” said Nat, who, if he had been big enough, would have resented the way the old man had been treated. “Shall I take it back and put it among your things?”
“No; never mind that now. Jonas has told me that I can not go into his house again, and he may rest assured that I will never do it.”
“He did not mean what he said,” exclaimed Nat. “He is all over his passion by this time.”
“It is too late. He will never see a cent of my money. Did you put those leaves all in just as you found them?”
“I tried, but I reckon I did not succeed very well.”
“Did you find anything that did not belong there?”
“I found two leaves that were pasted together,” said Nat, and he grew excited at once when he saw the expression that came upon Mr. Nickerson’s face. “Did you know about those two leaves?”
“Have you brought them with you?”
“I have. I would have left the whole book behind before I would them, for I knew they meant something,” said Nat, producing them from his pocket the leaves of which he had spoken. “Now, by holding it up to the light this way,” he added, “in order to see what was in them, I can see through the leaves, and I can see a third piece of paper in there.”
“Yes; and there is something on that paper, too,” said the old man rising to his feet and going toward the door. “We must first make sure that there is nobody coming; for you have a fortune right there in your hands.”
“A fortune?” gasped Nat.
“It was the money I had in the bank at the time the war broke out,” said Mr. Nickerson, who, having looked up and down the place and toward the house to satisfy himself that he and Nat were safe from intrusion, returned to his seat. “It is all in gold, too.”
“How-how much is there of it?” said Nat, who did not know whether to believe the story or not.
“As much as three or four thousand dollars; perhaps more; I did not count it. You see I drew this money at different times, and as fast as I got it, I hid it. When the rebels came there and took me away, they searched the house high and low for some money that they supposed I had, but it was not in the house; It was out in the field. You see this black line?” he continued, taking the two leaves and pointing with his shivering finger to one of the marks on the inclosed paper. “By the way, you don’t want to take this out until you are already to go to work, for fear that somebody may steal it from you. Well, you go to the house – ”
“But how can I tell where it is?” cried Nat. “Those men cleaned you out. They thought they would get something by doing that.”
“They didn’t, so they might as well have left me my house. However, it don’t matter much now. I shall never live in it again. You can tell where the house stood, even if it isn’t there now, can’t you? You go to the corner of that house nearest the woods, hold this paper before you and follow as straight a course as you can down the hill and across the break until you come to a brier patch. It is made up entirely of briers, for I cut them down and put them there. Then leave that to your right and go thirty yards and you will strike a stone, as big as you can lift, which does not look as though it had ever been touched. But it has been, and you can pry it up if you want to. When you get that stone out of its place, you dig down about two feet, and there you will find it.”
Nat listened with all his ears, but there was one