Phil Bradleys Mountain Boys | Page 8

table, too. In these days people don't mold bullets like they used to years ago, when the pioneers were settling the wilderness; and yet that's what it looks like to me."
"The place isn't as clean as it might be," Ethan now remarked, "and the first thing we'll have to do in the morning will be to tidy up. I'll make a broom out of twigs, like I've seen poor emigrants do. It answers the purpose pretty well, too."
He was prying around in one of the bunks while saying this, as though he had suspicions; which Lub, who was anxiously watching him, hoped in his heart might turn out to be groundless.
Phil had turned to other things, and was proceeding to undo his pack. This caught Lub's eye, and caused the worried expression on his face to give way to one of pleasure. He knew that such a move meant it was getting time for them to think of supper; and Lub was always ready to do his part toward providing a meal; oh, yes, and in disposing of the same, too.
"Wow! you quit too soon!" suddenly yelped X-Ray, who had continued prowling on hands and knees after Phil and Ethan had stopped searching the floor.
"Found something, have you?" asked the former, without looking up from his job of opening the contents of his pack.
"Is it worth a hair-pin, X-Ray?" chirped Ethan, who had been gathering a handful of timber in a corner where a lot of wood lay in a pile, ready for burning.
"You could buy a thousand with it, I reckon!" was the astonishing declaration of the finder, which remark caused every one to immediately take notice.
The boy with the sharp eyes was holding something up between thumb and forefinger. It shone in the last rays of the setting sun, as they came into the cabin through a small window in the western side.
"Why, what's this mean?" ejaculated Ethan; "looks like you've gone and struck a silver mine, X-Ray! That's a half dollar, ain't it? D'ye mean to say you found it on this same floor?"
"Just what I did, and deep down in a crack, where it must have slid, so nobody noticed it!" exclaimed the other, exultantly. "Now, needn't all get busy looking, because I reckon it's the only coin there is. That's my reward for keeping everlastingly at it. You fellows are ready to give up too easy. Say, did you ever see a brighter half dollar than that? Looks like she just came from the mint, hey?"
"Perhaps it did!" said Phil, solemnly.
When he said that the others all focussed their eyes on Phil's face. They knew he would not have spoken in such a strain unless he had some good reason for saying what he did.
"Explain what you mean, please, Phil; that's a good fellow," urged Lub.
X-Ray was not so dense, for he instantly exclaimed.
"Why, don't you see, Phil reckons that this half-dollar may have been coined right here in this birch bark cabin!"
"Whew! counterfeit, is it?" gasped Ethan, whose breath had almost been taken away with the momentous discovery. "Then I guess I ain't going to bother getting down on my knees, and doing any hunting for bogus money."
The finder apparently did not much fancy having his prize counted so meanly. He immediately proceeded to bite the coin, and then started to ringing it on the hard surface of the oak table that had all the scorched spots on it, mentioned by Phil.
"It tastes good; and listen to the sweet ring, would you, fellows?" X-Ray hastened to say. "If it's a punk fifty-center, then it's the greatest imitation ever was. I'd just like to have a cartload of the same; I think I'd call myself rich."
"If there's any suspicion fixed on the coin," Lub observed, ponderously, just as he had heard his father, the judge, deliver an opinion in court, "I'd rather be excused from carrying it around on my person. The law, you know, does not look upon ignorance as innocence. Better toss that thing as far away as you can in the morning, X-Ray. I'd hate to think of you doing time for having it in your possession."
"Hanged if I do," muttered the other. "I'm all worked up now over it, and mean to get the opinion of Mr. Budge, the cashier of our bank. He can smell a counterfeit as soon as he sets eyes on one. He'll fix all that up, believe me."
"But, Phil," Ethan remarked, just then, "what was that you were saying about all the scorched places on the table? If these people were not molding bullets they may have been using melted metal for another purpose, and one not quite so lawful, eh?"
"It looks a little that way, I must say," Phil admitted.
"Give us something to do prying