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Page 80
"And many another place," added Kenny bitterly, "that slipped by me for
I didn't listen!"
"It is unlikely," Joan said, "that he would find the opportunity for
hiding money in so many places. Why then did he name them all?"
"His conscience forced him to give some inkling of the spot where he
had hidden money not his own. But he purposely multiplied our chances
of failure. Joan, I've got to get a spade and dig up the apple-tree!"
His excitement was contagious. Neither of them heard Hughie in the
doorway until he spoke.
"Mr. O'Neill," he said eagerly, "have you read the will?"
Kenny struck himself upon the forehead and stared at Hughie in genuine
resentment. Hughie was another problem. But Hughie's quiet eyes
pleaded; and Hughie's ruddy face was honest. Kenny told him all.
"I'm not surprised," said Hughie. "From the minute I set foot here
three years back, I said, and Hannah said, that Mr. Craig was a miser.
And it's common talk in the village."
But Kenny was off through the doorway with the will in his hand. Joan
and Hughie followed him to the kitchen.
Here when the will had been read again commotion seized them all.
Hughie went out to the barn to hunt a spade, Hannah trotted about
talking of wraps, Hetty found a lantern for Kenny and Kenny burned his
fingers lighting it, and stepped on the cat. Joan soothed the outraged
feline with a nervous laugh. There was madness in the air. In an
interval of blank disgust in which he criticized the length of the
cat's tail and the clarion quality of his yell, Kenny fumed off
barnwards in search of Hughie. His excitement was compelling. Hannah
headed a cloaked exodus from the kitchen, chirping an astonishment
which she claimed was unprecedented in her quiet life.
They straggled up the orchard hill in a flutter.
It was snowing a little. The coldness of the air was soft and heavy.
Hannah and Hughie held the lanterns high and with a startling attack
that made the dirt fly, Kenny began to dig.
The lantern light rayed off grotesquely through the leafless orchard
but the silent group, intent upon the energetic digger, watched only
the spot where the fan-like rays converged upon the spade. The wind,
sharp, intermittent and bringing with it now and then a flurry of snow,
flapped their clothes about them. Kenny, pausing to wipe his forehead,
thought the night warm. Joan's eyes, dark, solemn, frightened, spurred
him on to greater effort. He dug furiously, flinging earth in all
directions. Hughie marvelled at his madcap speed and the strength of
his sinewy arms. His jaw was set. His face, dark and vivid in the
lantern light, shone with a boy's excitement. But when the wind came
he looked defiant. They could not know that to him, then, the spirit
of Adam Craig seemed to come with a sigh and a rustle and hover near
them.
Hughie took his turn at the spade but to Kenny his methodical
competence proved an irritant. He was glad when Hughie's back gave out
and forced him to surrender.
"Mr. O'Neill," said Hannah flatly after what seemed an interminable
interval of digging, "you've dug a hole big enough to bury yourself.
Mr. Craig's money couldn't be no further down than that. Myself I
think you'd better let it go until morning. It's snowin' harder every
minute and we'll all get our death of cold."
Kenny shuddered at the homely phrase. But he wiped the dirt and
perspiration from his forehead and went off toward the kitchen in
gloomy silence, his energy and optimism gone.
CHAPTER XXIV
DIGGING DOTS
So madness settled down upon the Craig farm.
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