"I can't. It isn't in the house."

"Where is it then?"

"I hid it."

"Where did you hide it?"

"I dug a hole and put it in."

"What made you do that?"

"Because I was afraid you would get hold of it."

"You were right enough there," said John Trafton grimly, "for I will get
hold of it. Get right up and find it and bring it to me."

Here Mrs. Trafton again interposed.

"How can you ask such a thing, John?" she said. "The night is as dark as
a pocket. How do you expect Robert is going to find the money in the
dark?"

Though John Trafton was a good deal under the influence of liquor, he
was not wholly deaf to reason and he saw the force of his wife's
remark.

In fact, he had himself found sorry trouble in getting home from the
tavern, familiar as the path was to him, on account of the intense
darkness.

"Well, I guess it'll do to-morrow morning," he said. "I must have it
then, for I've promised to pay Jones a dollar on account. I said I
would, and I've got to keep my promise. Do you hear that, you young
rascal?"

"Yes, I hear it."

"Then mind you don't forget it. That's all I've got to say."

And the fisherman staggered into the adjoining room, and, without taking
the trouble of removing his garments, threw himself on the bed and in
five minutes was breathing loud in a drunken stupor.

Mrs. Trafton did not immediately go to bed. She was troubled in mind,
for she foresaw that there was only a truce and not a cessation of
hostilities.

In the morning her husband would renew his demand upon Robert, and,
should the latter continue to refuse to comply, she was afraid there
would be violence.

When her husband's heavy breathing showed that he was insensible to
anything that was said, she began.

"I don't know but you'd better give up that money to your uncle," she
said.

"How can you advise me to do that, aunt?" asked Robert in surprise.

"Because I'm afraid you'll make him angry if you refuse."

"I can't help it if he is angry," answered Robert. "He has no right to
be. Don't you know what he said--that he wanted to pay a dollar to the
tavern keeper?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Jones shall never get a cent of that money," said Robert firmly.

"But, Robert," said his aunt nervously, "your uncle may beat you."

"Then I'll keep my distance from him."

"I would rather he would have the money than that you should get hurt,
Robert."

"Aunt Jane, I am going to take the risk of that. Though he is my uncle
an