"More than eighty pounds of solid gold in that," returned Tite, coolly.
The mention of so much gold astonished and delighted the inn-keeper.
"There'll be such a time when the town hears that!" said he. "There'll
be enough o' them that'll call you their friend."
"Left three times as much more in the city," resumed Tite. "And there's
enough on an island in the Pacific to buy a town as big as Nyack. And I
know where it is."
"Eighty pounds of solid gold!" said the inn-keeper, looking enquiringly
at Tite, then stooping down and testing the weight of the valise with
his hands. "It's so. I always did know you'd come home a rich man."
They now carried the valise into the veranda, knocked at the door, and
listened for footsteps within. The big old dog had been growling and
barking fiercely for several minutes. Now he recognized the friendly
voice of the inn-keeper, and barked them a welcome. He then ran to the
little room where Hanz was sleeping, and only ceased barking when he got
up.
Soft footsteps were heard inside, a dim light shone through the little
window opening into the veranda, and a voice inside enquired: "Who comes
t' mine house sho late?"
"Open the door, friend Toodleburg," replied the inn-keeper.
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