About twenty times did he make this journey. At the tenth something
happened.
"Here's a writing, sir, with this lot," shouted George. "It was packed
away in the money."
He took the "writing," or rather parchment, out of the mouth of the
bag, and put it in his pocket unread.
At length the store, enormous as it was, was exhausted.
"That's the lot, sir," shouted George, as he sent up the last bagful.
"If you'll kindly let down that there rope, I'll come up too."
"All right," said the Colonel, "put the skeleton back first."
"Well, sir," answered George, "he looks wonderful comfortable where he
lay, he du, so if you're agreeable I think I'll let him be."
Harold chuckled, and presently George arrived, covered with filth and
perspiration.
"Well, sir," he said, "I never did think that I should get dead tired
of handling gold coin, but it's a rum world, and that's a fact. Well,
I niver, and the summer-house gone, and jist look at thim there oaks.
Well, if that beant a master one."
"You never saw a masterer, that's what you were going to say, wasn't
it? Well, and take one thing with another, nor did I, George, if
that's any comfort to you. Now look here, just cover over this hole
with some boards and earth, and then come in and get some breakfast.
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