"Mr. Hinman, I've found a wallet, with a lot of greenbacks inside.
How much I don't know. Please count it and see if all the money
is there intact."

With an inarticulate cry the old peddler seized the wallet that
was handed down to him. He shook like a leaf as Tom held the
lantern for him to count the money. Now that the strain was over,
Mr. Hinman's legs became suddenly too weak to support him. He
sank to the ground, Tom squatting close so that the lantern's
rays would fall where they would be most useful. Thus the old
peddler counted his money with trembling fingers.

"Where did you find the wallet?" young Prescott asked Darrin.

"Up against the side of the wagon, under a partly tilted, upsidedown
feed-pail," Dave answered. "I can understand why Mr. Hinman didn't
find it. He was too much upset---too nervous, and it certainly
didn't look like a likely place."

"It must have fallen out of his pocket as he slept," Prescott
guessed correctly. "Did you find any papers down there on the
floor of the wagon?"

"Yes; some sort of paper stuff," nodded Dave. "I took it for
rubbish."

"The money is all here!" cried the old peddler, in a frenzy of
joy. "Oh, how can I thank you young men? You don't know what
your blessed help means for me!"