"What?" was the surprised question. "Are you a son of the artist Morland,
who is visiting up here at the Milford bungalow?"

"Yes, that's us."

"Well, bless my stars, it's _his_ bill-case I have been crying all
morning. If I'd known there was a fine lad like you sitting about doing
nothing, I'd had you with me, ringing the bell."

The little fellow's face glowed. He was as quick to recognize a friend
worth having as Captain Kidd had been.

"Say," he began, "if it was Daddy's bill-case you were shouting about,
you needn't do it any longer. It's found. Captain Kidd came in with it in
his mouth just after Daddy went away. He was starting to dig a hole in
the sand down by the garage to bury it in, like he does everything. He's
hardly done being a puppy yet, you know. I took it away from him and
reckanized it, and I've been waiting here all morning for Dad to come
home."

He began tugging at the pocket into which he had stowed the bill-case for
safe-keeping, and Captain Kidd, feeling that it was his by right of
discovery, stood up, wagging himself all over, and poking his nose in
between them, with an air of excited interest. The Towncrier shook his
finger at him.

"You rascal! I suppose you'll be claiming the reward next thing, you old
pirate! How old is he, Richard?"