My uncle sat back in his chair, but Betts strained forward and put his fearful query:
"What do you think, Abner; will all the gold come back?"
My uncle did not at once reply. He sat for some time silent, looking through the open door at the sunny meadowland and the far off hills. But finally he spoke like one who has worked out a problem and got the answer.
"It will not all come back," he said.
"How much, then?" whispered Betts.
"What is left," replied Abner, "when the toll is taken out."
"You know where the gold is?"
"Yes."
"And the creatures that have it, Abner," Betts whispered, "they are not human?"
"They are not human!" replied my uncle.
Then he got up and began to walk about the house, but not to search for clews to this mysterious thing. He walked like one who examines something within himself—or something beyond the eye—and old Betts followed him with his straining face. And Randolph sat in his chair with his arms folded and his chin against his stock, as a skeptic overwhelmed by proof might sit in a house of haunted voices. He was puzzled upon every hand. The thing was out of reason at every point, both in the loss and in the return of these coins upon the table, and my uncle's comments were below the
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