He tugged again in reply, and jumped out.
It was a lovely summer morning--the sun a few yards up the sky; the grass glittering with dew; the birds singing as if they were singing their first and would sing their last; the whole air, even in his little room, filled with a cool odour as of blessed thoughts, and just warm enough to let him know that the noontide would be hot.

And there was Sandy waiting in the street to help him dig for the treasure! In a few minutes he had opened the street door and admitted him.

They went straight to the scene of their labour.
Having got out a few more stones, they began to fancy they heard a curious sound, which they agreed was more like that of running water than anything else they could think of.

Now, except a well in the street, just before the cottage, there was no water they knew of much nearer than the river, and they wondered a good deal.
At length Sandy's pickaxe got hold of a stone which he could not move, do what he would.

He tried another, and succeeded, but soon began to suspect that there was some masonry there.