THE GOLDEN CHIMNEY

A BOY’S MINE

“The Golden Chimney.”

THE GOLDEN CHIMNEY

A BOY’S MINE

BY

ELIZABETH GERBERDING

A. M. ROBERTSON
SAN FRANCISCO
1902

COPYRIGHT 1901
BY
A. M. ROBERTSON

The Murdock Press
San Francisco

TO MY BOYS

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

THE GOLDEN CHIMNEY

CHAPTER I DISCOVERY OF THE MINE

Ben Ralston and his cousin Beth were sitting on the northern slope of Russian Hill, one of the many hills of San Francisco. At the foot of the elevation the black buildings and smokeless chimney of an abandoned smelting-works rose from the beach which skirted the hill. Beyond, the blue bay sparkled in the sunlight, except where fleeting cloud-shadows raced across its surface.

“I was born just about forty years too late,” the boy remarked with emphasis.

“But the city’s a big place, and it’s getting bigger and bigger,—I heard a man say so to-day.”

“I know all that, Beth; and the reason is, there are more people coming all the time. Every one who comes lessens my chances to get on. Forty years ago there weren’t many folks here, but there were a heap of chances.”

“I had a feeling when I came up here to-day that you weren’t going to take that place in Stratton’s store.”

“What made you think so?”

“O, I just guessed so from the way you talked. You always talk that way when you’re blue.” She buried one of her hands in the shining sand on which it rested.

“Think,”—he pointed to the huge chimney at the foot of the hill,—“think of the gold the fire of that chimney has melted! And then expect me to be an errand boy at three dollars a week, with a chance of a raise to four in six months! I tell you, Beth, I can’t do it. I’m not that kind. I’d get so wild thinking of it all. If it were something more to do, or something where I could get ahead quicker, I wouldn’t be so dead set against it.”

“Syd would like the place, I think, if you’re positive you’ll not take it.”

“Well, he’s welcome to it. Perhaps he’s the plodding kind,—though I never thought he was; but I’ve got two hundred dollars, and it’s got to help me to something better.”

“I thought you said it was three hundred?”

“So it was; but some more bills turned up and had to be paid, so it’s dwindled. I’ve got it in the savings bank.”

The girl looked at the massive pillar which reared itself before them.

“I should think some of the gold would have stuck to the chimney,” she remarked.

Her companion suddenly grasped her wrist.

“Beth!” he exclaimed. His eyes glowed with excitement, and he sprang to his feet and whirled his hat around his head as he gave a cheer. Then he stood quite still and gazed at the chimney.

The girl looked at him in wonder. “What is it?” she asked.

“I don’t know myself—exactly. Maybe, it’s nothing, and maybe,—you’ve found my fortune.”

“I?”

“Yes, you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, goosey, don’t you see it yet? To buy the right to mine the soot for gold, the gold of the early days. Somehow, I’ve always felt that that would be the stuff to put me on my feet,—and here it is. Maybe, I’ve been mistaken,—maybe, I wasn’t born too late, after all.”

“Mine the soot! How can you?”

“Why not? I’ve heard of its having been done.” His face shone with hope. “No one’s ever thought of this!” he exclaimed. “Don’t you see it’s a big thing?” he questioned, as she did not speak.

“If you can only do it. Will old Madge give you leave?”

“He will if I pay him for it. He’d give me the right, too, to tear down the old sheds; and of course there’s gold under the crazy ramshackle things. They had so much of it in the early days that they weren’t any too careful.”

“Mr. Madge would be foolish to give you the right, if the gold is there.”

“He is sort of fool-crazy over his mines. He’s always telling every one all about them, how rich they are and all that. The biggest vein ever seen is always just ahead. He wouldn’t come down to mining soot.”

“But wouldn’t it be his gold if you found it on his land?”

“No, ’twouldn’t. Not any more his than mine. The Works were just a mill to crush everybody’s ore; and what’s left is for the sweeper. Besides, the land is only leased, anyway, and if I go open-handed and buy the right to sweep, what I find’s mine.”

“I should think that some of it would be his, too.”

“I don’t see it that way. A girl’s always got such cranky ideas of business.”

“Well, we won’t quarrel about it until you get it. Shall you put in all your money?”

“Every cent, if I have to. I’d like mighty well to have some left, though, for the expense of working the thing.”

“O, Ben, suppose you shouldn’t find any gold?”

“That’s the chance I’ve got to take. But you shall have anything you want, Beth.”

Her face flushed as she saw him glance at her shabby shoes and frock, and she tried to cover her feet with the hem of her dress.

“These are trifles,” she bravely said, pointing to them; “but what I should like would be more schooling.”

“You shall go to school, and before I get any gold either. I know a way to fix it.”

“Don’t anger Mr. Hodges, will you, Ben?” She turned an anxious face toward him.

“I won’t. I didn’t tell you that I found a note of his for ninety dollars among father’s papers.”

“No. You don’t expect to get it?”

“Of course not; but I can hold it over his head for nearly two years yet.”

Her face brightened. “And make him let me go to school! That isn’t a bad scheme.”

“We’re doing great things in schemes to-day. Let’s go through the old Works!” He seized her hand and they tore down the hillside, until they stood, out of breath, before the nailed gates.

Grim and gaunt the building faced them. Boards were nailed over the broken windows, and there were gaping sags in the roof.

Ben found an aperture in the fence, and they squeezed themselves through it into the yard.

“Here,” he cried, “is where they dumped the ore! Beth, millions have lain were we are standing!”

She did not appear to be greatly impressed by this dramatic statement, and nervously glanced about.

“I should think tramps would sleep here.”

“No fear of that,” he replied; “it’s too cold. Come inside!”

She followed him timorously, feeling the mystery of a vacant house, the unseen presence of former occupants.

“See!” Ben eagerly exclaimed, “there is where the boilers stood. And there,”—he pointed to where some twisted and rusty pipes loosely hung against the wall, like petrified serpents,—“is where the tanks stood in which they washed the gold. They washed it before melting it into bricks. Father has told me how the men used to stand knee-deep in it in the tanks and shovel it out, just as if they were shoveling coal.”

“They must have lost a lot.”

“It couldn’t be helped. And no one’s ever worked it over!”

“What was that!”

“Nothing but a loose shingle in the roof. Why, Beth, I didn’t know you were such a coward.”

“I’m not a coward; but I don’t like spooky places.” She looked apprehensively toward a dark corner.

“Spooky! Well, I hope some old miner’s ghost will kindly show me where to dig, that’s all. See how wide the cracks are in the floor of this shed,” he said, as he looked through an opening which led to an adjoining building. “There are thousands of dollars in the dirt under it—probably.”

They peered into the black cracks and could almost fancy they saw the glitter of the precious metal. The boy threw back his head and gazed at the massive brickwork of the chimney.

“It’s a chance, of course, but I’m going to take it. It’s funny to think of mining for gold in the heart of San Francisco in 1901!” He laughed and gave a low whistle.

“I’m so afraid you’ll lose all you’ve got,” she said. Then she suddenly made up her mind to side with him. “But, after all, there’s a risk in everything. I’d do it, if I were you, Ben,” she stoutly affirmed. “There’s lots of risks I’d take if I were a man.”

“That’s got some grit to it,” Ben approvingly replied. His seventeen-year-old vanity was flattered by being called a man.

“You see,” he continued, “if I’d been taught a trade it would be different; or if father had had any business to leave me. But he was just like old Madge,—wouldn’t do anything but trade in mines. He always had a big fortune just in sight, but it never came near enough to catch.”

“That’s a hard way to live.”

“Yes. It wore mother out; never to know from month to month whether we were going to stay or move on, or what our income would be. I believe all old miners are alike. Once a miner, always a miner. The gold fever of early times bewitched them for all the rest of their lives.”

“Take care you’re not bewitched, too.”

“It’s entirely different with me,” he began.

“No, it isn’t,” she interrupted. “But I’m with you, Ben. O, what a crazy scheme it is!” She laughed at his troubled face. “What was that? It is something in the house!”

“It’s some one in the yard,” Ben replied, looking out.

A man’s figure appeared in the doorway.

“Good-afternoon, Mr. Madge,” Ben said. “We are viewing your property. With a floor, this would make a first-rate skating-rink.”

The man came toward them. Of medium stature, with a halting gait, as though his joints were rusty, he helped himself along by the aid of a stout hooked cane. A sparse gray beard covered the lower part of his face, which was flushed from liquor. He looked uncomfortably warm, and he took off his shabby broad-brimmed hat and ran his fingers through his hair until it stood erect in tufts.

“A skating-rink! Like as not ’twould come down about your heads. Run home, girl,” he said to Beth; “this is no place for you.”

“We were just going when you came in,” Ben replied, before she could answer. “Good-night.”

“Didn’t you want to talk to him about the scheme?” she asked, when they were out of hearing.

“Not when he’s in that condition. I wouldn’t take advantage of him. Run home, now, before Mrs. Hodges has a chance to scold.”

“She’ll scold, anyway,” the girl replied. Then she shrugged her shoulders as if to dismiss an unpleasant subject, and her face brightened. “Race you to the Point, Ben!” she cried, placing one foot forward for the start.

He did not respond, but gazed at her with a preoccupied air.

“One, two!” Still he made no answer. Her expectant attitude changed and her arms fell to her sides, while a look of disappointment spread over her face. “I think it’s just horrid if you’re going to be poky and grown-up! I don’t see why people can’t work and play too; but it seems they never do. Just because you’re three years older than me, you think you’re grown up!”

“Why, Beth, what’s come over you?”

“You’re a man all at once; that’s all. I s’pose now we can’t have any more fun with stilts and tar-barrels. Nor fly kites, nor run races, nor—nor do anything we used to do! I hate the scheme,—I do!”

Ben laughed. “Come on,” he said; “I’ll race you.”

Off they went, flying along the beach until they came up, breathless, against the wooded slopes of Black Point. They climbed up the bank until they reached the ramparts.

“That was fine!” Beth said, seating herself on the grassy slope. “Now, you can tell me some more about your plan. I don’t hate it any more.”

Spread before them was the bay, dotted with craft. Across the channel the Marin County hills rose abruptly from the water’s edge. At Fort Point, which jutted out beyond the promontory on which they were sitting, some experiments in a new explosive were being made. They watched the flash and report and the little cloud of dust the charge made when it struck the opposite shore. Above them, on a higher embankment, a sentry paced to and fro, his bayonet glistening in the sunlight.

“So, Dame Trot scolds a good deal, does she?” Ben remarked, ignoring the invitation to expatiate on the scheme. “I must stop calling her that. Her name’s Mrs. Hodges.”

“Yes, she does. I don’t think she means to, though,” she added. “I think she’s been disappointed in so many things that it’s made her cross with everything. If it wasn’t for poor little Sue I couldn’t stand it.”

“Sue would miss you—if you should go away.”

“I know she would—terribly.”

“You’ve thought of going, then?”

“O, sometimes I think of it; but when Sue turns her poor little face and looks at me, I can’t bear to think any more about it.”

“Doesn’t she look so at her mother, too?”

“Yes; but her mother always seems to want to get her out of her sight. She wouldn’t hurt her, of course; but it seems as if she held a grudge against God and Sue for her being so deformed. Somehow, she acts as if she held both of them responsible for the child’s misery.”

“Most mothers would be more tender to such a child.”

“I know it,—just cuddle it up in their arms, away from all the rest of the world! But she doesn’t. I guess it’s because she’s so selfish. She wants everything of hers to be the best. Of course it isn’t, and so she’s always complaining.”

“I know. And I say, Beth, do you know that ill-humor’s catching? I don’t like to hear you say that you ‘hate’ things.”

“You know I don’t mean it.”

“Then, don’t say it. But how are the boys? Are they good to Sue?”

“O, yes; how could they help it? Even Hodges is different to her.”

“How’s Syd? Somehow, I’ve got sort of turned against him lately.”

“He’s just the same old Syd. You say you’ve turned against him lately; but you know, Ben Ralston, that you never liked him.”

Ben laughed. “I can’t fool you, can I, Beth? I think I was trying to fool myself the most. Tell me about him.”

“His mother favors him always, and that spoils him. He’s envious and suspicious, always imagining that some one’s going to slight him; and she makes this silly feeling worse by encouraging him in it.”

“I know he always looks sidewise at me, as though he thought I meant to trip him up, or eat his share of the treat, or get the best of him somehow.”

“Perhaps you’d rather I wouldn’t tell him about that place?”

“Tell him, if you want to; but I don’t believe you’ll get any thanks for it. He’ll think it’s some sort of a trap we’ve set for him.”

“How do you suppose he ever got into such a habit?”

“Partly disposition, partly habit. It’s a habit that grows, till after a while he will not trust any one. But don’t let’s talk of him when we can talk about the scheme. Beth, if it pans out, I’ll always think you were my fairy godmother.”

“I? Why, I haven’t done anything at all!”

“Yes, you have. You’ve shown me the way, just like the fairy godmother who pointed out the ring in the tree-trunk to Aladdin and told him to pull and a door would open that would lead down to the treasure-house.”

“That wasn’t a fairy godmother; it was a magician, an old Chinaman; so I don’t feel complimented.”

Ben did not reply. He was busily planning how to reach his treasure.

“I’ll have to have machinery and things; and at least one man to help me, I suppose,” he said. “I don’t know, exactly, what I’d better do first. But I can find out,” he added, with a rather blank look.

A few minutes before he had exulted in the fact that he was his own master, to negotiate the business and carry it on unaided; but already he found himself wishing for some friend of experience with whom he could consult. A few of the difficulties to be surmounted had dawned upon him.

“Why not ask Hodges about it?”

“I don’t want to do that if I can help it. I know just how he’d sneer and throw cold water on it all.”

“Couldn’t you find a partner?”

“I’m not sure that I want to. If I let others into it I’d be afraid they’d freeze me out. Men with more money than he had did that to father lots of times.”

“O, I hope you won’t get cheated, Ben!” She clasped her hands and looked so distressed that he laughed.

“I’ll be too many for them. I’d better paddle my own canoe, though, and then there won’t be any danger.”

“I don’t see why there need be any such thing as cheating in the world.”

“It’s a queer old world. Mother used to say that sometimes she thought it was the lunatic asylum of the universe.”

“I should think, for instance, that in case you work over the old Works and get out the gold, everybody would be glad that you’d succeeded, and would go on with their own work and earn their own money, without wanting to cheat you out of yours.”

“I know, Beth, that’s the fair way to look at it; but all men don’t feel that way. Those that don’t are the ones I’ve got to look out for.”

“When men are so selfish, it makes life just a big fight.”

“Yes,” Ben replied. “And ’most every man is fierce to down every other one. It’s just like a big school. You despise the bullies and sneaks, of course, but you’ve got to look out for them. I don’t mean to leave a crack for a rascal to get the better of me in this business. I’d rather make forty blunders myself than to have some one jam me in the door.”

“Don’t you wish you knew whether you could get it or not?”

“Yes. First ‘catch your hare.’ Thunder! I wish I didn’t have to wait till to-morrow. Waiting’s the hardest thing in the world!”

The cousins slowly walked back on the beach where they had raced a half-hour before.

“I’ll let you know just as soon as I can,” Ben said at parting. “You gave me the idea, and who knows what’ll come of it?”

CHAPTER II THE PURCHASE

“I’d like to speak to you on a matter of business.”

Ben’s face flushed in spite of the effort he made to look unconcerned, and it vexed him that his voice trembled.

The old man addressed surveyed the boyish figure before him.

“Business?” he questioned.

“Yes. It’s about the Works.”

“Well, what about ’em?”

“I should think there’d be a good deal of lumber in the frame and bricks in the chimney.”

“Yes, I s’pose there is; but what’s that to you?”

“I want to know what you’ll take for the whole concern as it stands? I suppose the lease you’ve got won’t run forever.”

“No, I guess it won’t.” Mr. Madge meditated for a moment. He needed money badly, to finish a pet tunnel in his “Bonanza Princess” mine. The sum that Ben could give would be a small one, he knew, but it would be better than nothing. As for the lease—“The leas’ said about that the better,” he said to himself, with a chuckle at his own wit. He sat down on a pile of boards and motioned to Ben to take a seat beside him. Then he hung his hooked cane on his left arm.

“How much’d you have left after your father’s affairs was settled up? Must’ve been quite a tidy little sum, I reckon.”

Ben had resolved not to furnish any information in regard to his finances, unless obliged to do so.

“There wasn’t much left, after the debts were paid,” he replied.

“Didn’t he give you all he had ’fore he died?”

“Yes. There wasn’t any one else to leave it to, except my cousin, Beth Morton; and my father knew that if he left her anything, Mr. Hodges would take it.”

“And you don’t mean to tell me ’t you paid his debts outen it, when you wasn’t obliged to!”

“Every last one of them!” the boy said with emphasis.

“Well, Ben Ralston, you are an odd stick!” He regarded his cane with a speculative air, as though he were comparing it with Ben. “Guess I must be gittin’ along hom’ards, now,” he added, as he slowly rose.

Ben was busily speculating upon his intentions. “The old sharper means to find out exactly how much money I’ve got, and then make a stand to get it all,” he thought. He instantly decided to furnish the information himself.

“I’ve got just two hundred dollars,—not a cent more,—and my board’s paid to the first of the month. So you see I’ve got to get to work at once,” he said.

Mr. Madge resumed his seat. “Make me an offer,” he replied, with a shrewd glance at Ben from his watery eyes.

“That’s my offer: all I’ve got.”

“U-m-m! It’s little enough for the stuff.”

As he paused, Ben nerved himself for the hardest part of all—the disclosure of his object in buying the Works. The temptation not to unfold his plan was very strong, but he resisted it.

“Lumber’s tol’rable high now,” the old man continued, “and it’s bound to go higher ’fore the year’s out.” A remembrance of the lease urged him to close the bargain at once. “But, if you’re smart enough to sell at a profit—”

“Before we come to a settlement, Mr. Madge,” Ben interrupted, “I want to tell you of one reason I have in buying your property. I mean to work over the bricks and soot of the chimney and the ground for gold.”

The old man was visibly astonished.

“So? For gold! Well, that’s another thing altogether!” he remarked, as the instinct to get the better of a bargain demanded precedence over all others. Then a gleam of avarice shone in his eyes. “Tell you what, boy, if you’re anxious to mine, I kin show you some splendid properties!” He waved his cane in his excitement. “The place to look for gold is in a virgin mine, not in forty-year-old soot!”

“I don’t want any mine that can be bought for two hundred dollars,” Ben said with decision. “And I must invest in something right off. I can’t leave my offer open either,” he added as he saw the other make a move to go. “If I don’t buy your ruin, I’ll have to get into something else.”

“You are in a hurry, ain’t you? I wish ’t I could persude you to go into a mine. ’Tain’t no use, eh?” he added as Ben shook his head. “Well,” he rose stiffly, “I’ll see you to-morrow ’bout it.”

“To-morrow will do. I’ll meet you at the Works at ten o’clock. I’ve got something on hand for the afternoon,” Ben answered.

When he was alone the boy tried to formulate a plan of operation, should he succeed in buying the property. His most difficult task was to control his impatience.

“I suppose I’ll have to do some more waiting,” he said to himself. “How I wish to-morrow were here!”

He knew as well as if Mr. Madge had told him so, that his statement in regard to his funds would not be believed without verification.

“He couldn’t take my word for it,” Ben reflected; “but all his digging can’t bring up anything more than the truth. It’s just two hundred dollars,—not a cent more.”

Shortly before ten o’clock on the following morning, Ben approached the Works. He crossed the lumpy, uneven ground of the yard and entered the building. As he gazed at the black walls of the structure and through the many holes in the roof where the blue sky looked down, he wished that they might speak and foretell the success or failure of his venture.

The side of the building next to the water was built upon piles driven into the beach, and through an opening in the wall he could see the waves running back and forth, until they almost touched the building.

He was very much excited, and involuntarily he kept his hand over the pocket which held his money. The responsibility of the step he was about to take weighed heavily upon him. Never before had he felt so utterly alone in the world. His visionary father had been the one heretofore to whom he had naturally turned for advice, even when he felt grave doubts as to his judgment. Now he was about to risk his all in a speculation which might yield no return. He was buoyant with hope; yet the doubt which always accompanies a first trial steadied him.

A rope hung from one of the joists of the flooring, and he idly watched the waves wash it backward and forward. At another time he would have questioned the presence of a deep furrow and some footprints in the sand which the incoming tide was rapidly obliterating; but now he was too preoccupied to notice them. He turned and saw Mr. Madge entering the building.

“So, you got here ’fore me,” the old man began. “It’s a good thing to be prompt. I don’t know of any one thing I like more in a young man than punctooality. Allers practice it and you’ll never be sorry for it.” He deliberately seated himself. “I recollec’ once, way back in the early ’50’s, how punctooality paid me in one of the pootiest mines that mortal man ever see. Clear white quartz, with lumps of yellow gold peppered all through it! ’Twas this here way,” he continued as he hung his cane on his arm—“the mine b’longed to a man who’d gone back East, and hadn’t touched a pick to it for ’most a year; so another man and me was both a-watchin’ for the day when the year’d be up, so’s we could take up the claim.”

Ben fidgeted during this recital, but the other did not appear to notice his impatience.

“The other feller,” continued Mr. Madge, “he got up at dawn,—’twas summer time, ’bout three o’clock,—but when he clim’ up the hill to the mine, there I was a-settin’, havin’ planted my claim two hours before. I’d been there sence midnight!” He laughed at his story, regardless of Ben’s inattention. “’Nother time, up in the Comstocks,—this time I was just a-tellin’ you ’bout was in Nevada County of this State,—I recollec’ how bein’ prompt saved a good mine and kept a hull concern from goin’ to rack and ruin. ’Twas a silver mine—as beautiful green ore as ever you see—”

“But I’d like to know, first,—before I hear about it, Mr. Madge,—whether you’re going to accept my offer or not,” Ben interrupted, for he could no longer control his impatience.

“Well, I’ve ben thinkin’ over your offer, Ben, and I’ve ’bout made up my mind that it ain’t no price for the property, considerin’ the gold that’s lyin’ hid on it. No price at all; in fact—”

“But it’s a chance whether I find any gold or not,” Ben impatiently exclaimed. “When you buy a mine do you pay as much for it as you expect to get out of it?” His heart sank with fear that his offer might not be accepted. He felt that he must meet the old man on his own ground, and he was on his mettle.

“It ain’t much of a price for the buildin’ material that’s in it, let alone the gold,” Mr. Madge continued, as if he had not heard the question. “I ain’t willin’ to let it go at your figure; but I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll go shares with you, if you’ll pay me the two hundred, and put up the coin for the machinery. I s’pose a ’rastra will do for the crushin’.”

“I don’t care to take a partner,” Ben firmly replied. His heart was growing heavier with every second that failure seemed more certain.

He nerved himself for a final effort. “If you don’t care to accept my offer, Mr. Madge, there’s no use wasting any more words over the matter,” he said, and turned to go.

A vindictive gleam shot from the old man’s eyes. He did not reply for a moment, but stopped Ben as he was going out of the door.

“I need the money,” he briefly said; “so I’ll take your offer; but I’m just a-givin’ it to you.”

Ben dived in his pocket with alacrity and produced a bill of sale for the lumber and bricks and also an agreement permitting him to work over the ground until the expiration of the lease. The dates of the latter he had omitted, as he did not know them.

He had opened his purse to pay over the money before he recalled the omission. It flashed upon him, too, that the paper should be signed in the presence of witnesses. He put his purse back in his pocket.

“Come to Hodges’ shop,—we must have witnesses,” Ben said.

Mr. Hodges was a locksmith, and owned a small shop in the old part of the city known as North Beach. He was Beth’s stepfather; and as she was Ben’s cousin, the boy naturally turned to him as a friend.

He looked up in surprise when his visitors entered, and gave them a gruff welcome.

Mr. Madge was in great haste to sign the papers and get possession of the money.

“The dates of the lease must be put in first,” said Ben. “What are they?”

“Well, let me see,” said Mr. Madge. “’Twas thirty-five years ago, and we got it ’cause ’twasn’t needed by the owners. Afterwards, ’twas made over to me by the company.”

“That would make it 1866,” said Ben. He lifted the pen. “What was the month?”

“Let me see,” the other replied, as if striving to remember. “We begun in November, I think,—yes, we drove the first pile for the foundation on the fifteenth day of November, 1866.” He brought his cane down with a thump, to emphasize the statement. “I remember the time partic’larly, ’cause ’twas in that same month that I made a fortune up in Tuolumne County. I owned the pootiest mine on the Mother Lode ’t ever you see!”

“I think you’ve told me about that before, Mr. Madge,” Ben replied as he filled in the dates. “Now, this paper gives me the sole right to work over the ground, bricks, and rubbish of the Smelting Works, until the expiration of the lease. And that will be until—” Ben waited for Mr. Madge to supply the rest of the sentence.

“Certainly it does,” the latter said. “You talk like a regular lawyer, Ben.”

“Business is business. Now, as I understand it, the lease will expire on the fifteenth of November,—that’s three months off. The Works are mine till then.”

“They’re yours until the lease expires,” replied Mr. Madge, with considerable impatience. “I’m ready to sign if you are. Let’s get through with it.”

Ben passed the papers toward him and he affixed his signature. Ben followed with his, and then he turned to Hodges.

“Will you sign here, Mr. Hodges?” he said.

“Yes, I’ll sign the tomfoolery to oblige you,” replied the locksmith. But before he put his name to the paper he relieved his mind by making several sneering remarks.

“Talk about di’monds and coal being the same! Why, that won’t be in it, when it comes to findin’ gold in soot and bricks!” he said. “Ben, you’ll be a regular what-do-you-call-it—chemist?”

“An alchemist? I hope so,” Ben replied with flushed cheeks. “We ought to have another witness,” he added.

A man who was examining some keys in the back part of the shop came forward.

“I’ll sign, if you want me to,” he said. “I heard the whole business,—couldn’t help it.”

They agreed and he wrote his name, “Andrew Mundon,” in a good bold hand.

Ben then paid Mr. Madge the coveted twenties and the party separated.

Ben was eager to make his escape. He shrank from the coarse sarcasm which he knew would be his share if he remained in the vicinity of the shop, and he wanted to be alone to think over the matter.

“Whew! I’m in for it now!” he exclaimed as he strode along the street, with a hand in each empty pocket. He threw back his head and stepped briskly along. “And I want to tell you one thing right here,” he addressed himself,—“there’s to be no looking backward!”

He whistled a lively air and quickened his steps as exciting thoughts crowded fast upon him. Turning a corner suddenly, he collided with a boy of his own age.

“Hello, Syd!”

The boy addressed, gave a grunt in reply.

“How do you like the place?” Ben continued.

“O, it’s well enough for a while. I’ve got another one at forty dollars a month, in view.”

“Indeed! How soon do expect to make the change?” Ben inquired.

“O, I ain’t going to work for this money long,” Syd aggressively replied, as though his employer were doing him an injury. “I’ve had two offers—one’ll pay ten dollars more; but there’s more work and longer hours. I haven’t made up my mind yet which one I’ll take.”

Doubt was plainly written in Ben’s face. Syd always had some such rose-colored yarn as this to tell about himself.

“You’re lucky to have two such good chances,” Ben remarked. “You’ll have to look out and take the right one.” He turned to go, but the other stopped him.

“What are you doing nowadays? Beth said something about your having a tiptop place.”

“I don’t think she could have said that, Syd.”

“Yes, she did, too, or words to that effect. You don’t mean to doubt my word, do you?” he defiantly added.

“I’d rather not,” Ben quietly replied. “We’ve fought all our lives on the slightest cause, and we’re too old for that sort of thing, now.”

“I don’t want to quarrel,—but that’s what she said.”

“I don’t see how that is possible, when I haven’t any place at all.”

“Haven’t any? Ain’t you working?”

“Yes, I’m going to work,—but for myself. It isn’t a secret any longer; so you may as well know it, since you are so interested in my affairs. I’ve bought the old Smelting Works, to work them for gold.”

Ben thoroughly enjoyed making this announcement. Between Syd and himself there had always been a rivalry; and after Syd’s foolish bragging about something that both knew to be false, it was a satisfaction to Ben to impart his news.

“For gold!” Syd repeated in surprise.

“Yes, for gold; and I expect to find a pile.”

“Well, I hope you won’t be disappointed. Just give me a lump to have set in a scarf-pin, will you?” He laughed in derision.

“All right,—a small nugget will do, I suppose. I must be going now; good morning.”

Syd gave a grunt in reply and slouched away. Tall and awkward, he thrust his head forward when he walked and kept his eyes fixed on the ground.

Ben turned and watched him for a moment. “How he would rejoice in my failure!” he said to himself. “It’s odd that some people find their pleasure in just such things. Well, I hope he’ll not have that joy at my expense, that’s all.”

He regretted that he had yielded to the impulse to tell Syd.

“I wish I’d waited until I could have shown him the color of my gold,” he reflected. “Perhaps I sha’n’t find a pinch of it.”

Glancing up he saw that he had nearly reached Market Street, and, obeying a sudden impulse, he crossed that great artery and turned his steps toward the foundries.

He was glad to have something to divert his thoughts from his interview with Syd, and he spent the rest of the day in looking at machinery, more especially that used in mining.

The clash and clamor of the busy hives brought the difficulties of his undertaking glaringly before him. His own ignorance seemed appalling. How could he hope to compete with this skilled labor and wonderful machinery!

“I am not competing,” he told himself. “I am doing something which no one else has thought of. The idea is original,—here, at any rate,—and ideas can be made to pay.”

CHAPTER III THE SMUGGLERS’ CACHE IS FOUND

“S’pose you’re goin’ to put in a ’rastra?”

Ben turned and saw the man who had signed as a witness to the agreement.

“How do you do, Mr. Mundon?” he replied. “Yes, I think it will need an arastra to crush the bricks.” His grave face showed that already the cares of the undertaking were preying upon him.

“Don’t you mind the sneers and laughs of anybody,” the man said, with a sturdy independence that Ben liked. “You’ve got a good proposition. I’ve seen it done in Australia and a big pile cleaned up. They do it in this country, too; and if this old chap you bought it from didn’t have the mining fever so bad, he’d have done it years ago.”