over the precipice and
descended into the dark pool below in the form of two tiny silver
threads. At least it would have done so if its two threads had not been
dissipated in misty spray long before reaching the bottom of the cliff.
Thus it will be seen that the gold-digger occupied an almost impregnable
fortress, though why he had perched himself in such a position no one
could guess, and he declined to tell. It was therefore set down, like
all his other doings, to eccentricity.

Of course there was so far a pretext for his caution in the fact that
there were scoundrels in those regions, who sometimes banded together
and attacked people who were supposed to have gold-dust about them in
large quantities, but as such assaults were not common, and as every one
was equally liable to them, there seemed no sufficient ground for
Bevan's excessive care in the selection of his fortress.

On reaching it, Tom found its owner cutting up some firewood near his
plank-bridge.

"Hallo, Brixton!" he cried, looking up in some surprise as the young man
advanced; "you seem to have bin in the wars. What have 'e been fightin'
wi', lad?"

"With a bear, Paul Bevan," replied Tom, sitting down on a log, with a
long-drawn sigh.

"You're used up, lad, an' want rest; mayhap you want grub also. Anyhow
you look awful bad. No wounds, I hope, or bones broken, eh?"

"No, nothing but a broken heart," replied Tom with a faint attempt to
smile.

"Why, that's a queer bit o' you for a b'ar to break. If you had said it
was a girl that broke it, now, I could have--"

"Where is Betty?" interrupted the youth, quickly, with an anxious
expression.

"In the hut, lookin' arter the grub. You'll come in an' have some, of
course. But I'm coorious to hear about that b'ar. Was it far from here
you met him?"

"Ay, just a short way this side o' Pine Tree Diggings."

"Pine Tree Diggin's!" repeated Paul in surprise. "Why, then, didn't you
go back to Pine Tree Diggin's to wash yourself an' rest, instead o'
comin' all the way here?"

"Because--because, Paul Bevan," said Tom with sudden earnestness, as he
gazed on the other's face, "because I'm a thief!"

"You might be worse," replied Bevan, while a peculiarly significant
smile played for a moment on his rugged features.

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Tom, in amazement.

"Why, you might have bin a murderer, you know," replied Bevan, with a
nod.

The youth was so utterly disgusted with this cool