e place pretty
often--for he couldn't help that--he kept the secret close from that
time until his death."

"He had never told any other person but yourself, you think?" inquired
Balfour, curiously.

"No one to speak of. There was one fellow who had an inkling of the
thing, it seems, but he is dead now. I read of it in the newspaper quite
lately. He died in jail, or rather in escaping from it, and had never
been in a position to profit by his suspicion. You may say, in fact,
that not a living soul besides John Trevethick ever knew this secret.
For fifty years he strove to possess himself of this mine; he even
offered for it, valueless as it was thought to be, four times the money
you did; only Carew was mad and obstinate; and now, for ten years, I
have had my own eyes fixed upon it, and got the earliest news of when it
was in the market, as I thought, when, here, without a hint to guide
you, a whiff of fortune blows it to your hand. It's a hard case _I_ call
it--devilish hard."

"Well, it _is_ hard," said Balfour; "that is, supposing all you say is
true. But frankly, my good Sir, I don't believe you. I mean no offense;
but, since you have not seen the lode with your own eyes, you must
pardon me for doubting its existence."

"Well, then, Sir, I _have_ seen it, and that's the long and short of it.
I would not take such a thing on trust from an angel."

"So I suspected," observed Balfour, coolly. "But as you have told me one
lie you may tell me another. What am I to believe now?"

"The mine is yours, Sir," answered Solomon, gruffly. "Let us go down
together and look at it. If Trevethick and I were mistaken--and I'll bet
you a thousand pounds that we were not--it is but coming back again,
and--"

"And being made the laughing-stock of all the folks among whom I mean to
spend my days," interrupted Balfour. "No, no. If we go, I'll not have a
soul to know of it. And mind you, if this turns out to be a mare's nest,
I sha'n't be pleased, my friend."

"It will not do that, Sir, you may take my word for it," answered
Solomon, earnestly; "and as for going _incog._, that matter's easy. I
can start for Gethin, which is my home, and but a stone's-throw from the
very place, on pretense of business; and you, a day or two after, may
come down to the inn at Turlock, just to see your purchase. We need not
be so much as seen together, if you so prefer it."

"I would much prefer it," observed Balfour, sententiously.

"Very good.