etween Virtue and License,
an' the Devil only knows which will get me in the end."

But at the time of introduction he was quietly engraving a little plate
of gold, which was destined to adorn the watch-chain of the Mayor, who,
after Mr. Crewe, was Timber Town's most opulent citizen.

When the craftsman engraves, he fastens his plate of gold to the end of
a piece of wood, long enough to be held conveniently in the hand, and as
thick as the width of the precious metal. This he holds in his left
hand, and in his right the graver with which he nicks out little pieces
of gold according to design, which pieces fall into the apron of the
bench--and, behold! he is engraving. The work needs contemplation,
concentration, and attention; for every good goldsmith carries the
details of the design in his head. But, that morning, there seemed to be
none of these qualities in Benjamin Tresco. He dropped his work with a
suddenness that endangered its fastenings of pitch, rapped the bench
with the round butt of his graver, and glared ferociously at Jake
Ruggles.

"What ha' you got there?" he asked fiercely of his apprentice, who sat
with him at the bench and was now working industriously with a blow-pipe
upon the hoop of a gold ring. "Who told you to stop soldering the
buckles?"

Jake turned his head sideways and looked at his master, like a ferret
examining an angry terrier; alert, deliberate, and full of resource.

"It's a bit of a ring I was give to mend," he replied, "up at The Lucky
Digger."

Tresco stretched out a long arm, and took the gem. Then he drew a deep
breath.

"You've begun early, young man," he exclaimed. "Would you poach on my
preserves? The young lady whose finger that ring adorns I am wont to
regard as my especial property, an' a half-fledged young _pukeko_, like
you, presumes to cut me out! _You_ mend that lady's trinkets? _You_ lean
over a bar, an' court beauty adorned in the latest fashion? _You_ make
love to my 'piece' by fixing up her jewels? Young man, you've begun too
early. Now, look-a-here, I shall do this job myself--for love--I shall
deliver this ring with my own hand." Tresco chuckled softly, and Jake
laughed out loud.

The scene had been a piece of play-acting. The apprentice, who knew his
master's weakness for the pretty bar-maid at The Lucky Digger was, as
he expressed himself, "taking a rise out of the boss," and Tresco's
simulated wrath was the crisis for which he had schemed. Between the t