re wading, knee-deep, a ford of the river, whose banks they had
skirted throughout their journey. On the further side the forest, dank,
green, and dripping with dew, received them into its impenetrable
shades, but still the goldsmith toiled on; his heavy burden on his back,
and the panting, weary, energetic, enthusiastic apprentice following his
steps.

Leaving the track, Tresco led the way up a steep gully, thickly choked
with underscrub, and dark with the boughs of giant trees. Forcing their
way through tangled supple-jacks and clinging "lawyer" creepers which
sought to stay their progress, the wayfarers climbed till, as day
dawned, they paused to rest their wearied limbs before a sheer cliff
of rock.

"It's not very far now," said the goldsmith, as he wiped his dripping
brow. "This is the sort of work to reduce the adipose tissue, my son.
D'you think you could find your way here by yourself, indomitable
Jakey?"

"Huh! 'Course," replied the breathless youth, proud to be his master's
companion in such a romantic situation, and glorying in his "swag". "Is
this your bloomin' camp?"

"No, sir." Tresco glanced up the face of the great limestone rock which
barred their path. "Not exactly. We've got to scale this cliff, and then
we're pretty well there."

A few supple-jacks hung down the face of the rock. These Tresco took in
his hand, and twisted them roughly into a cable. "'Look natural, don't
they?" he said. "'Look as if they growed t'other end, eh? Now, watch
me." With the help of his rope of lianas he climbed up the rugged cliff,
and when at the summit, he called to Jake to tie the "swags" to separate
creepers. These he hoisted to the top of the cliff, and shortly
afterwards the eager face of the apprentice appeared over the brow.

"Here we are," exclaimed Benjamin, "safe as a church. Pull up the
supple-jacks, Jake."

With an enthusiasm which plainly betokened a mind dwelling on
bushrangers and hidden treasure, the apprentice did as he was told.

Out of breath through his exertions, he excitedly asked, "What's the
game, boss? Where's the bloomin' plant?"

"Plant?" replied the goldsmith.

"Yes, the gold, the dollars?"

"Dollars? Gold?"

"Yes, gold! 'Think _I_ don't know? Theseyer rocks are limestone. Who
ever saw gold in limestone formation? Eh?"

"How do _you_ know it's limestone?"

"Yah! Ain't I bin down to the lime-kiln, by Rubens' wharf, and seen the
lime brought over the bay? What's the game? Tell