stopher!" exclaimed the apprentice.

"Nature's handiwork," said the goldsmith. "Beautiful.... Been making,
this thousand years, for _me_--an' you."

"Then I reckon Nature forgot the chimbley--it's as cold as the grave."

"On the contrary, there is a chimney; but Nature doesn't believe in a
fireplace in each room. Proceed. I will now show you my private
apartments. Mind the step."

He led the way down a dark passage, strewn with huge pieces of
limestone, over which master and apprentice scrambled, into an inner
chamber, where the white walls were grimed with smoke and the black
embers of an extinguished fire lay in the middle of the floor.

"My _sanctum sanctorum_," said the goldsmith, as he fixed the butt of
his candle to a piece of rock by means of drops of melted wax poured
from the lighted end. "This is where I meditate; this is where I mature
my plans for the betterment of the human species."

"Rats! You're darn well hidin' from the police."

"My son, you grieve me; your lack of the poetic shocks me."

"Oh, garn! You robbed those mails, that's about the size of it."

"Robbed?--no, sir. Examined?--yes, sir. I was the humble instrument in
the hands of a great rascal, a man of unprincipled life, a man who
offered bribes, heavy bribes--an' I took 'em. I had need of money."

"First comes the bender and then the bribe. I know, boss. But where
d'you get the gold?"

Benjamin stooped over a mass of bedding, rolled up in a tent-fly, and
brought to light a canvas bag.

"My private store," he said, "mine and Bill's. We go whacks. We're doing
well, but expediency demands that for a short while I should retire into
private life. And, by the hokey, I can afford it."

"Gold?" asked Jake, peering at the bag.

"Nuggets," said the goldsmith.

Jake dropped his "swag" and felt the weight of the bag.

"It gits over me," he said. "Either you stole it, or you dug it. I give
it up. Any'ow, there it is."

Benjamin smiled his broadest, and began to rake together the charred
sticks scattered over the floor.

"This is my only trouble," he said. "To yank my firewood in here is
heart-breaking; that and swagging tucker from town."

"Where's the smoke go to?" Jake looked into the inky blackness above.

"Don't know. Never asked. I guess it finds its way somewhere, for after
I've hung my blanket over the doorway and lighted the fire, I sometimes
notice that the bats which live overhead buzz round and then clear out
somewhere.