es.

"The ole beggar's got his pennant out," he exclaimed, as he smacked his
lean shanks and again applied his eye to the telescope. "That means a
spree for Benjamin. The crafty ole rascal'll be comin' in to-night. It
means his tucker supply's given out, an' I must fly round for bacon,
tea, sugar, bread, flour; an' I think I'll put in a tin or two of jam,
by way of a treat."

He took a long look at the signal, and then shut up the telescope.

"It's quite plain," he soliloquised: "the old un's comin' in. I must
shut up shop, and forage. Then, after dark, I'll take the tucker to the
ford."

But, as though a sudden inspiration had seized him, he readjusted his
instrument and once more examined the conspicuous tree.

"Why, he's there himself, sittin' in a forked bough, an' watchin' me
through his glass." Placing the telescope gently on the ground, Jake
turned himself into a human semaphore, and gesticulated frantically with
his arms. "That ought to fetch 'im," and he again placed his eye to the
telescope. "Yes, he sees. He's wavin' his 'at. Good old Ben. It's better
than a play. Comic opera ain't in it with this sort o' game. He's fair
rampin' with joy 'cause I seen 'im." Shutting up his instrument, Jake
gave a last exhibition of mad gesticulations, danced a mimic war-dance,
and then, with the big telescope under his arm, he went into the house.

It was a long stretch of tangled forest from the big tree to Tresco's
cave, but the goldsmith was now an expert bushman, versed in the ways of
the wilderness, active if not agile, enduring if still short of breath.
His once ponderous form had lost weight, his once well-filled garments
hung in creases on him, but a look of robust health shone in his eye and
a wholesome tan adorned his cheek. He strode down the mountain as though
he had been born on its arboreous slopes. Without pause, without so much
as a false step, he traversed those wild gullies, wet where the dew
still lay under the leafy screen of boughs, watered by streams which
gurgled over mighty boulders--a wilderness where banks of ferns grew in
the dank shade and the thick tangle of undergrowth blocked the
traveller's way.

But well on into the afternoon Tresco had reached the neighbourhood of
his cave, where his recluse life dragged out its weary days. His route
lay for a brief mile along the track which led to the diggings. Reaching
this cleared path, where locomotion was easier, the goldsmith quickened
his pace