ave the steady gurgle
of the black water beneath him broke the tomb-like silence of the
gangway, Paul would see the little beady eyes flashing here and there in
the dim lamplight, and would feel a sense of companionship very
comforting to his loneliness. At such times Paul would talk to the rat
about the queer pictures on the walls, and ask him questions concerning
them. For hours he talked thus to his wise-looking companion, until he
began to believe that the rat understood him, and could really answer if
he chose.

Sometimes when he was asked a question he could not answer, he would
reply, "I don't know, but I'll speak to Socrates about it"; and at the
first opportunity he would explain the whole difficulty to his
gray-whiskered friend. Frequently, by thus thinking and talking the
matter over, he would arrive at some conclusion, more or less correct,
and this he would report as "What Socrates thinks."

At noon that day Monk Tooley, as usual, ate his lunch and smoked his
pipe with Job Taskar in the blacksmith's shop; but he was very quiet,
and not inclined to be talkative as was his habit. When he left, the
blacksmith's helper slipped out after him, and saying, "'Ere's summut I
think belongs to you, Mr. Tooley," handed him three bits of wood, on
each of which was deeply scored M. T.

"My lost checks!" exclaimed the miner. "Where'd yer get 'em, Boodle?"

"They dropped out hof Taskar's pocket when 'e flung hoff 'is coat this
mornin', and hi picked 'em hup unbeknownst to 'im."

"So he's de one as stole 'em, is he?" began the miner in a passion.
Then, changing his tone, he added, "But never mind, Boodle; of course he
only took 'em for de joke, and we'll say no more about it. Yer needn't
mention havin' found 'em."

"Hall right, Mr. Tooley, hit shall be has you says," replied the helper,
meekly, though he was really greatly disappointed at this turn of
affairs. He disliked as much as he feared his boss, and had hoped that
this little incident might lead to a quarrel between him and the miner
whose lost property he had just restored.

Monk Tooley went back to his work muttering to himself, "All dis means
summut; but we'll just lie low a bit, and mebbe Body-master an me'll
have a score ter settle yet."

The Young Sleepers had been so badly demoralized by the incidents
following their attempt to extract a treat from Derrick, and especially
by the mishap of their leader, that they had not the courage to repeat
the expe