Part 45 (1/2)
”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. I imagine that there's a pa.s.sage which connects with the open air. Some day, perhaps, an over-earnest policeman will drop on our heads. Then there'll be a picnic, eh?”
”What I want, just at present,” said Jake, ”is a drink.”
”That's another of my troubles,” replied the goldsmith. ”I have to fetch my water from outside, but it's lovely water when you've got it.”
He placed his bag of gold in a corner. ”Don't put all your eggs into one basket,” he said. ”I believe in Jacob's plan--divide your belongings. If I'm caught here, I have the plant in town. If I'm caught in town, I have the plant here. Anyhow, the police can't get everything.”
”An' where do I come in?” The eyes of the rabbit-faced youth peered into his master's.
”I don't precisely know. I don't think you come in at all.”
”Then what about that gold in the safe, boss?”
”The key is here.” Benjamin slapped his pocket gently. ”But, if you're a good boy you shall have my business, and be the boss goldsmith of Timber Town.”
”Honest injin?”
”Perfectly honest. If I get away with my gold, all I leave behind is yours.”
”Shake hands on it.”
”Certainly,” said the goldsmith, and he held out his hand.
Jake took it in his.
”It's a bargain,” he said.
”That's right; a bargain.”
”I'll help you to get away with your gold, and you'll leave me your business, lock, stock, and barrel.”
”That's exactly it,” said the goldsmith, taking up an empty ”billy” from the ground. ”Now we'll go and get the water for our tea.”
CHAPTER XXV.
Fis.h.i.+ng.
A case of bottling-plums, the bloom still on their purple cheeks, stood on the kitchen table. Beside it stood Rose, her arms bare to the elbows, and a snowy ap.r.o.n flowing from breast to ankle. Marshalled in regular array in front of the case, stood a small army of gla.s.s jars, which presently were to receive the fruit.
In a huge preserving-pan a thick syrup was simmering on the stove; and Rose had just begun to place the fruit in this saccharine mixture, when a succession of knocks, gentle but persistent, was heard coming from the front door.