Pole laughed reassuringly. “I never have been drunk enough to do that, Mr. Craig, an', what's more, I never will be.” XXVI [Illustration: 9230] BOUT noon that day, as Pole Baker sat on a fallen tree near the road-side in the loneliest spot of that rugged country, his horse grazing behind him, he saw Craig coming up the gradual incline from the creek. Pole stood up and caught the bridle-rein of his horse and muttered: “Now, Pole Baker, durn yore hide, you've got brains--at least, some folks say you have--an' so has he. Ef you don't git the best of that scalawag yo' re done fer. You've put purty big things through; now put this un through or shet up.” “Well, heer you are,” merrily cried out the ex-banker, as he came up. He was smiling expectantly. “Your secret's safe with me. I hain't met a soul that I know sence I left town.” “I'm glad you didn't, Mr. Craig,” Pole said. “I don't want anybody a-meddlin' with my business.” He pointed up the rather steep and rocky road that led gradually up the mountain. “We've got two or three mile furder to go. Have you had any dinner?” “I put a cold biscuit and a slice of ham in my pocket,” said Craig. “It 'll do me till supper.” Pole mounted and led the way up the unfrequented road. “I may as well tell you, Mr. Craig, that I used to be a moonshiner in these mountains, an'--” “Lord, I knew that, Baker. Who doesn't, I'd like to know?” Pole's big-booted legs swung back and forth like pendulums from the flanks of his horse. “I was a-goin' to tell you that I had a hide-out, whar I kept stuff stored, that wasn't knowed by one livin' man.” “Well, you must have had a slick place from all I've heerd,” said Craig, still in his vast good-humor with himself and everybody else. “The best natur' ever built,” said Pole; “an' what's more, it was in thar that I found the gold. I reckon it ud 'a' been diskivered long ago, ef it had 'a' been above ground.” “Then it's in--a sort of cave?” ventured Craig. “That's jest it; but I've got the mouth of it closed up so it ud fool even a bloodhound.” Half an hour later Pole drew rein in a most isolated spot, near a great yawning canon from which came a roaring sound of rushing water and clashing winds. The sky overhead was blue and cloudless; the air at that altitude was crisp and rarefied, and held the odor of spruce pine. With a laugh Pole dismounted. “What ef I was to tell you, Mr. Craig, that you was in ten yards o' my old den right now.” Craig looked about in surprise. “I'd think you was makin' fun o' me--tenderfootin', as we used to say out West.” “I'm givin' it to you straight,” said Pole, pointing with his riding-switch. “Do you see that pile o' rocks?” Craig nodded. “Right under them two flat ones is the mouth o' my den,” said Pole. “Now let's hitch to that hemlock, an' I 'll show you the whole thing.” When they had fastened their horses to swinging limbs in a dense thicket of laurel and rhododendron bushes, they went to the pile of rocks.