However, we did not notice such furniture as there was, for each member of the party, as he stepped over the high threshold, had his attention instantly attracted by the stove, and a brief roundelay of ejaculations went along the group. “Well, that staggers me,” said the stock-broker. “H’m,” said the professor, in a mysterious tone, and rubbed his chin. The stove was a plain, small cooking-range, rather old and rusty. The strange thing about it was its position. Its abbreviated legs stood upon large cedar posts, which were planted in the floor and were over four feet in height. This brought the stove away up in mid-air, so that the top was about on a level with the face of the colonel, and he was a six-footer. We formed in a circle about the stove and stared at it as solemnly as a group of priests around a sacrificial tripod. We felt of the posts--they were firm and solid, showing that the mysterious arrangement was a permanent, not a temporary, one. Then we all bent our necks and opened our mouths to look up at the hole in the roof, through which the stove-pipe vanished. Suddenly the stock-broker burst out into a laugh. “Oh, I understand it now,” said he. “Understand what?” asked the colonel, sharply. “Why Long Tom has his stove hoisted up so high from the floor.” “So do I,” said the doctor; “but I suspect that my explanation is not the same that any one else would offer.” “Well, I will bet that I am right,” said the stock-broker, “and put up the money.” “I am in this,” said the judge; “I have a clear idea about that stove and will back it.” “Make it a jack-pot,” said the colonel; “I want to take a hand.” The stock-broker drew a small yellow coin out of his pocket and dropped it on the table. “He has the stove up there,” he said, “to get a better draught. In this rarefied mountain air there is only a small amount of oxygen to the cubic inch, and combustion is more difficult to secure than in the lower latitudes. I have heard that if you get high enough up, you can’t cook an egg--that is, I mean, water won’t boil--or something like that,” he continued, thrown into sudden confusion by the discovery that the professor’s eye was fixed upon him with a sarcastic gaze. “Is that supposed to be science?” demanded the professor. “Well,” said the stock-broker, doggedly, “never mind the reasons. Experience is probably good enough for Long Tom. He finds that he gets a better draught for his stove by having it up in mid-air, so he has it there.” “The right explanation,” began the professor, “is the simplest. My idea is that----” “Excuse me,” interrupted the stock-broker, tapping the table; “are you in this pot?” The professor made a deposit, and proceeded: