The place was so dark that at first he could see nothing, although he heard a rattling sound coming from the back part of the shop; but presently he discovered the figure of an old man, busily mixing something in a large iron pot. As Davy approached him he saw that the pot was full of watches, which the old man was stirring with a ladle. The old creature was very curiously dressed, in a suit of rusty green velvet, with little silver buttons sewed over it, and he wore a pair of enormous yellow-leather boots; and Davy was quite alarmed at seeing that a broad leathern belt about his waist was stuck full of old-fashioned knives and pistols. Davy was about to retreat quickly from the shop, when the old man looked up, and said, in a peevish voice:-- [Illustration: "'HOW MANY WATCHES DO YOU WANT?' SAID SHAM-SHAM, IN A PEEVISH VOICE."] "How many watches do you want?"--and Davy saw that he was a very shocking-looking person, with wild, staring eyes, and with a skin as dark as mahogany, as if he had been soaked in something for ever so long. "How many?" repeated the old man, impatiently. "If you please," said Davy, "I don't think I'll take any watches to-day. I'll call"-- "Drat 'em!" interrupted the old man, angrily beating the watches with his ladle; "I'll never get rid of em--never!" "It seems to me"--began Davy, soothingly. "Of course it does!" again interrupted the old man, as crossly as before. "Of course it does! That's because you won't listen to the why of it." "But I _will_ listen," said Davy. "Then sit down on the floor and hold up your ears," said the old man. Davy did as he was told to do, so far as sitting down on the floor was concerned, and the old man pulled a paper out of one of his boots, and, glaring at Davy over the top of it, said, angrily:-- "You're a pretty spectacle! I'm another. What does that make?" "A pair of spectacles, I suppose," said Davy. "Right!" said the old man. "Here they are." And pulling an enormous pair of spectacles out of the other boot he put them on, and began reading aloud from his paper:-- _My recollectest thoughts are those Which I remember yet; And bearing on, as you'd suppose, The things I don't forget._ _But my resemblest thoughts are less Alike than they should be; A state of things, as you'll confess, You very seldom see._ "Clever, isn't it?" said the old man, peeping proudly over the top of the paper. "Yes, I think it is," said Davy, rather doubtfully. "Now comes the cream of the whole thing," said the old man. "Just listen to this:"-- _And yet the mostest thought I love Is what no one believes--_ Here the old man hastily crammed the paper into his boot again, and stared solemnly at Davy. "What is it?" said Davy, after waiting a moment for him to complete the verse. The old man glanced suspiciously about the shop, and then added, in a hoarse whisper:-- _That I'm the sole survivor of The famous Forty Thieves!_