Old Van Quintem, who was too sleepy at that time to talk much, procured the necessary tools from a cupboard in the kitchen, and showed the stranger what work was to be done. The old gentleman then returned to his easy chair by the window, threw a handkerchief over his head, and settled himself for a nap. Before the carpenter had struck the first blow, Matthew Maltboy rose, remarked to the widow that he wanted to stretch himself a little, and walked out upon the piazza. The carpenter stood near the door, with the saw in one hand and the hammer in the other, very much in the attitude of listening. At Matthew's approach, he commenced feeling the teeth of the saw, as if to test their sharpness. "I would like to speak a word with you, sir," said Matthew, in a low voice, motioning the carpenter to accompany him to a corner of the piazza, out of the widow's possible hearing. Having attained that safe position, Matthew opened the great subject. "You remarked that you had dug gold in Calaveras County," said he. "Did you ever happen to know a man by the name of Frump--Amos Frump--who was a miner there?" "Frump!" replied the carpenter. "He was an intimate friend of mine." "Now that's lucky," said Matthew, "for I want to find out something about the man." "Then you've come to the right shop," answered the carpenter; "for his own brother--if he ever had one--couldn't tell you more about him than I." "I am indeed fortunate. In the first place, then this man Frump is really--dead?" The carpenter pulled his rough hat farther over his forehead, and replied: "As dead as two big splits in the skull could make him. But 'xcuse me, sir; he was my bosom friend, and I can't bear to talk of his death." "He _is_ dead, then, and no mistake," said Matthew, soliloquizing. "Yet I am not exactly glad to know it." The carpenter's face expressed surprise at this remark. "I beg your pardon," said Matthew. "Of course I am not glad to hear of your friend's death. But, to tell the truth," he continued (inventing an excuse), "I had always heard that this Frump was a wild fellow; that he didn't treat his wife decently, and at last ran away from her. You see I am acquainted with the family. In fact, I know Mrs. Frump quite well." "And did she tell you all this about her dead husband?" asked the carpenter. "Oh, no!" returned Matthew, who began to fear that he had gone too far. "She never says anything about his personal character. I only spoke from common report." "Then common report is a common liar; for I know there never was a steadier chap than this same Amos Frump; and his wife can't say that he ever struck her, or said a cross word to her. Amos told me all about himself; and I'd believe him through thick and thin." The carpenter spoke in his dismal chest voice, without the least indication of excitement. "Then why did he leave his wife? and why did she never hear of him until the time of his death? You will confess that _that_ was odd."