Heretofore I had given the geyser cavern, where the precious metal was being deposited, not the slightest consideration. I had known of only one way to approach the place, namely, by the long passage, the end of which I might not be able to find, and which at best could only lead me to a point high above the place of treasure. I knew, also, that snakes abided in the passage and that getting gold up to the point where Fatty and I had been that day and then out through the tortuous tunnel was simply impossible, as a task. Even the nugget on the club—after the first inevitable thrill which I could not help feeling, to see it and know its worth,—had been no more to me than any rock, for what could it purchase in such a land as this? But now—how things had altered! Not only did I feel the greatest confidence in my ability to pilot my boat away from that open prison, to a land where gold would be the “open sesame” to the whole world, but I knew of an opening—or thought I did—to the cave where the precious metal was lying ready to be had for the taking. It was a magic thought—an intoxicating dream. The precious deposit belonged to no one, for who were the Missing Links? I should do no injury to anyone by taking all I needed. And why should I not have some remuneration for all this exile, labour and suffering? “Why,” said I, and half seriously at that, “a king simply has to be rich!” The task seemed easy, as I dreamed of proceeding to the spot, taking what I wanted and then escaping with it as I had with the goddess. The idea expanded rapidly; it began to make me feverish. As usual, when I gave myself over to anything new, I forgot everything else about me. Even the goddess and her snake became of secondary importance; escape itself was indefinitely postponed. The premier question was, “When shall I do it?” I answered aloud: “Why—to-day—to-night! What’s the use of waiting?” Then it became imperative that I should formulate a plan. The bear-skin was the fundamental basis which gave me the courage to think of attempting the task. I knew how to manage in regard to that, as well as I knew how nicely it would work, if only the light were not too searching. What more might the work require? Obviously I should need a sack, in which to carry off the plunder; and I ought to have a pick or a sledge-hammer, or something in the way of a tool with which to detach the solid chunks of metal. For the sack, I decided to sew together some of the skins which were lying on the floor of my shelter. For tools I would carry a couple of the stoutest clubs to be had in the camp. In addition to these requisites, I could think of nothing I should need, except my weapons.