“You’re lucky to have two such good chances,” Ben remarked. “You’ll have to look out and take the right one.” He turned to go, but the other stopped him. “What are you doing nowadays? Beth said something about your having a tiptop place.” “I don’t think she could have said that, Syd.” “Yes, she did, too, or words to that effect. You don’t mean to doubt my word, do you?” he defiantly added. “I’d rather not,” Ben quietly replied. “We’ve fought all our lives on the slightest cause, and we’re too old for that sort of thing, now.” “I don’t want to quarrel,--but that’s what she said.” “I don’t see how that is possible, when I haven’t any place at all.” “Haven’t any? Ain’t you working?” “Yes, I’m going to work,--but for myself. It isn’t a secret any longer; so you may as well know it, since you are so interested in my affairs. I’ve bought the old Smelting Works, to work them for gold.” Ben thoroughly enjoyed making this announcement. Between Syd and himself there had always been a rivalry; and after Syd’s foolish bragging about something that both knew to be false, it was a satisfaction to Ben to impart his news. “For gold!” Syd repeated in surprise. “Yes, for gold; and I expect to find a pile.” “Well, I hope you won’t be disappointed. Just give me a lump to have set in a scarf-pin, will you?” He laughed in derision. “All right,--a small nugget will do, I suppose. I must be going now; good morning.” Syd gave a grunt in reply and slouched away. Tall and awkward, he thrust his head forward when he walked and kept his eyes fixed on the ground. Ben turned and watched him for a moment. “How he would rejoice in my failure!” he said to himself. “It’s odd that some people find their pleasure in just such things. Well, I hope he’ll not have that joy at my expense, that’s all.” He regretted that he had yielded to the impulse to tell Syd. “I wish I’d waited until I could have shown him the color of my gold,” he reflected. “Perhaps I sha’n’t find a pinch of it.” Glancing up he saw that he had nearly reached Market Street, and, obeying a sudden impulse, he crossed that great artery and turned his steps toward the foundries. He was glad to have something to divert his thoughts from his interview with Syd, and he spent the rest of the day in looking at machinery, more especially that used in mining. The clash and clamor of the busy hives brought the difficulties of his undertaking glaringly before him. His own ignorance seemed appalling. How could he hope to compete with this skilled labor and wonderful machinery! “I am not competing,” he told himself. “I am doing something which no one else has thought of. The idea is original,--here, at any rate,--and ideas can be made to pay.” CHAPTER III THE SMUGGLERS’ CACHE IS FOUND “S’pose you’re goin’ to put in a ’rastra?” Ben turned and saw the man who had signed as a witness to the agreement.