“Why, boy, there’s more plaguey ramifications to a gang like that. From what you’ve told me, it wouldn’t surprise me to find that this man Cutter’s in it himself. Most likely every move you’ve made has ben known to ’em; and they’d hev taken the stuff away if they’d got a chance.” All that night the Custom House men kept a watch at the Works. Ben watched with them, looking off on the waters of the bay and listening for the dip of muffled oars. More than once he fancied he heard the smugglers approaching, and his heart beat fast as he waited to be sure before calling the men. He felt a great distaste for his position, and correctly attributed Mundon’s refusal to join in the watch to the same reason. When morning dawned he experienced a distinct relief that nothing had occurred during the night to place him in the position of an informer. CHAPTER V BEN’S PARTNER PROVES A TRUMP The watch was continued for several nights, but in vain. As none came to claim the opium, it was taken away and a valuation of two thousand dollars was placed upon it, of which Ben’s share amounted to nearly seven hundred dollars. It did not seem possible that those little boxes, filled with a sticky substance which looked like very black and thick molasses, could be worth so much. The readiness with which a broker advanced Ben the money due on his claim, however, was tangible evidence, and he found no fault with the exorbitant rate of interest exacted. There was one phase of the affair that was most unpleasant to Ben,--the suspicion with which the Government officials regarded Mundon and himself. “Some one blabbed,” one of them pointedly said to him, “or else the parties who stowed that stuff away would have come back for it.” Another time he overheard one man remark to another, “I don’t agree with you. I think the boy’s honest enough; but that fellow with him looks like a slippery one.” “But the boy’s the one who gets the reward.” “I know. But that fellow’ll get it out of him before he’s through with him.” A thought that this might be true came into Ben’s mind, but he dismissed it at once as unworthy. Yet it is hard to get rid of a vicious weed, and this doubt presented itself to him from time to time. Mundon proved more useful to Ben as time went on and his own ignorance and inexperience became more marked. He congratulated himself many times upon the good luck which had sent this man across his path. “Gee-willikens, Mundon! How are we ever going to get this chimney down?” Ben looked up at the massive pillar of brick which reared itself above him. “It looks about a mile high, when you stand close to it. Why,” he added with a blank look, “it’ll take us months to level it.” “You was a-calculatin’ to level it?” Mundon laconically asked. “Of course. How else can we work over the bricks that are in it?” “Um! How’d you think you’d git it down?”