“Well--that’s what’s worrying me. I had a sort of plan to scrape down the soot. But the bricks--how are we going to get at them?” “Your idee is good--as fur as it goes; but I think I can give you a better one than scrapin’ the chimney of soot.” “Let’s have it.” “I’d rig a cross-piece--shaped just like a cross--to work inside the chimney, from a rope over the top, like an elevator.” Ben caught his breath. “How would you ever get a rope over the top?” he asked. “O, that’s easy. I haven’t ben a sailor fur nothin’. Then, I’d chip off the whole inside of the chimney.” “We’d work just the inside?” “That’s all we want, ain’t it? It’s the golden linin’ we’re after. We don’t want the rest.” “No; and it will save time and strength to leave the rest alone.” “We’ll leave the balance of the bricks for those that come after us. ’Twon’t hurt the chimney a mite, neither.” “Mundon, you’re a brick!” exclaimed Ben. Mundon waited a moment before replying. He liked the frank admiration that shone in Ben’s eyes. “There ain’t nothin’ sure in this world, Ben, and it’s mighty oncertain sometimes to draw conclusions from things you’ve ben told. What’s more, you can’t b’lieve all you hear.” “You’re preparing me to be disappointed, Mundon,” said Ben. “But I’m bracing myself for that, too. I know it’s a chance.” “Most everythin’ is--’cept runnin’ a peanut-stand near a monkey’s cage.” Ben laughed. “How you’re ever going to get a rope over that top?” He looked up and shook his head in despair. “No fear--I’ll manage that. Just let me get some stuff for a scaffoldin’ and I’ll show you the trick in a jiffy.” “You’re a wonder,” Ben replied. The question as to what he should have done without Mundon’s help occurred to him again, but he did not express it. “I heard when I was up town this mornin’ that there was goin’ to be a sale of mules to-morrow.” “You think we’ll need one to work the arastra?” “Couldn’t hev nothin’ better. This sale’s goin’ to be at a horse-market out near the Potrero. S’pose you see if you kin get one cheap.” “Yes; I’ll go to the sale.” Ben paused. “I say, Mundon, what is cheap--for a mule?” “’Bout fifteen dollars ought to git one good enough, at an auction.” “That was about the figure I had in mind. Of course, I don’t ask your opinion, Mundon, so much to get advice as I do to compare notes. I like to see if your judgment and mine agree.” Mundon did not look up, but went steadily on with his work. “I understand--of course,” he replied. CHAPTER VI THE MULE AUCTION “A mule is very much like a horse, isn’t it?” Ben questioned, on the following morning. “Yes; they are somewhat similar,” Mundon replied, going on with the task of untangling some old harness. “Yet they’re different, too.” “That’s so; they are.”