“Did he climb up on the outside?” “No, goosey; of course not. He built a rough scaffolding inside, somehow, as he went along, until he could throw a rope over the top. The rest was easy.” “And is he going to chip off the whole inside? O-o-h! How can he bear to sit on that thing and let you haul him to the top?” “O, he doesn’t mind it; he’s been a sailor. He says it’s safer than lots of high places he’s been in, because there’s no wind.” So interested had all three been in peering up the chimney that they had not noticed the entrance of several men who were curiously inspecting the interior. Sydney Chalmers was one of them; and while Ben was annoyed by his presence at this particular time, he did not like to ask him to leave. Syd walked about with a supercilious stare which so irritated Ben that he relieved his feelings by flinging shovelfuls of coal into the furnace. The two hours were nearly up, and Mundon must soon return. One of the self-invited visitors proved to be a reporter who walked about, notebook in hand, scanning the surroundings. When Mundon returned, Ben suggested that the strangers be asked to leave; but Mundon did not approve of this. “It never did anybody any harm to be on the good side of the newspapers, and it gen’rally does a body heaps of harm to be on the bad side of ’em,” he sagely remarked. “Let him get his scoop. That’s a real cherry-red,” he added as he looked at the retort. “Give us a hand, Ben.” They lifted the retort from the furnace. “It’s got to chill now,” said Mundon, and he turned his attention to the reporter, whom he regaled with such Munchausen tales that that experienced gentleman had hard work to separate fiction from fact. “S’pose you think your fortune’s in sight?” Syd contemptuously looked at the retort. “I hope so, Syd; and I know all my friends do, too,” Ben replied. “Hoping’s cheap.” Ben turned away. “Isn’t it cool enough yet?” he called to Mundon. “Reckon it is,” said Mundon. “Now, when I knock off the cover, we got to jump back quick as lightnin’. The fumes of quicksilver’s deadly, you know.” “All right. Knock her off!” Ben responded. “You folks better stand well back,” Mundon said to the others. He struck the cover a few hard blows, and as it flew off they sprang back to a place of safety. “Whew! This is being an alchemist with a vengeance! Fancy our turning that old rubble into gold!” Ben said to Mundon, who was holding him by the arm. “O, I say, isn’t it time to see, now?” “I guess so. Come along.” Visitors and workmen eagerly crowded around the retort. A little sponge of gold was all that remained in it. Mundon took it out and weighed it while the others curiously watched him. Ben was visibly horribly disappointed. He had a sickening conviction that the whole thing was a failure. He could read the triumph in Syd’s face, and it cost him an effort to put on a bold front and see them all through the gates.