“If dere isn’t, den I vill be a deat’ von! Ah, sure dere vill be a breakfast. I feel sure dot de Helen und de Bennie vill find someding, if only a canary-pirt. Now you, Loney, go py de tent und sleep some, und lay you down avile. I vill go to vork again till dey come. Maype I vill fint de golt.” The child went obediently into the tent and lay down on the bed of leaves, and soon slept. Goldberg returned to the place where he had been digging and commenced to work again, wielding the pick very awkwardly, but with determination. During the time that he had been at work at the claim, he had, under Helen’s guidance and advice, dug a tunnel for quite a distance under the mountain, and this he had shored up with timbers cut from the trees. The work was hard and his unaccustomed hands were in a terrible state, but the thought that the discovery of the gold hidden in this claim meant the means to seek his child nerved him to the exertion. Just above the mouth of his tunnel, but several feet distant, was a large rock weighing many tons. Morris looked out toward the trail, from whence he might expect to see Bennie and Helen come, but he failed to look upward. Had he done so, he might have seen the evil faces of John Pierson and Dopey Mack as they crouched behind the rock looking down at the mouth of the tunnel. They had found a cavern several miles away and had left Dora and Muriel there, while they came back to this place. John had known of this claim, but had not known its location, and now--to see such a chance for wealth pass from his hands into that of the old shoemaker was too much, and he determined that the man must die, so that he could step in and possess the claim. So steeped was he in crime that the death of one or more victims counted for nothing in his eyes. When Morris had gone into the tunnel John whispered to Dopey, saying: “Now is our time. We can loosen this big rock and push it down, so that it will crush him as he comes out!” “Aw, say, boss, why not plug him wid a bullet and be done wid it?” “No; this quiet way is the best, and if anyone should, by any possibility, be around, that person will think it an accident. Go and bring that crowbar.” The shoemaker kept at his task inside the tunnel, but it was growing too dark to work much longer, and he laid down his pick and started out, saying, as he did so, that it was no wonder gold was so costly, since it was so hard to dig, and it was still less of a wonder that men turned counterfeiters and thieves, when it was so much easier to be a bad man than a good one. Then, again, he took up his pick and tried to dig a few more strokes, but it was too dark and he came out of the tunnel and sat down on a rock, where he suddenly gave way to grief and sobbed as only strong men do. “It is no use, no use! Dora, mein Dora, vere are you? Are you deat or lifing?” Just then the moon rose over the brow of the mountain and fell upon his upturned face as he lifted his hands and prayed aloud: