"Wise young Solomon, youth of golden promise. Go and boil the kettle.

We'll have a snack before we go. Then for fresh fields and pastures new."

The goldsmith bounded out of bed, with a buoyancy which resembled that of an india-rubber ball.

"Ah-ha!

'Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweek bird's throat, Come hither.'

You see, Jakey, mine, we were eddicated when we was young." Benjamin had jumped into his clothes as he talked. "A sup and a snack, and we flit by the light of the moon."

"There ain't no moon."

"So much the better. We'll guide our steps by the stars' pale light and the beams of the Southern Cross."

By back lanes and by-roads the goldsmith and his boy slunk out of the town. At the mouth of the gorge where diggers' tents lined the road, they walked delicately, exchanging no word till they were deep in the solitude of the hills.

As the first streak of dawn pierced the gloom of the deep valley, they were wading, knee-deep, a ford of the river, whose banks they had skirted throughout their journey. On the further side the forest, dank, green, and dripping with dew, received them into its impenetrable shades, but still the goldsmith toiled on; his heavy burden on his back, and the panting, weary, energetic, enthusiastic apprentice following his steps.

Leaving the track, Tresco led the way up a steep gully, thickly choked with underscrub, and dark with the boughs of giant trees. Forcing their way through tangled supple-jacks and clinging "lawyer" creepers which sought to stay their progress, the wayfarers climbed till, as day dawned, they paused to rest their wearied limbs before a sheer cliff of rock.

"It's not very far now," said the goldsmith, as he wiped his dripping brow. "This is the sort of work to reduce the adipose tissue, my son.

D'you think you could find your way here by yourself, indomitable Jakey?"

"Huh! 'Course," replied the breathless youth, proud to be his master's companion in such a romantic situation, and glorying in his "swag". "Is this your bloomin' camp?"

"No, sir." Tresco glanced up the face of the great limestone rock which barred their path. "Not exactly. We've got to scale this cliff, and then we're pretty well there."

A few supple-jacks hung down the face of the rock. These Tresco took in his hand, and twisted them roughly into a cable. "'Look natural, don't they?" he said. "'Look as if they growed t'other end, eh? Now, watch me." With the help of his rope of lianas he climbed up the rugged cliff, and when at the summit, he called to Jake to tie the "swags" to separate creepers. These he hoisted to the top of the cliff, and shortly afterwards the eager face of the apprentice appeared over the brow.

"Here we are," exclaimed Benjamin, "safe as a church. Pull up the supple-jacks, Jake."

With an enthusiasm which plainly betokened a mind dwelling on bushrangers and hidden treasure, the apprentice did as he was told.

Out of breath through his exertions, he excitedly asked, "What's the game, boss? Where's the bloomin' plant?"

"Plant?" replied the goldsmith.

"Yes, the gold, the dollars?"

"Dollars? Gold?"

"Yes, gold! 'Think _I_ don't know? Theseyer rocks are limestone. Who ever saw gold in limestone formation? Eh?"

"How do _you_ know it's limestone?"

"Yah! Ain't I bin down to the lime-kiln, by Rubens' wharf, and seen the lime brought over the bay? What's the game? Tell us."

"The thing that I'm most interested in, at this present moment,"--the goldsmith took up his heavy "swag"--"is tucker."

Without further words, he led the way between perpendicular outcrops of rocks whose bare, grey sides were screened by fuchsia trees, birch saplings, lance-wood, and such scrub as could take root in the shallow soil. Turning sharply round a projecting rock, he pa.s.sed beneath a tall black birch which grew close to an indentation in the face of the cliff. Beneath the great tree the heels of the goldsmith crushed the dry, brown leaves deposited during many seasons; then in an instant he disappeared from the sight of the lynx-eyed Jake, as a rabbit vanishes into its burrow.

"Hi! Here! Boss! Where the dooce has the ole red-shank got too?"

A m.u.f.fled voice, coming as from the bowels of the earth, said, "Walk inside. Liberty Hall.... Free lodging and no taxes."

Jake groped his way beneath the tree, surrounded on three sides by the limestone cliff. In one corner of the rock was a sharp depression, in which grew shrubs of various sorts. Dropping into this, the lad pushed his way through the tangled branches and stood before the entrance of a cave.

Inside Tresco held a lighted candle in his hand. In front of him stood Jake, spellbound.

Overhead, the ceiling was covered with white and glistening stalact.i.tes; underfoot, the floor was strewn with bits of carbonate and the broken bases of stalagmites, which had been shattered to make a path for the ruthless iconoclast who had made his home in this pearly-white temple, built without hands.

Tresco handed Jake another lighted candle.

"Allow me to introduce you, my admirable Jakey, to my country mansion, where I retire from the worry of business, and turn my mind to the contemplation of Nature. This is the entrance hall, the portico: observe the marble walls and the ceiling-decorations--Early English, perpendicular style."

Jake stood, open-mouthed with astonishment.

"Now we come to the drawing-room, the grand _salon_, where I give my receptions." Benjamin led the way through a low aperture, on either side of which stalact.i.tes and stalagmites had met, leaving a low doorway in the centre. Beyond this, the candles' dim light struggled for supremacy in a great hall, whose walls shone like crystal. On one side the calcareous encrustations had taken the form of a huge organ, cut as if out of marble, with pipes and key-board complete.

"Holee Christopher!" exclaimed the apprentice.

"Nature's handiwork," said the goldsmith. "Beautiful.... Been making, this thousand years, for _me_--an' you."

"Then I reckon Nature forgot the chimbley--it's as cold as the grave."

"On the contrary, there is a chimney; but Nature doesn't believe in a fireplace in each room. Proceed. I will now show you my private apartments. Mind the step."

He led the way down a dark pa.s.sage, strewn with huge pieces of limestone, over which master and apprentice scrambled, into an inner chamber, where the white walls were grimed with smoke and the black embers of an extinguished fire lay in the middle of the floor.

"My _sanctum sanctorum_," said the goldsmith, as he fixed the b.u.t.t of his candle to a piece of rock by means of drops of melted wax poured from the lighted end. "This is where I meditate; this is where I mature my plans for the betterment of the human species."

"Rats! You're darn well hidin' from the police."

"My son, you grieve me; your lack of the poetic shocks me."

"Oh, garn! You robbed those mails, that's about the size of it."

"Robbed?--no, sir. Examined?--yes, sir. I was the humble instrument in the hands of a great rascal, a man of unprincipled life, a man who offered bribes, heavy bribes--an' I took 'em. I had need of money."

"First comes the bender and then the bribe. I know, boss. But where d'you get the gold?"

Benjamin stooped over a ma.s.s of bedding, rolled up in a tent-fly, and brought to light a canvas bag.

"My private store," he said, "mine and Bill's. We go whacks. We're doing well, but expediency demands that for a short while I should retire into private life. And, by the hokey, I can afford it."

"Gold?" asked Jake, peering at the bag.

"Nuggets," said the goldsmith.

Jake dropped his "swag" and felt the weight of the bag.