Ben was busily speculating upon his intentions. “The old sharper means to find out exactly how much money I’ve got, and then make a stand to get it all,” he thought. He instantly decided to furnish the information himself.
“I’ve got just two hundred dollars,—not a cent more,—and my board’s paid to the first of the month. So you see I’ve got to get to work at once,” he said.
Mr. Madge resumed his seat. “Make me an offer,” he replied, with a shrewd glance at Ben from his watery eyes.
“That’s my offer: all I’ve got.”
“U-m-m! It’s little enough for the stuff.”
As he paused, Ben nerved himself for the hardest part of all—the disclosure of his object in buying the Works. The temptation not to unfold his plan was very strong, but he resisted it.
“Lumber’s tol’rable high now,” the old man continued, “and it’s bound to go higher ’fore the year’s out.” A remembrance of the lease urged him to close the bargain at once. “But, if you’re smart enough to sell at a profit—”
“Before we come to a settlement, Mr. Madge,” Ben interrupted, “I want to tell you of one reason I have in buying your property. I mean to work over the bricks and soot of the chimney and the ground for gold.”
The old man was visibly astonished.
“So? For gold! Well, that’s another thing altogether!” he remarked, as the instinct to get the better of a bargain demanded precedence over all others. Then a gleam of avarice shone in his eyes. “Tell you what, boy, if you’re anxious to mine, I kin show you some splendid properties!” He waved his cane in his excitement. “The place to look for gold is in a virgin mine, not in forty-year-old soot!”