“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.”