“‘How far have we come?’
“‘Some hundred and odd miles.’
“The young man seemed to be very much surprised, but he said nothing. He leaned so far over the side of the boat to watch the mountain of gold that he was in danger of falling out. The old man kept an eye on him, but did not lift a finger to warn him.
“In due time they came to the island, if it could be called an island. It seemed to be a barren rock that had lifted itself out of the sea to show the mountain of gold. The mountain was only a hill, but it was a pretty high one, considering it was of solid gold.”
“Sure enough gold?” asked Sweetest Susan.
“Pure gold,” answered Mr. Thimblefinger. “The old man landed his skiff at a convenient place, and the two got out and went to the mountain, or hill, of gold that rose shining in the middle of the small island. The actions of the young man showed that he considered himself the proprietor of both island and mountain. He broke off a chunk of gold as big as your fist, weighed it in his hand, and would have given it to the old man, but the latter shook his head.
“‘You refuse it?’ cried the other. ‘If it is not enough I’ll give you as much more.’
“‘No,’ replied the old man. ‘Keep it for yourself. You owe me nothing. I could have carried away tons of the stuff long before I saw you, but I had no use for it. You are welcome to as much as you can take away with you.’
“‘As much as I can take away!’ exclaimed the other. ‘I shall take it all.’
“‘But how?’