Journegan with commendable activity secured a small frontage a short distance down the shore. Here he bought a small wharf running out into the bay until a depth of six or seven feet was reached. With some haste he had a small enclosure made, a sort of fish-pound built of small piling and decked over across the middle so that a man could walk upon the boards and gaze down into the liquid depths where the gold undoubtedly was. The whole was screened from the curious gaze by high boarding, and a small door was let into the fish-pound for allowing free access of the tide. It was necessary, he explained, to have the water change freely as it was quickly exhausted of its valuable qualities by the process of electrolysis. The naming of the mysterious current as part of the outfit caused more and more favourable comment upon the part of the curious. Electricity, electricity, oh, how many things unknown and mysterious are relegated to your strange power. Yes, Journegan had heard of electric combs, electric shoes, electric belts, electric—well, pretty much anything which an honest dealer could not sell upon its merits alone. It sounded well to have the plant run by electricity, convincing, undeniable. Who knew that electricity would not do anything its master might bid it? It was a force in its infancy, a giant unknown, undeveloped. It moved the carriages of the rich. It might just as well separate them from some of their wealth. It depended—
A set of wires was run from the plant furnishing the lights for the town, and they were kept in exaggerated evidence all along the little dock and building at its end. A few bulbs lit the scene at night and caused more comment by those who passed the place after dark, when the noise of workmen within could be heard plainly by the curious. It was Journegan's lay to have the place operated solely at night. He gave it out finally that the night tides were most favourable for work, and also that it was a time when for certain mysterious reasons they could work to better advantage.
In a very few days Mr. Smithe began to let slip a few secrets concerning the plant. It was now working all right, he assured his listeners, and he would not only tell them how the thing was done but would go so far as to show some of the more worthy the entire process. If Mr. Jones, who was a millionaire furniture dealer suffering with tuberculosis, would do him the honour, and Mr. Jackson, a millionaire iron producer with gout, would also go along, he would show how he produced gold from sea-water, precipitated it, he said, precipitated it upon the end of an electric wire under the surface. They would have refreshments served at the dock, and a negro would carry their things for them. It might take several minutes to wait for the precipitation, and as the night was warm, but damp, he would have their comforts provided for. When this news was spread broadcast it created almost a panic among the people of the town. When two such men of undoubted wealth and position as Mr. Jones and Mr. Jackson were to see the thing in operation it was no longer a thing to doubt, it must certainly be a success. They had been living all their lives upon the very edge of a vast gold mine without knowing it, and now these two strangers were going to enlighten them to the real things of life. It was wonderful, great, they might even get a chance to go into the thing later on. What was the use of toiling when gold could be gotten for the trouble of picking it from the end of a wire.
Mr. Smithe having made this announcement with a confidential air and a manner urbanity itself, sought at once Mr. Journegan.
"I've invited the gents," he announced with warmth, spitting fluently at a spider crawling along the veranda, "but it's up to you to make good. How the thunder we're going to get that piece of gold stuck to the end of that wire while the current is playing upon it, beats me. It took two twenties hammered into a passable nugget to make the bait. Now it's you to land the men, and fix that bait on the wire. Mind you, it's got to be done right there in that bullpen, right there under their eyes. When the current is turned on it has got to form and become attached to the end of the pole in the water."
"It'll be dead easy, Bo, dead easy. Go take a drink and sleep the afternoon away. You trust in father Bullinger—an' he will see you through. Beat it, I say, and don't come worrying me with such trifles as making gold form on the ends of wires. Gimme somethin' dead easy. If you want to hold my attention explain the philosophy of love, or something like that, but say, don't come around me, you a full-grown man, talking about not being able to make gold form on the end of a wire. Man, you are a strange thing. You know some real facts, but after that you're at sea, clean plumb out to sea without a chart or compass. You've done your share, the hard part, getting the yaps into the game. Hell! that's the whole thing, don't you know it. Getting the yaps interested. After that the game is like stealing taffy from a kid, robbing a babe of its milk. You're on. Go take a snooze. I'll finish this cigar and then attend to the details. I promise to see to the details and if that gold don't form on that wire you may strike me dead for a galoot too drunk to know his name. Git out, Bo. Go take a snooze and leave the rest to your Uncle Rube. Man, I haven't seen such easy graft for years. Why, we'll be rich if we can hold it two months. Rich, I say. Money to burn. Why, half a hundred yaps will be frantic to cast their bread upon the waters, cast their money into our pockets—and then what—and then—well, the boat leaves here daily for Nassau—thence to—Oh, well, anywhere at all. What's the difference where you are if you have the coin in your clothes. Say, Bo, you're all right. You know a thing or two that's worth knowing, the only thing I can't understand is how you grew up without becoming a millionaire. Can't fathom it, old man, can't fathom it. Say, if I knew as much of the books as you do I'd be in the Standard class all right—very well—So long, sneak."
Mr. Smithe went back into the hotel. He was a bit nervous for one who had spent much time and great trouble ascertaining the value of his fellow men. The scheme seemed now to be futile, for how any one could finish with any hope of success appeared impossible. He gathered together his belongings, made them into a bundle easy for transportation, locked his new and somewhat aggressive trunk after screwing it firmly to the floor, and having finished these necessary preparations for a hurried departure, betook himself to the flowing bowl, which in his case was nothing more or less than a bottle of very bad whiskey furnished by the management of the hotel at two hundred per cent. profit. The draught of alcohol gave him new courage. It warmed the cockles of his heart, a heart that was none too rigorous in its action, but under the influence of the stimulant he drowsed and thought, dreamed and wondered at the versatility of his friend Mr. Stormalong Journegan.
II
"Hello, Stormy," growled the mate of the Sea-Horse, who was sitting upon the deck of his sloop watching the shore, "seems like you struck it rich fer a fact. Must be a wise one dat guy you goes with."
Journegan had reached the edge of the dock about twenty feet distant from the Sea-Horse which was lying off.