ng found a place where I can get a sufficient supply for my purposes
to last for years."

"And what do you use it for?" I asked.

"To make bullets from. I get the powdered ore, roast out the sulphur on
that flat stone, and then melt down the residue."

"And where do you get it?"

"That is what I am going to tell you. You know that deep, rocky gorge
where Big Reuben had his den? Well, near the head of that gorge is a
basin in the rock in which is a large quantity of this powdered galena,
all in very fine grains, showing that they have traveled a considerable
distance. That stream is one of the four little rills which make up this
creek, and if you tell Connor of this deposit it will save him the
trouble of prospecting the other three creeks, as he would otherwise
naturally do; and as Long John will pretty certainly do, for the creek
coming out of Big Reuben's gorge is the last of the four he would come
to if he took up his search where he left off to-day--which would be the
plan he would surely follow. It should save Connor a day's work at
least--perhaps two or three."

"That's true," I responded. "It is an important piece of information. I
wonder, though, that nobody else has ever found the deposit you speak
of."

"Do you? I don't. Considering that Big Reuben was standing guard over
it, I think it would have been rather remarkable if any one had
discovered it."

"That's true enough," remarked Joe. "But that being the case, how did
you come to discover it yourself? Big Reuben was no respecter of
persons, that I'm aware of."

"Ah, but that's just it. He was. He was afraid of me; or, to speak more
correctly, he was afraid of Sox--the one single thing on earth of which
he was afraid. Before I knew of his existence, I was going up the gorge
one day when Big Reuben bounced out on me, and almost before I knew what
had happened I found myself hanging by my finger-tips to a ledge of rock
fifteen feet up the cliff, with the bear standing erect below me trying
his best to claw me down. My hold was so precarious that I could not
have retained it long, and my case would have been pretty serious had it
not been for Socrates. That sagacious bird, seeming to recognize that I
was in desperate straits, flew up, perched upon the face of the cliff
just out of reach of the bear's claws, and in a tone of authority
ordered him to lie down. The astonishment of the bear at being thus
addressed by a bird was ludicrous, and at any other