g cast into
the "pickle," and was now subjected to another severe hammering, after
which it was drawn, by means of a gigantic pair of tongs fixed to the
windlass of a bench by a long leather strap through graduated holes in
a strong steel plate. Next, it was branded, by means of certain steel
punches, with the goldsmith's private marks, and afterwards it was bent
with pliers into a circle, and its clear-cut ends were soldered together
under the blow-pipe.

Benjamin peered over the tops of his glasses at the Prospector. "I owe
you luck, fortune, and freedom," he said, "and yet, Bill, your power to
create happiness is distinctly limited."

"I dessay," replied the Prospector. "But what'd you have me do? Would
you ask me to make you into a gold-plated angel with a pair o' patent
wings, twelve foot in the spread? It'd save me a deal o' trouble if you
could fly away from the police an' Timber Town."

"I wasn't thinking of the police. I was thinking of adorable, elusive
Woman. I ought to be making my own wedding-ring: instead of that I must
roll my bluey and be footing it over the mountains before to-morrow
morning. I'm turned into a perfect Wandering Jew."

"You should be darn glad I give you the opportunity."

"I leave behind the loveliest fallen angel you ever set eyes on."

"You'll find plenty more o' that sort where you're goin'."

"Perhaps: but not one of 'em the prospective Mrs. T. Ah, well, all
through life my hopes of domestic bliss have invariably been blighted;
but the golden key of wealth will unlock the hardest woman's heart. When
I have leisure and freedom from worry, I'll see what can be done. In the
meanwhile, Jake, go and fetch some beer." He took a shilling from his
pocket, and gave it to the apprentice. "Make tracks," he said, "or my
sorrow will have fled before I've had time to drown it."

Jake disappeared, as if shot from a cannon, and his master placed the
roughly-formed ring on a steel mandril.

"But this," said the goldsmith, tapping the ring skilfully with a
diminutive hammer, "this is for the finger of an angel. Just think,
Bill, what it would be to be spliced to a creature so good that it'd be
like being chained to a scripture saint for the rest of your life."

"I guess I'd be on the wallaby in a fortnight," said the Prospector.
"Personally, I prefer a flesh-and-blood angel, with a touch of the
devil in her. But at best marriage is on'y a lottery. A wife's like a
claim--she may prove rich,