chimney-place. And as I stood
there, idle and out of sorts, because of the rain, I amused myself by
melting a pewter plate and plunging it, in its liquid state, into a pail
of water.

The result was a shapeless, bright, and silvery-gray lump which very
much resembled silver-ore. I looked at the mass thoughtfully for some
time: an idea germinated, and there and then I planned a new amusement
which became our most delightful pastime during those last days of
vacation.

That same evening we held a conference on the steps of the great
stairway, and I told the Peyrals that from the aspect of the soil and
the plants I had come to the conclusion that there were silver mines in
this part of the country. As I spoke I assumed the knowing and bold
airs of one of those venturesome scouts, who is usually the principal
personage in old-fashioned stories of American adventure.

Searching for mines fell well into line with the abilities of my
little band, for often, armed with pick and shovel, they had set out to
discover fossils or rare stones.

The next day, therefore, half way up the mountain, when we arrived at
a path chosen by me for its appropriateness, for it was lonely
and mysterious, shut in by forest trees and embedded between high,
moss-grown, rocky banks, I stopped my little band peremptorily, as if I
were endowed with the keen scent of an Indian chief. I pretended that
I had here recognized the presence of precious ore-beds; and, in truth,
when we dug in the place I indicated we found the first nuggets, the
melted plate that I had buried there the day before.

These mines occupied us constantly until the end of my stay. The Peyrals
were convinced and full of amazement, and although I spent some time
each morning in the kitchen melting plates and covers to feed our vein
of silver, I very nearly deluded myself into believing in the reality of
the mine.

The isolated silent spot, so exquisitely beautiful, where these
excavations took place, and the melancholy but enchanting serenity of
the end of summer, gave a rare charm to our little dream of adventure.
We were, however, most amusingly secret and mysterious in regard to
our discovery; we considered it a tribal secret, and we cherished it as
such.

Our riches, mixed in with some of the red mountain soil, we hoarded in
an old trunk in my uncle's attic as if the latter were an Ali Baba's
cave.

We pledged ourselves to leave it there during the winter, until the nex