Now whether it were Uncle Ben, or whether it were Tom Faggus or even my own self—­for all three of us claimed the sole honour—­is more than I think fair to settle without allowing them a voice.  But at any rate, a clever thing was devised among us; and perhaps it would be the fairest thing to say that this bright stratagem (worthy of the great Duke himself) was contributed, little by little, among the entire three of us, all having pipes, and schnapps-and-water, in the chimney-corner.  However, the world, which always judges according to reputation, vowed that so fine a stroke of war could only come from a highwayman; and so Tom Faggus got all the honour, at less perhaps than a third of the cost.

Not to attempt to rob him of it—­for robbers, more than any other, contend for rights of property—­let me try to describe this grand artifice.  It was known that the Doones were fond of money, as well as strong drink, and other things; and more especially fond of gold, when they could get it pure and fine.  Therefore it was agreed that in this way we should tempt them; for we knew that they looked with ridicule upon our rustic preparations; after repulsing King’s troopers, and the militia of two counties, was it likely that they should yield their fortress to a set of ploughboys?  We, for our part, felt of course, the power of this reasoning, and that where regular troops had failed, half-armed countrymen must fail, except by superior judgment and harmony of action.  Though perhaps the militia would have sufficed, if they had only fought against the foe, instead of against each other.  From these things we took warning; having failed through over-confidence, was it not possible now to make the enemy fail through the selfsame cause?

Hence, what we devised was this; to delude from home a part of the robbers, and fall by surprise on the other part.  We caused it to be spread abroad that a large heap of gold was now collected at the mine of the Wizard’s Slough.  And when this rumour must have reached them, through women who came to and fro, as some entirely faithful to them were allowed to do, we sent Captain Simon Carfax, the father of little Gwenny, to demand an interview with the Counsellor, by night, and as it were secretly.  Then he was to set forth a list of imaginary grievances against the owners of the mine; and to offer partly through resentment, partly through the hope of gain, to betray into their hands, upon the Friday night, by far the greatest weight of gold as yet sent up for refining.  He was to have one quarter part, and they to take the residue.  But inasmuch as the convoy across the moors, under his command, would be strong, and strongly armed, the Doones must be sure to send not less than a score of men, if possible.  He himself, at a place agreed upon, and fit for an ambuscade, would call a halt, and contrive in the darkness to pour a little water into the priming of his company’s guns.