“Nonsense, Panky, nonsense!”

Now my father by this time was wondering whether he should not set upon these two men, kill them if he could, and make the best of his way back, but he had still a card to play.

“Certainly, sir,” said he, “but I should tell you that they are not my boots.”

He took off his right boot and handed it to Panky.

“Exactly so!  Eleven inches by four and a half, and one nail missing.  And now, Mr. Ranger, will you be good enough to explain how you became possessed of that boot.  You need not show me the other.”  And he spoke like an examiner who was confident that he could floor his examinee in viva voce.

“You know our orders,” answered my father, “you have seen them on your permit.  I met one of those foreign devils from the other side, of whom we have had more than one lately; he came from out of the clouds that hang higher up, and as he had no permit and could not speak a word of our language, I gripped him, flung him, and strangled him.  Thus far I was only obeying orders, but seeing how much better his boots were than mine, and finding that they would fit me, I resolved to keep them.  You may be sure I should not have done so if I had known there was snow on the top of the pass.”

“He could not invent that,” said Hanky; “it is plain he has not been up to the statues.”

Panky was staggered.  “And of course,” said he ironically, “you took nothing from this poor wretch except his boots.”

“Sir,” said my father, “I will make a clean breast of everything.  I flung his body, his clothes, and my own old boots into the pool; but I kept his blanket, some things he used for cooking, and some strange stuff that looks like dried leaves, as well as a small bag of something which I believe is gold.  I thought I could sell the lot to some dealer in curiosities who would ask no questions.”

“And what, pray, have you done with all these things?”

“They are here, sir.”  And as he spoke he dived into the wood, returning with the blanket, billy, pannikin, tea, and the little bag of nuggets, which he had kept accessible.

“This is very strange,” said Hanky, who was beginning to be afraid of my father when he learned that he sometimes killed people.

Here the Professors talked hurriedly to one another in a tongue which my father could not understand, but which he felt sure was the hypothetical language of which he has spoken in his book.

Presently Hanky said to my father quite civilly, “And what, my good man, do you propose to do with all these things?  I should tell you at once that what you take to be gold is nothing of the kind; it is a base metal, hardly, if at all, worth more than copper.”

“I have had enough of them; to-morrow morning I shall take them with me to the Blue Pool, and drop them into it.”

“It is a pity you should do that,” said Hanky musingly:  “the things are interesting as curiosities, and—­and—­and—­what will you take for them?”