The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-01-23

N ey for us. You are the sieve; wt are the receptacle underneath. Yor retain the useless stones, we get the ,sifted mould. It comes to us in min ute particles, but it is pure and rich.' Joe finished up with tolerant shake of the head.
 'Yes. But don't forget, the large yellow nuggets can't pass through that sieve of yours. We get them. '
 ''It is that gold-dust that makes the fortune. not the nuggets"
 The trader grinned. He was such a little, inoffensive man, yet he was typical of the country. Frugal peaceful, calm at all times, he was yet without conscience in his traffic Nothing was sacred that stood be- tween him and his business of ac- quiring wealth. He was as ready to lie for 8 halfpenny profit as to swim dle. or even worse. for a large sum.
 Guy slid off the counter, borrowed a match and lit his pipe, and moved towards the opening of the tent.
 Well, maybe you shall get a mug get or two for change before l leave. There are plenty of lem about Montsoia's location. It's an untapped field of Kaf1ir and Fries land cattle. and. Isbelieve. the rich est in Bechuanaland."
 The Jew came round from behind the counter rubbing his hands. His eyes sparkled, but there was also a look of some doubt in them, He came close up to his companion.
 ''Mafeking's an awkward spot to ta cklc," he said with shrewd up- ward look. "It's Elwood's strong hold, and the militant spirit of that d--d old missionary is in the nig- gers there."
 '.verricker's away and as for the 
 Guy licked his fingers, but Joe shook his head.
 "Oh, there'll be sport know" Guy went on,s at the others protest; "bue that'll make it all the better. You leave it to me-"
 He passed out into the sunlight, and the trader looked after him. Joe Schumann was considerable student of men, as are all his race, and pres ently,, when Guy had disappeared amidst the fruit-trees opposite, he turned back into the oppressive heat of his tent with another shake of the head; and the movement expressed profound doubt.
 Guy spent a restless day. He was affairs, and his schemes were all matters of active operation. Such schemes are not conducive to patti ence, but rather to nervous inn patience. He had elaborated every detail during the long evenings in his hut, and was chafing to put the whole thing into operation. The sun of his ambition was obscured for the time by the glowing cloud of his pas sion for Mary. And. the very law lessness of his purpose kept his nerves dangling with anticipation, and fired his desire. However, the first move was to be made on the morrow. and that was close at hand. The strings were in his grasp, and all that remained was for him to apply the necessary tension.
 Next morning it was with almost painful relief that, breakfast over, he saddled one of his horses and pre- pared to depart. The time had hung so heavily on his hands that now, at last, his relief in action reused his spirits to a boisterous pitch. Before setting out he rode over towards the store. Halfway across he met the trader hurrying to meet. him. He was excited, and waved a piece of white paper in his hand as he came ID.
 'T was just coming over to see you.'' he said, mopping the perspira- ton from his brow< with coloured dkerchief." .'This came late last night by hand. A Kaffir brought it.
 But Guy was in no mood to read
 CTo Be Continued.)