At that time Mr. Gilder was kneeling beside an opening in the floor of
a log-hut, in the centre of the island, and lifting from it a tray of
odd-looking but beautifully made tools. The hut was small and rudely
constructed. It was surrounded by a dense forest growth, and stood in
a tiny clearing from which no road or trail could be seen to lead. All
its appointments were of the most primitive description, and yet a
single glance into its interior would have impressed one with the
belief that its occupants were millionaires. The effect of piles and
stacks of greenbacks, enough to form the capital of a city bank or fill
the vaults of a sub-treasury, amid such surroundings, would certainly
have startled even those accustomed to the handling of great wealth.
The bills, all of which were new and crisp, were done up in neat
packages, each of which was marked with the number of hundreds or
thousands of dollars it contained. In one corner of the room stood a
small printing-press of exquisite make. Besides this press, a
work-bench, table, and several rude stools, the single room of the hut
contained only the piles of greenbacks.
A man sat beside the table counting and sorting a large number of
bills, the worn appearance of which showed them to have been in active
circulation for some time.
Pages:
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58