"Never mind, Mac," I replied, as we all crawled towards each other, "here comes the first rain we have had since leaving Adelaide, and if the horses are all right, so are we."
"I reckon they is O.K.," said Charlie; "they knows more than most people, them horses."
While he was speaking we cast off our scanty garments and revelled in the refreshing drops; but rain in the back-blocks is worth more than its weight in gold, and this shower only lasted about a minute, and passed on in the wake of the willy-willy. Shortly afterwards the darkness rolled away to the west like a huge receding screen, and near us we saw the two horses rolling on the ground with evident enjoyment. But I did not ask my companions how it was that our four-footed friends had escaped so lightly, for my attention was attracted by a scintillating streak of something on the edge of a small hole, and as my eyes became used to the now blinding glare of the sun, I saw that the whole surface of the desert was literally blazing with small points of colour.
"Lor'!" exclaimed my Australian comrades simultaneously, "we has struck the very place after all."
"Ay, mon," said Mac wrathfully; "an' hoo did ye no' ken that afore?"
"'Cos the opal was dead," replied George, "an' the rain has made it 'live again."
Mac looked suspiciously at the speaker; but Charlie added that "dead" and "live" were terms used in speaking of dull opal that could be made to flash as if alive by the application of water. This explained why we had not seen the gems before, and without troubling to inquire where the Cooper had gone, or how—if Charlie and George were correct—we had got to the other side of it, we attacked the ironstone boulders with our small hand-picks.
"Every gibber's got an opal heart," remarked George, smashing a large boulder to fragments.
"Take care, then," I warned, "or you will break it too."