"Lor'! nigger! Has ye not never been bit before?" cried Satan in a reproving tone of voice, as he cast a sand-snake from under him.
"Who does ye expect can sleep with you on the corroborree, Nig? Darn it! An' you a black fellow too. I reckon you oughten 'pologise," grumbled Bill.
George's answer was picturesque, but three bleeding wounds on his back showed where the venomous creature had got in its work on him. He was a hardy piece of humanity, however, and after the Parson had lanced the rapid swelling flesh and applied ammonia, he went to sleep again. Shortly afterwards the Parson himself rose to his feet with an exclamation of annoyance, and began kicking up his sandy sleeping place.
"What's wrong?" I inquired.
"I don't know. There seems to be a boulder or something hard under me. Hallo! What's this—Great Scott! Opal!"
Again the party sprang up, and as the glistening stone was rolled out on the surface and examined by match-light, many and various were the comments made on the poor Parson's ignorance, for the boulder which had sought out the soft corners of his body was a mass of green copper sulphide.
"And has this material no value?" asked the object of the unkind remarks.
"None; it's worse than potch," roared Bill. "See, Scottie's got more. Lor'! it's everywhere."
"It is really worth a considerable amount," I said, "but the expense of treating it properly out here would be too much for us. That is an outcrop, and to all appearance it is one of the richest ever discovered."