"I've thought o' it often," said he, at length, "and Bob kens that it is my dearest wish to go back on the old track ... back to the mountain ... and beyond. But there's danger in it, laddies; many a strong man has gone under wi' thirst while crossin' the great desert. Then there's the natives, savage and bloodthirsty, an' filled wi' the awfullest cunning. It's a' vera well for me to go. My interest in life was crushed clean oot o' me when I had to come back alone last year, an' I havena much to lose now——"
"You can't dissuade me by picturing the dangers of the trail," interrupted Bob, quietly. "I know you want to go, you've said as much to me many times; and I tell you frankly I'm going with you. What did you give me the sextant for?"
"I'm to blame, Bob; vera much to blame. I forgot whiles that Jack an' you were young, wi' a' the world before ye, but the reaction when I saw that I was infusing into you only my ain restless spirit was cruel, cruel."
Mackay's emotion overcame him, and he buried his face in his hands. Bob spoke again with forced calmness, "A restless spirit was my birthright, and I am thankful for it. Why," he continued passionately, "without it I might never have known you. I might never have seen this great country where out of your goodness Jack and I have made as much money in a few months as we could hope to make in a lifetime at home. Let dangers come, you will find us at your side ready and eager to meet them. No, we simply won't let you go without us."
"Bob speaks for me every time," added Jack, promptly.
Mackay arose, straightened out his stalwart figure, and eyed the boys with an expression of mingled gravity and happy appreciation.
"So be it," he said, and there was an inflection of finality in his tones. Then his voice became cheerful, almost joyous. "The fact is, my lads," he added, "I have aye unconsciously been considering your vera tender youth, an' feelin' that I was like the bold bad giant in the story-books wha enticed wee bairns awa' to their doom in the desert. No, Jack, I canna exactly say what book it was, my memory is gettin' a bit defective, I'm thinkin'. However, Bob has shown that he is a man every inch o' him, baith in brain and muscle development, while you, Jack, you've got savvy enough for anything, and did ye no' nearly kill twa o' the maist desperate men in the country the other night, single handed? I'll no' say another word against you goin' into the Never Never wi' me. I have wished it from the first, an' though I tried no' to influence ye, there were times when I couldna help mysel', when the spirit o' the lonely desert sent her uncanny cry ringin' through my brain—that cry which I ken so well by this time, 'Mackay come back to your comrades; they wait for you by the mountain....' Ay, they wait for me, their bleaching bones wait for me to hide them from the carrion crows. But Mackay comes—he comes.... Get me the flute, Jack, an' let me play something cheery. I think I'll gie ye a selection from the 'Geisha' for a change."
"And I reckon I'll sing 'The Muskittie's Lament,' or burst," said the Shadow, who just then approached. "I reckon my voice has stretched a bit taller since I tackled it last."
Shortly afterwards the residenters of Golden Flat had cause to marvel at the unwonted music, and succeeding outbursts of hilarity which emanated from the head of the field.
A few days later Rockson's vat was completed, and that evening Wynberg arrived by the mail coach, which now connected with Kalgoorlie twice weekly, to arrange the final fixtures. He was accompanied by three of Macguire's satellites, a most truculent trio indeed they were, whose presence no doubt was for the purpose of safeguarding Wynberg from being roughly handled by the men he had wronged, but the dapper little German seemed nevertheless very ill at ease. He alighted from the conveyance, which stopped just beside Nuggety Dick's claim, and gazed around him anxiously, then suddenly catching a glimpse of Mackay in the near distance, he made a wild break for Rockson's camp, and never stopped until he was safe in the manager's assay office, which was the only wooden structure in the district that boasted a lock and key. His three followers, grinning broadly, proceeded after him at a much more leisurely pace. After that nothing was seen of the chemist for two full days, in which time a heavily logged hut was erected beside the huge vat, presumably for the purpose of containing the secret appliances; assuredly Macguire and Wynberg intended to run no risks of having the stolen process in turn stolen from them.