Scarlett was counting hill and mountain summits. His enumeration had reached twenty distinct heights, when, losing count, he turned to his companion.
“It’s a lovely picture to have in front of your door,” he said, “a picture that never tires the eye.”
A break in the centre of the foot-hills suddenly attracted his attention. It was the gorge through which a rippling, sparkling river escaped from the mountain rampart and flowed through the town to the tidal waters of the harbour.
“That valley will take us into the heart of the hills,” he said. “We start to-morrow morning, soon after dawn—Moonlight and I. Do you know him?”
The girl looked up from her shoe, and smiled. “I can’t cultivate the acquaintance of every digger in the town,” she replied.
“Don’t speak disparagingly of diggers. I become one to-morrow.”
“Then, mind you bring me a big nugget when you come back,” said the girl.
“That’s asking me to command good luck. Give me that, and you shall have the nugget.”
“Does luck go by a girl’s favour? If it did, you would be sure to have it.”
“I never had it on the voyage out, did I?”