Stirred by one impulse, the two boys started to run to the pool before the suffocating cloud of vapour had cleared off. By the time they had reached the wall of rock, in which the last explosion had made a wide breach, the air was pure enough for them to breathe, and they scrambled up the rocks, and stood by the side of the opening, through which they could hear the last of the water flowing. Although they could breathe they could not yet see, for the dense vapour, which seemed to drift above the surface of the basin, had not all disappeared.
They stood there, motionless, waiting for the air to clear itself. Their hearts were beating tumultuously, and their chests were high with anxiety and excitement. They stood just as when they were children together, Geordie with his hand on Alec's arm, both divining what the other felt, though no word was uttered.
It was not very long that they had to wait, for a faint wind stirred in the gully, rustling the leaves of the shrubs and creepers on the cliff, which wafted away, as though a veil were being withdrawn, the cloud of blue-grey mist that had hung about the hollow of the basin. The boys eagerly looked down.
There below them, in amongst the stones, half buried in the sand, shining up through the little pools of water that still remained among the rocks, were lumps and nuggets of the precious metal. They looked, and looked again. Yes, there, beyond a doubt, gleaming in the hot, strong sunlight, was the dull, yellow gold they sought. It almost seemed to their wildly excited minds that the rocky basin was covered with it, for look where they would they could see the yellow gleam of gold, pure gold.
It was Geordie who spoke first. He was still clutching Alec's arm, with a grasp that must have been painful in its intensity. A little half sob of emotion and delight caught his breath as he said—
"It's gold, Alec, it's gold! A fortune, a great fortune, is lying at our feet!"
He held one brown arm eagerly stretched out, and pointed to the empty pool beneath him, as though to emphasise what he said.
Whilst the words were on his very lips, and before Alec had had time to answer, a loud and piercing cry behind them made them turn their heads, and there, rushing wildly towards them along the rocky ravine, was the black figure of Murri, leaping great stones and boulders, plunging through the stream, and running as they had never seen him run before. His breath was almost gone, but he was just able to cry out in strange, hoarse tones, that they could hardly recognise as his—
"Run, run, burrima, get um gun. Myall have come. Um black fellow along o' this place, one, two minute!"