Varley looked round.
“Is there two hundred in the camp?” he asked, quietly.
The men exchanged glances and their faces fell. It was all very well to value their Esmeralda at two thousand or two million, but it suddenly broke in upon them that they might not have even the paltry two hundred.
Norman stepped forward to offer the money; then he remembered that his worldly wealth consisted of about ten pounds, and his face fell; but he took out his leather purse from its hiding-place and put it into Varley’s hand. The other men followed suit with an almost fierce eagerness. Varley knelt beside the fire and counted the contributions; there was about forty pounds.
“You can make up the rest, eh, Varley?” said Taffy. “We sent ours by the bank agent yesterday; you wasn’t in the saloon when he came, and you’ve got enough at the hut, haven’t you?”
Varley looked up with a white face.
“I met him at the bend and gave him every penny I had, excepting what you won last night.”
The men uttered not a word, but looked at each other and then at Varley. He rose and looked at his watch.
“To-morrow night!” he said, grimly. “I must ride to Wally-Wally.”