“And take a pound of dust and buy things that we can sell here to a profit.”
George came back at night looking rather sheep-faced.
“Tom,” said he, “I am afraid I have done wrong. You see there was a confounded auction, and what with the hammer, and the folk bidding, and his palaver, I could not help it.”
“But what is it you have bought?”
“A bit o' land, Tom.”
Robinson groaned; but, recovering himself, he said gayly:
“Well, have you brought it with you?”
“No, it is not so small as all that; as nice a bit of grass as ever you saw, Tom, and just outside the town of Bathurat; only I didn't ought to have spent your money as well as my own.”
“Stuff and nonsense—I accept the investment. Let me load your new revolver. Now look at my day's work. I wouldn't take a hundred pound for these little fellows.”
George gloated over the little nuggets, for he saw Susan's eyes in them. To-night she seemed so near. The little bag was placed between them, the day's spoils added to it, and the tired friends were soon asleep.