“We must eat, but not hot.”
“Why not?”
“Because, if you light a fire, the smoke will be seen miles off, and half the diggings will be down upon us. I have brought three days' cold meat—-here it is.”
“Will this be enough?” asked George, simply, his mouth full.
“Yes, it will be enough,” replied the other, bitterly. “Do you hear that bird, George? They call him a leather-head. What is he singing?”
George laughed. “Seems to me he is saying, 'Off we go!' 'Off we go!' 'Off we go!'”
“That is it. And look now, off he is gone; and, what is more, he has gone to tell all the world he saw two men pick up gold like beans.”
“Work!” cried George.
That night the little bag felt twice as heavy as last night, and Susan seemed nearer than for many a day. These two worked for their lives. They counted each minute, and George was a Goliath; the soil flew round him like the dust about a wmnnowing-machine. He was working for Susan. Robinson wasted two seconds admiring him.
“Well,” said he, “gold puts us all on our mettle, but you beat all I ever saw. You are a man.”