“Tom thinks he has got enemies in the camp.”
“Humph! the young man puts himself too forward not to have enemies.”
“Well,” said George, quickly, “if he makes bitter enemies he makes warm friends.”
George then explained that his nerve and Robinson's were giving way under the repeated attacks.
“We have had a talk and we will sell the best part of our dust to you, sir. Give him the best price you can afford for Susan's sake.”
And away went George to look for his quartz river, leaving the ex-thief to make the bargain and receive the money.
In the transaction that followed Mr. Levi did not appear to great advantage. He made a little advance on the three pounds per ounce on account of the quantity, but he would not give a penny above three guineas. No! business was business; he could and would have given George a couple of hundred pounds in day of need, but in buying and selling the habits of a life could not be shaken off. Wherefore Robinson kept back eight pounds of gold-dust and sold him the rest for notes of the Sydney Bank.
“Well, sir,” said Tom, cheerfully, “now my heart is light; what we have got we can carry round our waists now by night or day. Well, friend, what do you want, poking your nose into the tent?”
Coming out suddenly he had run against a man who was in a suspicious attitude at the entrance.
“No offense,” muttered the man, “I wanted to sell a little gold-dust.”