“You own all these quartz stones rolled out of yon river; if so, they are samples of it. Ten thousand quartz stones is quite sample enough, so begin and turn them all over, examine them—break them if you like. If we find but a speck of gold in one of them I'll believe that quartz river is gold's home—if not, it is all humbug!”
George pulled a wry face; he found himself pinned to his own theory.
“Well,” said he, “I own the sample tells us what is in the barn; so now I am vexed for bringing you here.”
“Now we are here, give it a fair trial; let us set to and break every bowlder in the thundering heap.”
They went to work and picked the quartz bowlders; full two hours they worked, and by this time they had made a considerable heap of broken quartz; it glittered in the sun, but it glittered white, not a speck of yellow came to light.
George was vexed. Robinson grinned; expecting nothing, he was not disappointed. Besides, he was winning an argument, and we all like to turn out prophets. Presently a little cackle from Jacky.
“I find um!”
“Find what?” asked Robinson, without looking up.
“A good deal yellow stone,” replied Jacky, with at least equal composure.
“Let me see that,” said George, with considerable curiosity; and they both went to Jacky.