“Don't be a fool,” cried the other, trembling all over; “there is no such thing in nature.”
The nugget now yielded slowly to the pressure and began to come up into the world again inch by inch after so many thousand years. Of course, before it could come all out, the soil must open first, and when Robinson, glaring down, saw a square foot of earth part and gape as the nugget came majestically up, he gave another cry, and with trembling hands laid hold of the prize, and pulled and tugged and rolled it on the clean moss—to lift it was not so easy. They fell down on their knees by the side of it like men in a dream. Such a thing had never been seen or heard of—a hundred-weight of quartz and gold, and beautiful as it was great. It was like honeycomb, the cells of which had been sliced by a knife; the shining metal brimmed over in the delicate quartz cells.
They lifted it. Yes, full a hundredweight; half the mass was quartz, but four-fifths of the weight they knew must be gold. Then they jumped up and each put a foot on it, and shook hands over it.
“Oh, you beauty!” cried George, and he went on his knees and kissed it; “that is not because you are gold, but because you take me to Susan. Now, Tom, let us thank Heaven for its goodness to us, and back to camp this very day.”
“Ay! but stop, we must wrap it in our wipes or we shall never get back alive. The very honest ones would turn villains at sight of it. It is the wonder of the world.”
“I see my Susan's eyes in it,” cried George, in rapture. “Oh, Tom, good, kind, honest Tom, shake hands over it once more!”
In the midst of all this rapture a horrible thought occurred.
“Why, it's Jacky's,” said George, faintly, “he found it.”
“Nonsense! nonsense!” cried Tom, uneasily; he added, however, “but I am afraid one third of it is—pals share, white or black.”
All their eyes now turned uneasily to the Aboriginal, who lay yawning on the grass.