The landlord did not seem to waste much pity upon old David. “What, he got drowned, did he? I always told him he would some day, and I advised him not to cross last night, but he was a bit queer in his temper. He wanted me to stick up a drink, but I said it was against the rules. And then he talked a lot about being worth more than I was, and being able to buy up me and my canteen; but none paid much heed to him. I ’spect he ain’t left a very big estate behind him?”
“No, he hasn’t, poor old chap! Here are his finds—they are not worth much,” Charlie said, as he showed the landlord the two small diamonds. Then he wondered whether he looked like a thief, as he thought of what he had stowed away in his breast-pocket.
He finished his breakfast and had something to drink afterwards, for he felt as if his nerves wanted settling. Just as he was going to start a man, dressed in the uniform of the Mounted Police, came into the bar, and came up to Charlie holding out his hand.
“A happy New Year to you, old boy! Where are you off to this morning?” he said.
The new arrival was Charlie’s old friend and partner, Jack Heathcote. Jack was as good a fellow as ever lived, and as true a friend, but for the first time since he had known him Charlie did not feel best pleased to see him.
“What’s the matter, Charlie?” Jack added, as he noticed a rather downcast look in his friend’s face, “you seem a bit down on your luck.”
“I have had rather a trying night of it,” answered Charlie, and he told how poor old David Miller had upset and got drowned the night before, and what a near thing he had had of it amongst the weeds trying to save him. But there was one part of the story which he kept to himself. He did not say anything about the big diamond, though he produced the two little ones, and asked Jack as he was going into the camp to report the death, and give them up to the authorities.
“All right; I will tell ’em about it, and give these up to the magistrate. They ain’t worth much; but poor old David hadn’t much better luck than you and I,” said Jack. “Come, cheer up, old fellow; after all the old man hadn’t much to live for, and you did your level best to save him. Let’s have a split, and drink good luck to the New Year. It is about time you and I had a turn of luck, but it never comes to honest men in this cursed country. Well, may we get out of it somehow or the other before the next New Year’s Day; may you find a ‘big un,’ on which you can go home,” he said, when their glasses were filled.
“Who can tell? luck is a queerish thing,” Charlie said, as he emptied his glass.
“So it is—not that I know very much about it, for it has not troubled me much. Well, good-bye,” said Jack Heathcote, as he left the canteen and jumped on his horse, which was tied up outside.