There was a conspiracy at the homestead. Great whispering and talking and planning among the younger set. Great fossicking among old tins and gardening implements; and then, one fine day, a party of four set off to the river, down to the Rocky Bend. It was nearly a quarter of a mile to the Namoi from the Gillong gate, and they all trudged across the track, each carrying bulky parcels. Down at the river Willie turned and addressed the company in a pompous voice:
“Yes, I believe there’s gold here—any amount of it. Why, look at them rocks—they’re shining again! I bet we’ll knock gold dust out of ’em before long.”
“Oh, Willie!” they all gasped. “Do you really think so?”
“’Course I do. It’s a wonder all you people never thought of it before. Why, there’ll be a gold-field on your place yet,” he went on, with his eyes shining. “Yes, a great big diggings, and I’ll be the one that found them.”
“Oh, Willie! wouldn’t it be lovely?” they all shrieked.
“Wouldn’t it be great,” he went on, “to have monster big diggings and crowds and crowds of people and miners’ huts and tents and all that up here, all through me finding out a gold-field——”
“Oh, Willie!” they all shrieked again.
“Why, look at that sand there! Why, there’s gold in it, sure enough!”
“Oh, Willie! however’ll we set about getting it out?” cried Eva.
“We’ll fix it up,” said Willie, confidently. “We’ll get it out somehow. I’ve seen chaps in pictures with old dishes, and they wash the sand and strain off the water, and the gold dust’s left behind, or something like that. Anyhow, we’ll have a try at it.”