'I can't take up a lease unless I know where the reef is, can I?'
'Well, it ain't far from the Bed Rand.'
'Nonsense, Dick! The bottom must be over three hundred feet deep there.
You couldn't cut a reef any shallower than that.'
'On'y we have.'
Harry sat for a moment lost in thought. He had suddenly recalled old talk about mysterious indications of a shallow reef in that locality, a reef the existence of which would have been in open opposition to mining traditions, and contrary to all locally known theories of scientific mining. He remembered hearing of a shaft that had been put down by a few believers, in defiance of local derision; he recalled, too, the eccentric and unheard-of drive thrown out by the Red Hand in some such absurd quest, and his respect for the boy's opinion grew into something like conviction.
'It's very queer, Dick,' he said; 'but if you'll show it to me I'll do all I can for you.'
'That's good! You see we're all in it. We're the Mount of Gold Quartz-minin' Company—me an' Jacker an' them—but it's on'y a make-believe company, an' I'd like Mr. McKnight, an' Mr. Peterson, an' Mr. Doon to come, an' the detective cove too, cause there's somethin' else there—somethin' else p'tickler too.'
'Very well, we can go an' see McKnight an' Peterson, but they'll laugh at us.'
'When they laugh we'll show 'em this,' said Dick, producing a lump of quartz.
Harry took the stone in his hand; it was not larger than a hen's egg and of a dark colour, but studded thickly with clean gold, and as he gazed at it his pipe fell from his mouth and his eyes rounded. He pursed his lips to whistle his astonishment, and forgot to do it; he lifted his hand to scratch his head and it stuck half-way; he turned and turned the stone, stupid with surprise.