The three deviated from their course, and soon afterward reached the stream, where Jim had found his gold, and the Mohaves had found him. A short search discovered his gun, and they started homeward. The distance was considerable, and it was fully an hour before they reached the wood, where George Inwood was overjoyed to see them.
A few minutes’ talk made everything plain to him.
“You see, George Gaylor ain’t the man to give a friend the go by,” said that personage himself. “And I’ll prove to you that I mean what I say. I s’pose you’re in these parts looking for gold?”
“That is what has drawn us hither,” replied George, with a smile.
“Have you found much?”
“Not a great deal; we have had middling good fortune.”
“I s’pose maybe now I hain’t got noffin’,” said Jim, as he drew his two nuggets from his pocket, and displayed them to the wondering gaze of his friends.
“You seem to be made of gold,” said George; “you know how you put your hand in your pocket, and brought it out, when we bought our horses; but where did you obtain it?”
“Maybe I was digging it out ob de sand when de Ingins slung dere ropes ober my neck—maybe I didn’t got it dere.”