“Then you’ve got a mine on your farm?”
“I suppose so; but father said we’d better get rich by increasing the flocks and herds. Look there,” I said; “all those are veins of gold, and those others are crystals and scales.”
“There, catch, Sergeant,” said Denham bitterly. “We don’t want gold; we want health, and a way out of this prison.”
“That’s right, sir; and if you like I’ll try and come and tell you how things are going to-night.”
“Yes, do,” cried Denham. Then the Sergeant thrust his piece of gold ore and quartz back into his pouch, and marched away.
“Val, old chap,” said Denham as soon as we were alone, “that fellow seemed to cheer me up a bit while he was here.”
“Yes,” I said; “he roused me up too.”
“But now he’s gone I’m down again lower and lower than ever I was before. I begin to wish I were dead. Oh dear! who’d be a wounded man who feels as helpless as a child?”
I was silent.
“Is that doctor ever coming to see us again?”