The interval of time taken by the younger keeper to fetch the big pointed crowbar was utilised for further search, during which the two blacks came back and stood a little aloof, watching curiously the acts of their white companions.
“That’s right, mate,” replied Denham.—“Oh, well, if you like; jump down, then. The boss wants a hole picked, I suppose, for you to break up a bit of the floor here to see what it’s like.”
The keeper was handy enough with the fresh tool, and after picking out a good many small pieces of what proved to be powdered granite, consolidated probably by lime, or perhaps only by time itself, he called for one of the stones that had been thrown out, laid it by the side of the hole he had picked, and then thrusting down the iron bar and using the stone as a fulcrum, he levered out a good-sized piece of the hard cement.
“Throw it up here,” cried the doctor, who caught it deftly and held it in the sunshine, examining it carefully. “No,” he said, in rather a disappointed tone.
“Here’s a bigger bit here, sir,” said Bob, “as seems loose. Yes, out you come!” And pressing his lever down hard, he brought up a great flake of the flooring, nearly a foot long and some inches wide. This he handed to Buck, who examined it casually as he bore it to the side of the hole and handed it to the doctor.
“It’s broken up granite, sir, for certain,” he said, “and this other side sparkles just like—”
He was going to say something, but the doctor excitedly, so to speak, snatched the word from his lips.
“Yes,” he cried—“gold!”
The two boys started forward excitedly.