“I say, Chumbley, old fellow, we must be getting into a terrible state of mind to go on like this without troubling ourselves about our chaplain—Here comes the doctor.”
“And Harley not far behind.”
“Doctor ahoy!” shouted Chumbley.
“Well, lads—well, lads,” cried the little doctor, bustling up. “What news?”
“That’s what we were going to ask you, doctor. What next?”
“Why, now, my dear boys, that the troubles are about over, my principal patient quite safe, and people seem settling down, with no enemies to fear, it seems to me just the time for making a fresh start up the river.”
“To—”
“Exactly, my dear Chumbley; to take up the clue where I left off when I found Helen Perowne, and go on and discover the gold-workings.”
“The gold-workings, doctor?” cried Hilton, wonderingly.
“To be sure, my dear fellow. Mind, I don’t say that Solomon’s ships ever came right up this river; but they certainly came here and traded with the Sakais or Jacoons, the aboriginals of the country, who worked the gold from surface-mines and brought it down to the coast.”