“Yes, three-quarters gold,” said Wilton, while after taking it in his fingers and handling it for a few minutes, Bourne laid it down with a sigh.
“Let’s have some more, Squire Christopher,” cried Griggs; but the words were hardly out of his lips before there was again a sharp rap on the table, and then another and another, the boy continuing till a dozen of the dull frosted-looking specimens lay upon the boards, shining with a soft dull glow.
“Excessively rich ore,” said the doctor, breaking the silence, after the party had been busily turning over the pieces.
“And no doubt about it, doctor,” cried Griggs. “Well, that’s yours, anyhow.”
“No,” said the doctor quickly. “You brought the poor fellow here.”
“Right, but you doctored him and made him able to speak. ’Sides, he gave it to you, and it’s yours. What’s more, he gave you the hills where the tons of it lie—somewhere.”
“Yes, somewhere,” said the doctor; “but where is that?”
“Where the poor old chap came from. He ought to have given you the map with all its bearings marked down. Are you sure that he hadn’t got it in his pocket?”
“Certain,” replied the doctor, “for he had no pockets.”
“Well, sewed up then in his jacket?”