“I beg your pardon,” replied Gunson; “you are wrong. Time is gliding on, sir. I have spent years already in my quest and have no time to spare.”
“The quest of wealth?” said Mr Raydon, rather sarcastically.
“Yes, sir; the quest of wealth to redeem the past. You do not know my early life, and I’m not going to tell of it.”
“I only know enough to prove to me that Mr Gunson was educated as an English gentleman.”
“And is now the rough prospector you see,” replied Gunson. “There, sir, one lives for the future, not the past. To-morrow morning, thanking you warmly for your hospitality, I start; and I ask you to give my young friends here what you have offered so generously to me.”
“Your Chinese servant going with you, of course. You said ‘I start.’”
“My Chinese servant!” said Gunson, laughing. “I keep no servants. The poor fellow attached himself to us, and has worked for us patiently ever since. He is one of the poor patient Celestials, hunting for gold, and if ever he scrapes together fifty pounds’ worth he will account himself rich.”
“And you?”
“Ah, my desires are far higher,” said Gunson, laughing. “Now, if you will excuse me, I’ll go outside and enjoy a pipe in this delicious evening air.”
“Let me offer you a cigar, Mr Gunson,” said our host. “I have a few good ones for my visitors.”