We went on by the side of the little stream for quite half-an-hour almost in silence, not from Esau being out of temper, but from the intense satisfaction we felt in being in so beautiful a place, and at last sat down close by a gravelly-looking shallow, where the beautiful clear water tempted us to lie flat down, lean over till we could touch it, and drink.
“That’s good water,” said Esau, as he wiped his mouth. “I wish plenty of fruit grew here too. What are you doing? Why, you’re not going to hunt for gold, are you?”
I did not answer, but went on with what I was doing; scooping up the gravel and sand, and agitating my hand till the light sand was washed away and only the stones remained. It was in imitation of what I had seen Gunson and Quong do scores of times, and in the idlest of moods that I did this, partly, I think, because the water felt cool and pleasant to my hands, and the sensation of the sand trickling between my fingers was agreeable.
“I wonder whether Gunson has found a good place for gold yet?”
“Dunno,” replied Esau, with a yawn. “I wish those people would come here, so that we could set to work in real earnest, and be making a house. Shall you come and live with us, or with Mr and Mrs John?”
“Can’t say at present. All that sort of thing must be left till they come, and—oh!”
“What’s the matter?”
“Nearly slipped in; that’s all,” I said, selecting a fresh stone for my seat, the one I had been using at the edge of the stream having turned slowly over and pitched me forward.
“Only got wet; you would soon get dry again in the sunshine.”
“Yes,” I said, taking a fresh handful of gravel and beginning to shake it to and fro in the stream, pausing every now and then to pick out the big stones and throw them away, and the gravel after them, before taking another handful.