“Makes your hands nice and clean, doesn’t it?” said Esau. “Nothing like sand for that. Found any gold yet?”
“Not yet,” I said.
“No, nor you won’t. There’s no gold here, only a few little specks like Quong got.”
“Oh, there might be,” I said carelessly, as I thrust in my hand a little deeper, and brought out a good handful of sand from lower down. “Gunson said he was sure there was plenty if you could—”
“Well, could what?” said Esau, as he lay back with his hands beneath his head, his cap over his eyes, and his voice sounding hollow and strange from having to run round inside his hat.
I did not answer, for I was washing the contents of my hand with a sudden feeling of eagerness.
“Well?” he said again, “could what?”
“Esau, come and look down here,” I whispered very huskily.
“Can’t,” he said, lazily. “Too comfortable to move.”
“Come here!” I cried again.