“We’ll see directly,” he said. “Let’s get out of this. The water is bitterly cold.”
He waded out now with the basket, from which the golden water dripped as if the contents were melting.
“Why, there is some,” cried Dean, excitedly.
“Some?” cried Mr Raydon, bitterly. “Unfortunately, yes. Look!” and he held the basket sidewise in the full blaze of the glowing sun, giving it a shake, so that we could see scales, beads, and tiny nuggets dotted about among the flashing stones, and all looking of that beautiful pure yellow colour which is possessed alone by native gold.
“Why, there must be pounds,” cried Esau, excitedly.
“Pish!” ejaculated Mr Raydon, contemptuously. “How you boys let your imagination go wild! There must be, however, a full ounce—a wonderful washing for the trial.”
“Then you are not disappointed, sir?” I said, eagerly.
“Yes,” he cried, turning upon me fiercely; “horribly.”
“But there must be quantities more, sir.”
“Yes. I was in hopes that it was a mere patch, but everything points to the fact that the stream is rich, and it may be far better higher up.”