“Let it go, and don’t think about it.”
“That’s what I want to do, but I can’t help myself, and I’m always wanting to get lots of it, and be rich.”
“Rubbish!” I cried, testily.
“Gold ain’t rubbish,” said Esau, gruffly. “Of course I should give you half.”
“We promised Mr Raydon not to touch that gold any more,” I said; “so don’t talk or think about it. Promise me.”
“I’ll promise not to talk about it,” he replied; “but it’s no use to promise not to think about it, because it will come. Why, I dream about it every night.”
“Then you must not,” I said. “I was talking to Mr Raydon last night about what is to be done when Mr John comes.”
“Well, what does he say? Anything about the gold?”
“No,” I cried, fiercely. “Of course you think about it if you are always talking of it. He says that he thinks the best thing will be for Mr John to have some land lower down the river at a place we passed; that there are twenty or thirty acres of good rich soil, and that as he will have us with him, we must learn to use axes and help him to clear the land, and plant it with fruit-trees, and build a house on the clearing.”
“Yes; that’s all right enough, only the trees take so long to bear.”