“No luck then?” said Esau, eagerly.
“Not a bit, my lad.”
“What, ain’t you found gold at all?”
“Oh, yes, in scores of places, but always where it would cost thirty shillings to earn a pound’s worth. Not profitable work, eh?”
Esau glanced at me, and I at Esau, the same thought in both our minds—that we could, in a couple of hours’ walk from where we were, show him—the wearied-out prospector—an ample supply.
“If I only could tell him,” I thought, as I recalled how generous and kind he had always been to us. But it was impossible, and I darted a look at Esau which he understood, for he nodded at me in a curious way, setting me thinking that I must speak to him seriously again about our duty to Mr Raydon. I had hardly thought this when I saw the latter coming towards us.
“Ah, Mr Gunson,” he said, with a sharp, keen glance, “you have kept your word, then, and come back.”
“Yes, I’ve come back, and shall be glad of a day or two’s rest.”
“You are welcome,” replied Mr Raydon. “Well, have you been very fortunate?”
“What a question to ask me!” said Gunson; “the most unlucky man that ever lived! Do I look fortunate?”