“Then you really believe I told?”
“Why, of course I do. Why, how could you help it? Seems queer to Mr Raydon, because he has been very kind; but it would have seemed queerer to poor Mr Gunson. Why, as mother used to say, my heart quite bled for him when he came back so tired-looking and shabby, after hunting for months and finding nothing. I’d ha’ told him directly if I hadn’t promised you I wouldn’t. There, don’t be in such a fidge about it; you couldn’t act square to both of them.”
“Then it’s of no use for me to keep on saying I did not tell,” I said, gloomily.
“Not a bit; and I’m precious glad you did tell the poor fellow. I don’t like him much, and he never liked me much; but he often helped me, and I’d help him. Now then, I want to talk about what we’re going to do. What do you say? Do speak. I hate to see you sit mumchance, saying nothing.”
“There’s nothing to do,” I said, sadly, “only wait.”
“What, like a prisoner? I’m going up to that place where the gold is, to get mine and mother’s share, and you’re coming too for yours.”
“I’m not,” I said, through my set teeth.
“What?”
“I wouldn’t stir from here now for all the gold in the world.”
“Why, you’re talking madness. We come out here to make our fortunes, and there’s our fortunes waiting to be made. The door’s open and the gate’s open; and though Mr Raydon talked big, he dare not try to stop us. Come on.”