“Ain’t got another, have you?” said Esau.
Grey shook his head.
“Good-bye,” he said.
“I say, tell mother not to fret, I’m all right,” cried Esau.
“And give old Rough a pat on the head for me,” I cried.
“I will. Nice game you had with him last night,” said Grey, laughing. “Too good friends with you to lay hold.”
“Oh, was I, sir?” cried Esau; “he’s made one of my trousers knee-breeches. Look!”
He held up his leg, where the piece had been torn off below the knee, and Grey laughed as he went and disappeared in the forest that fringed the banks of the stream.
“Then now we can begin gold-digging in real earnest,” cried Esau, excitedly. “I say, Mr Gunson, how’s it going to be?”
“What, my lad?”