“No,” said Mr Raydon, “and the first step I shall take will be to leave two of my men in charge of this claim, which has been taken up by the wounded prospector, Gunson.”
“That’s right; that’s fair,” came in chorus, and after a little more conversation the men moved off with the prisoners, the wounded fellow being carried on a litter of poles.
“Edwards,” said Mr Raydon, “you and another had better stay here with the Chinaman. Gordon, where is the gold?”
“I have not the least idea, sir.”
“Oh, then you, Dean.”
“Don’t know a bit, sir,” said Esau, who was nursing his blistered feet.
“Here, Quong, where has Mr Gunson stored the gold he has found?”
“Me no sabbee, sah. Quong give allee gole Mis Gunson take callee. No sabbee. Hide allee gole ploply.”
“Cut poles and lash them together,” said Mr Raydon to Grey; “we must carry him to the Fort. Gordon, Dean, you had better come and stay till he is better.”
I looked up at him doubtingly.