The pieces of ice and gold went on rattling down till the last scrap was emptied out, and the hollowed block of ice tossed out of the door.
“Let’s see,” said Tregelly, “my two mates said that at the end of the winter there’d only be about two hundred shillings’ worth. But they were wrong,” he continued, with a merry laugh, “for all my share’s here, and I’ve added a bit more to it—enough to pay for what we want from down the river; so I haven’t done so badly, after all.”
“You have done wonders,” cried Dallas.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve worked pretty hard, though,” said Tregelly, giving the contents of the bucket a twist round and pouring off some of the melted ice into another bucket. “Looks pretty, don’t it, my sons? but hardly worth all the trouble one takes to get it.”
He pushed the bucket right in among the embers, and the contents began to steam, till all the ice was melted, when the dirty water was drained away and the gold then turned carefully out on the iron cake griddle, baked to dryness on the wood ashes, and then examined.
“That would make Mr Redbeard’s ugly mouth water if he could see it, my sons, eh?”
“Yes, it looks tempting,” said Dallas. “Put it away.”
“Nay; we’ve agreed to share now, my sons. Let’s take out enough for me to spend down the river. Let the other go into your leather bag.”
“No, that would not be fair,” said Dallas quickly.
“I say it would, my sons; and I ought to know best. Look here: you’re going to help me take care of what I’ve got, and I’m going to help you. Sometimes you’ll get more; sometimes I shall; so you see it will come all square in the end. There,” he said, in conclusion, as he roughly scraped a portion of the glittering heap aside, “what do you say to that being enough?”