"Horrible!" cried Duncan. "We will have no more. Give the old pig of a king more goo-goo and let him go and sleep it off. I have never heard, Frank, of a more diabolical massacre in my life."
Said Carrambo now: "What foh you open again de old debbil pits? Some night dey people rise and murder you tree pooh souls all same as dey kill and eat de odder white folks long, long ago. Carrambo know well. Dese sabages not hab de debbil pits open. Oh, no!"
"There is much truth," said Duncan, "in what Carrambo says. It would be a pity to leave this land of gold and diamonds without knowing for certain whether the mines are worth working; but I move that we leave the devil pits alone for a time until we try to reclaim these savages just a little."
"I should reclaim them off the face of the earth," said Frank.
"That is impossible, and were it not, we should only be reducing ourselves to their level. That is not the doctrine of Jesus Christ."
So the "debbil pits", much to the joy of the king, were partially refilled. But just as they were shovelling in the earth, brave broad-shouldered Duncan struck something with his wooden spade.
"Hillo!" he cried, "what have we here?"
Frank and Conal rushed up to see.
"Why, a nugget. And, boys, it is six pounds weight if an ounce."
The excitement of the three young fellows now knew no bounds. They shook each other by the hand; they shouted aloud for joy, and then, while honest Viking capered around them, they raised their voices in song, Duncan leading in an old song, sung by the gold-diggers of California in days long, long gone by.