"Because I thought it the whistle of a serpent," he retorted. "But no nonsense, I was looking for you."
"I was certain of it."
"Yes, I wanted to see you. I made your acquaintance I know not how. You talk to me of things which do not please me, because they suggest evil thoughts. I have come to say that henceforth we are strangers. Never speak to me again."
"I suppose you will give me a reason for this odd decision."
"Think what you please. I have said my say."
"Then I assume that you reject my offers."
"Think and assume what you like," cried the young man, angrily; "only keep out of my path."
"Then you have no passion for gold?" sighed the other.
"You take me for a ninny, old squatter. Gold does not grow in the fields like mushrooms. Besides, you would have found it long ago if real."
"I tell you the map indicating the exact spot," cried the old man, "was stolen from me by the outlaws."