"Here's something like a nugget!" said the lad, with flushed face. "Look, uncle, it's gold right enough; and it weighs, I should think, at least ten pounds. It's certainly the weight of a light pair of dumb-bells!"
Mr. Blakeney stooped and picked up the stone, and carefully examined it. Then, taking out his knife, he cut into it as Guy had done. Again there showed a streak of bright yellow.
"Yes, that's gold right enough," he said, in answer to Guy's intense look; "and it must weigh well over ten pounds. I see there's just a thin skin, apparently of quartz, on one side. Deduct, say, a couple of pounds for that and quartz further inside, and you have something like eight or nine pounds of virgin gold. A magnificent find, indeed! I congratulate you, Guy, with all my heart."
Leaving the big nugget, they worked till three, and then knocked off for the day. The occupation was so exciting, so entrancing a one, that it was difficult to tear themselves away. But, as Mr. Blakeney pointed out, they had the climb out of the kloof before them, and an hour's walk to camp, and they would scarcely reach the wagon much before sunset.
The valley, as they walked down it on their way to the ladder, looked marvellously fair. Flights of wild duck, geese, widgeon, and teal flew up and down stream. A big troop of guinea-fowl, at least fifty or sixty strong, was making its way to some favourite roosting-place; the sharp, metallic cry of the various members of the flock, calling to one another, sounded curiously resonant in this rock-engirdled kloof. Many birds of lovely plumage flitted hither and thither; occasionally a small steinbuck, duyker, or bushbuck would dart away in front of them. The flowers and flowering shrubs starring the green of the kloof and climbing the cliffsides added not a little to the beauty of the scene.
"What a lovely spot, uncle!" said Guy, as they marched steadily forward. "I feel almost as if I should like to throw up gold-digging, and settle for life in such a paradise."
"I'm afraid, Guy," replied his uncle, "you would soon grow tired of the place. It's very beautiful, certainly; but it's mighty lonely. And you would have a rare business to keep yourself supplied with even the bare necessaries of life. Think of the long trek from Mossamedes--six weeks' travel before your tea and coffee, and sugar and other small luxuries, can reach you. Take my word for it. No one has enjoyed the life of the hunter and explorer more than I have done. I knocked about, as you know, for years in South Africa before I settled down. After a time, even the most inveterate wanderer begins to sigh for rest and some of the comforts of civilization. I speak of what I know. I dislike town life; and the huddling together of huge populations, with an immense deal of misery for two-thirds of the poorer folk, is to me absolutely hateful. I believe the system, for which machinery is largely answerable, is absolutely wrong, and will lead to untold misfortunes to the so-called civilized nations in the future, if persisted in. But on the other hand, fascinating as is the life of the wilderness for a time--say a year or two at a spell--you would become weary of it if you had to settle down in such a place as this, fair though it is, for the rest of your existence. The fact is, mankind is to a great extent gregarious, and you would want some kind of company as an occasional relief from the monotony of too much solitude."
"Besides," broke in Tom, who had been listening quietly to his father's ideas, "I should say this kloof, jolly as it looks, would be pretty feverish--wouldn't it, pater?--especially after the rains."
"Yes, Tom; I think it would. This country is a good deal nearer the equator than British Bechuanaland, which I take to be the healthiest part of South Africa; and where you get the combination of moisture and heat you are bound to have fever. That reminds me, we shall have to look after our health on the homeward trek. The rains haven't fairly set in yet, but they will soon, and I shall have to put you fellows on a course of quinine. I don't want to take you home mere pallid spectres, like men who have been suffering from Zambesi fever."
They reached the rope-ladder at length, and then began the upward climb. As Mr. Blakeney had warned them, the ascent was a very different matter from the journey down. For the first fifty feet or so, as the ladder swung and swayed in empty air, it was by no means pleasant progression; and by the time they had reached the top, all were out of breath and exhausted.