"That's what remains to be seen—perhaps. Keep your eye on that groove as I tilt the pan round. The black stuff is iron-stone; you needn't trouble about that. See if it leaves anything else."
He gently tilted the pan so that the water slowly flowed round the groove, carrying with it the quartz grains and the powder. Jack watched narrowly. After the contents of the pan had made the circuit two or three times he suddenly exclaimed—
"There's a sort of glitter left behind the powder, uncle."
"I reckon that's enough," said Mr. Martindale, setting down the pan. "We've hit it, Jack."
Jack could not refrain from giving a cheer. The chief, who had but half approved the proceedings at the beginning, caught the infection of the lad's enthusiasm, and snapped his fingers and slapped his thighs vigorously.
"We'll have another look higher up," said Mr. Martindale. "One swallow don't make a summer—another piece of what you call antiquated rubbish, Jack. There's gold here, that's certain; but I don't know whether it's rich enough to be worth working."
They walked for half a mile up the stream, and Mr. Martindale went through the same process with the soil there. He was again rewarded. This time, however, the trace of gold was more distinct.
"Jack, my boy," he said, "there's a small fortune in the bed of the stream alone. But I'm not satisfied yet. It's up to us now to discover the mother lode. To judge by the size of the stream it can't be far off. The botheration is we can't talk to the chief, and I say it's most unbrotherly to refuse us the advantage of an interpreter."
"Well, we've plenty of time, uncle. I vote we have our lunch and then go on again."
They sat down on boulders at the edge of the river and ate the manioc cakes and bananas with which Barney had provided them. Imbono seemed pleased when he was invited to share their lunch. Going into the forest, he returned with a large leaf which he shaped like a cup, and in this he brought water from the stream for the white men.