"When you've made your pile, my lad," said Obed, "you can go back to Melbourne, and easily get a berth on board some merchant ship bound to Liverpool or New York. There is a great demand for sailors at that port."
This made Jack more cheerful. He was willing to stay a while, he said, and help Harry and Mr. Stackpole, but in the end he must return to his old life.
Mr. Stackpole and the boys took a long walk, and reconnoitred the diggings on both sides of Bendigo creek. Toward the middle of the afternoon they came upon a thin, melancholy looking young man, who was sitting in a despondent attitude with his arms folded.
"Are you sick, my friend?" asked Obed.
"I am very ill," was the answer. "I don't think I shall ever be any better."
Further questioning elicited the information that he had taken a severe cold from exposure two months before, in consequence of which his lungs were seriously affected.
"Why do you stay here, then?" asked Obed.
"I shall go back to Melbourne as soon as I have sold my claim."
"What do you want for it?"
"It is worth fifty pounds. I will take twenty-five."