“Still you might find something the first day. Did you find nothing?”
“Yes, a few grains of gold; but that I did not care for. I’m after a nugget. You don’t understand what I mean by the first day.”
“No.”
“I had that dream three times, you know, Harry,” said the miner, lowering his voice. “It’s impressed on my mind that if I find anything it’ll be on the third day.”
“Perhaps you will,” said our hero, who was impressed by the evident earnestness of his companion. “At any rate, I hope so.”
The next morning Bush left Harry, and returned to the rock.
While Harry was at work, meeting with a little more success than the day before, a rough fellow, Henderson by name, lounged up to him.
“What luck, comrade?” he asked.
“Not much,” said Harry. “I haven’t made my fortune yet.”