“Not much, but he stopped growlin’. It may have given him a new idea of the matter.”
“How soon do you think of getting away, Obed?”
“As soon as we have sold the claim,” answered the Yankee. “When it gets reported round the camp what we’ve found there’ll be plenty that’ll want to buy it on speculation, you may be sure of that.”
“I didn’t think of that,” said Harry, his eyes brightening. “We’re luckier than I thought.”
“Yes,” answered Obed jocularly, “we’re men of property now. I’m afraid we’ll have to pay taxes ourselves when we get home.”
CHAPTER XIII
A THIEF’S EMBARRASSMENT
WHEN the thief left Obed Stackpole’s cabin with his booty his heart was filled with exultation. He had been drifting about for years, the football of fortune, oftener down than up, and had more than once known what it was to pass an entire day without food. And all this because he had never been willing to settle down to steady work or honest industry. He had set out in life with a dislike for each, and a decided preference for living by his wits. Theft was no new thing for him. Once he had barely escaped with his life in one of the Western States of America for stealing a horse. He had drifted to Australia, with no idea of working at the mines or anywhere else, but with the intention of robbing some lucky miner and making off with the proceeds of his industry.
Now, he had succeeded, and his heart was light.
“No more hard work for me,” he said to himself joyfully, “no more privation and suffering. Now I can live like a gentleman.”