CHAPTER III
Lying under the coolebah at midday, after they had been burrowing from the shaft for about a week, and Michael was talking of clearing mullock from the drives, Potch said:
"I'm going to sink another hole, Michael—higher up."
Michael glanced at him. It was unusual for Potch to put a thing in that way, without a by-your-leave, or feeler for advice, or permission; but he was not disturbed by his doing so.
"Right," he said; "you sink another hole, Potch. I'll stick to this one for a bit."
Potch began to break earth again next morning. He chose his site carefully, to the right of the one he had been working on, and all the morning he swung his heavy pick and shovelled earth from the shaft he was making. He worked slowly, doggedly. When he came on sandstone he had been three weeks on the job.
"Ought to be near bottoming, Potch," Roy remarked one day towards the end of the three weeks.
"Be there to-day," Potch said.
Paul buzzed about the top of the hole, unable to suppress his impatience, and calling down the shaft now and then.
Potch believed so in this claim of his that his belief had raised a certain amount of expectation. His report, too, was going to make considerable difference to the field. The Crosses had done pretty well: they had cut out a pocket worth £400 as a result of their sinking, and it remained to be seen what Potch's new hole would bring. A good prospect would make the new field, it was reckoned.