During the eight months in which they had dwelt in that dreary region they had never once failed to make this supplication, and, fruitless as their toil had been hitherto, their faith had never failed them.
They still trusted that a divine and gracious Providence would, in due time, reward their efforts.
At daybreak the next morning the three men set out, and walked to the creek at which they were to work before they eat their rough breakfast.
Then, after offering up another prayer, they took their spades and pickaxes and went to work with a will.
But the day wore on and no result attended their labors.
The negro, Sambo, worked untiringly, and cheered his masters' toil by his merry songs and grotesque capers.
It grew toward evening, and Brown proposed that they should collect their tools and walk homeward, but Smith was anxious to work for half an hour longer, and his companion was too good-natured to oppose his fancy.
The half hour had nearly expired, the dusk was rapidly gathering around them, the lower branches of the trees were streaked with crimson and gold by the last rays of the setting sun, and Brown was thinking sadly how many a day such as this they had wasted, and how many a sun had gone down upon their disappointment, when he was aroused from his reverie by a loud exclamation from Smith, and a wild shout of joy from the negro.
His companion's spade had struck against a nugget of gold.
He had dug the precious lump of ore from its watery bed, and he had fallen upon his knees in the clay and dirt to offer up a thanksgiving to that Eternal Being who alone can give or withhold all blessings.