“Take care, Jack—you are dropping your money,” I called.
“Me?” inquired Jack, from the top. “Not me—I never had any. What’s the use of bringing money out in the bush? Did you find any?”
“I found sixpence,” I answered. “That’s good luck for me, at all events. I wonder how it came here.”
“Might be more lying about,” suggested Jack. “Have a look.”
I glanced up at him, laughing.
“If I find a silver-mine, I’ll buy you that yacht you were talking about. What did you say her tonnage——?”
Something made me break off suddenly. There was a little recess in the bank, just under his laughing face: a recess only revealed since we had sent the rock that guarded it crashing down the bank. Something glimmered in it faintly. I went up the broken bank even more quickly than Jack had done, while the others sent a fire of laughing questions at me. Putting my hand into the recess I drew out—an old tobacco-tin.
“Whatever have you got there, Doris?” Dr. Firth asked.
“Somebody’s ’baccy,” I answered, laughing, scrambling up over the edge. “I suppose some poor old swagman has made a cache here. I must put it back.”
“You might look at it first,” he said quietly. But there was something in his voice that made me glance at his face. I sat down on the ground and got the lid open.