On the morning after, I was up at an early hour; but, early as it was, I noticed that the little tent, belonging to the single man, was no longer in its place. I thought its owner might have pitched it in a fresh spot; but, on looking all around, I could not see it.
My reflection was, that the single man must have gone away from the ground.
I did not care a straw, whether he had or not. If I had a wish one way or the other, it was to know that he had gone: for he was an individual whose room would by most people have been preferred to his company. For all that, I was somewhat surprised at his disappearance, first, because he had not said anything of his intention to take leave of us in that unceremonious manner; and, secondly, because, I did not expect him to part from his mate, until some quarrel should separate them. As I had heard no dispute—and one could not have occurred, without my hearing it—the man’s absence was a mystery to me.
It was soon after explained by his comrade, who came over to my tent, as I suppose, for that very purpose.
“Have you noticed,” said he, “that Tom’s gone away?”
“Yes,” I answered; “I see that his tent has been removed; and I supposed that he had gone.”
“When I woke up this morning,” continued the married man, “and saw that he had left between two days, I was never more surprised in my life.”
“Indeed!”
I had a good deal of respect for Tom, and fancied he had the same for me. I thought we should work together, as long as we stayed on the diggings; and for him to leave, without saying a word about his going, quite stunned me. My wife, however, was not at all surprised at it—when I told her that he had gone away. She said she expected it; and only wondered he had had the cheek to stay so long.
“I asked her what she meant. By way of reply she brought me this nugget.”