“Well, here’s the fortnight’s clean up, close on twelve ounces, I should say. Might be better, but it’s more than tucker, three ounces a man, say £40 for two weeks’ work. The month before it was £60, and of course, there’s a chance of a nugget, or a make in the lead, any day!”
“A nugget’s a lump of gold, isn’t it? What size are they?” queried the new partner.
“Any size from a pound to a hundredweight. A Chinaman turned up one worth £230 just after we came, at Back Creek,” answered the big miner; “in old ground, too. Of course, they’re not everyday finds. But there’s always a chance. That’s what makes digging so jolly excitin’, a party can always keep themselves if they work steady, and then there’s the off-chance of a big slice of luck comin’ their way.”
“I should think it did,”, assented the stranger, heartily. “A free life, perfect independence, healthy occupation. It will suit me down to the ground.”
“Early to bed and early to rise is another of the advantages given in with the honest miner’s business,” said the young man called Dick. “A feller’s so jolly tired if he’s been amusin’ himself with a pick and shovel all day, or even the cradle, that by the time he’s had tea, and a smoke, he’s glad to get to his bunk for fear he should go to sleep, like a trooper’s horse, all standin’. So Mr. Blount had better collar my bunk, which I hereby make over to him, along with my share of the ‘Lady Julia’ claim and tools, cradle, and one-fourth interest in the perlatial residence, as the auctioneers say. I’ll doss near the fire along with Jack. Mr. Blount’s got his own blankets, so that’ll be all right.”
Suiting the action to the word, Dick dragged his blankets and a few articles of attire from the bunk indicated, including a weather-worn leather valise into which he stuffed the smaller matters.
Arranging his blankets near the fire, he made a pillow of the valise, and removing his boots and coat, lit his pipe, and lay down on the earthen floor, pulling the blankets over him, and apparently quite prepared for a sound night’s rest. “Good-night all!” were his parting words.
“I’ll say good-night, too,” said Little-River-Jack, undoing the swag, which he had carried in the front of his saddle during the day’s journey, and which seemed chiefly composed of a pair of serviceable blue blankets. “Dick and I’ll take the claim by the chimney. I’ll put on a back log, to keep us all warm, and do to boil the billy to-morrow morning. So I’ll say good-night, Mr. Blount, and wish you luck now, as I’ll be off before daylight. I’d not get up, if I was you, it’s shivering cold till the sun’s up.”
The three men who were now Mr. Blount’s “mates” (or partners) in the claim lost no time in depositing themselves in their separate sleeping places, removing only the more necessary articles of clothing.
Mr. Blount sat before the fire for half an hour, lost in thought, before arraying himself in a suit of pyjamas, which would have excited the admiration of his companions had they been awake. Their regular breathing, however, denoted that such was not the case, and he, too, after a decent interval, abandoned his unwonted environment for the land of mystery and enchantment which men call sleep.