The result was the same, however. They got black sand, but not a speck of gold could they see, even with the aid of the magnifying-glass which Jack produced from his pocket.
“Well,” said he, “then I suppose that is all the gold we are going to get out of the creek, so let us go ahead and try the soil on the banks to see if the vein it comes from is on this side or that, or from the mountain which supplies the creek itself.”
Percy was about to assent to this proposal, when a sudden chill in the atmosphere caused them both to look up. The sun was going down.
“Why, just look at the sun!” Percy exclaimed. “I’d no idea it was so late.”
“Neither had I,” responded Jack. “We’ve been so busy that I forgot all about the time. Come, let us get back to camp.”
“Poor old Tom!” said my chum, remorsefully. “There he has been, perched up in his sentry-box all day, and not a scrap of dinner has he had. He’ll think we’ve forgotten him.”
“If he does, he’ll be right,” said Jack, laughing. “Poor old chap, though, I’m sorry. Here, Percy, I’ll carry the things; you run on and let him out.”
I did think they had forgotten me, I confess. All day long I had stood, or sat, at my post, with nothing to do but whistle and talk to Ulysses. Noontime came, but no dinner. Should I run down to the camp and get something to eat? No, I shouldn’t. I was here to keep watch, dinner or no dinner, and watch I would keep if I got none for a week. There was one way, I knew, by which I could make my companions come flying to my relief, namely, by firing my rifle; but that, I thought, would not be fair; it would alarm them unnecessarily. I remembered, besides, the fable of the shepherd boy who called “wolf” when there was no wolf. No; I must stick it out. And stick it out I did, though such a long, tedious day I never spent before.
But when Percy came running up the gully, and, clambering into the fort, with one breath apologized for forgetting me, and in the next told me how it happened, I forgave them. And when, going down to the camp, I saw the little heap of gold in the tin plate, I forgave them still more. I did not wonder that they had forgotten me for I should certainly have done the same by them.
“What do you suppose it is worth, Jack?” I asked, as I stirred up the wet and shining heap with my finger. “Thirty or forty dollars?”