As he spoke he stepped over to the spot and looked down into the hole. To my great surprise he fell upon his knees, tucked up his sleeve, and plunged his hand into the water.
“Look here!” he exclaimed, holding out a yellow lump in his dripping fingers.
My imaginary goose had laid another egg; an egg three times as big as the last one too.
We were nonplussed this time. If the presence of gold in the pot-holes had been a puzzle to us before, what were we to think of the conjuring trick that Nature had played upon us now? Without a word—for, indeed, we had nothing to say—we hurried back to the cabin, outside which was Jack, busy chopping wood. To him Percy held out his hand just as he had done to me.
“Well, Percy,” cried the wood-chopper, straightening his back and stretching himself, “what have you found this time?”
“This,” replied Percy, briefly.
Jack dropped the axe and took the nugget.
“Where did it come from?” he asked, opening his eyes wide.
Percy told him.
“What!” he exclaimed. “You found it in the same pot-hole that we cleaned out a month ago? Well, that is the most astonishing thing I ever heard of. Where can it have come from?”