Percy at once arose, threw out the remnant of water, and walked straight back to the creek, while I interposed my body between him and Squeaky as best I could. He soon returned, and walking up to the camp-fire without looking at me set down the bucket; but I observed that his right coat-sleeve was soaked, and as the corner of one pocket showed a wet stain I felt pretty sure that he had the nugget safely in that pocket.
Anxious as we were to get together in order that we might talk over this surprising find, we had no opportunity just then, and events followed each other so quickly immediately afterwards that, impossible though it may seem, we actually forgot all about the nugget until several days later.
It will naturally be supposed that any events which could make us forget so notable an occurrence as the discovery of gold after all our fruitless searching must be events of some importance, and that they were so I shall, I believe, be able soon to show.
Breakfast was no sooner over than Squeaky, turning to us, said:
“Boys, I’m going for a bit of a ride this morning up to the hog-back. I want to see that your friend hasn’t taken a notion to follow us. My pardner, here, will stand guard over you while I’m gone.”
Here was news! Here was the head jailer about to give us the very opportunity we had been hoping for! I was afraid to look at my fellow-prisoner for fear I should be unable to restrain my inclination to wink at him. My exultation, however, was short-lived, for Squeaky went on:
“But he’s a tender-hearted sort of chap, is my pardner, and he might make some bones about shooting you if you tried to get away, so I’m afraid I’ll have to tie you up for a couple of hours. You’re valuable property, you see—and I can’t afford to lose you.”
This announcement was not so pleasant. I wondered if Squeaky could possibly have overheard us speaking of our chances of escape if he should leave us in charge of Bates. Probably not. It is more likely that his natural acuteness led him to suspect that we might make the attempt if only he himself were out of the way. This time, though, he was not quite sharp enough. My quick-witted chum very cleverly stole a march on him.
I was on my knees at the time, washing up; Percy was kneeling beside me drying the things with our own private dish-rag; while Bates stood a little distance off saddling a horse—not the same horse, I noticed, that Squeaky had ridden the day before. Percy also noted this fact, and, with a presence of mind I have never ceased to admire, he took instant advantage of it. Nodding his head toward Bates he remarked in a casual manner:
“Isn’t he saddling the wrong horse?”