Johnny laughed excitedly, and turned back to thump me again.
“How did you guess what it was?” I asked.
“Didn’t. Just blundered on it.”
“What!” I yelled. “Have you struck it, too?”
“First shovel,” said Johnny. “But you don’t mean─”
I thrust my three nuggets under his eyes.
“Say,” broke in Buck Barry, “if you fellows know where the whiskey is, hide it, and hide it quick. If I see it, I’ll get drunk!”
Yank and McNally at this moment strolled from around the bushes. We all burst out on them.
“See your fool nuggets and ‘colour,’ and raise you this,” drawled Yank, and he hauled from his pocket the very largest chunk of virgin gold it has ever been my good fortune to behold. It was irregular in shape, pitted and scored, shaped a good deal like an egg, and nearly its size. One pound and a tiny fraction that great nugget balanced–when we got around to weighing it. And then to crown the glorious day which the gods were brimming for us, came Don Gaspar and Vasquez, trailed by that long and saturnine individual, Missouri Jones. The Spaniards were outwardly calm, but their eyes snapped. As soon as they saw us they waved their hats.
“Ah! also you have found the gold!” cried Don Gaspar, 215 sensing immediately the significance of our presence. “We, too. It is of good colour; there above by the bend.” His eye widened as he saw what Yank held. “Madre de dios!” he murmured.