“Just loaded down with the yellow beauty,” he exclaimed. “Come down and see the jade. She’s led me many a fine caper from the old sod, up here among the kangaroos and the wallaby and the bears wid no tails and the dirty hathen nagers, but I’ve got her down in the gully, and it will be sailing away to the blessed shores of St. Patrick that Teddy O’Flynn will be, with a mighty big O.”
“Come with me this blessed minute.”
We hurried down to the gully. Once on the spot we saw that Teddy was original in his mining. He had cut a series of short trenches which grew deeper and finally terminated in an irregular hole, into which we all crowded, though unable to stand upright, so low was the pit. Teddy lit a candle and pointing to the pick said to Phalin, “dig, dig,” then he gave me the shovel. The ground was very hard, of a dull yellow color and interspersed with small grey, broken quartz crystals. We filled a wash-tub which Teddy deftly lifted to his head and balanced with his hands, then marched out and up to the cabin. In the kitchen we began to pan out the contents of the tub with the aid of some water and a tin wash-dish. Teddy stood aloof leaving Phalin and McLeod to do the work. The earth was literally full of coarse gold. In all of our experience at Ballarat and Bendigo we had never seen its equal.
“I want yez gintlemen to float a Company,” said O’Flynn.
“What shall we call it?”
“The Saint Patrick.”
“No,” said Rosa, “I dreamed it out and I must name it.”
“What shall it be?”
“Call it the Garden Gully.”
Then and there it was christened and baptised in the wash-tub.