“I did try, sir, to come back, but I missed my road, and made many fruitful efforts to regain my lost track. At last, after I’d tried, and tried, and tried again, I gave up in despair, and I should have perished in the scowling wilderness if I hadn’t met with a party going to the diggings. Then the thought crossed my mind, ‘I’ll go and dig for gold; if I succeed, I’ll show my dear master that I’m no slave to Mammoth, but I’ll lay down my spoils at his feet; and if I fail, I cannot help it.’ Well, sir, I went and dug with a good will. I prospered. I came back to look for my dear master, but I could not find him—he was evacuated. At last I heard that you were going to England, Mr Frank, and I said to myself; ‘I’ll go too. I’ll pay my own passage. I’ll be the dear young master’s devoted servant, and he shall see by my unwearied intentions that I never really could have meant to do him wrong.’”
“And do you really think me such a fool as to believe all this?” asked Frank contemptuously.
“Yes, sir; I do hope you will, sir,” was the reply of Juniper. “There, sir,” he added, “I’ll give you the best proof that I’m not the rogue you took me for. Please, sir, to read what’s on that packet, and then open it.”
Frank took from his hands a heavy parcel, on which was clearly written, “F Oldfield, Esquire; from Juniper Graves.” He opened it. It contained six ten-pound notes and a leather bag full of nuggets.
“There, sir,” said Juniper, triumphantly, “you can tell that this is no got-up thing. I’ve had no time to write these words on the paper since you collared me. I’ve carried it about just as it is for weeks, as you may plainly see by looking at the cover of it, till I could give it into your own hands.”
It was clear, certainly, that the paper had been folded and directed some considerable time back, as was manifest from the marks of wear and rubbing which it exhibited. Frank was staggered.
“Really, Juniper,” he said, “I don’t know what to think, I can’t deny that this packet has been made up for me before our present meeting, and it has all the appearance of having been some considerable time just as it now is. It certainly looks as if you didn’t mean to rob me, as you’ve paid me, I should think, nearly double what you took. Of course, I don’t want that. I shall not take more than my fifty pounds.”
“Oh, sir, do take the rest, as some amends for the anxiety I’ve caused you by my foolish act, in taking charge of your money in the way I did without your knowledge or permission. It was wrong, and I oughtn’t to have done it; but I meant it for the best. And oh, dear master, do think the best of me. I never did mean to harm you; and I’m ready to go with you now from the Pole to the Antipathies.”
“No, Juniper, I shall only take my own,” said his master; and he restored him one of the ten-pound notes and the nuggets, which Juniper accepted with apparent reluctance.
“So far,” said Frank Oldfield, “let bygones be bygones. I trust that you’ll not make any more such awkward mistakes.”