CHAPTER LXI.
THE RESULT OF GROWING RICH TOO RAPIDLY.
My officious friend lifted the nugget from the bucket and laid it before me, and for a few minutes I gloated over and passed my hand over its unequal surface, and weighed it in my imagination until I was roused from my reverie by those in the shaft.
"Send down the bucket, so that we can get up," shouted Fred; "we don't want to stop here all night!"
I hurried to relieve my friend, and by the time that he was safe out of the shaft, and the bucket had re-descended for Mike, I was comparatively calm.
Fred and myself shook hands over our prize, and then lifted it, and sought to form some idea of its weight, in which we were aided by the official of the law.
"It will weigh forty pounds," cried Fred, after a moment's handling.
"More than that, sirs," answered the policeman, with a dogmatical air that was charming to us, because every additional ounce made us richer.
"I've seen a few nuggets since I've been stationed here, and I had oughter know about such things," he continued, turning our prize over and over, and scrutinizing it with the air of a connoisseur. "Do you see, there's not an ounce of quartz stuck to the whole piece, and gold is awful heavy when it comes in the lump style."
We assented to his remarks without a word of opposition. We could have listened to him for hours, it seemed so good to have him extol, instead of depreciate, the nugget.