Part 21

The pals went to sleep that night to dream about the El Dorado which, in their imagination, they had struck. The earliest dawn found them at the shaft's mouth. Harry tied several bushes to the end of the rope, and this was rapidly lowered and raised for about a couple of hours, the condition below being tested from time to time by a lighted candle placed in a bucket and lowered to the bottom. At last it remained alight, though it burned very feebly. About half an hour after this, the candle, on being sent below again, burned brightly.

"It's all right, now, boys! We've got rid of the gas, that's a blessing. Lower away!" In a few seconds Harry was filling the buckets with the broken rock and earth. In a short time it was all cleared up, and the leader had started to drive along the line of the vein. He had not cut in more than a couple of feet when he threw down the pick and shouted up the shaft, "Hurroar, boys! I've struck a patch. Be gosh, it looks like a pocket!"

The excitement above at this good news may be better imagined than described. The vein of wash-dirt suddenly expanded into a cube of about sixty buckets of auriferous earth. It was a genuine though small pocket. Whether rich or poor could be determined only by washing.

Harry filled a bucket with the dirt, which was speedily hauled up. The next minute he was pulled to the surface, and, spreading the stuff on the ground, examined it. To the great delight of the pals, he picked out several large specks and a small nugget, scaling about half an ounce.

"It's all right, mates!" cried the stockman, now almost as excited as the boys. "We've struck it rich, I do believe. Sandy, me boy, git your nag an' a packhorse, an' streak fur Jago's as fast as yer can git, an' borry a cradle. It'd take too long ter pan this stuff--must have a cradle. But, look 'ere, don't give the show away. Tell 'im I got a few specks from a bit o' stuff I came acrost, an' that I'm jist goin' ter give it a try. He'll most likely call me a big fool, an' don't yer conterdict 'im."

A cradle, it may be said, is a machine on rockers for washing the auriferous earth. The machine is fed with the wash-dirt, a stream of water being poured on while it is rocked like a child's cradle. The heavy sand and gravel, together with the precious metal, sink to the bottom and are retained by the "ridges," whilst the earth and all light matter pass away with the water. It is finally treated in a dish so skilfully that only the pure metal is left.

While Sandy is speeding off to Jago's the rest are busy picking the pocket and carrying it down to a flat by the side of the tiny stream which ran along the gully bottom. The work was hard, for the wash-dirt was heavy, and the buckets big; but they made fun of the hardships of bruised fingers and strained muscles, as they hauled the precious earth from the shaft mouth, and then humped it to the stream.

They had not quite finished their work ere Sandy reappeared upon the scene with the cradle. Very little grass had grown during the performance of his task.

Scarcely allowing themselves time to bolt down their midday meal, the party were grouped around the cradle, which Harry had fixed within a yard of the stream. The stockman soon made his dispositions of the forces. Joe and Tom are to lift the water and pour it on as required, while he and Sandy work the cradle. Denny is to feed the machine with the dirt.

So the work of "washing up" started. Every now and then Harry stopped the work and "cleaned up" the cradle--that is, took out the heavy golden sand which was caught in the cross-bars of the machine and emptied it in a bag, to be "panned" later. From time to time the party were gladdened by the sight of large specks, and now and then a tiny nugget of some grains' weight. The gold, for the most part, however, was fine. The work went on continuously till night closed in upon them. Though dreadfully tired, they reluctantly abandoned their work for the day, and after supper threw themselves upon their primitive beds and slept the sleep of the just.

"Be up betimes in the morning, boys," was Harry's last word.

The party had to thank a pair of laughing jackasses[#] for their early waking. Perched on the limb of a tree close to the tent, they began their morning orisons at the first paling of the stars, making such a cachinnation as to cause Tom to fly out from his bunk, crying in startled tones, "Dressin', dad; goin' for the cows this minute." While Denny was disturbed sufficiently to turn over on his side, saying in sleepy tones, "Jist repa-ate they swa-ate wurrds agin, Bridget me darlin'! an' sa-ay ye---- Howly Moses, 'tis th' owld Johnny-axes at their thricks!"

[#] Giant kingfisher.

In a few minutes the fire is burning briskly, and as soon as breakfast is demolished the lucky diggers make their way to the gully to start operations. The work was a repetition of yesterday's, and, according to Harry's calculation, they would be finished by noon if they stuck well to the job; bullock teams couldn't have drawn them from it.

After working for about an hour, Denny, who was shovelling the dirt, picked up a lump of rock, saying at the same time, "Oi'll pitch this awa-ay, annyways. It feels moighty heavy, though, for a sthone: 'tis as heavy as lead. Musha, but the sthones ar-re heavy hereabouts!"

"Hey, you fool! don't throw that away. Let's see it," cried Harry, seizing the piece of rock, which was about the size of the lad's head. "Why, great jumpin' Jehosaphat! it's a bloomin' nugget. You precious duffer! if you'd thrown that away I'd 'a' pitched you down the shaft."

The pals dropped their buckets and crowded round the leader as he held the lump with both hands.

"See 'ere, this white rock's quartz, an' all these yaller veins is gold. It isn't wot you'd call a pure nugget, but by the weight of it I guess there's a power of the yaller stuff inside. 'Ere, Tom, streak up ter the tent fur a tommy an' we'll soon see."

Furnished with the tomahawk, the stockman laid the quartz nugget on a flat stone that cropped out of the ground near by, and dealt vigorous blows upon it with the head of the weapon. In this way he crushed the quartz crystal sufficiently for them to see that the gold formed a mass in the centre.

"That's all we'll do at present; we'll crush it out properly in a mortar when we get home. Guess there's full twenty ounces o' gold in 'er."

There were no more such finds in the dirt, but the last few lots yielded a good deal of coarse gold, one piece weighing about four ounces.

By nightfall they had washed out the bagged ore. There it lay on a cloth before the fire, a little heap of pure gold, and beside it the quartz nugget, so to call it.

"Call me a frog-eater if there ain't full seventy ounces o' gold in that there lot--close on three 'undered pounds' worth!"

*CHAPTER XXXIII*

*BULLION AND BUSHRANGER*

"And if you doubt the tale I tell, Steer through the South Pacific swell, Go where the branching coral hives Unending strife of endless lives, Go where the rivers roll down through the sand Under skies that are blue in a golden land." KIPLING.

"Pull up a moment, chaps. I want ter say a word afore we strike Jago Smith's--we'll sight it over the next ridge. No blabbin' erbout the gold. The ole cove's sure ter arsk erbout our luck. You keep mum, an' leave me ter answer 'im. He's er good ernuff sort in hes way, is ole Jago, an' me an' 'im always got on well, as 'e sort er took a fancy ter me. All the same, 'im an' Ben Bolt is, or was great friends. That's why I steered clear o' the shootin the night we stayed there. 'E might 'a' cut up rusty, like. Many's the time 'e's planted the 'ranger when the p'lice 'as been 'ot on 'is trail. 'Twuddent s'prise me a bit if the kid that wus Ben's mate wus 'idin' somewheres erbout Jago's. 'E's several good plants. At any rate, there must be no blow. Bes' be on the safe side."

In a few minutes the party sighted the accommodation house at a distance of a quarter of a mile or so. They could see the old man in the front, talking to a man who held a horse by the bridle. Even as the party sighted the pair they were themselves seen. After a few hasty words with Jago the horseman threw his bridle over the steed's neck, vaulted to the saddle, and rode away briskly.

"By George, that 'ere cove's ridin' a good nag. See the style o' 'im! 'E's a beauty, 'e is; all muscle an' spirit. If ole Ben wusn't a goner, I'd say 'twas 'im on Samson; blamed if I wuddent."

The mounted band have approached the house by this time. The owner stood awaiting them by the hitching posts. Saluting them as they rode up, he jeered good-humouredly--

"I 'opes yer left a few specks fur them fossikers, gintilmin? 'Twud be too bad to scoop the pool an' leave the old uns nothin' but mullock heaps. At any rate, ye've brought back the tools--cradle an' all. Come now, 'ow did the stuff pan out?"

"I'll tell yer wot we did git, ole man, sore bones an' blistered 'ands. Blame me, but yer soon gits outer the diggin' business. Tried that bit o' stuff I come acrost, wot the kid tole yer erbout. Waal, speakin' in confidence, we didn't git ernuff ter hire a gold escort ter fetch it erlong. We did git a bit--ernuff ter make these young coves a breast-pin apiece. But let me tell yer, one of these days I'm comin' back ter have a good prospect. Keep it close, Smith; I don't want any of these blessed gully-rakers ter smell anythin'."

"Dark it is, young feller. Yer can trust me fer not givin' the show away. Comin' in?"

"No, we're makin' fer 'ome. Just tote the tools ter where youse got 'em, boys, an' then we'll be orf."

The lads speedily discharged, and were in the saddle again. The party was moving off when Harry said to Jago--

"Forgot ter arsk yer whether yer 'eered that Ben Bolt wus shot by Hennessey t'other day."

"Yes, I 'eered it," replied Smith dryly.

"Kid not collared yet?"

"You're more likely ter 'eer about 'im than me: so-long."

"Ole Jago's a deep un," soliloquised Harry as they rode along. "I forgot ter arsk 'im erbout the man we saw ridin' away as we came up," he remarked a few minutes later to Joe, who was riding at his side. "If that 'ere 'orse 'e wus ridin' warn't Samson, I'm a greenhorn."

"It might have been the young fellow that got away when Ben was shot. It struck me Jago was bluffin' you, Harry."

"My word, Harry," said Tom, riding up on the other side, "you bluffed ole Jago over the gold."

"Ain't so sure o' that," replied the stockman.

"No one could have done it better," broke in Joe. "You circumnavigated the truth."

"Don't know wot yer mean, my boy: unless it's somethin' in the circus line."

"Not exactly that," replied Joe laughingly; "but it reminds me of an epitaph I heard about, that was stuck on a fellow's tombstone--

HE TRIED HARD NOT TO BE A LIAR."

"Wot I said about tacklin' that ground's true ernuff, anyways," replied the stockman, with a smile. "But erbout this gold: we'll go shares, o' course. We'll divide it up inter five equal lots when we get to Bullaroi."

"No; that's not fair, Harry," said Sandy. "We must have a fair division."

"Well, wot yer call a fair division, if that's not one?" said the man shortly.

"If it was left to me to decide, I would give you half, to start with. It was your show. You did most of the work. We were more like wages men; so at the very least you should get half. Then I'd divide the other half among the rest of us in equal shares."

"Sandy's right," broke in Joe. "As far as I'm concerned, Harry'll have the lot. I'd like him to take my whack, anyway, because----"

"No, yer don't, Joe. I know wot yer goin' ter say. Think I'm mean ernuff ter take pay fer shootin' a jolly shark?"

"Oh--I--didn't--mean--it--just----"

"Joe meant it as a mark of gratitude, Harry. I think my way's best. Whatcher say?"

"Agreed!" chorus the four.

"Joe, me mahn," said Denny a little while later, as he and Blain were riding together, "cud ye tell me phwat me quarter ov a half ov th' gowld'll come to?"

"Lemme see, seventy ounces; half o' that, thirty-five; quarter of thirty-five is eight an' three-quarter ounces: yes, your share is eight an' three-quarters, Denny."

"Give it in pounds, plaase, Joe."

"Pounds! Oh, I say, you've got me there. Well, let's see. What was it Harry said they'd give us per ounce at the bank?"

"Three sivinteen an' a tanner, Joe, me bhoy. Oi tuk note ov that."

"Yes, that was the price, I 'member. Eight and three-quarter times three seventeen six--er--lemme see, that'd be--eight threes twenty-four, twen--bother it, I mean eight times seventeen an' six, that's a hundred an' ninety--no, _that's_ not it. Let me put it down in me mind--one, seven, six; that's right! Well, multiply it by eight, an' leave the quarters out for a bit. That's--why, it's three hundred an'--no, it can't be that much, surely? Bust it, if I only had a pencil an' a bit o' paper I'd soon tot it up. Try again. Eight into seventeen and six is---- Blest if it isn't an interest sum, after all, Denny; an' they always sew me up."

"It's th' troth, Joe; it's th' most interastin' sum Oi iver heerd tell iv. Thry it agin, Marsther Joe; doan't let a little sum loike that ba-ate ye. 'Twas two hondered pounds ye said larrst. Make her go a little higher if yes can."

"What! two hundred pounds! Murder! 'tis shillin's I was reckoning."

"O-o-h!" exclaimed Denny, with a profound sigh. "Awaay goes me bright dra-ames! Sure, thin, 'twas buyin' th' owld family carr-sthle Oi was thinking ov, an makin' melyinaares o' me dear payrunts; maybe the Quaan wud be makin' me farther Lord Kineavy!"

"Well, you are a cure, Denny. You'll have me addressin' you as the Honourable Dennis next. Oh, I say, didn't Harry say he wouldn't be surprised if the gold fetched four pounds an ounce, it was so rich? Well, let's reckon it at four quid. Eight fours are thirty-two--that's thirty-two pounds. The three-quarters of four pounds is three. Thirty-two and three are thirty-five; thirty-five pounds. There you are, ole boss, thirty-five."

"Thirty-foive pounds! Begorrah! it's a bloomin' capertillist Oi am! Whoi, glory be! it'll do betther thin buyin' a rotten owld sthone carr-sthle made ov brick an' thatch; it'll pay for bringin' out me payrunts in th' emigrr-ashon ship. Be Saints Pathrick an' Michael, 'tis a happy bhoy Oi am at this moment! Phwat wid me savin's, an' Norah's, an' this haape ov gowld, Oi'll buy thim th' best cabin on th' boat, and so Oi will!"

In due time the party arrived at the junction of the roads, and crossed the ridge to the cave entrance. After placing their horses in the patch of scrub near the road, they scrambled up to the opening. Lighting the candle, Sandy led the way to the forage chamber, where the fish was stored.

"You don't feel so creepy, Denny, as when you were here last," said Tom to the Irish "boy, as they followed the others into the chamber.

"It's thrue for ye, Tom. Owld Ben's not thrubblin' me to-da-ay. 'Tis only thinkin' ov me dear farther an' mauther comin' out on th' sa-ay Oi am. As for th' 'ranger, he's as dead an' dhry by this toime as the smoked fish yonder."

"Is he?" cried a loud voice from the rear.

"Howly Moses! 'tis th' 'ranger's ghost," cried the Irish boy, as a bull's-eye flashed in his face, dazzling his eyes and confusing his mind. Terror-possessed by this ghostly manifestation--for he saw naught but a bright light, preceded by an awful voice--the boy bolted. He rushed towards the chamber exit, which he barely reached ere the sharp crack of a revolver sounded, what time the panic-stricken youth staggered forward, falling with a dull thud upon the stone floor.

It need hardly be said that the other members of the group were startled out of speech and action. Not ten seconds elapsed between the cry of the man or ghost and the tragedy of the revolver shot and the fallen boy.

The moment the boy fell the others ran towards him, but before they had taken three steps the light flashed on them and a revolver covered them. Behind the lantern came a voice that more than the lantern, or even pistol, cowed them: "_Stop! Hands up!_"

*[Illustration: Behind the lantern came a voice that more than the lantern, or even pistol, cowed them: "*_*Stop! Hands up!*_*" (missing from book)]*

For the second time the hands of the boys went up at command. One thing was made quite clear, at any rate: this was no ghostly visitant. Ghosts didn't carry revolvers, nor was there long any mystery about this personage.

"That young cove reckoned I was dead and dry as your smoked schnapper, did he? The young fool'll smoke and dry fast enough in the place I've sent him to. You infernal asses to come here! But you'll never live to tell any one; make up your minds to that."

It was in truth the bushranger himself. Of that there could be no doubt. The news of his death was either a make-up or a gross exaggeration. Here he stood, in the flesh, in one of his most dangerous moods. A black fit was on him. Under its influence he was capable of almost any atrocity. The lads were horror-stricken. There, before them, lay the body of their comrade, the gay, witty, affectionate Denny, who but a few moments ago was in the seventh heaven of delight at the thought of bringing out his parents with the proceeds of his share of the gold; and now--it was too awful!

"Look 'ere, Ben Bolt!" exclaimed Harry, after a few seconds' silence, "you've shot an innercent boy in cold blood. You've grossly belied your reputation that you never laid a hand on woman or child. We came here with no thought of spyin' upon yer, for we believed yer to be dead. In five minits we wud 'ave gone away with our fish, none the wiser for your presence. You've not the slightest justerfication fer takin' that life, an' if yer shoots me the next minit fer it, I tell yer to yer face ye're a blaggard an' coward, an' the pity is that the news of yer bein' shot wasn't true."

Why Harry was not shot off-hand, it were hard to say. The bushranger was convulsed with rage: thrice he levelled his revolver at the brave man, and as often lowered it. At last, with a voice hoarse with passion, he said, "I'll send you along the road I've driven your mate, curse you! You think you're very game, but I'll take all that out of you before I've done with you. You'll be longing for your end hours before it comes....

"Here, boy," continued he, pointing to Tom. "Take that green-hide and tie your mates as I tell you. Look sharp, or I'll lay you alongside your mate yonder."

Thus dragooned, Tom securely tied his mates' hands behind their backs. As soon as this was accomplished, the outlaw, sticking his revolver in his belt, served Tom in the same way, and in addition trussed each victim. Having set them in a row like a group, of mummies, he addressed them--

"You'll lie here for the present. I'll deal with you later. I've got a little job to do first. That fool Hennessey's coming out this way with a couple of troopers to trap me. 'Twasn't enough that he winged my mate, he's sworn to have me inside of the week. And I swear that I'll have him inside of six hours. I'm going out now to have a look round. If you coves try any of your tricks, I'll make hell for you. I shan't be far off, you may bet."

So saying, the outlaw went out into the chamber where his horse was stabled, and led him along the passage to the cave entrance.

"I say, Harry, it was Ben Bolt that we saw at ole Jago's this mornin'."

"True. I cud 'ave taken me oath a'most that the 'orse wus Samson, but I didn't git a fair view of the bloke's face. Yes, 'twor Ben that we saw. He must 'a' got 'is information erbout Hennessey from the ole man. It's wunnerful 'ow they does git the news. I 'ope 'e don't git er charnse ter draw er bead on Hennessey. He'll 'ave ter be mighty smart ter do it. But, dear! dear! on'y ter think of poor Denny lyin' over there--dead! I wish ter 'evven 'e'd 'a' shot me instead. Wot'll your father an' mother say, Sandy? Poor Norah, too! It'll be the killin' of 'er."

"Whisht, boys, spaake low: Oi'm not kilt ontoirely; only knocked spaachless. Oi'm betther nor tin dead Chinymen yit."

It was the sweetest sound that ever ravished the ears of the boys. Here was the blissful fact--Denny was not dead; was very much alive. If the lads did not immediately cry out with joy it was because their joy was too deep for utterance.

"Don't spaake or sthir awhoile till Oi see if th' coast's clear."

Rising quietly to his feet, the Irish boy stole along the corridor that led to the mouth of the cave. After a hasty but keen survey of the immediate neighbourhood, he returned to his companions, knife in hand, and in a few minutes had freed them.

"And are you not wounded, Denny? We never dreamed but that the villain had shot you dead. You lay just like a corpse. He was under that impression too, or he'd never have left you."

"Yez see 'twas this way: Oi was fair flabbergasted whin th' blazin' light dazzled me oiyes. Oi made shure 'twas th' 'ranger's ghost. Oi wud 'a' stood, but me ligs wuddn't. They sthreaked off loike a paddy-melon goes for a hole in th' fince--carryin' me body wid thim. Th' firsht thing Oi felt was a rock sthrikin' me fut, an' thin, begorra, somethin' whistled past me ear as Oi tumbled forrard, hittin' th' flure a nasty crack wid me head. Th' nixt thing Oi heard was owld Harry tongue-bangin' th' rapscallion ov a murtherer fur killin' me. 'Be jabers!' ses Oi to meself, 'he's kilt me ontoirely wid a shot from hes pisthol, if phwat me bowld frind ses be th' thruth. Go it, me brave bhoy! Tare an' ouns, but ye're givin' him th' coward's blow in foine style!'

"Thin Oi sees him rope yez up loike dhrapery parr-sels, an', ses Oi, 'Jist wait till yez is gone, me hairr-y breasted sna-ake!' an' wid that Oi comes to me ray-son an' knows that Oi was not dead at all, at all. Oi was jist goin' to git up an' give him a bit iv me tongue, whin the thought comes--'Lie still, ye gossoon, till he goes an' ye can liberaate yer mates!' So now we'll be even wid th' omadhaun."

"The quicker we're outer this the better!" exclaimed Harry, as soon as he was released. "There's no knowin' when the 'ranger'll return; if 'e finds us loose, 'e'll shoot us to a cert. What a pity we left our guns with the 'orses! 'Ope 'e won't find 'em. It'll be risky goin' out, as we don't know where the feller is. 'E may be close by watchin' the 'ole. The bes' thing'll be for us ter make a dash ter the scrub as soon as we're outer the cave."

"There's a much safer way than that," said Sandy. "We'll go out the way we came in when we first discovered this place. Lucky we brought a candle with us. Come along; every moment is precious."

So saying, Sandy strode in advance, the others following closely at his heels. The party soon hit upon the passage leading to the cave opening on the other side of the ridge. In twenty minutes or so they were in the open.

Their first act was to plunge into the thick bush. This shielded them from ordinary observation. After a short confab, they concluded that the wisest thing to do was to creep along in the thickest part, in the direction of the horses. They had hardly started when the sharp crack of a rifle broke upon their ears. Stopping short, they listened eagerly; with beating hearts, it must be confessed. Again and again, shots were fired; at last they heard the pounding of hoofs, rapidly nearing them.

"'Ssh--don't move--they're on the hard road," said Harry to the nervously excited youths.