Part 42 (1/2)

Without exception, at the word ”gold” all stopped in what they were doing and stared down through the clear water at their feet with eager dilated eyes, while to Brace it appeared as if each hearer held his breath in the excitement which had chained him motionless there.

Briscoe's eyes flashed a meaning look at Brace, who glanced at him, and then he cried: ”Yes; that's what I was thinking, skipper. S'pose we have a try?”

”All right, do,” said the captain good-humouredly. ”But never you mind, my lads: get the things ash.o.r.e. You, Dellow, take a rifle and have a look-out for squalls--Injuns, I mean. Not that there's much likelihood, for there's no cover for the enemy here. Now, then; what are you all staring at? Are you struck comic? Never heard the word 'gold' before?”

The men all started as if they had been rudely awakened from sleep, and began to carry the necessaries ash.o.r.e, while Brace turned to the American, who was busy at the locker, from which he was getting out a couple of the shallow galvanised-iron wash-bowls they used.

”Cast loose that shovel from under the thwart, Brace, my lad,” he said.

”I say, sure there are none of those little flippers about?”

”Oh, yes, I'm sure,” cried Brace, laughing. ”We should have known if there were before now.”

”That's right,” said Briscoe, stepping overboard, ”for I don't feel as if I wanted bleeding.”

”Are you going to try for gold?” asked Sir Humphrey.

”That was what I thought of doing,” said the American, ”for the place looks so likely. Gravelly sandy shallow in a great river which runs down from the mountains.”

”Oh, you won't find any gold here,” said Lynton, smiling.

”I don't know,” said Sir Humphrey. ”Try; the place looks very likely.”

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

THE YELLOW METAL.

The men had landed and made fast the boat, and were now gathering wood for a fire, as Brace and the American stepped to the shallowest part they could find, where the stream ran swiftly, was.h.i.+ng the stones so that they glittered and shone in the bright suns.h.i.+ne.

”Suppose we try here,” said Briscoe, rolling up his sleeves and making use of the shovel they had brought to sc.r.a.pe away some of the larger pebbles. ”Now then, there, hold the bowls, or they'll be floating away.”

Brace thrust them down under the water, and Briscoe placed a shovelful of gravelly sand in one, balancing it so that it was level on the bottom of the bowl.

”I say, we did not come up here to begin gold-hunting,” said Brace reproachfully.

”No, of course not. Ours is a naturalists' trip, and this is testing the mineralogy of the district,” said Briscoe, with a peculiar smile.

_Plosh_! Another shovelful of gravelly sand was raised and placed in the second bowl. Then the shovel was driven in, to stand upright.

”Now,” cried Briscoe, ”wash away.”

”Like this?” said Brace, shaking the bowl, as he began to feel a peculiar interest in the proceedings.

”No,” said the American: ”like this.” And, stooping down and holding his bowl just under water, he gave it a few dexterous twists which brought all the bigger stones and pieces to one side, so that he could sweep them off with his hand into the river again.

”I say, you've done this sort of thing pretty often before,” cried Brace.

”Yes, a few times,” said Briscoe, laughing. ”Up in the north-west in canon and gulch, with the Indians waiting for one. Come, go ahead; there are no Indians here.”

”There don't seem to be,” said Brace, imitating his companion's acts and was.h.i.+ng away till nothing was left in the bottom of the two bowls but half a handful of fine sand.