Old Gold Part 43

"Absurd!" said Brace.

"Oh, no, it isn't. That's good gold, and if properly treated the sand and gravel are rich enough to pay well."

"When I go gold-was.h.i.+ng I shall want to be where you can find nuggets and scales in plenty," said Brace.

"Ah, so I suppose," replied Briscoe. "You wouldn't be content with a quartz reef with nothing in it visible, but which when powdered up and treated gave a couple of ounces of pure gold for every ton of rock that was broken out and crushed, would you?"

"Certainly not," replied Brace.

"Plenty make fortunes out of it, though, on such terms, and don't turn up their noses at a reef if they can get one ounce of it of a ton. This riverbed's rich, Sir Humphrey, and ready for explorers and prospectors.

But let's try that sand-bank yonder, farther out."

The trio had to wade through a channel knee-deep to get to the long sand-spit, for the most part bare, but over a part of which an inch or two of clear water trickled.

Here the same process was gone through over and over again, with the result that when some shovelfuls of sand had been obtained from about two feet below the surface, the was.h.i.+ngs were rich enough to show glittering specks in the suns.h.i.+ne, while out of his own pan Brace picked a dozen thick scales of a rich dull yellow--the peculiar yellow of pure gold. He showed them to Briscoe, who nodded and said:

"You have struck it pretty rich."

"But how do I know that this isn't that what-you-may-call-it that's nearly all sulphur--that pretty yellow ore of iron?"

"Iron pyrites?" said the American: "by trying it with the edge of your knife."

"How?"

"Like this," said Briscoe, picking up a flat water-worn pebble and, drawing his keen sheath-knife, he took the thickest scale in Brace's pan out of the sand, to place it upon the smooth surface. "Now," he said, handing this and the knife to the young man, "try and cut that scale in two."

Brace tried, and by exercising a little pressure he cut through the yellow scale almost as easily as if it had been lead.

"There," said the young man half-contemptuously, "what does that prove?"

"That it is pure gold," replied Briscoe.

"But all is not gold that glitters," said Sir Humphrey, laughing.

"Not by a long way," said Briscoe; "but that is metal?"

"Certainly."

"It is yellow?"

"Yes," said Sir Humphrey.

"Then it is gold."

"Why isn't it iron pyrites--the salt of iron and sulphur?"

"Because if it had been it would have broken up into little bits: you could have ground it into dust."

"So you could this," said Brace.

"Impossible. You could beat it out into a thin sheet which you could blow away. That's gold, sir. I had two years' prospecting for metals and precious stones up in the Rockies, with a first-cla.s.s mineralogist, and, without bragging, I think I know what I'm saying. This river's full of rich metallic gold, I'm sure of that."

"I daresay you are," said Sir Humphrey: "only if this sand-spit is ten times as rich in gold I'm not going to stay here any longer. We shall be eaten up."

"Yes," said Brace, "the little wretches! They're almost as bad as the tiny fish."

"What, these sand-flies?" said Briscoe, slapping his face and arms.

"Yes, they are a pretty good nuisance. Let's get ash.o.r.e towards the fire--the smoke will soon make them drift."

"Well, I've learned something about gold to-day," said Brace, as they picked their way back through the shallows to the bank of the river; "but oughtn't we to mark this place down so that it should be ready for the next gold-seekers?"

"It wants no marking down," replied Briscoe: "the place will tell its own tale to anyone hunting for it."

And he tossed the sand out of the pans, gave them a rinse, and stepped ash.o.r.e.

In another hour the excellent meal prepared by Dan had been enjoyed, and the regular preparations were made for pa.s.sing the night on board; but in a very short time everyone had come to the conclusion that it would be impossible to sleep in the neighbourhood of the sand-spits, on account of the myriads of tiny sandflies, whose poisonous bites were raising itching b.u.mps and threatening to close the eyes of all who were exposed to them.

"It's getting too late to drift down the river a little way," said Lynton, "and, besides, it wouldn't be safe."

"And we should only be getting out of Scylla into Charybdis," said Sir Humphrey.

"I should like to be buried in sand up to my nose," cried Brace, whose face was getting terribly swelled.

"Strikes me," said Briscoe, "that we'd better go ash.o.r.e and sleep there after making up a good smother on the fire with green stuff that will smoke well. There's plenty about."

This was agreed to unanimously after an announcement from the mate that, if they were to spend the night ash.o.r.e, a proper watch would have to be set and kept.

After the necessary preparations had been made in the dry, slightly-raised clearing in the middle of which the fire had been lighted, the party covered themselves with their blankets and rejoiced in the success of the plan, for the smoke rose and in the moist night air hung low, spreading itself out in a thin layer a few feet from the ground; and beneath this canopy the weary party lay down to sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

THE CREW DOWN WITH THE GOLDEN FIT.

The gold had got into Brace's head so much that, though he fell off fast asleep directly, it was only to begin dreaming of the sand and gravel beneath the swiftly-flowing shallow water, the ruddy pebbles seeming to change when he turned them over with his foot as he stood ankle-deep, for they grew yellower and glistened, till upon stooping to pick one up he saw that all he had supposed to be stones were really nuggets of gold.

He was about to stoop and pick up all he could gather, when he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his right ankle, and to his horror found that a tremendous shoal of the tiny carnivorous fish had come up the river, dimming the clear water like a cloud of silvery mud, and with a sharp cry he turned to escape to sh.o.r.e, and awoke.

But the pain in his ankle was no dream, for it stung sharply, and, sitting up, he drew up his foot, to find that he had been bitten by some insect.

His first thought was to rise and plunge the bitten place in the cool fresh water, and, creeping cautiously away so as not to awaken the rest, he had nearly reached the water-side when he was brought up short by a low whispering away towards where a tree stood alone.

His blood seemed to turn cold, for the thought came that a party of Indians had been attracted by the fire, and that this, their first night pa.s.sed ash.o.r.e, was to prove a fatal mistake.

But his common-sense soon told him that savages bent upon a night attack would never betray themselves by whispering loudly together in eager discussion, while directly after his nose became as fully aware of something being on the way as his ears.

Brace began to sniff.