Page:Once a Week Jun to Dec 1864.pdf/78

 Rh pick. Every now and then James Burlow came to load his barrow with the selected soil, or to help clear the hole of what was manifestly useless. The hole was sunk, in its deepest part, more than thirteen feet, when it became apparent that the seam of pipeclay was failing. Philip having cleared right through the seam at one end of the claim, turned and began working with his pick at the other. He had plunged it so often into the sticky soil with the same unvarying amount of resistance, and the same dull thud, that he was continuing the action almost mechanically and in an abstracted mood. One, two, three, and then he wrenched the end of the pick from the clay after a somewhat deeper stroke. Again, one—but the next blow sent a thrill through him, for the point struck, not deeply, but against a hard, firm substance. What was this? He knelt upon the wet detached pieces of clay and tore at the place with his hands. He felt, as he cleared it, a rounded point. He took off his cap and held his head sideways, to let the light shine against it, and he saw the score of the iron in a bright line on the pure gold. He had then found a large nugget. At the sight he felt his face flush and burn under the eyes. He rose, by an uncontrollable impulse of joy, thirsting, so to speak, to communicate the news of his prize; and he placed one foot on the rough side of the hole, by which he could ascend. But he went no further. What was he leaving? He was weak and foolish. Why not dig it out? He knelt again and put his hand on the gold, and forced his fingers round it. He then took his knife, opened it, cut away the clay, and cleared it from around the gold with frenzied eagerness. He essayed to move it, and prize it out with his knife. He thrust his fingers round it, and he felt the edges broadening inwards, and it resisted him as firmly as a rock. The conviction flashed upon him that it was a firm rock of gold,—the reality of his speculations,—and his hand fell from it. He sank back upon the little heap of clay behind him, and leant for support against the side of the hole, while a cold faintness crept over him; and he gazed up helplessly at the hot day above him, as one might look from the depths of a grave. At this moment James Burlow looked over the edge of the hole. Philip felt his face flush again, and said, in a husky voice, "Come down here?"

"Why, what's the matter now, Phil? Are you ill?" said Burlow, as he got down into the hole.

"No, no; but I have found gold—the gold—there," said Philip, thrusting himself nervously against Burlow, who had in a moment knelt down to examine it with an unerring instinct.

James Burlow paused for a moment, breathing hard, with his hand on the projecting mass, which stood out three or four inches from the clay in the recess which Philip had hollowed out. He then took up the knife, cleared a little more, probed it further where Philip pointed out the widening surface, and hastily took up a bit of the wet clay and dabbed it on the spot, covering the gold up again.

"We must be careful of this, and not let it be known; stay here quiet a minute while I prospect." And in a moment he was out of the hole, and Philip lost sight of him, as Burlow gazed cautiously, and with apparent carelessness, around. He looked for a minute; then, as it seemed mechanically, took up his spade, put it into the barrow, moved the barrow a little nearer to the edge as though to load it again, and, taking the spade, got down into the hole.

"The coast seems pretty clear. Now listen to me, Phil. We two must dig this out quietly and quickly. Stop. I know what you are going to say,—you think it is an endless mass. We must prove it, if it is; but, above everything, we must be self-possessed now. If this should be a big lump, and it gets known we've found it, it will make a panic here. We're out far up here, recollect, and have to protect ourselves. We should be murdered for it; and, besides, if we get this out safe we may find more, which we can never do if this gets known. Take a drop of brandy now, and keep yourself quiet. Don't let your spirits get too high, or your expectations too great; and, whatever we do, don't let us betray any difference in behaviour."

James Burlow spoke without a falter in his voice. He was a very strong and discreet man; but his chest heaved, notwithstanding, and his eye sparkled, as though the anxious spirit within were strongly bound, but struggling to get free. Philip had regained enough of his self-possession, and they set to work Rapidly and dexterously Burlow excavated a large space in the side of the hole above the gold, and then began to uncover the mass. Philip worked on one side of it, and for some time not a word was spoken. They had uncovered more than a foot of the clear, pure slab of metal, when Burlow paused and took off his cap, and as he did so his hand trembled. Philip looked up and saw that he was pale, and the perspiration standing thickly in beads upon his forehead, and dripping from the hair by his ears. He wiped his face and said, in a curiously quiet tone, "If this should be as you thought, Phil, a great system of it, it may