' Harry was fumbling with the gravel in the hopper.
He was conscious that his replies were foolish and trivial, but for the
life of him he could do no better.
She waited a few moments, then bade him good morning and went across the
creek and away amongst the trees beyond; and Harry, resting upon the
handle of his cradle, watched her, absorbed, a prey to a set of new
emotions that bewildered him hopelessly. He was still in this position
when Chris looked back from the hill, and half an hour later Dick Haddon
found him day-dreaming amongst the tailings.
Day-dreams were not possible in the vicinity of Richard Haddon. The boy
was an ardent fossicker, and loved to be burrowing amongst old tailings,
or groping in the sludge of an auriferous creek after little patches. He
was soon peering into the ripples of Harry's cradle.
'Poor,' he commented, with the confidence of an expert.
'Not up to much, Dick,' said Harry. 'I've just been prospectin' a bit
round here.'
'Frank was tryin' that bank. 'Tain't no good. Say, I can lay you onter
somethin' better not far from here.'
'Yes--where is it?'
'Tellin's. What'll you give us?
'Depends. What's it worth?'
'Got half a pennyweight prospect there onst. Look here, you lend me yer
dog t'-night, an' I'll show where.'
'What do you want with Cop?'
'You won't split? Well, some coves down to Cow Flat come up an' stole my
goat, Butts, an' a lot of others, an' me an' some other fellers is goin'
after 'em t'-night, late.
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