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Dyson, Edward, 1865-1931

"The Gold-Stealers A Story of Waddy"


'Feel, search, look for yourself, you hound!' he cried. 'Could I eat it?'
Shine, going on his hands and knees, clawed amongst the rubbish; then,
whining and muttering, went scratching about like a dog, seeking high and
low, and Rogers followed him blaspheming with insensate fury.
'It's no good, I tell you, you snuffling, whimpering, white-livered cur!'
he said. 'Those men have got away with it, curse them!'
But Ephraim continued his search, creeping under the scrub, scratching in
the grass; and as he searched his whimper grew louder and louder, and he
cried like an old woman at a wake.
'An' we killed a man, we killed a man!' he wailed again and again.
Rogers rushed at him viciously, and kicked him heavily in the ribs.
'Get up, you dog!' he cried hoarsely, with a string of oaths. He dragged
Shine to his feet, and continned: 'Listen to me. Go home an' go to bed
fer a while. Turn up at the mine all right at one, and in the mornin'.
Keep your mouth shut, an' wait till you hear from me again, or--or--' He
did not finish his threat. After a moment he continued, in a more
composed tone: 'We're in no danger if we've not been seen. That was the
trooper after the cub Haddon. He's got the gold all right. Bury the key.
Get back to your house, an' lie down fer a while. Be careful--p'raps
we're watched now.'
The two men moved off together.


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