“What for?”

“To buy some things.”

“What things?”

“First of all, a revolver; there were fellows about our tent last night, creeping and prowling.”

“I never heard them.”

“No more you would an earthquake—but I heard them, and got up and pointed my revolver at them; so then they cut—all the better for them. We must mind our eye, George; a good many tents are robbed every week, and we are known to have a good swag.”

“Well, I must start this moment if I am to be back.”

“And take a pound of dust and buy things that we can sell here to a profit.”

George came back at night looking rather sheep-faced.

“Tom,” said he, “I am afraid I have done wrong. You see there was a confounded auction, and what with the hammer, and the folk bidding, and his palaver, I could not help it.”

“But what is it you have bought?”

“A bit o' land, Tom.”

Robinson groaned; but, recovering himself, he said gayly:

“Well, have you brought it with you?”

“No, it is not so small as all that; as nice a bit of grass as ever you saw, Tom, and just outside the town of Bathurat; only I didn't ought to have spent your money as well as my own.”

“Stuff and nonsense—I accept the investment. Let me load your new revolver. Now look at my day's work. I wouldn't take a hundred pound for these little fellows.”

George gloated over the little nuggets, for he saw Susan's eyes in them. To-night she seemed so near. The little bag was placed between them, the day's spoils added to it, and the tired friends were soon asleep.