"All right," said Corrie, with disappointment in his face and voice; "you ought to know your own mind, though I make bold to say I don't believe you've said what's in your heart. Well, there's an end to it. I'm off early in the morning. Good-bye, Master Basil."
"Good-bye, Corrie, and good luck to you."
"Good luck to _you_, better than you've had in more ways than one."
Old Corrie could scarcely refuse the hand that Chaytor held out to him, but the grasp he gave it was very different from the grasp he gave Basil's. Before he turned to leave the ill-assorted comrades he did something which escaped the eyes of Basil, but not those of Chaytor. He furtively dropped, quite close to Basil's feet, a round wooden matchbox, which, emptied of matches, gold-diggers frequently used to fill with loose gold. Unobserved by old Corrie, Chaytor put his foot on the box and slipped it to the rear of himself. This was done while Old Corrie was turning to go. Basil was genuinely sorry to See the last of his friend. Both the unexpected meeting and the leave-taking had a touch of sadness in them which deeply affected him, and he gazed with regret after the vanishing form of the man who had offered to serve him. This gave Chaytor an opportunity of slyly picking up the matchbox; it was weighty, and Chaytor knew that it was filled with gold. "A bit of luck," he thought, as he put the box into his pocket, "and a narrow escape as well." He felt like a man sitting on a mine which a stray match might fire at any moment.
"Basil," he said, when Old Corrie was out of sight, "we will strike our tent to-morrow, and go prospecting. I have a likely spot in my mind."
"Very well," said Basil listlessly. "How about money? Can we manage to get along?"
Early in the morning the pegs which fastened the tent were dug out of the ground, the tent was rolled up and tied, and with heavy swags of canvas, blankets, tools, and utensils conveniently disposed about their persons, Basil and Chaytor set their faces to the south. They walked for two days, camping out at night, and halted at length on the banks of a river, the waters of which were low. In the winter the floods rolling down from the adjacent ranges made the river a torrent, covering banks which were now bare. These banks were of fine sand, and rising on each side for a distance of some thousands of yards were shelving mountains studded with quartz. Some eighteen months ago Basil and Chaytor had passed the place on their way to a new rush, and Chaytor thought it a likely place in which to find gold. They were now quite alone, not a living soul was within a dozen miles of them. They had reached the spot secretly, and their movements were unknown to any but themselves. Their nearest neighbours were on a cattle station some twelve or thirteen miles away.