Digging.
Moonlight and Scarlett were glad with the delight of success, for inside
their tent, which was pitched beside Bush Robin Creek, lay almost as
much gold as one of them could conveniently carry to Timber Town.
They had searched the rocky sides of the gorge where they had first
found gold, and its ledges and crevices had proved to be exceedingly
rich. Next, they had examined the upper reaches of the creek, and after
selecting a place where the best "prospects" were to be found, they had
determined to work the bottom of the river-bed. Their "claim" was pegged
off, the water had been diverted, and the dam had been strengthened
with boulders taken from the river-bed, and now, having placed their
sluice-boxes in position, they were about to have their first "washing
up."
As they sat, and ate their simple fare--"damper" baked on the red-hot
embers of their fire, a pigeon which Scarlett had shot that morning, and
tea--their conversation was of their "claim."
"What do you think it will go?"
"The dirt in the creek is rich enough, but what's in the flat nobody can
say. There may be richer gold in some of the higher terraces than down
here. I've known such cases."
At the place where they were camped, the valley had been, at some
distant period, a lake which had subsided after depositing a rich layer
of silt, through which the stream had cut its way subsequently. Over
this rich alluvial deposit the forest had spread luxuriantly, and it was
only the skill of the experienced prospector that could discover the
possibilities of the enormous stretches of river silt which Nature had
so carefully hidden beneath the tangled, well-nigh impenetrable forest.
"The river is rich," continued Moonlight, "that we know. Possibly it
deposited gold on these flats for ages. If that is so, this valley will
be one of the biggest 'fields' yet developed. What we must do first is
to test the bottom of the old lake; therefore, as soon as we have taken
the best of the gold out of the river, I propose to 'sink' on the
terraces till I find the rich deposit."
"Perhaps what we are getting now has come from the terraces above," said
Jack.
"I think not."
"Where does it come from then?"
"I can't say, unless it is from some reef in the ranges. You must not
forget that there's the lower end of the valley to be prospected yet--we
have done nothing below the gorge."
Talking thus, they ate their "damper" and stewed pigeon, and drank their
"billy" tea. Then they lit their pipes, and strolled towards the scene
of their labours.
The place chosen for the workings was selected by circumstance rather
than by the diggers. At this particular point of its course there had
been some hesitation on the part of the river in choosing its bed,
and with but a little coaxing it had been diverted into an old
channel--which evident signs showed to be utilised as an overflow in
time of flood--and thus by a circuitous route it found its way to the
mouth of the gorge.
All was ready for the momentous operation of washing up, and the men's
minds were full of expectation.
The bottom of fine silt, which had been laid bare when the boulders had
been removed, stood piled on the bank, so as to be out of harm's way in
case the river burst through the dam. Into the old bed a trickle of
water ran through the sluice-boxes. These were set in the dry bed of the
stream, and were connected with the creek by a water-race. They were
each twelve feet in length, and consisted of a bottom and two sides,
into which fitted neatly a twelve-foot board, pierced with a number of
auger-holes. These boxes could be joined one to another, and the line
of them could thus be prolonged indefinitely. The wash-dirt would be
shovelled in at the top end, and the water, flowing down the "race,"
would carry it over the boxes, till it was washed out at the lower end,
leaving behind a deposit of gold, which, owing to its specific gravity,
would lodge in the auger-holes.
Moonlight went to the head of the "race," down which presently the water
rushed, and rippled through the sluice-boxes. Next, he threw a shovelful
of wash-dirt into the lower part of the "race," and soon its particles
were swept through the sluice, and another shovelful followed.
When Moonlight tired, Scarlett relieved him, and so, working turn and
turn about, after an hour they could see in the auger-holes a small
yellow deposit: in the uppermost holes an appreciable quantity, and in
the lower ones but a few grains.
"It's all right," said Moonlight, "we've struck it." He looked at the
great heaps of wash-dirt on the bank, and his eyes shone with
satisfaction.
"Do you think the dam will hold?" asked Scarlett of the experienced
digger.
"It's safe enough till we get a 'fresh'," was the reply. Moonlight
glanced at the dripping rampart, composed of tree-trunks and stones.
"But even if there does happen to be a flood, and the dam bursts," he
added, "we've still got the 'dirt' high and dry. But we shall have
warning enough, I expect, to save the 'race' and sluice-boxes."
"It meant double handling to take out the wash-dirt before we started to
wash up," said Scarlett, "but I'm glad we did it."
"Once, on the Greenstone," said Moonlight, "we were working from the bed
of the creek. There came a real old-man flood which carried everything
away, and when we cleaned out the bed again, there wasn't so much as a
barrowful of gold-bearing dirt left behind. Once bitten, twice shy."
If the process was monotonous, it had the advantage of being simple. The
men slowly shovelled the earth into the last length of the "race," and
the running water did the rest. In the evening, a big pile of "tailings"
was heaped up at the foot of the sluice, and as some of the auger-holes
were half-filled with gold, Moonlight gave the word for cleaning out the
boxes.
The water from the dam was cut off, leaving but a trickle running
through the boxes. The false bottoms were then taken out of the sluice,
and upon the floors of the boxes innumerable little heaps of gold lay
exposed to the miners' delighted eyes.
The heavy gold, caught before it had reached the first sluice-box, lay
at the lower end of the "race." To separate the small quantity of grit
that remained with the gold, the diggers held the rich little heaps
claw-wise with their fingers, while the rippling water ran through them.
Thus the gold was left pure, and with the blade of a sheath-knife, it
was easily transferred to the big tin dish.
"What weight?" asked Jack, as he lifted the precious load.
Moonlight solemnly took the "pan" from his mate. "One-fifty to one-sixty
ounces," he said oracularly. His gaze wandered to the heap of wash-dirt
which remained. "We've washed about one-sixth," he said. "Six times
one-fifty is nine hundred. We'll say, roughly, L4 an ounce: that gives
us something like L3600 from that heap."
As night was now approaching, they walked slowly towards their tent,
carrying their richly-laden dish with them. Sitting in the tent-door,
with their backs to the dark forest and their heads bent over the
gold, they transferred the precious contents of the dish to a strong
chamois-leather bag. Moonlight held open the mouth of the receptacle,
and watched the process eagerly. About half the pleasant task was done,
when suddenly a voice behind them said, "Who the blazes are _you_?"
Turning quickly, they saw standing behind them two men who had emerged
from the forest.
Seizing an axe which lay beside him, Moonlight assumed an attitude of
defence. Scarlett, who was weaponless, stood firm and rigid, ready for
an onslaught.
"You seem to have struck it," said the newcomer who had spoken, his
greedy eyes peering at the dish. "Do put down that axe, mate. We ain't
bushrangers."
Moonlight lowered the head of his weapon, and said, "Yes, we've got the
colour."
"Blow me if it ain't my friend Moonlight!" exclaimed the second
intruder, advancing towards the diggers. "How's yerself?"
"Nicely, thank you," replied Moonlight. "Come far to-day?"
"A matter of eight hours' tramp--but not so fer; the bush is mighty
thick. This is my mate. Here, Ben, shake 'ands."
It was none other than Benjamin Tresco who came forward. As he lowered
his "swag" to the ground, he said, smiling urbanely, "How de do? I
reckon you've jumped our claim. But we bear no malice. We'll peg out
another."
"This ain't ours," said the Prospector, "not by chalks. You're above the
gorge, ain't you?"
"Yes," replied Moonlight, "I should reckon we must be a mile above it."
"Where I worked," continued Bill, "was more'n a mile below the gorge.
What are you makin'?"
"A few pennyweights," responded Moonlight.
"It looks like it!" exclaimed the Prospector, glancing at the
richly-laden dish. "Look 'ere, Ben: a few pennyweights, that's all--just
makin' tucker. Poor devils!"
Moonlight laughed, and so did Scarlett.
"Well, we might do worse than put our pegs alongside theirs, eh, Ben?"
"Oceans worse," replied Tresco.
"Did you prospect the gorge?" asked Moonlight.
"I wasn't never in the gorge," said the Prospector. "The river was too
high, all the time I was working; but there's been no rain for six
weeks, so she's low now."
Tresco advanced with mock trepidation, and looked closely at the gold in
the chamois-leather bag, which he lifted with assumed difficulty. "About
half a hundredweight," he said. "How much more of this sort have you
got?"
Moonlight ignored the question, but turning to the Prospector, he said,
"I shouldn't have left till I'd fossicked that gorge, if I'd been you."
"Then you've been through it?" queried Bill.
Moonlight nodded.
"How did it pan out?"
"There was gold there."
"Make tucker, eh?" the Prospector laughed. "Well this'll be good enough
for us. We'll put in our pegs above yours. But how you dropped on this
field just gits over me. You couldn't have come straighter, not if I'd
shown you the way myself."
"Instinct," replied Moonlight. "Instinct and the natural attraction of
the magnet." He desired to take no credit for his own astuteness in
prospecting.
Scarlett had so far said nothing, but he now invited the newcomers to
eat, before they pitched their tent.
"No, no," said the Prospector, "you must be on pretty short commons--you
must ha' bin out a fortnight and more. Me an' my mate'll provide the
tucker."
"We _are_ a bit short, and that's the truth," said Moonlight, "but we
reckon on holding out till we've finished this wash-up, and then one of
us'll have to fetch stores."
While Benjamin and his mate were unpacking their swags and Scarlett was
lighting the fire, Moonlight transferred the rest of the gold from the
dish to the leather bag.
When the four men sat down to their frugal meal of "billy" tea, boiled
bacon, and "damper," they chatted and laughed like schoolboys.
"Ah!" exclaimed Tresco, as red flames of the fire shot toward the stars
and illumined the gigantic trunks of the surrounding trees, "this is
freedom and the charm of Nature. No blooming bills to meet, no bother
about the orders of worrying customers, no everlasting bowing and
scraping; all the charm of society, good-fellowship, confidence, and
conversation, with none of the frills of so-called civilization. But
that is not all. Added to this is the prospect of making a fortune in
the morning. Now, that is what I call living."