It was not possible, he said, that a regular miner, such as he was, should be a party to such a grand success without owning a share in it.  He was quite aware that nothing belonged to him.  He was working for wages and he had forfeited them.  But he couldn’t see the gold coming out under his hands in pailfuls and feel that none of it belonged to him.  Then it was agreed that there should be no more talk of wages, and that each should have a third share in the concern.  Very much was said on the matter of drink, in all of which Caldigate was clever enough to impose on his friend Dick the heavy responsibility of a mentor.  A man who has once been induced to preach to another against a fault will feel himself somewhat constrained by his own sermons.  Mick would make no promises; but declared his intention of trying very hard.  ’If anybody’d knock me down as soon as I goes a yard off the claim, that’d be best.’  And so they renewed their work, and at the end of six weeks from the commencement of their operations sold nine ounces of gold to the manager of the little branch bank which had already established itself at Ahalala.  These were hardly ‘pailfuls’; but gold is an article which adds fervour to the imagination and almost creates a power for romance.

Other matters, however, were not running smoothly with John Caldigate at this eventful time.  To have found gold so soon after their arrival was no doubt a great triumph, and justified him in writing a long letter to his father, in which he explained what he had done, and declared that he looked forward to success with confidence.  But still he was far from being at ease.  He could not suffer himself to remain hidden at Ahalala without saying something of his whereabouts to Mrs. Smith.  After what had happened between them he would be odious to himself if he omitted to keep the promise which he had made to her.  And yet he would so fain have forgotten her,—­or rather have wiped away from the reality of his past life that one episode, had it been possible.  A month’s separation had taught him to see how very silly he had been in regard to this woman,—­and had also detracted much from those charms which had delighted him on board ship.  She was pretty, she was clever, she had the knack of being a pleasant companion.  But how much more than all these was wanted in a wife?  And then he knew nothing about her.  She might be, or have been, all that was disreputable.  If he could not shake himself free from her, she would be a millstone round his neck.  He was aware of all that, and as he thought of it he would think also of the face of Hester Bolton, and remember her form as she sat silent in the big house at Chesterton.  But nevertheless it was necessary that he should write to Mrs. Smith.  He had promised that he would do so, and he must keep his word.