’So you’re a wrestler, Jim said Mike, when they had turned in for the night.

‘I know a fall or two,’ answered Done.

‘You put Long Aleck down on his chin in short order, an’ he fancied his mutton, I can tell you.  Know how to turn a fist to the best advantage, too, don’t you?  That Geordie’s an old sailor who’s been through the mill.  I know the breed.  You stopped him like a stone wall.  I’m satisfied I struck it lucky when we met.’

’Glad you think I’ll be useful.  I don’t seem to have been of much account up to now.

’Useful!  A man’s got to fight ’r knuckle under.  The rushes ain’t peopled with penny saints.  You’ve got to punch a few to get yourself respected.’

Done was not long learning the truth of this.  He found in time that the feats of arms he had mastered with the idea of impressing his enemies in Chisley were his most valuable accomplishments in Australia.

Next day the mates carted their belongings to their claim, and the morning was spent in erecting the tent, rigging bunks, and making things shipshape.  They got to work in the shaft again after dinner, Done taking his first lesson in sinking.  Within two hours they came upon the wash dirt, the sinking at Diamond Gully being very shallow.  While they were busy Jack Thorn, the Geordie, came up from the creek and approached them, grinning broadly, and hiding something under his hat.

‘Hope yer eyesight’s good, mates,’ he said.  ’I’ve got a bit of a dazzler here to spring on you.  What d’yer think o’ that?’ He removed his hat, and exposed a pint pannikin filled to the brim with clean, coarse nuggets.

‘Whew!’ whistled Jim.  ‘You’ve hit it thick.’

‘Yes,’ he said.  ’That’s from three buckets off the bottom.  I s’pose you’ll get her just ez good.  My mate’s got a few ounces o’ finer stuff.  We’re mightily obliged to you boys for puttin’ us in this hole.’

‘You’re welcome,’ said Mike, grinning.  ‘We did it for your own good.’

‘What weight is there in that?’ asked Done.

‘Over two hundred ounces.  Eight hundred pounds’ worth, perhaps.’

Jim gasped and turned to his work again, digging rapidly.  Later, Burton took a sample of the gravel in the dish, and carried it away to the creek.  He returned in ten minutes with a little water in the pan.  Jim could see only a few specks of gold in the bottom of the pan, and his face fell.

‘A shicer?’ he said.

’Not a bit of it.  That’s a good enough prospect.  Let me have a cut at her.’

The hole was now too deep for Done to throw the dirt to the surface, inexperienced as he was in the use of a shovel in so narrow a space.  Burton continued the work till sundown, and then washed a prospect that made his eyes glisten.  Next morning they bottomed.  Jim was at the mouth of the shaft when Burton called from below: 

’Look out on top!  Catch, old man