CHAPTER LII.

THE old attachment was revived.  Robinson had always a great regard for George, and after nursing and bringing him through a dangerous illness this feeling doubled.  And as for George, the man who had brought him a letter from Susan one hundred and sixty miles became such a benefactor in his eyes that he thought nothing good enough for him.

In a very few days George was about again and on his pony, and he and Robinson and Carlo went a shepherding.  One or two bullocks had gone to Jericho while George lay ill, and the poor fellow’s heart was sore when he looked at his diminished substance and lost time.  Robinson threw himself heart and soul into the business, and was of great service to George; but after a bit he found it a dull life.

George saw this, and said to him:  “You would do better in a town.  I should he sorry to lose you, but if you take my advice you will turn your back on unlucky George, and try the paint-brush in Bathurst.”

For Robinson had told him all about it—­and painted his front door.  “Can’t afford to part from Honesty,” was the firm reply.

George breathed again.  Robinson was a great comfort to the weak, solitary, and now desponding man.  One day for a change they had a thirty-mile walk, to see a farmer that had some beasts to sell a great bargain; he was going to boil them down if he could not find a customer.  They found them all just sold.  “Just my luck,” said George.

They came home another way.  Returning home, George was silent and depressed.

Robinson was silent, but appeared to be swelling with some grand idea.  Every now and then he shot ahead under its influence.  When they got home and were seated at supper, he suddenly put this question to George, “Did you ever hear of any gold being found in these parts?”

“No! never!”

“What, not in any part of the country?”

“No! never!”

“Well, that is odd!”

“I am afraid it is a very bad country for that.”

“Ay to make it in, but not to find it in.”

“What do you mean?”

“George,” said the other, lowering his voice mysteriously, “in our walk to-day we passed places that brought my heart into my mouth; for if this was only California those places would be pockets of gold.”

“But you see it is not California, but Australia, where all the world knows there is nothing of what your mind is running on.”

“Don’t say ‘knows,’ say ‘thinks.’  Has it ever been searched for gold?”

“I’ll be bound it has; or, if not, with so many eyes constantly looking on every foot of soil a speck or two would have come to light.”

“One would think so; but it is astonishing how blind folks are, till they are taught how to look, and where to look.  ’Tis the mind that sees things, George, not the eye.”

“Ah!” said George with a sigh, “this chat puts me in mind of ’The Grove.’  Do you mind how you used to pester everybody to go out to California?”