The leader went to the spot, and soon after returned and said quietly, “Pals, I dare say he is right.  Lie still till they have had their dinner; they are going farther, no doubt.”

Soon after this he gave a hasty signal of silence, for George and Robinson at that moment came round the corner of the rock and stood on the road not fifty yards above them.  Here they paused as the valley burst on their view, and George pointed out its qualities to his comrade.  “It is not first-rate, Tom, but there is good grass in patches, and plenty of water.”

Robinson, instead of replying or giving his mind to the prospect said to George, “Why, where is he?”

“Who?”

“The man that I saw standing at this corner a while ago.  He came round this way I’ll be sworn.”

“He is gone away, I suppose.  I never saw any one, for my part.”

“I did, though.  Gone away?  How could he go away?  The road is in sight for miles, and not a creature on it.  He is vanished.”

“I don’t see him anyway, Tom.”

“Of course you don’t, he is vanished into the bowels of the earth.  I don’t like gentlemen that vanish into the bowels of the earth.”

“How suspicious you are!  Bushrangers again, I suppose.  They are always running in your mind—­them and gold.”

“You know the country, George.  Here, take my stick.”  And he handed George a long stick with a heavy iron ferule.  “If a man is safe here he owes it to himself, not to his neighbor.”

“Then why do you give me your weapon?” said George with a smile.

“I haven’t,” was the reply.  “I carry my sting out of sight, like a humble bee.”  And Mr. Robinson winked mysteriously, and the process seemed to relieve his mind and soothe his suspicions.  He then fell to inspecting the rocks; and when George pointed out to him the broad and distant pasture he said, in an absent way, “Yes;” and turning round George found him with his eyes glued to the ground at his feet, and his mind in a deep reverie.  George was vexed, and said somewhat warmly, “Why, Tom, the place is worth looking at now we are come to it, surely.”

Robinson made no direct reply.  “George,” said he thoughtfully, “how far have you got toward your thousand pounds?”

“Oh, Tom! don’t ask me, don’t remind me!  How can I ever make it?  No market within a thousand miles of any place in this confounded country!  Forced to boil down sheep into tallow and sell them for the price of a wild duck!  I have left my Susan, and I have lost her.  Oh, why did you remind me?”

“So much for the farming lay.  Don’t you be down-hearted, there’s better cards in the pack than the five of spades; and the farther I go and the more I see of this country the surer I am.  There is a good day coming for you and me.  Listen, George.  When I shut my eyes for a moment now where I stand, and then open them—­I’m in California.”

“Dreaming?”