Then Robinson, who had never lost his presence of mind, and had now recovered his sang-froid, made all four captives sit around together on the ground in one little lot, “While I show you the error of your ways,” said he.  “I could forgive a rascal but I hate a fool.  You thought to keep such a secret as this all to yourselves—­you dunces—­the very birds in the air would carry it; it never was kept secret in any land and never will.  And you would spill blood sooner than your betters should know it—­ye ninny-cumpoops!  What the worse are you for our knowing it?  If a thousand knew it to-day would that lower the price of gold a penny an ounce?  No!  All the harm they could do you would be this, that some of them would show you where it lies thickest, and then you’d profit by it.  You had better tie that leg of yours up; you have lost blood enough I should say by the look of you; haven’t you got a wipe? here, take mine—­you deserve it, don’t you?  No man’s luck hurts his neighbor at this work; how clever you were, you have just pitched on the unlikeliest place in the whole gulley, and you wanted to kill the man that would have taught you which are the likelier ones.  I shall find ten times as much gold before the sun sets as you will find in a week by the side of that stream; why, it hasn’t been running above a thousand years or two, I should say, by the look of it; you have got plenty to learn, you bloody-minded greenhorns!  Now I’ll tell you what it is,” continued Robinson, getting angry about it, “since you are for keeping dark what little you know, I’ll keep you dark; and in ten minutes my pal here and the very nigger shall know more about gold-finding than you know, so be off, for I’m going to work.  Come, march!”

“Where are we to go, mate?” said the leader sullenly.

“Do you see that ridge about three miles west? well, if we catch you on this side of it we will hang you like wild cats.  On the other side of it do what you like, and try all you know; but this gully belongs to us now; you wanted to take something from us that did not belong to you—­our blood—­so now we take something from you that didn’t belong to us a minute or two ago.  Come, mizzle, and no more words, or—­” and he pointed the tail of his discourse with his revolver.

The men rose, and with sullen, rueful, downcast looks moved off in the direction of the boundary; but one remained behind, the man was Jem.

“Well!”

“Captain, I wish you would let me join in with you!”

“What for?”

“Well, captain, you’ve lent me your wipe, and I think a deal of it, for it’s what I did not deserve; but that is not all.  You are the best man, and I like to be under the best man if I must be under anybody.”

Robinson hesitated a moment.  “Come here,” said he.  The man came and fronted him.  “Look me in the face! now give me your hand—­quick, no thinking about how.”  The man gave him his hand readily.  Robinson looked into his eyes.  “What is your name?”