The man whistled.  He was soon joined by two more and afterward by others.  The whole party was eight.  A hurried conference took place, and presently the captain, whose name was Ede, came up to Robinson with a small barrel of beer and begged him and his pal to drink as much as they liked.  They were very glad of the draught and thanked the men warmly.

The newcomers took Robinson’s advice, lighted large fires, divided their company, and groped for gold.  Every now and then came a shout of joy, and, in the light of the fires, the wild figures showed red as blood against the black wall of night, and their excited eyes glowed like carbuncles as they clawed the sparkling dust.  George and Robinson, fatigued already by a long day, broke down about three in the morning.  They reeled into their tent, dug a hole, put in their gold bag, stamped it down, tumbled dead asleep down over it, and never woke till morn.

Gn l r-r-r! gn l r-r-r!

“What is the matter, Carlo?”

Gn l r-r-r.

Hum! hum! hum!  Crash! crash!

At these sounds Robinson lifted up the corner of his tent.  The gully was a digging.  He ran out to see where he was to work, and found the whole soil one enormous tan-yard, the pits ten feet square, and so close there was hardly room to walk to your hole without tumbling into your neighbor’s.  You had to balance yourself like boys going along a beam in a timber-yard.  In one of these he found Ede and his gang working.  Mr. Ede had acquired a black eye, ditto one of his mates.

“Good-morning, Captain Robinson,” said this personage, with a general gayety of countenance that contrasted most drolly with the mourning an expressive organ had gone into.

“Well, was I right?” asked Robinson, looking ruefully round the crowded digging.

“You were, Captain Robinson, and thank you for last night.”

“Well, you have picked up my name somehow.  Now just tell me how you picked up something else.  How did you suspect us in this retired spot?”

“We were working just clear of the great digging by the side of the creek, and doing no good, when your cork came down.”

“My cork?”

“Cork out of your bottle.”

“I had no bottle.  Oh, yes! my pal had a bottle of small beer.”

“Ay, he must have thrown it into the creek, for a cork came down to us.  Then I looked at it, and I said, ’Here is a cork from Moore’s store; there is a party working up stream by this cork.’”

Robinson gave a little groan.  “We are never to be at the bottom of gold digging,” said he.

“So we came up the stream and tried several places as we came, but found nothing; at last we came to your pickax and signs of work, so my lads would stay and work there, and I let them an hour or two, and then I said, ‘Come now, lads, the party we are after is higher up.’”

“Now how could you pretend to know that?” inquired Robinson, with curiosity.