George was uneasy and out of spirits at not hearing from Susan for several months, and Robinson was for indulging him in everything.

Poor George! he could not even find his river of quartz.  And when he used to come home day after day empty-handed and with this confession, the other’s lips used to twitch with the hard struggle not to laugh at him; and he used to see the struggle and be secretly more annoyed than if he had been laughed out at.

One afternoon Tom Robinson, internally despising the whole thing, and perfectly sure in his own mind that there was no river of quartz, but paternal and indulgent to his friend’s one weakness, said to him: 

“I’ll tell you how to find this river of quartz, if it is anywhere except in your own head.”

“I shall be much obliged to you.  How?”

“Jem has come back to camp and he tells me that Jacky is encamped with a lot more close to the gully he is working—­it was on the other side the bush there-and Jacky inquired very kind after you.”

“The little viper.”

“He grinned from ear to ear, Jem tells me; and says he, ’Me come and see George a good deal soon,’ says he.”

“If he does, George will tan his black hide for him.”

“What makes you hold spite so long against poor Jacky?”

“He is a little sneaking varmint.”

“He knows every part of this country, and he would show you ’the home of the gold,’” observed Robinson, restraining his merriment with great difficulty.

This cock would not fight, as vulgar wretches say.  Jacky had rather mortified George by deserting him upon the first discovery of gold.  “Dis a good deal stupid,” was that worthy’s remark on the second day.  “When I hunt tings run, and I run behind and catch dem.  You hunt—­it not run—­yet you not catch it always.  Dat a good deal stupid.  Before we hunt gold you do many tings, now do one; dat a good deal stupid.  Before, you go so (erecting a forefinger); now you always so (crooking it).  Dat too stupid.”  And with this—­whir! my lord was off to the woods.

On the head of this came Abner limping in, and told how a savage had been seen creeping after him with a battle-ax, and how he had lain insensible for days, and now was lame for life.  George managed to forgive Jacky’s unkind desertion, but for creeping after Abner and “spoiling him for life,” to use Abner’s phrase, he vowed vengeance on that black hide and heart.

Now if the truth must be told, Jacky had come back to the camp with Jem, and would have marched before this into George’s tent.  But Robinson, knowing how angry George was with him, and not wishing either Jacky to be licked or George to be tomahawked, insisted on his staying with Jem till he had smoothed down his friend’s indignation.  Soon after this dialogue Robinson slipped out, and told Jacky to stay with Jem and keep out of George’s way for a day or two.