“Two hundred and fifty pounds for the pair.”

“Good Heavens,” cried George, “what a price!  Mr. Levi was in earnest.”  Then he ran out and went to the tent and gave Robinson his letters.  “But there were none for me, Tom,” sighed George.  “Never mind, I shall soon—­”

Now these letters brought joy and triumph to Robinson; one contained a free pardon, the other was a polite missive from the Colonial Government, in answer to the miners’ petition he had sent up.

“Secretary had the honor to inform Mr. Robinson that police were on the road to the mine, and that soldiers would arrive by to-morrow to form an escort, so that the miners’ gold might travel in safety down to Sydney.”

“Hurrah! this is good news,” cried Robinson, “and what a compliment to me.  Do you hear, George? an escort of soldiers coming to the camp to-morrow; they will take the nugget safe to Sydney.”

“Not if we are robbed of it to-night,” replied George.

At this moment in came Jacky with news of brutus.  That wily man had gone but a little way in the bush when he had made a circuit, and had slipped back into another part of the mine, and Jacky had followed him first by trail, afterward by sight, and had marked him down into a certain tent, on which he had straightway put a little red mark.

“Come back after our nugget, George.  Fools we were to carry it blazing in folks’ eyes.”

“I dare say we can beat him.”

“I am game to try.  Jacky, I want to put a question to you.”

While Jacky and Tom were conferring in animated whispers, George was fixing an old spur he had picked up into the heel of his boot.

“That is capital, Jacky.  Well, George, we have hit upon a plan.”

“And so have I.”

“You?”

“Yes! me! but tell me yours first, Tom.”

Robinson detailed him his scheme with all its ramifications, and a very ingenious stratagem it was.

For all that, when George propounded his plan in less than six words, Robinson stared with surprise and then gave way to ludicrous admiration.

“Well,” cried he, “simplicity before cunning; look at that now.  Where was my head?—­George, this is your day—­carried nem. con."

“And, Tom, you can do yours all the same.”

“Can I?  Why, yes, to be sure I can.  There, he saw that, too, before.  Why, George, if you don’t mind, you will be No. 1 and I No. 2.  What makes you so sharp all of a sudden?”

“I have to think for Susan as well as us,” said the poor fellow, tenderly, “that is why I am sharp—­for once in a way.  And now, Jacky—­you are a great anxiety to me, and the time is so short—­come sit by me, dear Jacky, and let me try and make you understand what I have been doing for you, that you may be good and happy, and comfortable in your old age, when your poor old limbs turn stiff, and you can hunt no longer.  In grateful return for the nugget, and more than that for all your goodness and kindness to me in times of bitter trouble.”