Digging.
Moonlight and Scarlett were glad with
the delight of success, for inside their tent, which
was pitched beside Bush Robin Creek, lay almost as
much gold as one of them could conveniently carry to
Timber Town.
They had searched the rocky sides
of the gorge where they had first found gold, and
its ledges and crevices had proved to be exceedingly
rich. Next, they had examined the upper reaches
of the creek, and after selecting a place where the
best “prospects” were to be found, they
had determined to work the bottom of the river-bed.
Their “claim” was pegged off, the water
had been diverted, and the dam had been strengthened
with boulders taken from the river-bed, and now, having
placed their sluice-boxes in position, they were about
to have their first “washing up.”
As they sat, and ate their simple
fare “damper” baked on the red-hot
embers of their fire, a pigeon which Scarlett had shot
that morning, and tea their conversation
was of their “claim.”
“What do you think it will go?”
“The dirt in the creek is rich
enough, but what’s in the flat nobody can say.
There may be richer gold in some of the higher terraces
than down here. I’ve known such cases.”
At the place where they were camped,
the valley had been, at some distant period, a lake
which had subsided after depositing a rich layer of
silt, through which the stream had cut its way subsequently.
Over this rich alluvial deposit the forest had spread
luxuriantly, and it was only the skill of the experienced
prospector that could discover the possibilities of
the enormous stretches of river silt which Nature had
so carefully hidden beneath the tangled, well-nigh
impenetrable forest.
“The river is rich,” continued
Moonlight, “that we know. Possibly it deposited
gold on these flats for ages. If that is so, this
valley will be one of the biggest ‘fields’
yet developed. What we must do first is to test
the bottom of the old lake; therefore, as soon as we
have taken the best of the gold out of the river,
I propose to ‘sink’ on the terraces till
I find the rich deposit.”
“Perhaps what we are getting
now has come from the terraces above,” said
Jack.
“I think not.”
“Where does it come from then?”
“I can’t say, unless it
is from some reef in the ranges. You must not
forget that there’s the lower end of the valley
to be prospected yet we have done nothing
below the gorge.”
Talking thus, they ate their “damper”
and stewed pigeon, and drank their “billy”
tea. Then they lit their pipes, and strolled towards
the scene of their labours.
The place chosen for the workings
was selected by circumstance rather than by the diggers.
At this particular point of its course there had been
some hesitation on the part of the river in choosing
its bed, and with but a little coaxing it had been
diverted into an old channel which evident
signs showed to be utilised as an overflow in time
of flood and thus by a circuitous route
it found its way to the mouth of the gorge.
All was ready for the momentous operation
of washing up, and the men’s minds were full
of expectation.
The bottom of fine silt, which had
been laid bare when the boulders had been removed,
stood piled on the bank, so as to be out of harm’s
way in case the river burst through the dam.
Into the old bed a trickle of water ran through the
sluice-boxes. These were set in the dry bed of
the stream, and were connected with the creek by a
water-race. They were each twelve feet in length,
and consisted of a bottom and two sides, into which
fitted neatly a twelve-foot board, pierced with a number
of auger-holes. These boxes could be joined one
to another, and the line of them could thus be prolonged
indefinitely. The wash-dirt would be shovelled
in at the top end, and the water, flowing down the
“race,” would carry it over the boxes,
till it was washed out at the lower end, leaving behind
a deposit of gold, which, owing to its specific gravity,
would lodge in the auger-holes.
Moonlight went to the head of the
“race,” down which presently the water
rushed, and rippled through the sluice-boxes.
Next, he threw a shovelful of wash-dirt into the lower
part of the “race,” and soon its particles
were swept through the sluice, and another shovelful
followed.
When Moonlight tired, Scarlett relieved
him, and so, working turn and turn about, after an
hour they could see in the auger-holes a small yellow
deposit: in the uppermost holes an appreciable
quantity, and in the lower ones but a few grains.
“It’s all right,”
said Moonlight, “we’ve struck it.”
He looked at the great heaps of wash-dirt on the bank,
and his eyes shone with satisfaction.
“Do you think the dam will hold?”
asked Scarlett of the experienced digger.
“It’s safe enough till
we get a ’fresh’,” was the reply.
Moonlight glanced at the dripping rampart, composed
of tree-trunks and stones. “But even if
there does happen to be a flood, and the dam bursts,”
he added, “we’ve still got the ‘dirt’
high and dry. But we shall have warning enough,
I expect, to save the ‘race’ and sluice-boxes.”
“It meant double handling to
take out the wash-dirt before we started to wash up,”
said Scarlett, “but I’m glad we did it.”
“Once, on the Greenstone,”
said Moonlight, “we were working from the bed
of the creek. There came a real old-man flood
which carried everything away, and when we cleaned
out the bed again, there wasn’t so much as a
barrowful of gold-bearing dirt left behind. Once
bitten, twice shy.”
If the process was monotonous, it
had the advantage of being simple. The men slowly
shovelled the earth into the last length of the “race,”
and the running water did the rest. In the evening,
a big pile of “tailings” was heaped up
at the foot of the sluice, and as some of the auger-holes
were half-filled with gold, Moonlight gave the word
for cleaning out the boxes.
The water from the dam was cut off,
leaving but a trickle running through the boxes.
The false bottoms were then taken out of the sluice,
and upon the floors of the boxes innumerable little
heaps of gold lay exposed to the miners’ delighted
eyes.
The heavy gold, caught before it had
reached the first sluice-box, lay at the lower end
of the “race.” To separate the small
quantity of grit that remained with the gold, the
diggers held the rich little heaps claw-wise with
their fingers, while the rippling water ran through
them. Thus the gold was left pure, and with the
blade of a sheath-knife, it was easily transferred
to the big tin dish.
“What weight?” asked Jack,
as he lifted the precious load.
Moonlight solemnly took the “pan”
from his mate. “One-fifty to one-sixty
ounces,” he said oracularly. His gaze wandered
to the heap of wash-dirt which remained. “We’ve
washed about one-sixth,” he said. “Six
times one-fifty is nine hundred. We’ll
say, roughly, L4 an ounce: that gives us something
like L3600 from that heap.”
As night was now approaching, they
walked slowly towards their tent, carrying their richly-laden
dish with them. Sitting in the tent-door, with
their backs to the dark forest and their heads bent
over the gold, they transferred the precious contents
of the dish to a strong chamois-leather bag.
Moonlight held open the mouth of the receptacle, and
watched the process eagerly. About half the pleasant
task was done, when suddenly a voice behind them said,
“Who the blazes are you?”
Turning quickly, they saw standing
behind them two men who had emerged from the forest.
Seizing an axe which lay beside him,
Moonlight assumed an attitude of defence. Scarlett,
who was weaponless, stood firm and rigid, ready for
an onslaught.
“You seem to have struck it,”
said the newcomer who had spoken, his greedy eyes
peering at the dish. “Do put down that axe,
mate. We ain’t bushrangers.”
Moonlight lowered the head of his
weapon, and said, “Yes, we’ve got the
colour.”
“Blow me if it ain’t my
friend Moonlight!” exclaimed the second intruder,
advancing towards the diggers. “How’s
yerself?”
“Nicely, thank you,” replied
Moonlight. “Come far to-day?”
“A matter of eight hours’
tramp but not so fer; the bush is mighty
thick. This is my mate. Here, Ben, shake
’ands.”
It was none other than Benjamin Tresco
who came forward. As he lowered his “swag”
to the ground, he said, smiling urbanely, “How
de do? I reckon you’ve jumped our claim.
But we bear no malice. We’ll peg out another.”
“This ain’t ours,”
said the Prospector, “not by chalks. You’re
above the gorge, ain’t you?”
“Yes,” replied Moonlight,
“I should reckon we must be a mile above it.”
“Where I worked,” continued
Bill, “was more’n a mile below the gorge.
What are you makin’?”
“A few pennyweights,” responded Moonlight.
“It looks like it!” exclaimed
the Prospector, glancing at the richly-laden dish.
“Look ’ere, Ben: a few pennyweights,
that’s all just makin’ tucker.
Poor devils!”
Moonlight laughed, and so did Scarlett.
“Well, we might do worse than put our pegs alongside
theirs, eh, Ben?”
“Oceans worse,” replied Tresco.
“Did you prospect the gorge?” asked Moonlight.
“I wasn’t never in the
gorge,” said the Prospector. “The
river was too high, all the time I was working; but
there’s been no rain for six weeks, so she’s
low now.”
Tresco advanced with mock trepidation,
and looked closely at the gold in the chamois-leather
bag, which he lifted with assumed difficulty.
“About half a hundredweight,” he said.
“How much more of this sort have you got?”
Moonlight ignored the question, but
turning to the Prospector, he said, “I shouldn’t
have left till I’d fossicked that gorge, if I’d
been you.”
“Then you’ve been through it?” queried
Bill.
Moonlight nodded.
“How did it pan out?”
“There was gold there.”
“Make tucker, eh?” the
Prospector laughed. “Well this’ll
be good enough for us. We’ll put in our
pegs above yours. But how you dropped on this
field just gits over me. You couldn’t have
come straighter, not if I’d shown you the way
myself.”
“Instinct,” replied Moonlight.
“Instinct and the natural attraction of the
magnet.” He desired to take no credit for
his own astuteness in prospecting.
Scarlett had so far said nothing,
but he now invited the newcomers to eat, before they
pitched their tent.
“No, no,” said the Prospector,
“you must be on pretty short commons you
must ha’ bin out a fortnight and more. Me
an’ my mate’ll provide the tucker.”
“We are a bit short,
and that’s the truth,” said Moonlight,
“but we reckon on holding out till we’ve
finished this wash-up, and then one of us’ll
have to fetch stores.”
While Benjamin and his mate were unpacking
their swags and Scarlett was lighting the fire, Moonlight
transferred the rest of the gold from the dish to
the leather bag.
When the four men sat down to their
frugal meal of “billy” tea, boiled bacon,
and “damper,” they chatted and laughed
like schoolboys.
“Ah!” exclaimed Tresco,
as red flames of the fire shot toward the stars and
illumined the gigantic trunks of the surrounding trees,
“this is freedom and the charm of Nature.
No blooming bills to meet, no bother about the orders
of worrying customers, no everlasting bowing and scraping;
all the charm of society, good-fellowship, confidence,
and conversation, with none of the frills of so-called
civilization. But that is not all. Added
to this is the prospect of making a fortune in the
morning. Now, that is what I call living.”