whether smith was right or wrong in this assumption of his remained to be seen, and from the vague way in which big jack spoke he might never get sufficient evidence to corroborate or upset his theory. the evidence for it would depend on the chatter of a senile old savage, who, in his turn, had obtained it from an outlaw. smith knew enough of testimony to be aware that this might be no more than a presumption easily capable of being upset. but he desired intensely to solve the mystery, and not even the danger and uncertainty of being the guests of people little superior in their habits and customs to men of the stone age, could prevent his feeling ardent curiosity.

and then there was the question of the gold. from the way they employed it, from bill's talk, and from what big jack said, it was obvious that there must be sufficient near at hand to make the fortune of a hundred men. on a rough calculation he estimated that there was then in the camp, consumed in the making of their waddies and other weapons, and in the rude bowls which represented their degree of civilisation, at least two hundred pounds weight of the metal, and that at £4 an ounce was worth roughly about £12,000. besides this, he found lumps of gold quartz about the camp sufficient to make any ordinary miner go clean out of his mind. the boys used the smaller pieces as missiles, and one big lump was used in putting the weight. on lifting it, smith found it weighed at least forty pounds, and its bulk was gold.

"there must be an outcrop of a vein here," he said to the baker, "which would take our breath away. there can't be a mine like it in the universe. if we can only get out of here and find it again, we shall be the richest men in the world. that is, unless we sell it to a syndicate. but the getting out's the thing."

"i've a notion," said the baker, "that it will be good to slope pretty soon, as soon, any way, as we see this 'ere mine, for, to tell the truth, smith, i think there will be a row."

he looked so serious, and yet so ashamed, that smith was puzzled.

"what have you been up to?" he demanded.

the baker shook his head, and looked down half bashfully.

"well, smith, i ain't done nothing," he began, "but do you know i've a kind of a notion that the wild cat that gives me the tucker reg'lar, is a bit mashed on me."

smith was uneasy. of all things, this was the most likely to cause trouble.

"go on," he said severely.

but the baker remonstrated against the way he spoke.

"you ain't no call to look at me in that tone of voice," he said. "if it's true, i can't help it, and, lord knows, i've done nothin' to encourage her. but she just freezes to me quite natural, and the bloke that goes with bill, i think he tumbles to it."

smith was quite alarmed.

"if you aren't careful, you'll do for us, baker," he said. "you must be careful. are you sure of it?"

the baker shrugged his shoulders.

"you just watch it yourself. you'll see me icy perlite, and 'er tryin' to thaw me out. and if the bloke's about, 'is eyes'll be like gimlets. it fair gives me the 'ump for a savage woman to be gone on me. i'll 'ave my 'ead opened when i ain't lookin'."

"then just avoid her," said smith.

"and then, maybe, she'll jab me with a spear," said the baker, half between crying and laughing. "i'm glad i've got my revolver. where's your'n, smith?"

smith tapped the waist of his trousers.

"inside, in the lining," said he. "i wish it was a bit bigger. but it will scare them anyhow, if it comes to trouble."

the baker, forgetting his woes and the danger he stood in between the lady and the savage, fairly laughed.

"i should think so, mate," he said. "sometimes i think it would be a good thing to let 'em hear it, and see what it'll do."

but that meant the loss of a cartridge, and one out of about fifty between them might be wanted in a tight corner.

"you keep it dark till it's useful," said smith, "and find out what you can about the canoes in the river. see how many there are, and keep your eyes skinned. for they may shove us out of this at any moment."

"or shove us in if grub gets scarce," cried the baker. "i wish i was h'out of it. if i was on the track with ten days' tucker, i'd be 'alf inclined to 'oof it back down the billabong, and make a big shy for new find."

and then their conversation was cut into by bill, who came demanding a smoke. the baker, who, for a moment, thought he was the man he was most particularly in dread of, stepped aside. when he saw his mistake, he couldn't help watching the two men together.

for smith was as tall as bill, and very lithe. his beard was almost golden, and short and curly. in spite of his moleskin trousers, his broken boots and his ragged shirt, he looked a gentleman. and to see him give his pipe to a savage, who, ten times over, satisfied all the baker's child-like notions of savages, was something strange, horrible, and yet irresistibly ridiculous. for bill was broad, and as muscular as a young hercules, and if he had been shaved both on his breast and back, as well as his head and face, he might, except for his feet, which were over large, and flat and misshapen, have stood as a model for the nude. but it was the possession of his beard and hair, and the skin which covered him, and his wild carriage, which made the contrast tremendous. if he had been black, it would have seemed natural enough. if he had spoken some unintelligible language, it would not have presented so many features of tragic and comic interest, irresistibly combined.

so when bill remarked that he now wanted a pipe of his own because he liked tobacco so much, the baker was all of a sudden taken with a hysterical fit of laughter, which he could not control. he fairly screamed and shouted, and at last lay down.

smith, who had a notion of what had taken the man, was at first alarmed, lest bill should understand. but he reckoned on his possessing keenness and a sense of humour which were both beyond him. and, like a flash, it came to his chum that it would be no bad plan to suggest that the baker was not quite in his right senses.

"he's mad, i think," he said to bill, who was puffing at the pipe quite calmly; and taking no notice of the laughter. "he's mad, bill. the hunger was too much for him."

and at that the baker yelled till the whole camp came in sober curiosity to see a phenomenon which was curious and highly absurd, for they very rarely laughed. during generations life had been too hard for humour, and not advanced enough for sarcastic or sardonic laughter. it pleased smith to see the girl whom the baker believed to have taken a fancy for him, looking at the lunatic on the ground with something resembling contempt.

"perhaps someone once hit him on the head with a waddy," said bill. for such an incident might account for a man's acting in an absurd way.

but when the crowd dispersed, and bill was full of as much nicotine as he could take, smith gave the baker a word.

"they think you are off your chump, old man, and if you keep it up a little you will choke off the girl. and as soon as we get a look at the mine, and i have a bit of a jaw with the old man, we'll try and hook it."