Day-dreams were not possible in the vicinity of Richard Haddon. The boy
was an ardent fossicker, and loved to be burrowing amongst old tailings,
or groping in the sludge of an auriferous creek after little patches. He
was soon peering into the ripples of Harry's cradle.

'Poor,' he commented, with the confidence of an expert.

'Not up to much, Dick,' said Harry. 'I've just been prospectin' a bit
round here.'

'Frank was tryin' that bank. 'Tain't no good. Say, I can lay you onter
somethin' better not far from here.'

'Yes--where is it?'

'Tellin's. What'll you give us?

'Depends. What's it worth?'

'Got half a pennyweight prospect there onst. Look here, you lend me yer
dog t'-night, an' I'll show where.'

'What do you want with Cop?'

'You won't split? Well, some coves down to Cow Flat come up an' stole my
goat, Butts, an' a lot of others, an' me an' some other fellers is goin'
after 'em t'-night, late. A good sheep-dog what's a quiet worker 'd be
spiffin. Cop's all right. He'd work fer me.'

Harry had not forgotten the time when a lordly billy was the pride and