Ned was as full of talk as an egg of meat. The theme he dwelt longest on
was the new glory that lay in store for the Ballarat diggings. At
present these were under a cloud. The alluvial was giving out, and the
costs and difficulties of boring through the rock seemed insuperable.
One might hear the opinion freely expressed that Ballarat's day as
premier goldfield was done. Ned set up this belief merely for the
pleasure of demolishing it. He had it at first hand that great companies
were being formed to carry on operations. These would reckon their areas
in acres instead of feet, would sink to a depth of a quarter of a mile
or more, raise washdirt in hundreds of tons per day. One such company,
indeed, had already sprung into existence, out on Golden Point; and now
was the time to nip in. If he, Ned, had the brass, or knew anybody who'd
lend it to him, he'd buy up all the shares he could get. Those who
followed his lead would make their fortunes. "I say, Richard, it'ud be
something for you."
His words evoked no response. Sorry though I shall be, thought Polly,
dear Ned had better not come to the house so often in future. I wonder
if I need tell Richard why. Jerry was on pins and needles, and even put
Trotty ungently from him: Richard would be so disgusted by Ned's
blatherskite that he would have no patience left to listen to him.
Mahony kept his nose to his book. As a matter of principle. He made a
rule of believing, on an average, about the half of what Ned said.
Pages:
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318