"
"Eh? Let me see it," he said.
She handed it over.
He weighed it in his palm, scrutinized it closely, turning it over and
over. Then he took out his knife and scratched the rusty surface
vigorously for a few minutes.
"Huh!" he grunted. "Look at your funny stone."
He held it out for her inspection. The blade of his knife had left a
dull, yellow scar.
"Oh!" she gasped. "Why--it's gold!"
"It is, woman," he declaimed, with mock solemnity. "Gold--glittering
gold!
"Say, where did you find this?" he asked, when Hazel stared at the
nugget, dumb in the face of this unexpected stroke of fortune.
"Just around the second bend," she cried. "Oh, Bill, do you suppose
there's any more there?"
"Lead me to it with my trusty pan and shovel, and we'll see," Bill
smiled.
Forthwith they set out. The overhanging bowlder was a scant ten
minute's walk up the creek.
Bill leaned on his shovel, and studied the ground. Then, getting down
on his knees at the spot where the marks of Hazel's scratching showed
plain enough, he began to paw over the gravel.
Within five minutes his fingers brought to light a second lump, double
the size of her find. Close upon that he winnowed a third.
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