RAINBOW GOLD

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 65, Issue 145, 2 April 1945, Page 6

RAINBOW GOLD

Serial Story.

(Copyright). A Gold-mining Adventure.

BY E. C. BULEY.

CHAPTER II REGISTERING THE CLAIM. Next day they measured out the reward claim to which, as first discoverers, they were entitled. They drove in the pegs, which defined the claim in the proper fashion. After that they beat the stone out of some of the quartz they had mined, leavingshapeless lumps of dull gold. “Cripes!” said Dan, surveying the result of this work “We’ve got a thousand quid, or more, in that heap of stone.”

“Not a day too soon,” Wetherby remained contentedly. “The water in the hole is about done. If our old tin Lizzie turns sour on us now' we’ll do a perish in the desert. It would he just my luck to strike it rich at last and puncture the very next day.” “We pull out at sunup to-morrow,” Dan decided. “The luck’ll hold, Don; take it from me.”

Three days later the two prospectors drove up to the homestead of Beringa cattle, station, at their last gasp. They could only point to their blackened swollen lips; the last of the wrater had been required by the car, or they could never have reached this last outpost of civilisation. They,rested for a couple of days, and then prepared to resume their journey to rail head.

“What are you going to do, now you’ve made your pile, Dan?” Wetherby asked, as they overlooked the car on the eve of making another start. “I dunno,” Don said carelessly. “We’ve got to cash in first, haven’t we?” “That’s simple; take my word for it,” Wetherby replied confidently. “I know how to cash in on a mine like ours. And as soon as I’ve touched the money, I’m off to England to settle down. There’s a grand little girl waiting for me, Dan; been waiting for years.” “England?” Dan repeated. “I thought you were a native.

Dan himself had emigrated to Australia from England as a boy of fifteen, but his mate had never before spoke of England. He had all the marks of a native-born Australian. “I’m an Aussie, all right,” Wetherby agreed. “But I’m going back to England to settle down now.” “Never knew you’d ever been there,” Dan said indifferently. “You never said anything about having a girl waiting for you in England.” “I don’t tell everybody my business,” Wetherby agreed. “But you are different, Dan. I shouldn’t have been a rich man only for you. It was you who put me on to this good thing. I’m writing to Gladys to tell her how much she owes to you.’ His voice quavered with emotion. Dan felt uncomfortable; he was not used to chaps who let themselves go. Wetherby was all right as a. working mate; he had done his full share of the toil, and taken his half of any risk that was encountered. But he was inclined to be what Dan called “gabby”; and to talk too much if given the slightest encouragement. From his breast pocket he now drew a photograph, which he thrust into Dan’s hands. It was the picture of a girl in evening dress, with smooth round arms; a girl with very big dark eyes that looked wistfully out of the picture; a girl with a tremulous mouth which made Wetherby’s story of patient waiting seem very real, all of a sudden t 6 Dan.

“Gripes!” said Dan. devouring tlie picture with his gaze. “Se’s a bonzer little girl, Don. No wonder you are in a hurry to cash in and get away to England. Good luck to both of you!’” All of a sudden, somehow, he felt very lonely, and a little sad. He had never been much in the way of meeting nice girls, like the big-eyed original of his mate’s photograph. When he did, on any rare occasion, Dan had nothing to say to them. They made him feel lost and awkward. It had never before occurred to him to envy anybody, but now lie envied Don Wtherby, whose future he arranged in such a pleasant fashion. “But what are you going to do yourself, Dan?” Wetherby insisted. “Oh, I dunno,” Dan said. “I expect I’ll have a look around for a bit; invest my capital in a station, or fruit farm maybe. But we have to cash in first.”

“Leave that to me,” Wetherby repeated confidently. “You have done the thinking up to now; but this is where I come in. When we get to Sydney, just watch me cash in on that mine of ours.”

“Ryebuclt!” yawned Dan, knocking the ashes out of his pipe. “Got to make an early start to-morrow. G ’night.” When they got to Sydney, Dan’s first care was to register their claim with the mining department. Then the two mates sold enough of the gold they had won to provide for their immediate needs and spent a day or two enjoying themselves in Sydney. They had a day at the races and an evening at the theatre. They browsed a good deal in restaurants on green vegetables and fruit, after the custom of all men who have long been away from such vital necessities of life. They had a long afternoon swimming in the surf at Bondi beach; and rode about a good deal in taxicabs. It struck Dan that, for a man who had a beautiful girl patiently waiting for him over in England, his mate was rather too ready to chum up with any pretty girl he came, across. Don Wetherby certainly had a way with him; and barmaids, waitresses, and girls behind counters seemed to advance halfway to meet him. Dan could never find a thing to say to them, and found himself ignored. He was rather glad of that; but he was surprised at Don Wetherby. He found himself thinking a good deal of the big-eyed, wistful original of the photograph. If a grand girl like that were waiting for him in England, he wouldn’t be smirking at any blonde he saw behind a bar.

After a spell of three or four days, Wetherby set out one morning to redeem his promise, and dispose of the gold mine. By lunch time he was back at the hotel again, Avitli a bright eyed sallow individual named Slade, Avhom he introduced to Dan as a mining engineer, and a representative of English capital. Dan, Avho had the specimens from the mine under his oavii key, exhibited the golden stone to Slade after they had lunched. The white-faced

man’s eyes glistened even more brightly as he handled the stuff. “Might be anything,” he said, fingering the brittle stone. “Might be a five million pound mine, and might be just a little jeAveller’s shop on the hillside. What do you say, Mr Prescott?” “That’s Avhy Ave are cashing in,” Dan said laconically. “It’s a gamble, sure enough; but it looked good to me.” Slade nodded, and soon after he Avent off Avith Wetherby. (To Be Continued).