of paper, and handed it to Ikey, with a two-shilling piece.
"Send that along to Big Boulder by any one passing, will you? I told Durham I'd send him a wire. He won't leave Townsville until to-morrow. The steamer goes at four in the afternoon to-morrow."
When Mr. Cohen got home he read Rody's message, which was brief, but explicit--
"Crushing going badly; not ten weights. Mullock may go as much or more."
At eight o'clock next morning Rody and Buller were ready to feed their second lot of stone into the boxes. At Rody's suggestion the mill manager, who was also the engine driver (and who employed but two Chinamen to feed and empty the sludge pits in connection with the wretched old machine), put on very old coarse screens; and whilst he was engaged in doing this, rody stowed a certain small but heavy canvas bag in a conveniently accessible spot near the battery boxes.
As soon as the screens were fixed, old Joe Fryer came round and started the engine, whilst Rody "fed" and Buller attended to the tables and blankets.
"We'll feed her, Fryer," said Rody. "These Chinkies are right enough with hard stone, but they're no good with mucky stuff like this. They'd have the boxes choked in no time."
Fryer was quite agreeable, and as soon as he turned away to attend to the furnace Rody seized the canvas bag and poured about a quart of the lead filings into the box. At the same time, Buller came round from the tables with a cupful of quicksilver, and poured that in. This was done at frequent intervals.
In a quarter of an hour Buller came round to Rody and said, in Fryer's hearing, that the amalgam was showing pretty thick on the plates.
Fryer went to look at it, naturally feeling pleased at such goo news. In a minute he was back, and seizing Rody by the hand, his dirty old face beaming with excitement.
"By Jingo! You fellows have struck it this time. I haven't seen anything like it since the time Billy Mason and George Boys put ten loads of stuff like this through and got four hundred ounces. And look here, his stuff of yours is going to be as good."
"Well, look here, Fryer," said Rody, modestly, "I may as well tell you that I somehow thought it was pretty right. And I believe we've just dropped on such another patch as Mason and Boys did in '72."
Buller by this time was apparetnly as much excited as old Fryer, and was now sweeping the amalgam off the plates with a rubber, like a street scraper sweepsup mud--in great stiff ridges--and dropping it into an enamelled bucket. And every time that Fryer was out of sight shoving a log of wood into the furnace, rody would pour another quart of lead filings in the feed-box, and Buller would follow with a pint of quicksilver.
"Luckily we got him to put on those old worn screens," muttered Rody to Buller, "the cursed stuff is beginning to clog the boxes as it is."
At last, there being no more lead left and but little quicksilver, the stampers worked with more freedom, and in another hour Rody flung down his shovel--the final shovelful of mullock had gone into the box.
"I'll help you clean up as soon as I draw my fire," said old Fryer. "By thunder, boys, what'll the chaps say when they see this? What about old Sugar-bag being played out, eh?"
Fortunately for Rody and his partner the mill was a good two miles away from the main camp, there being no nearer water available, and no one had troubled to come down to see how the crushing was going, except one Micky Foran, who had carted their stone down from the claim. But when Micky saw Fryer and Rody go round to the back of the boxes, lift the apron, and take off the screens, he gave a yell that could have been heard a mile:
"Holy Saints, it looks like a grotto filled wid silver!"
And so it did, for the whole of the sides of the box, the stampers, and dies were covered with a coating of amalgam some inches thick and as hard as cement.
In five minutes Micky was galloping up to the camp with the glorious news of Sugar-bag's resurrecion, leaving Fryer, Buller and Rody hard at work digging out the amalgam with cold chisels and butcher knives.
By the time the boxes had been cleaned, and the quicksilver--or rather amalgam--scooped up from the wells, and the whole lot placed in various dishes and buckets, the excited population of Sugar-bag began to appear upon the scene. Among them was Mr. Cohen, who advanced to Rody with a smile.
"Vell, my boy, you've struck id and no misdake. I knew you vas a good____"
"Oh, to balzes
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