is careless way, he said the loss must be given up for a bad job; they
should never find the fellows, and the best plan was to pick up more
gold to replace that gone. Luke informed him he had written home to
announce his death. John went into a fit of laughter, forbade Luke to
contradict it, and anticipated the fun he should have in surprising
them, when he went home on the accumulation of his fortune. Thus he
stopped at the diggings, remaining in complete ignorance of the changes
which had taken place; the voyage of Frederick and his wife to
Melbourne, the death of Mr. Verner, the subsequent death of Frederick;
and above all--for that would have told most on John--of the strange
will left by Mr. Verner, which had constituted him the inheritor of
Verner's Pride.

But fortune did not come in the rapid manner fondly expected by John.
The nuggets seemed shy. He obtained enough to rub along with, and that
was all. The life did not ill suit him. To such a man as Lionel Verner,
of innate refinement, just and conscientious, the life would have been
intolerable, almost worse than death. John was not overburdened with any
one of those qualities, and he rather liked the life than not. One thing
was against him: he had no patience. Roving about from place to place,
he was satisfied nowhere long. It was not only that he perpetually
changed the spot, or bed, of work, but he changed from one settlement
to another. This was the reason probably that Captain Cannonby had never
met with him; it was more than probable that it was the cause of his
non-success. Luke Roy was not so fond of roving. He found a place likely
to answer his expectations, and he remained at it; so that the two
parted early, and did not again meet afterwards.

Suddenly John Massingbird heard that he had been left heir to Verner's
Pride. He had gone down to Melbourne; and some new arrival from
England--from the county in which Verner's Pride was situated--mentioned
this in his hearing. The stranger was telling the tale of the
unaccountable will of Mr. Verner, of the death of John and Frederick
Massingbird, and of the _consequent_ accession of Lionel Verner; telling
it as a curious bit of home gossip, unconscious that one of his
listeners was the first-named heir--the veritable John Massingbird.

Too much given to act upon impulse, allowing himself no time to
ascertain or to inquire whether the story might be correct or not, John
Massingbird took a berth in the firs