y day, while they were engaged in digging for
gold. Suffice it to say that sometimes they were fortunate, sometimes
the reverse, but that on the whole, they were successful beyond the
average of diggers, and became sanguine of making their fortunes in a
short time.

Nevertheless Frank Allfrey did not like the life. Whatever else might
arouse his ambition, he was evidently not one of those whose soul was
set upon the acquisition of wealth. Although successful as a digger,
and with more gold in his possession than he knew what to do with, he
detested the dirty, laborious work of digging and dabbling in mud from
morning till night. He began to see that, as far as the nature of his
daily toil was concerned, he worked harder, and was worse off than the
poorest navvy who did the dirtiest work in old England! He sighed for
more congenial employment, meditated much over the subject, and finally
resolved to give up gold-digging.

Before, however, he could carry this resolve into effect, he was smitten
with a dire disease, and in a few days lay on the damp floor of his poor
hut, as weak and helpless as a little child.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

FRANK AND JOE TAKE TO WANDERING; SEE SOME WONDERFUL THINGS, AND HAVE A
NARROW ESCAPE.

Before our hero became convalescent, his comrade Douglas was "laid down"
with dysentery. In these circumstances, the digging went on slowly, for
much of the time of Meyer and Graddy was necessarily occupied in
nursing--and truly kind and devoted, though rough, nurses they proved to
be in that hour of need.

Gradually, but surely, Douglas sank. There was no doctor to prescribe
for him, no medicine to be had for love or money. In that wretched hut
he lay beside his sick friend, and conversed, as strength permitted, in
faint low tones, on the folly of having thrown his life away for "mere
gold," and on the importance of the things that concern the soul. As he
drew near his end, the name of the Saviour was often on his lips, and
often did he reproach himself for having neglected the "great
salvation," until it was _almost_ too late. Sometimes he spoke of
home--in Scotland,--and gave many messages to Frank, which he begged him
to deliver to his mother, if he should ever get well and live to return
home.

There was something in that "if" which went with a thrill to Frank's
heart, as he lay there, and realised vividly that his comrade was
actually dying, and that he too might die.

One evening Jo