urn, an' in coorse it's all
very right that our poor messmate should have been looked arter, an I'm
very glad he wos. Notwithstandin', I'm bound for to say it _is_ raither
okard as it stands, for we're pretty nigh cleaned out, an' have got to
make for the coast in the rainy season, w'ich, it appears to me, is very
like settin' sail in a heavy gale without ballast."

"Come, Joe," interposed Frank, "we're not quite so hard up as that comes
to. There is a little ballast left,--sufficient, if we only turn to,
and wash out a little more gold, to take us home."

"Sorry to hear you're in such a fix," said Jeffson, still regarding his
friends with a peculiar smile on his cadaverous countenance; "but I
think I can get ye out of it. See here," he added, leading them to
another grave not far distant from that of Meyer; "can you guess who
lies under the sod there? He was a friend of yours; though perhaps you
would scarcely have acknowledged him had he been alive. You remember
Bradling--"

"What! our old travelling companion!" exclaimed Frank.

"The same."

"Why, I saved his life only a few days ago."

"I know it," said Jeffson, "He came here late one night, all covered
with blood; and, flinging himself down on a bench in my store, said that
he was done for. And so he was, I guess,--all riddled with bullets,
none of which, however, had given him a mortal wound; but he had lost so
much blood by the way that he had no chance of recovering. I did my
best for him, poor fellow, but he sank rapidly. Before he died he told
me how you had saved him from being scragged, and said that he wanted to
make you his heir."

"Poor fellow," said Frank with a sad smile, "it was a kind expression of
gratitude that I did not expect of him, considering his reputation."

"I s'pose," said Joe Graddy, with a sarcastic laugh, "that you'll be
goin' to set up your carriage an' four, an' make me your coachman,
mayhap?"

"I think I may promise that with safety," replied Frank.

"Indeed you may," said Jeffson, "for Bradling has been one of the most
successful diggers in Bigbear Gully since you left it, and has made his
fortune twice over. The value of gold-dust and nuggets left by him in
my charge for you is about ninety-six thousand dollars, which, I
believe, is nigh twenty thousands pounds sterling of your money."

"Gammon!" exclaimed Joe.

"You are jesting," said Frank.

"That I am not, as you shall see, if you will come with me to the