There's nobody," he said, when he reached his mates. "The row was only
a blanky spike that fell from the roof an' broke itself. The ground's
covered with 'em."

"Come on, then," said Sweet William; "let's finish our business."

They gathered again round the treasure.

"You see, I have arranged it in two heaps," said Dolphin--"nuggets in
one, gold-dust in the other. I propose to measure out the dust first."

Each man had provided himself with one of the leather bags which had
originally held the gold, and their leader filled a pint pannikin with
gold-dust. "That's one," he said, lifting it heavily. "That's for you,
old crooked chops." And he emptied the measure into Garstang's bag.

"Two." He emptied a pannikinful of gold into Carnac's bag.

"Three." Sweet William received a like measure.

"Four." Dolphin helped himself.

"That makes four pints of gold," he said. "What d'you say, mates, will
she go round another turn?"

"No," said Carnac, "try a half-pint all round."

Dolphin fetched a smaller pannikin from the swags, and the division of
the gold continued.

To share the nuggets equally was a difficult matter, and a good deal of
wrangling took place in consequence. This, however, was quieted by the
simple expedient of tossing a coin for disputed pieces of gold. The
biggest nuggets being thus disposed of, the smaller ones were measured
in the half-pint pot, till at length the envious eyes of the goldsmith
saw the last measureful disappear into its owner's bag.

This exceedingly delicate matter being settled, the bushrangers sat
round the fire, drank tea which they brewed in a black "billy,"
lit their pipes, and--as is invariably the case with a gang of
thieves--enacted again the awful drama in which they had lately
played their horrible parts.

Shivering on the damp floor of the dripping gallery, Tresco strained his
ears to hear every diabolical detail of the conversation.

"Garstang, old man, Dolly's right; you'd better see to that shirt of
yours. It looks as if you'd killed a pig in it."

"The chap I chiv'd was as fat as a pig, anyway," said the
crooked-mouthed murderer, as he attempted to rub out the guilty stains
with a dirty piece of rag. "The blood spurted all over me as soon as I
pulled out the knife."

"Take it off, man; it looks as bad as a slaughterman's," said the leader
of the gang. "Throw it in the fire."

"I consider I did my man beautifully," said Carnac. "I told him to say
his prayers,