Madame Midas. Hume Fergus

filled up the trollies with it. After asking the miner about the character of the wash, and testing some himself in a shovel, Archie left the gallery, and going back to the shoot, they descended again to the main drive, and visited several other faces of wash, the journey in each instance being exactly the same in all respects. Each face had a man working at it, sometimes two, and a runner who loaded the trucks, and ran them along to the shoots. In spite of the ventilation, Vandeloup felt as if he was in a Turkish bath, and the heat was in some places very great. At the end of one of the drives McIntosh called Vandeloup, and on going towards him the young man found him seated on a truck with the plan of the mine before him, as he wanted to show him all the ramifications of the workings.

      The plan looked more like a map of a city than anything else, with the main drive doing duty as the principal street, and all the little galleries, branching off in endless confusion, looked like the lanes and alleys of a populous town.

      ‘It’s like the catacombs in Rome,’ said Vandeloup to McIntosh, after he had contemplated the plan for some time; ‘one could easily get lost here.’

      ‘He micht,’ returned McIntosh, cautiously, ‘if he didna ken a’ aboot the lie of the mine – o’er yonder,’ putting one finger on the plan and pointing with the other to the right of the tunnel; ‘we found a twenty-ounce nugget yesterday, and ain afore that o’ twenty-five, and in the first face we were at twa months ago o’er there,’ pointing to the left, ‘there was yin big ain I ca’d the Villiers nugget, which as ye ken is Madame’s name.’

      ‘Oh, yes, I know that,’ said Vandeloup, much interested; ‘do you christen all your nuggets?’

      ‘If they’re big enough,’ replied Archie.

      ‘Then I hope you will find a hundred-ounce lump of gold, and call it the Vandeloup,’ returned the young man, laughing.

      ‘There’s mony a true word spoke in jest, laddie,’ said Archie, gravely; ‘when we get to the Deil’s Lead we may find ain o’ that size.’

      ‘What do you mean by leads?’ asked Vandeloup, considerably puzzled.

      Thereupon Archie opened his mouth, and gave the young man a scientific lecture on mining, the pith of which was as follows: —

      ‘Did ye no ken,’ said Mr McIntosh, sagaciously, ‘in the auld days – I winna say but what it micht be as far back as the Fa’ o’ Man, may be a wee bit farther – the rains washed a’ the gold fra the taps o’ the hills, where the quartz reefs were, down tae the valleys below, where the rivers ye ken were flowin’. And as the ages went on, an’ nature, under the guidance o’ the Almighty, performed her work, the river bed, wiv a’ its gold, would be covered o’er with anither formation, and then the river, or anither yin, would flow on a new bed, and the precious metal would be washed fra the hills in the same way as I tauld ye of, and the second river bed would be also covered o’er, and sae the same game went on and is still progressin’. Sae when the first miners came doon tae this land of Ophir the gold they got by scratchin’ the tap of the earth was the latest deposit, and when ye gae doon a few hundred feet ye come on the second river – or rather, I should say, the bed o’ the former river-and it is there that the gold is tae be found; and these dried-up rivers we ca’ leads. Noo, laddie, ye ma ken that at present we are in the bed o’ ain o’ these auld streams three hun’red feet frae the tap o’ the earth, and it’s here we get the gold, and as we gae on we follow the wandrin’s o’ the river and lose sight o’ it.’

      ‘Yes,’ said Vandeloup quickly, ‘but you lost this river you call the Devil’s Lead – how was that?’

      ‘Weel,’ said Mr McIntosh, deliberately, ‘rivers are varra like human bein’s in the queer twists they take, and the Deil’s Lead seems to hae been ain like that. At present we are on the banks o’ it, where we noo get these nuggets; but ‘tis the bed I want, d’ye ken, the centre, for its there the gold is; losh, man,’ he went on, excitedly, rising to his feet and rolling up the plan, ‘ye dinna ken how rich the Deil’s Lead is; there’s just a fortune in it.’

      “I suppose these rivers must stop at a certain depth?”

      “Ou, ay,” returned the old Scotchman, “we gae doon an’ doon till we come on what we ma ca’ the primary rock, and under that there is nothin’ – except,” with a touch of religious enthusiasm, “maybe ‘tis the bottomless pit, where auld Hornie dwells, as we are tauld in the Screepture; noo let us gae up again, an’ I’ll show ye the puddlers at wark.”

      Vandeloup had not the least idea what the puddlers were, but desirous of learning, he followed his guide, who led him into another gallery, which formed a kind of loop, and joined again with the main drive. As Gaston stumbled along, he felt a touch on his shoulder, and on turning, saw it was Pierre, who had been put to work with the other men, and was acting as one of the runners.

      “Ah! you are there, my friend,” said Vandeloup, coolly, looking at the uncouth figure before him by the feeble glimmer of his candle; “work away, work away; it’s not very pleasant, but at all events,” in a rapid whisper, “it’s better than New Caledonia.”

      Pierre nodded in a sullen manner, and went back to his work, while Vandeloup hurried on to catch up to McIntosh, who was now far ahead.

      “I wish,” said this pleasant young man to himself, as he stumbled along, “I wish that the mine would fall in and crush Pierre; he’s such a dead weight to be hanging round my neck; besides, he has such a gaol-bird look about him that it’s enough to make the police find out where he came from; if they do, good-bye to wealth and respectability.”

      He found Archie waiting for him at the entrance to the main drive, and they soon arrived at the bottom of the shaft, got into the cage, and at last reached the top of the earth again. Vandeloup drew a long breath of the fresh pure air, but his eyes felt quite painful in the vivid glare of the sun.

      “I don’t envy the gnomes,” he said gaily to Archie as they went on to the puddlers; “they must have been subject to chronic rheumatism.”

      Mr McIntosh, not having an acquaintance with fairy lore, said nothing in reply, but took Vandeloup to the puddlers, and showed all the process of getting the gold.

      The wash was carried along in the trucks from the top of the shaft to the puddlers, which were large circular vats into which water was constantly gushing. The wash dirt being put into these, there was an iron ring held up by chains, having blunt spikes to it, which was called a harrow. Two of these being attached to beams laid crosswise were dragged round and round among the wash by the constant revolution of the cross-pieces. This soon reduced all the wash dirt to a kind of fine, creamy-looking syrup, with heavy white stones in it, which were removed every now and then by the man in charge of the machine. Descending to the second story of the framework, Vandeloup found himself in a square chamber, the roof of which was the puddler. In this roof was a trap-door, and when the wash dirt had been sufficiently mixed the trap-door was opened, and it was precipitated through on to the floor of the second chamber. A kind of broad trough, running in a slanting direction and called a sluice, was on one side, and into this a quantity of wash was put, and a tap at the top turned on, which caused the water to wash the dirt down the sluice. Another man at the foot, with a pitchfork, kept shifting up the stones which were mixed up with the gravel, and by degrees all the surplus dirt was washed away, leaving only these stones and a kind of fine black sand, in which the gold being heavy, had stayed. This sand was carefully gathered up with a brush and iron trowel into a shallow tin basin, and then an experienced miner carefully manipulated the same with clear water. What with blowing with the breath, and allowing the water to flow gently over it, all the black sand was soon taken away, and the bottom of the tin dish was then covered with dirty yellow grains of gold interspersed with little water-worn nuggets. Archie took the gold and carried it down to the office, where it was first weighed and then put into a little canvas bag, which would be taken to the bank in Ballarat, and there sold at the rate of four pounds an ounce or thereabouts.

      ‘Sae this, ye ken,’ said Archie, when he had finished all his explanations, ‘is the way ye get gold.’

      ‘My faith,’ said Vandeloup, carelessly, with a merry laugh, ‘gold is as hard to get