The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1901-04-23
THE LITTLE
GOLD NUGGET
A Tale of the Australian Gold
Diggings.
*]*~*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*A*%*'


little nugget away in corner of the
old workbox which had been her moth
er's under the cotton and socks she
was darning for her father. She felt
duly weighted with the responsibility
She knew that this yellow earth was
Of great value, for her father, leaving
her mother, who was very delicate,
with some friends in Brisbane, had
come long, weary way to find it.
Having hidden the little nugget
away, Effie came out of the hut to look
around and see if any one was near
who might have seen her. No. No
one was near who might have seen her
only Billy, the black-King Billy, the
aboriginal monarch, who loved rum
and tobacco and who was chopping
some firewood for her.
This little girls reason for trusting
King Billy, the black, was somewhat
strange and is worthy of being re-
corded. She trusted him because she
had been kind to him.
But Effie was only IL.
AS the child stood in the broad light,
her tumbled hay hued hair kissed and
illumined by the bold rays of the sun
and her round, trustful blue eyes shad-
ed from the glare by two little brown
hands, watching King Billy at his
work, a flock of laughing jaekasses
alighted in a neighboring gum tree
and set up demoniac exclamation.
What made the i'll omened birds so
madly merry? What was the joke?
Elites trust? Billy's gratitude? They
failed to explain, but their amusement
was huge and sardonic.
"Drive them away, Billy" cried Eff
fie, and the obedient king dropped his
ak and threw faggot of wood at the
tree, which stopped the laughter and
dispersed the merrymakers.
BILLY tired now" said the black
grinning. "Too much work-plenty
wood" and he pointed to the result
Of his labor.
Eyes, that will be enough, thank
you. You're good boy. I'll give you
some tobacco"
Oily lulISly.
'9Then you shall have some tea"
"No tea. Rum"
"No, Billy. Rum isn't good for you"
GOOD for miners; good for Billy"
mo, it's not good for miners" said
Efie emphatically. at makes them
fight and say wicked things"
makes black fellow feel good,' de-
clared Billy rolling his dusky eyes.
This last argument was effective.
Efie went into her hut-her father had
returned to his work-and poured a
little spirits from John Archer's flask
into a pannikin. Billy drank the
spirits with rolling eyes, smacked his
lips and then lay down in the shadow
Of the hut to sleep.
The loug afternoon passed very slow
ly for Effie. Her few trif1ing duties
as housekeeper were soon done. The
little hut was tidied and the simple
evening meal prepared and some hours
must pass before her father returned
How could she pass the time? She
had only two books-a Bible and q
volume of stories for little girls, which
she had won as prize at school in
Brisbane. But she was too young to
appreciate the first, especially as the
type was very small and it was difficult
reading, and she had grown beyond
approaching the stories for little girls,
having known them by heart three
years before. She would like to have
slept. Everything around her suggest
ed and invited the siesta-the steady
heat, the brightness of the light with.
out the hut, the distant murmur OF
miners voices which came from be-
yond yonder belt Of waffle gums, the
monotonous hum of the locusts In the
forest. the occasional fretful cry OF
strange bird and the regular SHORES of
the fallen king, who slumbered in the
shade of the hut Even the buzz of the
annoying flies assisted the general ef-
feet and brought drowsiness.
To remain still for a few minutes
would have meant inevitably falling
asleep. Effie felt this and remembered
the little gold nugget. If she slept,
some thief might come and take it. And
so she put on her hat and, forsaking
the seductive cool and shade of the hut,
went out into the brightness and heat.
Archer's hut stood on the edge of the
valley, over against the foot of the
blue, heavily timbered hills. About so
yards distant from it, hidden among
the trees, was high moss grown rock.
at the base of which Effie had discover
ed the smallest and sweetest of natural
springs Thither the child ran-looking
back often to see that no one approach
ed the hut Ia her absence-to battle her
face. In few minutes she returned,
drying her face in her apron and shak-
ing her wet hair in the sun. No one
had come, but King Billy was now
awake and was slouching lazily off to-
ward the bush. Fife laughed as she
saw him, his great head bent forward
and his thin, narrow shoulders bowed.
She laughed to think of his laziness
and that he should look so tired after
such a very little wood chopping.
She was still laughing at King Billy
as she opened the old workbox to take
another peep at the yellow treasure
and to make quite sure that the heat
hadn't melted it away. And it was
quite slowly that the laugh died from
her pretty eyes and mouth-quite slow
ly because of the moments it took to
realize and accept misfortune so ter
rible-when she lifted the coarse socks
and looked and saw no little gold mug
get, saw nothing. Then horror and
great fear grew in the blue eyes, and
pale agony crept over the childish face
and made 1t old, and the poor little
heart seemed to stop beating.
Effie said nothing and made no cry,
but she closed her eyes tightly for
moment and looked in the box again.
No, it was no illusion. The little mug
get was not there The first gold her
father had found, which had been in
trusted to her care, which was to have
been taken to her mother-it was gone.
She put down the box quite quietly
and walked out into the day. But the
sun was shining very strangely and
mistily now, and the blue sky had
grown black, and the trees seemed to
move weirdly, and the locusts had
ceased humming from fear, but the
strange bird was somewhere near,
shrieking brokenly: "What will father
say? What will father say q