B.B. looked warily round, on emerging from the scrub, then cautiously approached, and, after a casual glance at the windlass, seized the rope and disappeared. The shaft was only about 18 feet deep. A drive ran in for some distance from each end along the gutter. B.B. produced a candle, and examined the workings, then drew a tin containing gold dust from his pocket. He paused, again studied the strata and slate underfoot, then tested it with a pick. Now, B.B. was a geologist--of a sort. He had not learned the science by correspondence, but by working on most of the alluvial fields in the “rush” days. The candle burned down almost to the clay, as he hesitated. Then he remarked: “False bottom, like the McIvor lead,” and returned the gold to his pocket. Taking a length of broken board, he wrote on it with a piece of pipe-clay, and drove the sharp end into the floor, at the entrance to one of the drives, remarking: “If he gets nothing out of it, replace withl salt his show later.” Although he could read print, B.B. did not profess to be able to write--in fact, he used to sign for his minereplace with right with a cross--so the spelling presented difficulties, in particular the word “father.”
Although B.B. believed his nocturnal visit had been unobserved, he was mistaken, for a small white-robed figure had been standing at a window, looking toward the ranges, just made discernable by the rising moon. She noticed someone emerge from the saplings, and approach the claim. Hope neither spoke nor moved, but gazed, spell-bound. Yes, it was Santa Claus! She could see the hoar frost sparkling all over him. (In the dryest season, at that altitude, there is a heavy dew, so on every minute hair of the diggereplace with clothes, and every hair of his whiskers, glistened a particle of moisture.) Strange he should come a night too soon, and not to the house, she thought, as B.B. disappeared down the shaft. Her eyes never left the spot. Then, after what seemed a long time, the figure reappeared, crossed the flat, and was enveloped in the foliage. But, in the broad light of day, Hope was not quite sure that the whole occurrence was not a dream, so, being a reserved child, she held her peace.
