Page 130 - The English Carnival 7

“What’s come to you, Hooker?” said Evans. “Have you lost your wits?”

“Let’s get the gold out of this place, anyhow,” said Hooker.

He took the ends of the collar of the coat in his hands, and Evans took the opposite
corners, and they lifted the mass. “Which way?” said Evans. “To the canoe?”

“It’s queer,” said Evans, when they had advanced only a few steps, “but my arms ache
still with that paddling.”

“Curse it!” he said. “But they ache! I must rest.”

They let the coat down, Evans’ face was white, and little drops of sweat stood out upon
his forehead. “It’s stuffy, somehow, in this forest.”

Then with an abrupt transition to unreasonable anger: “What is the good of waiting
here all the day? Lend a hand, I say! You have done nothing but moon since we saw

the dead Chinaman.”

Hooker was looking steadfastly at his companion’s face. He helped raise the coat bearing
the ingots, and they went forward perhaps a hundred yards in silence. Evans began to
breathe heavily. “Can’t you speak?” he said.

“What’s the matter with you?” said Hooker.

Evans stumbled, and then with a sudden curse flung the coat from him. He stood for a
moment staring at Hooker, and then with a groan clutched at his own throat.

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