"Bood you vill not go, mein vrient," cried the old man. "You vill not leave here--mein cracious, no! You vill shdop und get all die ostridge you gan, und shend dem out effery day to big oop zom shdones, und den you vill dig oop der earth vor die pirts to vind more shdones, und when dey haf shvallowed all dey gan, you und der bube here vill kill dem, und empty die gizzards into die powls of water to vash dem." "No, no, no: what nonsense!" cried Emson, while Dyke suddenly dashed to the table, seized one bowl, looked at its contents, and banged them down again. "Hurray!" he yelled. "Oh! Herr Morgenstern, is it real?" For like a light shot from one of the crystals, he saw the truth. "Nonsense, Yoseph Emzon?" cried the old man. "Id is drue wisdom, as goot as der great Zolomon's. Yoseph Emzon, I gongradulade you. You haf had a hart shdruggle, but it is ofer now. Die ostridge pirts haf made you a ferry rich man, und I know dot it is right, for you vill always do goot." "But--but--do I understand? Are those--those--" "Yes, Joe," roared Dyke, springing at his brother. "There is no more room for despair now, old chap, for you are rich; and to think we never thought of it being so when you were so unhappy, and--and--Oh, I can't speak now. I don't care for them--only for the good they'll do to you, for they're diamonds, Joe, and there's plenty more diamonds, and all your own." "Yes, und pig vons, too," said the old trader, with a look of triumph; "und now I must haf somedings to trink. I haf dalk so much, I veel as I shall shoke. Here, bube, you go und shoomp indo dem vagon, und bring one of die plack poddles out of mein box py vere I shleep. Id is der bruder's vizzick, bud ve vill trink a trop to-night do gongradulade him, und you dwo shall trink do der health of dis honesd alt manns." The bottle of port was fetched, a portion carefully medicated with quinine, and Morgenstern handed it to the invalid. "Mein vrient," he said, "das is wein dot maketh glad das heart of man. I trink do your goot health." A few minutes later the old trader said softly: "I go now to say mein brayer und get mein schleep. Goot-night, mein vrients, und Gott pless you both." It was about an hour later, when the faint yelping of the jackals was heard in the distance, that Emson said softly: "Asleep, young un?" "No, Joe; I can't get off nohow. I say, am I dreaming, or is all this true?" "It is true, lad, quite true; and I suppose that you and I are going to be rich men." "Rich man and boy, Joe. I say: are you pleased?" "More thankful than pleased, Dyke, for now, when we like, we can start for home." "Without feeling shamefaced and beaten, eh, Joe? Then I _am_ glad. I didn't quite know before, but I do know now; and we can make the old people at home happy, too, Joe." "As far as money can make them so, little un." "Hullo!" cried Dyke; "you are a bit happy after all, Joe." "What makes you say that?"