This was the first sentence of conciliation, not to say of civility, that the young man had spoken, and heretofore his air had been cross or cynical; yet no sooner did he evince this little of good-will, than the manner of the other softened at once to a degree that was very remarkable in so rough a man. “Don't talk of obligations, lad, for I like you--ay, so well, that I wish you were son of mine; not that I am fit to be the father of such as you either; I _know_ that well.” “If I were your son, I am afraid you would have a good deal of trouble with me, Mr Derrick,” replied the young man laughing: “I am not a good boy.” “That is true, Walter Lisgard; and yet I never saw a face that took my liking as yours does--save once. I could not tell what drew me so towards you, when I first met you up at the Farm yonder; but now I know very well.” “Then it is to the similarity between myself and some other favoured individual that I am indebted for your regard? That rather robs the compliment of its flavour.” “Ay, my lad; but you are dear to me for your own sake also, although, indeed, I scarce know why.” “Thank you, Mr Derrick.” “True,” continued the other thoughtfully, without noticing his companion's flippant tone, “you are like--ah, Heaven, how like you are to one that's dead and gone! Indeed, I can refuse you nothing while I think upon it. It is not everybody, however, lad, to whom I would humour by telling exactly what I'm worth. While a man is merely known as rich, he may have any sum, and be looked up to accordingly; but when his wealth can be reckoned to a pound, he loses credit. If _Manylaws_ wins at Epsom, I shall be worth--ay, near a hundred thousand pounds.” “I suppose no one in Cariboo ever made a sum like that by gold-digging, eh?” “I think no one, Master Walter. There was no claim so rich as my mate's and mine at Snowy Creek, and it did not yield that sum. But, by Heaven, how well I remember what it did yield. It seemed to me then that I should never run risks any more, but live on what I had in content and plenty; and yet here I am, this very morning”---- “My dear sir,” interrupted his companion gaily, “it appears to me that you are taking gloomy views. What is life without excitement?” “Ay, that is very well for _you_, lad, who have something to fall back upon, if your little schemes should miscarry. Excitement in your case is only another name for amusement; but in mine”---- “Well, in yours, Mr Derrick?”