At last, then, the English party felt that their troubles and dangers were completely at an end. Their shadowers had vanished, defeated utterly. One of them, Antonio Minho, lay dead and buried above the Kloof of Gold; the other had taken himself off, his evil schemes wrecked, his plottings scattered to the winds. They breathed again, and were now all prepared to return to that absorbing quest on which they had travelled hither. Next morning the four diggers went down the ladder again, and settled themselves in the kloof for the last week of their gold quest. By that time Mr. Blakeney reckoned that their work would be accomplished, and that they would have accumulated gold to the value, roughly, of some £55,000. Over their camp fire, the evening before, they had been discussing these matters. Should they camp for a month longer, and trust to their good fortune bringing them yet further store of wealth? Although they had ransacked the more open deposits of the valley pretty thoroughly, they might look, with renewed exertion, to win probably another £20,000. And if they cared to spend more time, and embark in yet bigger operations, they might, by turning the course of the river, uncover still greater wealth. Such a task, however, even if they had the strength and the numbers to accomplish it, meant severe digging of many weeks’ duration. Moreover, the rains were at hand, and in another month, probably, the pleasant stream, which now rippled so placidly through the kloof, would be a raging torrent, with which, until some months had elapsed, it would be impossible to deal. "Well, uncle," said Guy, "for my part I shall have had enough of digging and gold-finding, after this next week’s work. We have, as you say, already won, or in sight, some £55,000, which will be more than enough for the whole lot of us. If we want more we can come again some day, or perhaps get a concession from the Portuguese Government, peg out claims, and form a company." "But," interrupted Mr. Blakeney, "I’m by no means certain that this kloof is in Portuguese territory at all. So far as I can discover, after much examination and cross-questioning of Poeskop, the Portuguese have never visited this piece of country at all, much less exercised any rights over it. I am inclined to think our gold valley lies in a kind of no-man’s-land, and is not even owned or claimed by any sort of native chief. Sooner or later it may fall to the lot of England, which I heartily hope it may do. "There is one matter you’ve touched upon, Guy," continued his uncle, "which I think we ought to discuss here and now. Whose do you make out this gold to be that we have been digging out for these weeks past?" "Why, the firm’s," said Guy, with a laugh; "the long firm--you, Tom, and myself."