THE KIDNAPPED 
 
 3 
 
 QUATTER 
 
 AND OTHER AUSTRALIAN TALES
 
 UCSB LIBRARY 

 
 AND OTHER AUSTRALIAN TALES
 
 PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NRW-STKKKT SQUARE 
 LOXDOX
 
 THE 
 
 KIDNAPPED SQUATTEE 
 
 AND OTHER AUSTRALIAN TALES 
 
 BY 
 
 ANDREW ROBERTSON 
 
 LONDON 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 AKD-NEW YORK : 15 EAST 16 th STREET 
 1891 
 
 All riyJils reserved
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTER ... 3 
 
 ALL FOR GLITTERING GOLD 41 
 
 JACK REEVELEY .93 
 
 A BUSH ADVENTURE . . 216
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTER
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 WILLIAM BALCKE was a squatter, who had settled 
 in Victoria about six years before our tale 
 commences. He had been one of that numerous 
 class of reckless, extravagant, imcalculating, ne'er- 
 do-weels who squander the paternal property, who 
 drink the family plate, who eat the family resi- 
 dence, who gamble away fair iields and ancient 
 halls, and who race away anything else they can 
 lay hands on, with a speed surpassing that of the 
 most famous Voltigeur, Flying Dutchman, or Will- 
 o'-tlie-Wisp. "While money or credit lasted, all 
 went smooth and well and 'merry as a marriage 
 bell ; ' and, as a certain scarlet hero sang, ' How 
 happy the soldier who' lives on his pay, And 
 >pends half a crown out of sixpence a day ! ' Like 
 that heroic youth, he thought it would last for ever, 
 and that the weather would be always bright and 
 fair, and friends be true and Jews prove kind. But 
 lie was miserably disappointed, lie was doomed to 
 
 u 2,
 
 4 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEE 
 
 feel the gripe of poverty, and also that of the bailiff- 
 He knew what it was to have his coat buttoned to 
 the throat in the warmest weather, and, in short, 
 had passed through all the phases of want and 
 wretchedness. While in this miserable situation 
 he reproached himself bitterly for his foolishness, 
 and determined to regain the position he had lost 
 to mount again the height from which he had 
 fallen, and to lead a different life. 
 
 Just in the midst of his good resolutions a 
 small legacy was left him by a distant relative, 
 which although small seemed to him a munificent 
 and princely sum. 
 
 With this money in his pocket, and double its 
 value in experience stowed away somewhere, he 
 determined to begin the world anew. He chose the 
 colony in which our scene is laid as the most likely 
 place in which to better his prospects, and here he 
 arrived in the year 1840. He leased a small 
 station, stocked it with sheep and cattle, throve 
 apace, and at the period when our tale begins was 
 one of the most extensive squatters in the country. 
 
 His homestead was situated at no very great 
 distance from Portland, in one of those lovely 
 valleys which are so numerous in that district. 
 His house was managed by a lady-like woman, who
 
 TH KIDNAPPED SQUATTEE 5 
 
 was apparently about twenty-six years old. Her 
 name was Fanny Eoundley. Her complexion was 
 fair, clear and transparent, her features were 
 small and delicately moulded, her eyes were blue, 
 and her hair was golden. She managed her 
 household duties in an admirable manner, and 
 attended to the comfort of Balcke in every par- 
 ticular. She became so useful to him as to be 
 almost indispensable. She kept his accounts and 
 paid his bills. She was eyes, and hands, and 
 head to him. Was he late in getting home, she 
 welcomed him at the door. Was he melancholy, 
 her ready smile recalled his wonted cheerfulness ; 
 or was he sick, she nursed him tenderly. 
 
 But, notwithstanding her apparent kindness 
 and disinterested regard for his personal welfare, 
 she did not escape the lynx eyes of certain 
 envious gossipers, who were sceptical very 
 sceptical and said many, sharp things, and 
 poured forth as much vinegar regarding her 
 as would have set Fanny's teeth on edge had 
 she heard them. Gossip further said that she 
 was a ' designing woman, an artful hussy, and 
 a deep dissimulator,' and that ' she was setting 
 her cap at him.' She paid great attention 
 to her personal appearance, and really dressed
 
 6 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEE 
 
 with much taste. She spent most of her money 
 on silks, satins, flowers, feathers, tulle, lace, 
 ribbons, and other articles too numerous to 
 mention, to adopt the words of the puffing adver- 
 tisers. All in good taste and keeping, never- 
 theless. Gossip further said that the flowers 
 were as real as her affection, the lace as trans- 
 parent as her designs, and the tulle as flimsy 
 as her disguises. 
 
 Balcke very soon began to view her in the 
 same light as her detractors. His keen per- 
 ception enabled him to detect the many little 
 tricks and artifices by which she sought to 
 gain his esteem and affection. She praised 
 him too profusely, attended him too much, and 
 smiled upon him too sweetly. 
 
 With all Fanny's exertions she seemed to 
 make no progress in the attack on the citadel 
 of his heart his adamantine heart, his obdurate 
 heart. Her heaviest artillery was brought to 
 bear on it ; her utmost skill was put forth. She 
 found that flattery would not do it, that ribbons and 
 laces would not do it, that the sweetest of smiles 
 would not do it, and that everything else she had 
 tried could not make her succeed. She had ex- 
 hausted all her ideas ; she had played her trump card.
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEE 7 
 
 But, what was worse than all, he began to 
 absent himself from home, and was often to 
 be found at Mr. Hardcliffe's, a neighbouring 
 squatter, who had some lovely daughters, one 
 of whom had captivated him, made a conquest 
 of him, and held him in thrall. 
 
 This was too much for Fanny to bear. She 
 forthwith, seeing the hopelessness of the pur- 
 suit, transferred her affections to Jack Blake, 
 the overseer, and led him captive at her 
 will. 
 
 ' Jack,' said Fanny, one evening, ' do you 
 know that I am going to leave the station? I 
 had a conversation with Balcke last night, 
 and he told me it would be better for all parties 
 that I should go. He said he would soon be 
 married, and that the hussy he was going to bring 
 here would want my room, and he did not wish to 
 have a housekeeper any longer. He made many 
 other excuses of the same kind, but I am determined 
 not to be put aside in this manner ; I who have 
 tended him in sickness and in health, and managed 
 all his affairs better than he could have done and 
 thus to be cast off like a worn-out ribbon. I won't 
 stand it, and can't bear it, and shan't, I can 
 tell you.'
 
 8 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEK 
 
 ' Well, Fanny,' said Jack, ' if you'll be guided 
 by me, I will put you on a scheme, a bright 
 scheme ; and, you know, all is fair in love and 
 war. He wants to put you aside for the sake of 
 one who, perhaps, does not care a jot about 
 him, and who, I'll be bound, only cares about 
 his money. Now, as you can't get him, I don't 
 see why you should not get some of his cash. You 
 helped to make it. Besides, he has got plenty 
 and will never miss it.' 
 
 ' But how am I to get it ? ' said Fanny. 
 
 ' Will you never divulge what I am going to tell 
 you ? ' said Jack. 
 
 ' No, never.' 
 
 ' Will you swear it ? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' On the Bible ? ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' Well, the scheme is this. We must start for 
 Portland to-morrow, and get married as soon as 
 possible. I'll personate Balcke, and sign his name. 
 I can write it so that he could not tell whether he 
 wrote it or not.' 
 
 ' But what good will that do ? ' said Fanny. 
 
 ' Look here,' and Jack thereupon pulled out a 
 large pair of false whiskers and moustaches, and
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEK 9 
 
 fitted them to his own face. He then produced a 
 wig and put it on, and, thus accoutred, nineteen 
 out of twenty would have mistaken him for Balcke, 
 especially at a little distance. In features he was 
 not unlike. Balcke had dark hair, he had light. 
 Balcke wore whiskers and moustaches, Jack had 
 shaved clean for some months. 
 
 ' You see,' said Jack, ' I have prepared a surprise 
 for you. I have revolved my scheme in my own pate 
 for some months. Now, don't I look like Balcke ? ' 
 
 ' I own you do, somewhat ; but what good will 
 that do ? ' 
 
 ' You shall see. We shall see. I will explain 
 all to-morrow, for it is getting late.' 
 
 And he accordingly explained all in the morning.
 
 10 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEB 
 
 CHAPTEE II 
 
 IT was one of those hot and dusty days which 
 are so oppressive to Europeans. The herbage was 
 burnt up, the swamps and creeks were dry, the 
 cattle lay sleeping in the deepest shade, the air 
 seemed on fire, and all nature was in a burning 
 fever ; its pulse throbbed, and its breath was heavy 
 and hot. The ground was parched and cracked, 
 and the fissures looked as beseechingly as Dives did 
 for a drop of water. 
 
 Fanny and Jack emerged from the house about 
 midday, and, after quietly saddling their horses, 
 they rode along at a slow pace through a dense 
 forest, which served in some measure to screen 
 them from the fierce rays of the sun. They wore 
 thick veils, which would completely hide their 
 features from the gaze of any travellers they might 
 chance to meet. 
 
 "When they had proceeded a short distance on
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTER 11 
 
 their journey, they left the beaten track and struck 
 across the forest. 
 
 Immense flocks of parrots and cockatoos took 
 flight ; lizards hastily hid themselves under fallen 
 trees, or ran up the boles of the growing 
 timber ; snakes peered out of their dens and slunk 
 away ; and iguanas scuttled up the trees, as the 
 two travellers wended their way through the densely 
 timbered country. Thousands of mosquitoes assailed 
 them at every vulnerable point; routed in front, 
 the attack was renewed in the rear with redoubled 
 fury, and, dislodged in that quarter by a brilliant 
 series of manoeuvres, incessant charges were made 
 simultaneously and tumultuously on every side. 
 Detached companies lay in ambush under every 
 tree, bush, and boulder, and charged horse and 
 biped with a determination and courage worthy of 
 a better cause. The poor horses suffered severely ; 
 their tails had been ruthlessly shorn, and they were 
 completely defenceless and at the mercy (if they 
 had any of that scarce quality) of their bloodthirsty 
 foes. 
 
 The sun was setting as they emerged from the 
 forest. The sky was a mass of glory. Pinnacles, 
 columns, domes, towers, and battlements of cloud 
 were heaped in grand confusion, like a poet's dream,
 
 12 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEE 
 
 round the departing orb of day. The nearer 
 distance was soon submerged in gloom, and the 
 cold blue shadows were toiling up the mountain 
 peaks, like travellers who haste to have their 
 journey over before the close of day. 
 
 Fanny and Jack had now regained the main 
 track, and soon arrived at their destination. They 
 
 put up at the Hotel, a small hostelry which 
 
 has long since passed away. Fanny was much 
 fatigued, so, after a slight supper, she retired for 
 the night. 
 
 As soon as she had retired, Jack, whiskered 
 and moustached, sallied out. He walked along at 
 a brisk pace until he came to the unpretending 
 wattle and daub cottage of the Eev. Silas Snuff- 
 much, the worthy minister of the Scotch Kirk. 
 He knocked at the door, which was opened by a 
 dried-up, withered old mummy of a servant. 
 
 ' Is't the minister you want, man ? ' said the 
 old woman. ' I'm thinking you'll find him wi' 
 his books, puir man, if you'll gang in this way ; ' 
 and so saying she opened the door of the minister's 
 bedroom, breakfast-room, dining-room, and study. 
 The minister was a lonely man, bachelor, aged 
 fifty. 
 
 The Rev. Silas Snuffmuch sat in an old-
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTER 13 
 
 fashioned easy-chair poring over an old tome, 
 oblivious of everything else mundane. I do not 
 know whether or not the lines had fallen unto him 
 in pleasant places, but they seemed to have con- 
 centrated themselves more particularly about the 
 corners of the eyes and mouth, and down the 
 sides of the cheeks ; as if the pleasant streams 
 of life had long since ebbed, and had only left 
 the ripple mark on the sands of time. There 
 was a dark brown spot under his nose, and his 
 clerical neck-band, and what shirt-front was 
 visible, were powdered over with the same 
 colour. 
 
 'Good evening,' said Jack, as he entered. 
 ' Good evening,' he repeated. The minister shook 
 himself, took a good pinch of snuff, and then, and 
 not till then, did he return the salutation. In the 
 meantime Jack had seated himself in the only 
 other chair the room could boast. 
 
 ' Warm weather this, doctor,' said Jack. 
 
 ' It is even so,' said the Eev. Silas. ' Never- 
 theless,' he added, ' I felt it not, for my soul com- 
 muned not with the things of this present ; for 
 being, as it were, absent from the body, the heat 
 of the day made itself not manifest corporeally 
 that is to say, in the flesh.'
 
 14 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTER 
 
 'My name is Balcke,' said Jack, 'of Quagu- 
 rackjep, and I wish you to marry me to-morrow 
 night, in your own house.' 
 
 It may be mentioned that a minister of the 
 Scotch Kirk will marry at any time of the day or 
 night. 
 
 'Yea, verily,' said the minister. 'But, as it is 
 a serious, solemn, and important step you are 
 about to take, suffer me to tender you one word of 
 exhortation.' 
 
 The doctor had only uttered a few syllables of 
 the ' one word,' when Jack leant back in his chair 
 and his head drooped on his breast, for he was 
 tired and sleepy. He vainly endeavoured to keep 
 awake, but soon he nodded and swayed to and fro 
 like a bulrush. 
 
 The Kev. Silas Snuffmuch went on with the 
 ' one word ' for a full hour. Jack nodded every 
 minute or so, 'approving and assenting in the 
 usual manner,' as the worthy clergyman after- 
 wards related in the simplicity of his heart. He 
 thought he had now impressed his visitor with the 
 full importance of the serious and solemn step he 
 was about to take, and had just cleared his throat 
 for a grand final effort, when Jack gave a nod of 
 more than usual energy, and awoke just in time to
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTER 15 
 
 hear the last sentence, which was delivered with 
 great earnestness and gravity. 
 
 ' God, who searcheth the hearts and trieth the 
 reins of all men, knoweth the motives which prompt 
 you to enter the holy, state of matrimony. He also 
 knoweth that we are dust, and will never leave us 
 nor forsake us.' 
 
 Jack then took leave, and wended his way back 
 to the hotel. 
 
 True to appointment, Jack and Fanny arrived 
 at the minister's house two hours after sundown 
 next evening. They found the Eev. Silas waiting 
 to receive them. The necessary documents were 
 lying on the table, and the business in hand was 
 proceeded with at once. After the preliminary 
 forms had been completed, and the witnesses who 
 had been secured for the occasion had signed their 
 names, the doctor read them a long and impressive 
 admonition. He afterwards offered up an earnest 
 prayer for a blessing on their union, which done, 
 he advanced to the bride, and in a few observa- 
 tions, which were meant to be facetious, wished her 
 much happiness in her married life. He then dis- 
 missed them with his blessing, and they went their 
 way. 
 
 There was a crushing weight at their hearts.
 
 16 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEK 
 
 Avarice and revenge were running riot. Their 
 consciences smote loud and strong. The Spirit of 
 Evil was urging them on, and whispering ' All i? 
 well,' but fear and doubt beset them on every side. 
 Every sound was a terror, and every sigh of the 
 calm ocean breeze filled them with alarm. The 
 Spirit of Good was also lifting up his voice, by 
 entreaty and warning, but it was stifled, unheeded, 
 and uncared for. 
 
 They left Portland the same night, and travelled 
 swiftly until they arrived near the station, about day- 
 break. Jack had by this time removed his wig and 
 moustaches, and he rode forward and got his horse 
 stabled before anyone was stirring, and then he 
 quietly crept to bed. Fanny did not make her 
 appearance until about midday, and no one took 
 any notice of her arrival. Balcke was absent from 
 home, and the people were attending to their 
 ordinary duties, so that, if she wished for conceal- 
 ment, she had no difficulty in accomplishing her 
 object. 
 
 'Where secrecy or mystery begins, vice or 
 roguery is not far off.' 
 
 About a week after the marriage took place, 
 Jack rode up to the home-station and informed 
 Balcke that one of the shepherds at an out- station
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEK 17 
 
 had been found dead, and that the sheep had got 
 among the scrub and were in danger of being 
 lost. 
 
 Balcke took horse immediately, and galloped off, 
 accompanied by Jack, to the out- station. He 
 ordered the men out to recover the sheep, and he 
 and Jack went with them to give their assistance 
 and advice. 
 
 The sun had set before they arrived at the 
 scrub, but as the moon was rising they determined 
 to go on with the search. Balcke declared that he 
 would remain with them all night. 
 
 ' What is the use of you remaining ? ' said Jack. 
 * Your horse is of no use in the scrub, and we can 
 do no good here.' 
 
 ' 'Deed yes, maister, ye had better gang hame 
 to your ain fireside,' said an old one-armed Scotch 
 shepherd. ' It's no canny to be out sae late at 
 e'en, and I'se warrant ye I'll hae every fleece at the 
 huts before mornin'.' 
 
 ' No, no,' said Balcke, ' I'll dismount, and give 
 the men every assistance-in my power.' 
 
 'Well, well,' said Jack impatiently, 'a wilful 
 man must have his way ; but take a pull at my 
 flask, and that may keep away the bad effects of 
 the damp night air.' 
 
 c
 
 18 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEK 
 
 Balcke took a long draught, for he felt the air 
 cold and raw. 
 
 They commenced the search, and soon found 
 some of the sheep ; as they penetrated the scrub 
 they got a considerable number more, and con- 
 signed them to the care of two men. 
 
 Balcke very soon complained to Jack that he 
 felt very drowsy, so much so as to be hardly able 
 to keep his eyes open. 
 
 ' Oh ! ' said Jack, -' take another pull at the 
 brandy ; if it does not keep you awake, you will, at 
 least, sleep all the sounder when you get home. If 
 you ever get there,' Jack added mentally. 
 
 ' You had better go home now,' said Jack ; ' you 
 can't bear the fatigue, and the men have found 
 most of the sheep.' 
 
 ' I think I had better,' said Balcke, in a very 
 drowsy tone, and with a decided hiccup. 
 
 * I think so too,' said Jack, with a triumphant air. 
 
 Jack assisted him on his horse, and they both 
 rode slowly homeward. 
 
 ' I ca-an't tell why I a-am so ve-very sleepy.' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' said Jack, ' that is of easy explanation. 
 The planetary influences affect the brain at a right 
 angle triangle, and the moon's beams weave a 
 tangled web, and those who have to do with sheep
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTER 19 
 
 will become sheepish, for your brains have gone a 
 wool-gathering.' 
 
 ' You're d-d-d-clrunk,' said Balcke, who by this 
 time seemed quite stupefied, and his head had sunk 
 on his breast. Jack was obliged to hold him on 
 his horse. ' D-d-d- drunk,' he muttered again, in 
 an oblivious tone. 
 
 ' Mynheer Tan Dunck, he oft got drunk, and he 
 drank twelve bottles a day, and the landlord swore 
 he was a dirty skunk, for he had no money to pay,' 
 roared Jack at the top of his voice. 
 
 The fact was that Jack had been taking sundry 
 secret draughts from a flask which he carried 
 attached to his saddle, and the liquor was show- 
 ing itself in the boisterous and devil-may-care 
 manner which he now exhibited. Balcke, on the 
 contrary, was quite stupefied, and seemed almost 
 inanimate, the brandy he had drunk having been 
 drugged by Jack, the bet (XT to carry out the 
 project which he and Fanny had planned. But T 
 am anticipating. 
 
 Jack was obliged to ride close to Balcke, and 
 hold him by one arm, so as to keep him from fall- 
 ing, lie led the horses towards the sea, in the 
 direction of the caves, a remarkably picturesque 
 and singular locality, where they soon arrived.
 
 20 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEK 
 
 Jack pulled Balcke from his saddle, and laid 
 him on the ground. He then untied a coil of rope 
 from his horse's neck, and wound it round Balcke's 
 body, and by its means lowered him into the deepest 
 and most precipitous cave. He then cut the rope, 
 and threw it down into the darkness and gloom into 
 the living sepulchre; as chief mourners drop the 
 rich and glossy cords and tassels, which fall dull 
 and mournful on the narrow house of those they 
 loved so well. 
 
 He left the spot and mounted his horse, taking 
 Balcke's animal with him. He rode slowly along, 
 peering as he went into every bush and behind 
 every tree. An intense feeling of fear had taken 
 possession of him. An owl flapped its wings and 
 uttered its doleful cry close above his head, which 
 made him quake and quiver like a dancing dervish 
 during the lull of one of his paroxysms. The blood 
 forsook his cheeks and rushed to his heart in a 
 burning stream. His hair stood on end with terror 
 at all events, it stood as much on end as it was 
 capable of doing. Some owls hooted in a clump of 
 trees near him, and when he looked among the 
 branches his heated imagination conjured up on 
 every gnarled bough the most horrible imps, 
 who seemed to chatter and mock him with a
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTER 21 
 
 hollow laugh, as he passed along. One more real 
 than the rest tumbled down, and immediately 
 scrambled up the tree as fast as his legs would 
 carry him, his grey bushy tail whisking about his 
 head all the while. 
 
 He did not feel at ease until he had got into the 
 plain and had left the forest far behind. 
 
 He took Balcke's horse and tied him to a small 
 solitary tree, where the scrub was about three feet 
 high. He then proceeded in the direction of where 
 he left the men. He had not gone far before he 
 dismounted. He struck a match and set fire to 
 the grass. The flames immediately shot up, for 
 everything was as dry as tinder, and ran along the 
 ground in the direction of the caves. In a short 
 time the fire had reached the brushwood and scrub 
 and was raging in the forest near the sea. 
 
 And it raged in its fury, leaping from spray to 
 branch, and from branch to bough. It hissed, and 
 sputtered, and crackled, and groaned, and moaned, 
 and howled, and revelled, and rioted in the depths 
 of the forest, and it lapped the waters with its 
 fiery tongue. Cries of eloquent woe filled the air ; 
 its march was a march of death, and the forest 
 denizens sang their own sad requiem. 
 
 Jack did not stay to see the effects of the fire,
 
 22 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEE 
 
 but galloped off, and in half an hour had gained 
 the scrub, and found the men about to return with 
 a number of the sheep. They had seen the fire, 
 but thought nothing of it an occurrence which 
 had been so common that summer. - Jack told 
 them he had left Balcke about half-way home, and 
 had returned at his request. He then accompanied 
 the men to the out-station, and remained there 
 until late next day. 
 
 When he reached the homestead he said he 
 wished to see Balcke, and asked the men where he 
 was. When they told him that he had not re- 
 turned he seemed much astonished, and told them 
 how he had left their master the night before on 
 his way home, and could not see what had become 
 of him. 
 
 Some one suggested that he might have lost 
 himself in the scrub, or been overtaken by the fire, 
 or that he might have changed his mind, and 
 stayed at some of the huts instead of making for 
 home. 
 
 'Very likely,' said Jack, 'for he was uncom- 
 monly tired and sleepy, and could hardly keep his 
 eyes open. Tom,' said he, addressing one of the 
 men, ' if he does not come back to-night, you had 
 better take a horse and ride round to the out
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTER 23 
 
 stations, and see if you can't hear something of 
 him. He can't be lost in the scrub, for he knows 
 the country as well as a dingo, and he could not 
 have been overtaken by the fire, for that was near 
 the sea, and he had no occasion to go within miles 
 of it.' 
 
 When Fanny heard that Balcke was missing, 
 she understood the matter at once. She openly 
 and ostentatiously feigned great distraction of 
 mind, while she inwardly rejoiced. She wept and 
 sobbed hysterically, and ran wildly about, asking 
 tidings of her 'poor lost husband.' The men 
 stared when she said ' husband,' but that was all, 
 for rumours were abroad that she had been married 
 privately to Balcke, which rumours were industri- 
 ously circulated by Fanny herself. She refused to 
 be comforted and said she would go and look for him. 
 
 Jack went up to her and persuaded her to go 
 back to the house, promising that everything 
 would be done which could be thought of. 
 
 ' Well, Fanny,' said Jack, when they had got 
 back to the house, ' the deed is done. He is in 
 the cave hard and fast ; there he must remain until 
 we are beyond his reach. In the meantime, after 
 the hue-and-cry has subsided, you 'can apply for 
 letters of administration and all that sort of thing.
 
 24 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTER 
 
 He has no relations, so there will be no difficulty or 
 bother in the matter.' 
 
 Next day Tom was despatched to the out- 
 stations, and returned without any tidings of his 
 lost master. A messenger was sent off to the two 
 nearest squatters, with the news that Balcke was 
 lost in the bush, and that his wife earnestly re- 
 quested their assistance. 
 
 ' Who the d is his wife ? ' said Mr. 
 
 Hardclifife, the father of Balcke' s affianced bride, 
 who was first appealed to by Tom. 
 
 ' Oh, Miss Eoundley, who kep' his house,' said 
 the man. 
 
 ' The d ,' said Mr. Hardcliffe ; ' if you joke 
 
 with me, sir, I'll break every bone in your body. 
 When were they married, and who married them ? ' 
 he continued almost choking with passion, for he 
 saw by the man's face that it was no joke. 
 
 ' I dunno, but Jack Blake, the overseer, told me 
 himself, and he oughter know sure ly, that they 
 were married by old Snuflfmuch, at Portland, 
 in a clandescript or private manner them's the 
 very words he said and says he, " You needn't say 
 anything to nobody," says he. " Can a duck 
 swim ? " says I.' 
 
 Mr. Hardcliffe slammed the door in the man's
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTER 25 
 
 face, and he muttered, as he did so, that Balcke 
 might starve in the bush for anything he cared. 
 
 The man was more successful at the other 
 station, and he returned with the intelligence that 
 a large party would be over in the morning, to 
 commence the search. 
 
 Early next morning a number of horsemen 
 arrived, and with them was Mr. Hardcliffe, who 
 had somewhat relented when he thought that the 
 life of a fellow mortal was at stake. Jack had 
 mustered all the men on the station, and they 
 were ready to set out. He rode up to meet the 
 horsemen, and proposed that he and the men 
 should search the country for twelve miles along 
 the seashore, and suggested that Mr. Hardcliffe 
 with his party should disperse over the plains, 
 while Mr. Horker and his men should scour the 
 country to the north. To this they agreed, and 
 immediately rode away to the different parts of 
 the country allotted them. 
 
 Jack and his party searched under every fallen 
 tree, and peered through the bushes. No one 
 bought of going near the caves, as they were so 
 far from the point where Balcke was last seen, 
 according to Jack's account. After a long time 
 one of the men found Balcke's horse. He cooeyed,
 
 26 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEE 
 
 and they all rushed up. There lay all that was left 
 of the poor brute. A few charred bones, some 
 half-melted rings, buckles and stirrups, were all 
 that remained to show the fate of poor Dample. 
 
 The animal must have been severely burnt 
 before the rope was sufficiently scorched to allow it 
 a chance of escape. Mad with pain and fright, the 
 poor horse must have rushed headlong to destruc- 
 tion into the very middle of the fire, where it was, 
 no doubt, suffocated first, and then burnt to a 
 cinder. 
 
 Now that the remains of the horse were found, 
 the fate of Balcke could admit of little doubt. 
 Traces of him could not be far off, and the search 
 was kept up until night. No indication could be 
 found. Jack said that it was almost impossible 
 that his remains would ever be seen, as his charred 
 bones would be mingled with the fallen trunks of 
 trees, and the still smoking embers. 
 
 When they got home they found that Mr. 
 Hardcliffe and his men had returned without suc- 
 cess. Later in the night Mr. Horker and his party 
 arrived, and, of course, they were equally unsuc- 
 cessful. When Jack and his men told how they 
 had found the charred bones of the horse, in the 
 manner described, their hearts sank within them,
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEE 27 
 
 and they felt that there was no hope whatever of 
 seeing their old friend again. 
 
 Both Mr. Horker and Mr. Hardcliffe agreed that 
 it was useless to renew the search, as far as they, 
 at least, were concerned, and that their best course 
 was to set off in the morning for their respective 
 homes, leaving Jack and his men to follow up the 
 discovery they had made, in the hope of finding 
 poor Balcke's remains. 
 
 To this Jack agreed, and to tell the truth he 
 was only too glad to get rid of them so easily. 
 
 The two gentlemen and their men left on the fol- 
 lowing morning. Jack and his party went back to the 
 forest and spent another fruitless day. The next day 
 was passed over in the same manner, and the next, 
 and next. The men by this time were thoroughly 
 tired of it, and Jack declared that it was labour 
 in vain, and worse than useless, to do any more in the 
 matter. They had done all that men could do. It 
 was clear that Balcke had perished in the flames ; 
 for, as the horse could not escape, it was evident that 
 its rider could not, and so they went back to their 
 usual work, and gave themselves no further trouble. 
 
 In a week Balcke was as completely out of their 
 minds as if they had never seen him or known 
 him as a kind master.
 
 28 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTER 
 
 CHAPTEE III 
 
 IN carrying out the incidents of a crime, we often 
 find that the most consummate cunning and 
 address are employed. Men who have never 
 displayed the slightest foresight in the ordinary 
 business of life, who have never been able to over- 
 come common difficulties, will yet, in the prose- 
 cution of crime, show many of the best qualities 
 man can possess. Determination, perseverance 
 and forethought seem to be inherent in their 
 minds, and sound judgment, well-weighed schemes 
 and complete success seem to show that they have 
 capacities of a high order. But when the work is 
 accomplished the crime committed these qualities 
 leave them altogether. The teachings of evil point 
 out easy and safe methods of attaining the ends in 
 view. They accept the offered guidance. They 
 slavishly obey. They follow the evil promptings 
 until the nefarious transaction is accomplished, or 
 the bloody deed is done ; then they are left in a
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEE 29 
 
 maze a tangled web they are at their wit's end, 
 and they have no power to extricate themselves. 
 Their crimes find them out, and the strong arm of 
 the law punishes them as they righteously deserve. 
 
 But to return to Balcke. He lay in a profound 
 sleep until the night after he had been lowered into 
 the cave. He then showed signs of returning con- 
 sciousness. He stretched his benumbed limbs, 
 shook himself, and tossed uneasily about, and 
 groaned and grunted in a very lugubrious and 
 doleful fashion. The drugged brandy had quite 
 stupefied him. Jack the Giant-killer might have 
 blown a blast loud enough to wake the dead, but it 
 would not have roused him, and the roar of Niagara, 
 supplemented by a score of modern Xantippes, 
 would have been futile and vain. 
 
 Presently there were more decided indications 
 of vitality. He slowly and painfully opened his 
 eyes, and stared around him with amazement. 
 
 The moon was shining in all her splendour, 
 and her rays lighted up the cave with a fairylike 
 and weird effect, throwing out a delicate tracery 
 here, sobering down an obtrusive pillar there, and 
 casting a dim and holy light over the higher parts, 
 while all below was bathed in gloom. 
 
 His heart beat furiously, his pulse throbbed and
 
 30 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTER 
 
 his brain was burning. Where was he ? Was he 
 dreaming, was it all hallucination ? He shut his 
 eyes, expecting that all would vanish before he 
 again opened them. But no ! the same columns, 
 the same mouldings, the same tracery met his gaze. 
 It was no dream, it was real. There was the moon, 
 gazing calmly and gently upon him ; there were 
 the stars peering at him, and twinkling as if tired 
 of their nightly vigils ; and there were the clouds, 
 with their seemingly wan and solemn faces, as 
 they looked at him and flitted past, while others 
 glided up, gazed on him, and vanished one by 
 one. 
 
 He fell asleep, and dreamt of his childhood. 
 His sainted mother was near him, weeping and 
 wailing. Great drops of agony fell from her meek 
 eyes on his bronzed face, and she clasped him in 
 her fond embrace and gently soothed him. 
 
 When he awoke the sun was shining through 
 the opening of the cave in a sufficiently powerful 
 manner to enable him to see the nature of his 
 prison. He was lying under the cave's mouth, at 
 a depth of some forty feet. How he had got there 
 he could not tell. All that he remembered was 
 that he had mounted his horse with the intention 
 of riding home ; he also knew that he had drunk
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEE 31 
 
 repeatedly from Jack's brandy-flask. Afterwards, 
 all was a blank. 
 
 Gradually he realised his position. How came 
 the rope to be so carefully and securely tied round 
 his chest, loins, and thighs ? He must have been 
 lowered into the cave by some one. Who did it ? 
 Who bore him malice ? Whom had he offended ? 
 What motive could any one possibly have for so 
 cruel and purposeless a deed ? 
 
 Thus he questioned ; the more he thought of 
 the matter the more puzzled he became. Here 
 was a deep mystery which he had no power to 
 unravel. A cruel and lingering death was in store 
 for him. Already he fancied that death was lurking 
 near, anxiously watching the few remaining sands 
 that were swiftly running down, and with uplifted 
 scythe ready to strike. 
 
 Hope the lighthouse on the reefs of life which 
 has guided many a crazy bark into a harbour of 
 refuge, began to whisper that there might be a way 
 of escape. There were passages branching off in all 
 directions. He unloosed the rope and slowly rose, 
 for his limbs were swollen and benumbed. He then 
 explored the cave in all directions, but all was dark 
 and gloomy. 
 
 At length, thoroughly exhausted, he threw him-
 
 32 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEE 
 
 self down, where he had found himself on awaking. 
 In doing so he fell against a small basket, which, 
 on examination, was found to contain what seemed 
 to him a great store of bread, meat, eggs, biscuits, 
 &c. He took a piece of bread in one hand and meat 
 in the other, and had eaten a considerable quantity 
 before a thought passed through his mind as to the 
 strangeness and opportuneness of the discovery. 
 When he had fully appeased his appetite, which was 
 not very soon, he quenched his thirst at a clear and 
 ample stream, which flowed through the cave. 
 
 Fanny and Jack congratulated themselves mean- 
 while on the success of their scheme. Balcke was 
 in their power. The neighbouring squatters be- 
 lieved him to be dead. A paragraph appeared in 
 the Melbourne newspaper headed, ' Fire in the bush. 
 Finding of the remains of a horse, and probable 
 death of J. W. Balcke, Esq., who was last seen 
 riding the animal.' There was a notice in another 
 column : ' Died. On the 3rd inst., J. W. Balcke, 
 Esq., of Quagurackjep, having perished in a bush- 
 fire. His sorrowing widow mourns his loss.' 
 
 Fanny arrayed herself in widow's weeds, and 
 assumed all the outward signs of grief. 
 
 In a short time notice was given that letters of 
 administration would be applied for, and in the
 
 33 
 
 meantime the sheep and cattle were sold as rapidly 
 as possible. Flock after flock and herd after herd 
 were disposed of, and in a very brief period some 
 thousands of pounds were collected. 
 
 Now that the conspiracy had turned out so well, 
 and as the risk of discovery was continually before 
 their eyes, they made up their mind to decamp with 
 the booty. 
 
 It has been well said by the sacred penman, 
 ' The wicked flee when no man pursueth.' This is 
 true, for when a crime has been committed the 
 guilty persons are constantly afraid of being brought 
 to justice. They are frightened at shadows, and 
 alarmed at the squeak of a mouse. Their accusing 
 consciences irresistibly goad them on, putting ' sleep 
 from their eyes and slumber from their eyelids,' 
 and peace and quiet far from them. Anxiety preys 
 on the mental, and fever, as a consequent, on the 
 physical structure. The joys of life are sapped, and 
 the foundation of all happiness is destroyed. 
 
 About a month after Balcke had disappeared 
 Fanny went to Portland, and took passage for Mel- 
 bourne in a small coaster. It was given out that 
 her presence was necessary at the metropolis, in 
 order to expedite some legal matters touching the 
 letters of administration. Jack followed her in a 
 
 D
 
 84 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEK 
 
 few days. He told the people in the neighbourhood 
 that he was going to the north, to complete the pur- 
 chase of a small station ; and that, as Mrs. Balcke 
 intended to sell her run, he would commence stock- 
 holding on his own account. Instead of going 
 north, however, he steered his way across country, 
 in the direction of Melbourne, where he arrived the 
 day after Fanny got into Hobson's Bay. 
 
 A vessel bound for England was just about to 
 put to sea. They secured cabins, and got on board 
 as the anchor was being weighed. The sailors sang 
 cheerily, and all was bustle and confusion. They 
 ran to their cabins, and Jack wrote the following 
 letter in a feigned hand : 
 
 1 A. S. Hardcliffe, Esq., Wappinhopley, 
 vi& Portland. 
 
 ' Sir, I beg to inform you that Mr. Balcke is 
 not dead, as has been supposed. The writer of this 
 saw him alive and well, a week ago. You will find 
 him down the Cathedral Cave, a hundred yards from 
 Brazenchin Head. Burley Bill, the shepherd, 
 knows the place well. Yours truly, 
 
 ' A FEIEND.' 
 
 Fanny wrote to Burley Bill, imploring him to 
 go to the cave, where he would find Mr. Balcke
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEE 35 
 
 alive. Having sealed the letters, Jack ran on deck, 
 and asked the shipping clerk to take them ashore 
 and post them at once. One or both must go all 
 right, so Jack said to Fanny. Balcke would be 
 rescued, and after all no great harm would be done. 
 Balcke was found in due course. A liberal 
 supply of provisions had been furnished to him by 
 some unseen hand. He was nothing worse for his 
 long imprisonment ; but, to add to his misfortunes, 
 Miss Hardcliffe refused to see him, believing him 
 to be married, and all his denials and protestations 
 were treated with contempt. 
 
 Fourteen days after the vessel left Hobson's 
 Bay, a dreadful storm arose. She pitched and 
 laboured fearfully, the rudder was carried away, and 
 she drifted helplessly before the wind. The seas 
 made clean breaches over her. The masts went 
 overboard with a terrific crash, killing several of 
 the poor passengers who were clinging in despera- 
 tion to the ropes and bulwarks, and soon after she 
 struck heavily, close to some land which could be 
 dimly seen looming ahead. Morning at length 
 broke, and disclosed a smooth sandy beach about 
 three hundred yards distant. The boats were got 
 out, and with great difficulty and danger the remain- 
 ing passengers and crew were safely landed. Sails 
 
 D 2
 
 36 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTEE 
 
 were procured, and temporary shelter was provided 
 for the women and children, some of whom were 
 nearly naked, having rushed from their cabins with 
 only such clothes as they happened to have on. 
 
 Fanny and Jack landed safely. When they 
 found time to look about them, what was their hor- 
 ror and alarm to find that they had been cast ashore 
 on a part of Balcke's run, and that they were not 
 more than fifteen miles from the home-station ! 
 Their first impulse was to fly from the dangerous 
 locality. There was no way of escape, however. 
 They were starving, and had hardly enough clothes 
 to cover themselves with. All their money was on 
 board, and the vessel was full of water and break- 
 ing up fast. 
 
 Jack told the captain that he knew the country 
 well, and he volunteered to go to the nearest station. 
 He and some of the men went off to bring supplies. 
 When they got near the place his courage completely 
 failed. He pointed out the road, saying, at the 
 same time, that he had sprained his knee, and could 
 proceed no further. When they left him he dived 
 into the depths of the forest, and walked and ran 
 as fast as he could, his only anxiety being to get 
 away, as far as possible, from the detestable spot. 
 
 Balcke sent down some bullock drays with liberal
 
 THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTER 37 
 
 supplies, and ho accompanied them, in order to ren- 
 der any assistance in his power. He was astonished 
 to find Fanny crouched under some old sails. She 
 was overcome with shame. She confessed all, and 
 implored his forgiveness. He pitied her from his 
 heart, but turned away, and refused to hold any 
 further communication with her. Mr. Hardcliffe 
 was more hard-hearted, for when he arrived next 
 day he gave her in charge for conspiracy and at- 
 tempted murder. Jack was soon after captured. 
 
 They were tried, and pleaded guilty. Fanny 
 was sentenced to three years' imprisonment, and 
 Jack to fourteen years on the roads, the iirst three 
 in irons. 
 
 It remains but to add that JJalcke was thus 
 able to explain everything to Miss Ilardcliffe. 
 They were married soon afterwards, and they still 
 live beloved by all who know them.
 
 ALL FOE GLITTERING GOLD
 
 ALL FOR GLITTERING GOLD 
 
 IT was about the end of the year 185- when I 
 reached Melbourne. I had been digging for a few 
 weeks at Bendigo, in the old Eaglehawk Gully; 
 and such a slice of luck as I had, I verily believe, 
 never fell to the lot of any ' hatter,' for so we used 
 to call a poor unfortunate fellow who had to work 
 all by himself, without a mate to talk to or cheer 
 him up when low. I should say, rather a good many 
 slices of luck ; for, had they all been put together, 
 they would have well-nigh made a ' plum,' a ' pile,' 
 a fortune, or anything else you choose to call it. 
 
 I had a deposit receipt sewn up in my belt for 
 one thousand and three ounces two pennyweights 
 of gold. 
 
 ' A pretty round sum,' I says to the Gold Com- 
 missioner. 
 
 ' Yes,' says he, in a joking way ; ' round enough 
 for you to take out a circular note with.'
 
 42 ALL FOR GLITTERING GOLD 
 
 ' No, no,' says I. ' I'll have nothing to do -with 
 notes of any sort ; for, what with forgeries and 
 broken banks, a man is never safe unless he has 
 the hard cash in his pocket.' 
 
 Well, as I have said, I had come from 
 Bendigo ; for I had made up my mind to go home 
 as quickly as possible to Mary and the bairns, 
 that I might give them a share of the comforts 
 I could now afford. Poor things ! they must have 
 had a hard fight of it in the nine months I was 
 away. 
 
 I thought, before I left them, that it was better 
 to go away than to remain at home and starve, 
 which I saw would be our fate sooner or later ; so 
 I put the few pounds I had remaining, after paying 
 my passage, into Mary's hand, and, with tears in 
 our eyes, we bade each other good-bye. Not in words ; 
 we were too far gone for that. Our hearts were too 
 full. I could not bring myself to say good-bye to 
 the bairns, so I kissed them all, more than a dozen 
 times, as they lay asleep in their beds, little think- 
 ing that they wouldn't see me for a long, long time. 
 I had never seen them looking so beautiful or inno- 
 cent before, and the sight nearly made me change 
 my mind, even after the passage money was paid, 
 and my things on board the vessel. However, that
 
 ALL FOE GLITTERING GOLD 43 
 
 sorrowful time is over, and there is nothing but 
 happiness now ; so I need not vex myself about our 
 past griefs. 
 
 I thought to myself, when I walked about the 
 Melbourne streets, what hobby-horses, and dolls, 
 and toys of one sort and another I would buy 
 when I got to London ; how I would load myself 
 with cakes, and nuts, and sweeties, and gingerbread, 
 and get new dresses all round, and make Mary and 
 Tom, and Jack and Lily, as happy as the day was 
 long. 
 
 I began to look out for a ship, and used to walk 
 up and down, examining the large posters that were 
 stuck on the sheds and hoardings, down by the 
 wharves on the river Yarra. I noticed that the vessels 
 were all Al's, strong, staunch, and rapid sailers; so it 
 was a rather difficult thing to choose the best, when 
 they were all so good. Nearly every one of the 
 bills, too, had splendid woodcuts of a magnificent 
 ship in full sail, with every stitch of canvas set a 
 perfect cloud of it, and not one in the sky ; for they 
 would wish you to believe that each shipping com- 
 pany has fair weather bespoke for the run home, 
 and a choice of the kindest and most skilful captains ; 
 the most abundant and expensive luxuries, making 
 the tables groan all day long ; that there were no
 
 44 ALL FOE GLITTERING GOLD 
 
 such things as howling hurricanes, raging seas, 
 smashed bulwarks, and leaking ships. 
 
 Another thing that struck me was, that none 
 of the captains had ever made a voyage without 
 having a testimonial, a purse of sovereigns, a gold 
 cup, or a chronometer or two presented by the ad- 
 miring passengers for the amiable qualities and 
 skilful seamanship displayed on the voyage out. 
 It's my belief that, when the subscribers awake 
 some fine morning and find themselves gliding 
 along under Cape Otway, or slipping up the coast 
 off the Bar won Heads, or rattling through the ' Rip ' 
 with the flood tide, they suddenly feel so overjoyed, 
 because their voyage is so near the end, that they 
 begin to look at each other with beaming faces, and 
 in a few minutes forget all the miseries, troubles 
 and quarrels they have had on the way. Then 
 they call a meeting in the saloon, and have a glass 
 or two of sherry or champagne. Then they feel a 
 glow of delight at the prospect of getting ashore. 
 Then they simmer a little get a little warmer- 
 then hot and, at last, fairly boil over with brotherly 
 love, which is usually all lavished on the captain 
 (lucky dog !), in the shape of a purse, perhaps a hot- 
 water jug or tea-urn, whereby they let off the 
 steam, Which has been worked up to high-pressure.
 
 ALL FOR GLITTERING GOLD 45 
 
 They have put down their names and sovereigns 
 impulsively, and are precious sorry afterwards when 
 they come to their senses. 
 
 The wharves looked dismal enough. It had been 
 raining heavily for some days, and everything was 
 thoroughly soaked. Piles of goods of all sorts lay 
 about in the open air, without shelter. Tons and 
 tons of flour appeared to be completely spoiled, and 
 would never do its duty as bread, except in the shape 
 of ' damper ' which admits of doubt, as it was as 
 damp as it well could be. Sugar was wasting its 
 sweetness through the gaping planks, and was 
 sucked away by the eddying river. It was a melting 
 sight to see the bags of salt quickly collapsing, and 
 dissolving like snow in a mid-day thaw. Perishable 
 and imperishable articles were alike uncared for, 
 and everything was recklessly tumbled about in 
 every possible position. 
 
 After thinking over the matter a good deal, I at 
 last determined to go by a vessel that was advertised 
 to sail in a few days. She was said to be a splendid 
 ship of a thousand tons, and the agent told me, in 
 confidence, that she was as fine a vessel as had ever 
 entered the port, and that she was everything that 
 a man of my sound judgment could wish for. Of 
 course I had not seen her, for she was lying well out
 
 46 ALL FOE GLITTERING GOLD 
 
 in the bay, and the weather was too rough for me 
 to think of putting off to her. I did not, however, 
 quite believe what the agent said, and might have 
 made a slight inquiry ; but when he spoke of my 
 sound judgment it rather mastered me, I must- 
 confess, for I prided myself on seeing as far as most 
 folks, and, of course, was just as liable to give way 
 to flattery. 
 
 Well, I paid my passage money, and was told 
 to be on board the next day ; but, on going down 
 to the office I found that the sailing of my ship was 
 postponed for a week, owing to rough weather. At 
 the end of the week there was another delay for 
 want of sailors, most of the crew having run away. 
 Then one thing and another intervened, causing 
 more time to be wasted, until I was completely tired 
 and disgusted, and had well nigh thrown up all 
 idea of going in her, when one morning I learned, 
 to my intense satisfaction, that the passengers and 
 gold were to be on board the steamer, at Cole's 
 Wharf, by two o'clock. 
 
 I had noticed that wherever I went about the 
 wharves I saw a tall, Yankee-looking fellow. He 
 never seemed to look at me, but he appeared to 
 dodge my footsteps and stealthily watch my move- 
 ments. I could not help feeling a sort of indefin-
 
 ALL FOE GLITTERING GOLD 47 
 
 able dread of the man, and sometimes I endeavoured 
 to give him the slip by darting up a right of-way, 
 or getting into a crowd. He was, however, always 
 too quick for me. When I thought I had got away 
 unobserved, I soon found that he was shuffling close 
 behind me looking quite unconcerned. Just after 
 I had learned at the shipping office that I was to be 
 on board the steamer by two o'clock, and was turn- 
 ing away from the clerk, I found that my tall friend 
 was close beside me, and, I expect, had heard every 
 word of the conversation. 
 
 As I was obliged to go to the Treasury with my 
 receipt in order to draw the gold, I hired a drayman 
 to take my trunk and carpet-bag, which was all the 
 luggage I meant to take. The trunk was full of 
 warm serviceable clothing ; the bag contained only 
 a few shavings and old papers. I pretended that 
 the bag was very heavy, and got quite red in the 
 face lifting it into the dray. I was going to put the 
 gold into it, and it would never have done to show 
 the drayman that I was taking an empty bag into 
 the Gold Office light as a feather, and bringing it 
 out with a full load of nothing but gold. 
 
 When we reached the place, I got off the dray 
 and told the man that I was going in to get a few 
 ounces of gold which a good friend of mine had
 
 48 ALL FOE GLITTERING GOLD 
 
 sent me. Of course, I was the friend, and the best 
 friend I had too. 
 
 After getting inside the office I ran back to the 
 dray and took up the carpet-bag, saying at the same 
 time that I had forgotten the deposit receipt that 
 was in it, and that I would take it with me into the 
 office. I then lifted it down, and put as much 
 apparent strength into the movement as I supposed 
 my one thousand and three ounces would require if 
 I were carrying them. 
 
 I was not long in producing the receipt. The 
 gold was shoved over the counter, and I bundled it 
 into the bag in double quick time, and was outside 
 in a minute or two ; but before I'd got to the dray 
 my shirt was as wet as if I'd lain in a water-hole 
 all night, and my face was beaded over with perspi- 
 ration like a red cabbage covered with dew-drops 
 on a spring morning. It took all the strength I 
 was master of, and all the breath I wasn't master 
 of, for I was completely knocked out of time, in 
 getting the confounded bag into the dray; and 
 right glad I was when it was done. 
 
 ' You've got a pretty stiff load, mate,' said the 
 drayman. 
 
 ' Yes,' said I, ' on my mind.' 
 
 ' How's that ? ' said he.
 
 ALL FOE GLITTEEING GOLD 49 
 
 ' Well, I did not get such good news inside as I 
 expected, and it has made me a little faint like. If 
 you'd believe me, I could hardly carry that bag 
 back again, I felt so queer.' 
 
 ' Nonsense ! the bag isn't so light as you 
 gammon it is, mate. Let me try its weight.' 
 
 This put me on my mettle in more ways than 
 one, for I sat down on the gold to keep him from 
 lifting it, and swore at him heavily, telling him he 
 was a lazy rascal for keeping me all day, when I 
 ought to be on board the steamer. 
 
 ' Look here, mate,' says he, ' I'm blowed if you'll 
 bounce me, or make me believe that bag has any- 
 thing but bricks and old iron in it, which you're 
 trotting about pretending it's luggage. Look here, 
 my lad, have you paid your board and lodging, and 
 your laundress, if you ever had one ? And who are 
 you going to take in next ? I'm blest if I don't 
 raise the shafts and tip you out in the mud, bricks 
 and old iron and all.' 
 
 ' My good man,' reasoned I, ' I did not mean to 
 offend you. If you take me to the steamer as 
 quickly as you can, I'll give you a pound.' 
 
 ' I'm blest if I move under a fiver after such 
 insultin' language from a chap who's skulking home 
 because he's too lazy to work.' 
 

 
 50 ALL FOE GLITTEEING GOLD 
 
 * The man's mad or drunk. If I am compelled 
 by misfortune to go home, is it likely, do you 
 think, that I am so flush of money as to have a 
 five-pound note to throw away ? ' 
 
 ' Here goes then. If you don't tip me, I'll tip 
 you and your precious stones into the gutter.' 
 
 He got down from the dray and loosened the 
 harness, and was just about to carry his threat into 
 execution, when I saw the affair was becoming 
 serious, and that the rascal really meant to tip me. 
 I gave one hasty glance up and down the street, in 
 the hazy hope that there might be a policeman in 
 sight, but you might then as well have looked for 
 a needle on Keilor Plains as for one of those 
 guardians of the peace when you happened to want 
 him. Of course I could not see one. 
 
 Just at this moment the tall Yankee I had seen 
 so often came hulking past. He looked steadily 
 at me for a moment or so, and then walked 
 quickly away. 
 
 'Is it a bargain, then ? ' said the drayman. 
 ' Say the word, and it's all right ; if you don't, it's 
 all wrong.' 
 
 ' Well, I give in. You'll get the fiver if you 
 make haste. I hear the steamer's bell. There is 
 not a moment to lose. Jump up.'
 
 ALL FOE GLITTEKING GOLD 51 
 
 By this time he had got the harness all right, 
 and he jumped upon the dray. We rattled down 
 the street at a tremendous rate, dashing through 
 the cross gutters and in and out of the mud-holes 
 in anything but a pleasant manner. In a few 
 minutes we were alongside Cole's Wharf. I 
 jumped down and rushed on board the steamer, 
 as I saw there was no time to lose. The ex- 
 citement seemed to give me strength; I was 
 astonished at the ease with which I got the bag 
 on board. I ran back for the trunk, and had just 
 got my foot on the vessel, when she moved off. 
 My friend the drayman was evidently moved too, 
 for he began to yell at the top of his voice : 
 
 ' Where's the fiver ? Throw us the fiver 
 Make haste with ye ? ' 
 
 I had an inclination to pay him out by not 
 paying him at all ; but on second thoughts I took 
 a pound note from my pocket, and, as I had said 
 I would give him a fiver, I wrapped up a five- 
 shilling piece a different fiver from that which he 
 expected to receive in the note, and threw it, 
 with all my strength, straight towards him. It 
 hit him with considerable force on the right eye. 
 He dropped his whip, and threw up his hands, as 
 if in pain. 
 
 x 2
 
 52 ALL FOE GLITTEKING GOLD 
 
 The steamer was now under way, and began to 
 go at full speed. I saw my questionable friend, 
 the drayman, for the last time, when we were 
 turning a bend of the river. He was straining to 
 look at me, while he raised his arm in impotent 
 rage and shook it at me, yelling at the same time 
 that he would do for me if he ever caught me 
 ashore. 
 
 The banks of the river were very dirty. Dis- 
 gusting-looking pigs were wandering among 
 heaps of garbage and gorging on offal. Sheep- 
 skins and bullock hides, fresh from the beasts, 
 were spread out on grimy fences, and reeking in 
 the fetid air. Heaps of dirty wool lay ready for 
 the fellmongers. Pyramids of bones, hideous, 
 ghastly, and foul, were piled about in every place. 
 Bullocks roaring with pain and thirst stood hi 
 small yards, firmly fixed in the thick black 
 mud. Sight and smell were alike offended, and 
 there was a general holding of noses at almost 
 every turn of the river, as some new abomination 
 was blown towards us. 
 
 We soon got out of this neighbourhood, 
 however, and steamed along between the tall scrub 
 that fringed the banks. Here we could breathe 
 and look around with some degree of comfort. A
 
 ALL FOE GLITTERING GOLD 53 
 
 fleet of lighters was coming up, laden to the 
 water's edge with merchandise of all kinds and 
 from every clime. The goods were soaking wet 
 from the heavy showers that scudded over us. 
 The great round clouds were rolling up, full of 
 threatening rain, growing blacker the more they 
 poured. We had no shelter, and in a minute or 
 two we were all in utter misery. We were not 
 only wet, but chilled to the bone with the sharply 
 cutting breeze. 
 
 When we arrived at the mouth of the river the 
 steamer began to tumble about and the decks were 
 washed at every lurch. I began to think of my gold 
 and what I should do to avoid notice. The best 
 thing to be done, 1 thought, was to turn out some 
 of my clothes from the trunk, and do them up in a 
 bundle, so as to make room for my carpet bag, 
 which I did. I then locked and strapped my trunk, 
 and imagined I had done a wise thing. I had just 
 got all snug when we arrived at the, vessel, the 
 ' Mary Jane,' Captain Googe, commander. 
 
 I got my trunk and bundle on board without 
 much difficulty, and had them removed at once to 
 my cabin. I was a rich man now, and had, there- 
 fore, taken a berth in the saloon. I meant to enjoy 
 myself as much as I could, as a sort of compen-
 
 54 ALL FOE GLITTERING GOLD 
 
 sation for the voyage out, and I had spared neither 
 time nor money in making things meet my views. 
 
 As the day wore on the weather improved. At 
 sunset the clouds had nearly all disappeared. There 
 was a full moon and the stars shone brightly. The 
 wind had fallen ; there was a calm, peaceful flood 
 of light gilding the waters, and the shores of the 
 bay were almost lost in the dreamy haze that shut 
 in the view. 
 
 I dressed myself in a good suit of broadcloth, 
 and, as I gave the few last touches to my toilet, I 
 flattered myself that I looked like a man of means, 
 and a decent unit of society. When I was living 
 cheaply and even meanly in Melbourne for I had 
 my secret to keep I did not seem to realise that I 
 was the possessor of so much wealth, but now I 
 could indulge a little after so much self-sacrifice. 
 I sometimes think that the pleasure of wealth con- 
 sists, to some extent, in the opinion people have of 
 its possessor. Had the captain seen me a short 
 time previously, he would certainly not have noticed 
 me. Now he stopped and shook hands and hoped 
 I would enjoy the trip. 
 
 When the bell rang for tea I went into the 
 saloon and took my seat near the foot of the table. 
 From this position, I had a good opportunity of
 
 ALL FOE GLITTERING GOLD 55 
 
 seeing my fellow-passengers, and I scanned their 
 faces with some interest. There were only ten of 
 us in all. I afterwards learnt that there were none 
 in the steerage or second cabin. On the captain's 
 right sat a German lady, Mrs. Schniedelhause, and 
 on the left Mr. Schniedelhause. He was a dealer 
 in jewellery, and was going to his own country for 
 a few months to pick up bargains for export to 
 Victoria. 
 
 His wife was a confirmed invalid, constantly 
 grumbling and boring everyone with her bodily 
 complaints. As soon as she had taken her seat 
 she said to the captain, 'Mine head is like to shplit. 
 It ish de vetter, or de shmell of de ship's inside.' 
 
 Just at that moment, a tall figure came stooping 
 in, and took his seat next Mr. Schniedelhause. 
 Think of my astonishment and alarm when I 
 recognised the Yankee who had so often dogged my 
 footsteps. There was no mistake about it. There 
 he sat, and I could not help thinking that I had 
 never seen a more villanous-looking fellow. He 
 was not heavy, apparently, but muscular and 
 strong, with broad shoulders and a capacious 
 chest, and he always carried a brace of pistols 
 stuck in his belt, which gave him a ferocious look. 
 
 He soon informed us, addressing us all round,
 
 56 ALL FOR GLITTERING GOLD 
 
 that his name was Abel Wincoop, a citizen of the 
 U-nited States, and that he was death on niggers, 
 a crack shot, and didn't care a cuss for creation. 
 
 A gloomy, taciturn man sat next him, who 
 turned out to be an intimate friend of Abel's. 
 I do not think he was an American, although he 
 always professed to be one. He was more like an 
 Irishman, I thought, and his name being Mulligan 
 was some support to my idea. 
 
 The other passengers were, a quiet, respectable 
 ironmonger of the name of Jones, Captain Bravery, 
 of the Queen's Own, and a widow lady, Mrs. Smith, 
 with her two little girls. 
 
 The ship's captain was a fine specimen of the 
 British sailor of the old school. He was slow but 
 sure, strict with his men, and inclined to carry 
 matters with a high hand at least I thought he 
 was a little too severe sometimes. 
 
 Of course we were all rather reserved at first, 
 and our conversation, like a broken-down fence, had 
 a good many gaps in it. The Yankee did most of 
 the talking, which, however, was not addressed to 
 anyone in particular, but seemed to be meant for 
 the lamp, or the barometer that hung over the table. 
 
 I soon turned in for the night, and immediately 
 fell asleep. I was dreaming away until daylight
 
 ALT. FOE GLITTERING GOLD 57 
 
 about Yankees, revolvers, and bowie-knives. Ifc 
 was a sort of continuous half-sleep, the effect of 
 unpleasant day-thoughts. Next morning the gold 
 arrived on board. There were nearly a hundred 
 thousand ounces in all, packed in small wooden 
 boxes. These boxes were carefully guarded by some 
 of the bank officials, who saw them securely stowed 
 away in the ship's safe. 
 
 We were now only awaiting the arrival of the 
 able-bodied seamen who had run away from the 
 ship when she came into port, but who were soon 
 captured and lodged in gaol for safe keeping until 
 the vessel would be ready for sea. In a few minutes 
 we saw the boat belonging to the water police mak- 
 ing towards us with the men on board. As the 
 fellows clambered up one by one, they looked as 
 sullen and hang-dog a set as ever I had seen. 
 
 In half an hour we were under way, and spank- 
 ing down the bay at the rate of eight knots an hour. 
 The very sight of the sea always has an exhilarating 
 effect on me ; I felt like a schoolboy going home for 
 the holidays ; and it set the blood dancing through 
 my veins to think of the pleasures in store for me, 
 for I should soon see dear old England again, and 
 clasp my darlings, Mary, and Tom, and Jack, and 
 Lily, to my heart once more. How the little things
 
 58 ALL FOE OLITTEKING- GOLD 
 
 will have grown ! I thought. Why, ten to one, I 
 shan't know them at the first glance, and they will 
 almost have forgotten me. 
 
 On we went, past St. Kilda, Brighton, Frankston, 
 and Schnapper Point. The wind was increasing, 
 and the waves were skipping up the ship's sides as 
 if curious to see what sort of people there were on 
 board. On they came, larger and larger, now 
 breaking on our bows and showering the decks for 
 many a yard, now thumping broadside on with a 
 dull thud, and then lifting the ship on their great 
 backs and giving us a shove on our way. 
 
 The sea is the champagne of water ; sparkling, 
 beading, effervescent, bright, and clear. It quickens 
 the pulse, exhilarating the whole man into a never- 
 failing feeling of delight. I thought myself the 
 happiest fellow alive, for I had not a care. Every 
 hour would take me nearer home, and that was 
 pleasure in itself. 
 
 We were outside the heads by dusk, and went 
 dashing away eastward. The long coast-line faded 
 into amethyst, and was lost in the distance. The 
 hills loomed up grim and dark, and looked like im- 
 mense lumps of indigo. A few faint streaks of 
 light still lingered in the western sky ; and soon,
 
 ALL FOR GLITTERING GOLD 59 
 
 night, black night, drew around us, and shut out 
 all but the clouds and stars. 
 
 Nothing occurred worth relating during the 
 first fortnight. The weather was fine, and we made 
 a first-rate run. "We were very comfortable in every 
 way. excepting that Abel AYincoop and his friend 
 Mulligan made themselves rather disagreeable now 
 and then. I, however, kept out of their way, and 
 did not mix myself in any disputes that they got 
 into with the other passengers. They endeavoured 
 to do their utmost in order to make me quarrel 
 with them, but I quietly got awa}~ as quickly as I 
 could and so avoided open warfare. 
 
 One evening we were sitting at tea. The con- 
 versation was a little more lively and pleasant than 
 usual, and I began to think we might enjoy our- 
 selves pretty well in spite of the little peculiarities 
 of Abel and Mulligan. Pompey, the black steward, 
 seemed to have an instinctive dread of the Yankee, 
 and shunned him as much as possible. On this 
 especial evening Pompey kept as far from him as 
 he could. Abel saw this, and took every oppor- 
 tunity of calling for something or other, in order to 
 make Pompey come round the table to assist him. 
 
 'You darned nigger, I guess I'll take a cake,' 
 said Abel.
 
 60 ALL FOR GLITTERING GOLD 
 
 'Yes, massa.' 
 
 ' I want a cake for an answer, not the everlastin' 
 " Yes, massa." Look spry, will ye ! ' 
 
 Poor Pompey turned pale with fright, and 
 stammered : 
 
 ' Yes, massa. Coming, massa.' 
 
 He then shuffled round the table with a plate of 
 cakes, and stopped behind Abel to offer them. The 
 Yankee deliberately turned round, rolled an enor- 
 mous quid of tobacco in his mouth which he had 
 kept there all the time he was eating, and expec- 
 torated straight in Pompey's face. The tobacco- 
 juice trickled down the poor negro's cheeks, and 
 made him look more pitiable than before. 
 
 'Mr. Wincoop,' said the captain, 'I am both 
 astonished and grieved. I beg of you to observe at 
 least a decent behaviour when at this table, and, 
 what is more, I shall insist upon it.' 
 
 ' I du declare, 'twould rile a sucking pig,' said 
 Abel, addressing the barometer, ' tu hear old Googe 
 coming the /m-mane so precipitous, and all along of 
 that darned nigger. Why, look here ; I just spit 
 in the only dirty place I could find handy, and if 
 that ain't decent, why, I'd better go to school again 
 for another quarter.' 
 
 Pompey stood grinding his teeth until Abel had
 
 ALL FOE GLITTEKING GOLD 61 
 
 finished speaking, and then he burst out in a 
 roar. 
 
 ' Ha, ha ! I know you. Do you hear ? I know 
 you. You're not my massa. De cap'en is my 
 massa, and berry kind too.' 
 
 ' That will do, Pomp. Go to your pantry,' said 
 the captain. 
 
 'No, massa! Not till I've exposed dat black 
 teffel of a villain dat tief dat rascal dat scoun- 
 drel.' (Pompey had prefixed strong adjectives, and 
 now began to gesticulate and dance like a madman.) 
 ' Dat murderer ! ' (Adjective again.) Dat's Yankee 
 Thunder, tbe bushranger. I know him I know 
 him ! Here's his picter. Look at him ! ' 
 
 He pulled out a portrait from his pocket, and 
 held it up so that we could all see it. Sure enough, 
 there was Abel Wincoop to the life every feature, 
 and his very expression. 
 
 Pompey had barely time to show it before Abel 
 pulled out his bowie-knife. A bright glitter shot 
 through the air, and Pompey fell, screaming 
 wildly. 
 
 We were horror-struck for a moment, and then 
 all was confusion and uproar. I ran to Pompey 
 and raised him up. Some one dashed a cup of tea 
 in his face, and, with this reviver, he opened his
 
 62 ALL FOE GLITTEKING- GOLD 
 
 eyes and rolled them wildly. Abel's knife had 
 struck him in the fleshy part of the arm, and was 
 still sticking there. I pulled it out gently and then 
 tore open his shirt and looked at the wound, which 
 I at once saw was a very simple one and would be 
 easily cured. 
 
 Pompey thought he was a dead man and refused 
 to move, so two of us carried him to his bunk, and 
 rolled him in and left him to come to at his leisure. 
 
 When I went back to the saloon Abel and 
 Mulligan were gone. We were all as silent as if a 
 thunderbolt had fallen among us. Here was a 
 subject for wonder, and a sensation in our quiet 
 community of quite an unexpected kind. I took up 
 a book and vainly tried to read. Then I took a 
 pack of cards and endeavoured to play, first double 
 dummy, and then patience, but I could not keep 
 my thoughts on the game for a moment. At last 
 I went out and walked on deck, and for a long time 
 leant over the bulwarks dreamily watching the 
 waves as they bubbled and hissed away behind. 
 
 I began to cogitate on the incident of the 
 evening, and could not help connecting with it 
 Abel's suspicious movements in following me 
 about the streets of Melbourne. I began to fear 
 that he must have ascertained, in some way, that
 
 ALL FOR GLITTERING GOLD 63 
 
 I had so much gold, and was only waiting his 
 opportunity to get rid of me and secure it for 
 himself. Pompey had thrown a new light on my 
 former speculations regarding the Yankee, which 
 filled me with new fear. On board ship, however, 
 I was safe enough ; I would be on my guard. To 
 be forewarned was to be forearmed, so I looked out 
 my revolver, and from that evening I carried it 
 in the breast pocket of my coat. 
 
 I had not been many minutes on deck when I 
 heard little Jenny Smith laughing heartily with a 
 childish, silvery laugh. I was very fond of the 
 child, so I went towards the sound. To my aston- 
 ishment I saw Abel with Jenny on his shoulder. 
 He was capering and dancing, and making fun for 
 her. His cadaverous face was actually lit up with 
 pleasure, and I could not deny it, although I had 
 taken a violent antipathy to the man there was 
 even a good expression on it. 
 
 'You are a naughty boy, so you must go in the 
 corner,' said Jenny. 
 
 ' Don't be angry, don't, or I'll cry,' said Abel. 
 
 'Yes, I will; let me down.' 
 
 ' Kiss me then.' 
 
 She stooped down and kissed his leathern jaws 
 as if she loved him, and patted his great ugly head
 
 64 ALL FOE GLITTEEING GOLD 
 
 as tenderly as if he had been her own father. 
 He lifted her down gently, and set her on her feet. 
 
 ' Now, sir, if you are naughty still, you must 
 go in the corner, and you will get no supper.' 
 
 ' Boo hoo hoo, I will be good, indeed I will, and 
 never be a bad boy any more.' 
 
 I could hardly believe my eyes and ears. 
 Here was a man I believed to be a thoroughpaced 
 villain a murderer in fact if what Pompey said 
 was true, for it was well known that Yankee 
 Thunder, if indeed it was he, was one of the most 
 bloodthirsty scoundrels alive. He could not be the 
 man ! It was impossible that a double-dyed 
 scoundrel could thus gambol with a child and be 
 loved by her. Surely little Jenny would have 
 instinctively shunned him would have been re- 
 pelled from him had he been the man I was 
 beginning to suspect him to be. 
 
 I passed on without speaking, and lay down 
 upon some sails that had been laid on the top of 
 the fo'castle. I tried to banish the Yankee from 
 my mind, but could not. He was always stum- 
 bling across my path and casting gloomy shadows 
 into my heart. He was poisoning my very 
 existence, and making me miserable. I wished a 
 thousand times that I had disposed of my gold,
 
 ALL FOE GLITTERING- GOLD 65 
 
 and that I had remitted the amount through the 
 Bank of England. 
 
 I must have fallen asleep, I think, for when I 
 awoke the moon was well up in the sky. I had no 
 sooner ascertained this than a great jagged cloud 
 went raking across her face, and blotted her out. 
 A black wall was packed up on the horizon, which 
 was rapidly broken up by the rising storm, and 
 hurled overhead in inky masses. The wind was 
 whistling through the rigging and snapping the 
 ropes like whips. 
 
 I was about to jump on the deck, when some 
 voices just below me, at the fo'castle door, caught 
 my ears. I did not want to disturb the speakers, 
 so I thought I would lie a moment longer. I could 
 not help hearing the first sentence, and had no 
 alternative but to remain until the close of the 
 conversation. 
 
 A voice that seemed familiar said, ' The old man 
 could be knocked on the head, you know, and the 
 old tub could be scuttled, and there's an end to the 
 whole affair.' 
 
 ' I'll pay him out, shiver his timbers ! He 
 struck me once, and the mark has burnt into my 
 cheek with rage and hate.' 
 
 ' The passengers will stand by you like old 
 
 $
 
 66 ALL FOR GLITTERING GOLD 
 
 Hickory, and lend a hand like a greased streak of 
 lightning. There's the gold, too. Why, man, we 
 might all retire from business and set up in the 
 grand milor style, Senor this, and Hidalgo that, in 
 Texas or Mexico.' 
 
 ' I'm your man, never fear.' 
 
 I heard some footsteps coming. The voices 
 ceased. I distinctly saw Abel's friend, Mulligan, 
 wriggling away among the barrels and empty 
 hencoops, and his companion, one of the sailors, 
 at the same time slunk into the fo'castle. 
 
 ' Eeef the mainsail,' shouted the captain from 
 the poop. 
 
 ' Aye, aye, sir.' 
 
 The storm would soon be upon us, and the 
 sailors were busy making preparations for it. 
 I crept away to my cabin, fully determined to warn 
 the captain of the dangerous characters he had on 
 board. 
 
 The rushing sounds of the wind were now fierce 
 and strong, and I had hardly reached the saloon 
 before the ship heeled over on one side, and dashed 
 madly through the water. The hurry and noise 
 on deck gradually ceased, and everyone seemed 
 anxiously to wait for the full force of the storm. 
 "We all knew this was but the feeble buffeting of the
 
 ALL FOE GLITTERING GOLD 67 
 
 gale, to what we had yet to pass through. The 
 wind increased every second, until it raved and 
 howled around us in all its fury. Nothing was now 
 heard but the crack of the ropes, the whistling of 
 the gale in the rigging, and the dash of the foam 
 that flew from our bows like the spray from 
 a cataract. 
 
 After an age, as it seemed to me, I heard the 
 captain shout, ' Double-reef the topsails.' 
 
 There was no answer to this order, apparently, 
 for he shouted louder than before, 
 
 ' Double-reef topsails, do you hear ? Mr. Gaunt, 
 where are your men ? ' 
 
 ' Aye, aye, sir,' said Mr. Gaunt. 
 
 In another minute the captain rushed into his 
 cabin, and dashed out again with a brace of pistols 
 in his hands. There was a loud trampling, and 
 a volley of oaths and threats ; then the captain was 
 heard again. 
 
 ' I'll shoot the first man who refuses. Up you 
 go, or you'll all be in Davy Jones's locker in five 
 minutes.' 
 
 During this time the wind was still increasing, 
 and the sea w r as rising higher and higher. Huge 
 rollers rose like mountains over the stern, and were 
 mown as if with some giant scythe, and dashed 
 
 F 2
 
 68 ALL FOE GLITTEELNG GOLD 
 
 over us in a blinding deluge. The white surges 
 leaped up above the heavy seas, and the air was 
 full of hissing, glittering spray. The vessel yielded 
 more and more to the storm, and, in less than an 
 hour from the time we were struck, she was driving 
 along with tremendous force, while the gale raged 
 around us with awful fury. 
 
 We had a terrible time of it. Women were 
 praying and screaming, children were crying, and 
 men were holding their breath with fear, while 
 their faces were white with terror. I thought it 
 was all over with us, so I commended Mary and 
 the bairns to God, and silently prayed that He 
 might have mercy on myself. Our prayers were 
 heard, for, just as we imagined our end had come, 
 the wind began to blow less fiercely. The gale was 
 spent, and we breathed more freely and felt we 
 were saved. 
 
 No one lay down all night. When the first 
 streaks of dawn began to show I turned in and 
 soon fell asleep. When I awoke the sun was 
 shining brightly, and the vessel was moving along 
 in a comfortable way. I peeped out of my port- 
 hole, and saw that the sea had gone down in a 
 most surprising manner. 
 
 The morning was as fine a one as I could wish
 
 ALL FOP GLITTEPJXG GOLD 09 
 
 to sec. The sky was of a deep Line, and the few 
 feathery Hakes that dappled it iloated lazily, as if 
 making up for their wild orgy of the night before. 
 
 I had forgotten to wind up my watch, so it had 
 run down, but I guessed that the time might be 
 about ten o'clock. I was not far wrong, for I soon 
 heard live bells strike. I wound up my watch and 
 set it accordingly. After 1 had dressed, I turned 
 the handle of my cabin door. It was stiff, so 1 
 shook it smartly as it would not turn. After trying 
 to get out for some time, I got quite cross and 
 rattled the door and kicked it with some force, but 
 all to no purpose. 
 
 ' Keep quiet there, will you '> ' said a gruff voice 
 on the other side. or I'll put a bullet through you.' 
 
 I distinctly beard a trigger click, which was an 
 argument not to be gainsaid : so I kept quiet a.s I 
 was told, thinking it the safest course to pursue, as 
 1 was caged like a mouse in a trap. 
 
 ' You're a dead man if you make a sound,' said 
 the voice again, in a tone which cbilied me to the 
 bone, for I recogiii.-ed it as Mulligan's, the arch- 
 villain I had overheard the night before plotting 
 with one of the men. 
 
 Just at that moment footsteps passed overhead, 
 and then others followed with a cut-like tread. My
 
 70 ALL FOR GLITTERING GOLD 
 
 senses seemed preternaturally acute, and I verily 
 believe I could have heard a man's heart beat at 
 twenty paces. Mine thumped so loudly that I 
 almost expected Mulligan would put a bullet through 
 me for making a noise. 
 
 There was a blow struck, and a heavy body fell 
 on deck. Then there was a suppressed groan, a 
 quick movement of naked feet, and all was still for 
 a few minutes. Then a number of men entered 
 the cabin. I knew that Abel was at their head by 
 his shambling gait, and from his habit of rubbing 
 against the cabin doors with his shoulders as he 
 slouched in. He stopped opposite the captain's 
 cabin, and put his eye to the keyhole. Although 
 I could not see him, I knew instinctively every 
 movement. After a patient scrutiny he undid 
 some fastenings on the outside, turned the handle 
 stealthily, and swung the door wide open. Then 
 he dashed at the captain, who was lying asleep in 
 his bunk, tired out with the previous night's 
 exertions. The movement awoke him, and he tried 
 to rise, but Abel was too quick for him, for he 
 seized him by the arms with an iron grasp. 
 
 The captain was a powerful man, and struggled 
 for a moment or two. With a sudden spring he 
 managed to throw himself on the Yankee's
 
 ALL FOE GLITTERING GOLD 71 
 
 shoulders, and got one arm free. He then clutched 
 Abel by the throat, and tried to strangle him ; but 
 he, seeing his danger, heaved his antagonist against 
 the beams overhead with fearful violence. There 
 was an awful crash, and the contest was over. 
 The apparently lifeless body of the captain was then 
 tossed into the bunk. The Yankee staggered back 
 a step or two, and fell in a swoon. 
 
 The hand-to-hand fight I have just described 
 did not last two minutes. When it began I dashed 
 headlong at the door and tried to burst it open, 
 but it was too strong, and I made no impression 
 on the stout timbers, which only seemed to mock 
 my puny efforts. 
 
 ' Oh, goot shentlemens ! prave mens, don't plow 
 myprains out. T'ey are pad enough already, for mine 
 head is like to shplit,' screamed poor Mrs. Schniedel- 
 hause from her cabin, where it seems she was shut up. 
 
 ' Hold your tongue, you she cat,' roared Mulli- 
 gan. 
 
 ' Oh, kind Americans ! here ish two thalers, a 
 sixpence, a lourpence piece, my vatch and key, 
 which are all gold, shentlemens, I assure you, and 
 not prass as Mrs. Marks said, but it vas only envy, 
 and no more, and she did not pelieve it herself. 
 And here ish a prooch and my earrings. All dese
 
 72 ALL FOE GLITTERING GOLD 
 
 tings I will you give, if you vill not kill me. Oh ! 
 mine head is like to shplit.' 
 
 ' Where is your better half ? ' said Mulligan, 
 opening her door. 
 
 * Mine vorser half you mean. He ish unter de 
 bunks. Oh, you scoundrels ! ' shaking her fist 
 under the berth ' I vill make you suffer for pring- 
 ing me here to be plown out of prains, and shut up 
 in my cabins and murdered.' 
 
 ' Come out, Snivelcrawler,' said Mulligan, giving 
 him a kick on the shins, and dragging him out. 
 ' We have nothing to say to women and cowards 
 like you.' 
 
 ' Oh, mine goot Mishter Mulligan, ish it you? 
 You have avake me out of a shound shleep, to have 
 de pleasure of seeing you the first times I avake. 
 Vat vill you have to trink, mine noble sirs ? It ish 
 cold, for mine teeth is shattering.' 
 
 ' Wall, I feel poorly ; I feel poorly. A leetle 
 tightness in the chest. If you have any loose gold 
 pieces knocking around, they're a sovereign remedy 
 a sovereign remedy, do you hear ? for my com- 
 plaint.' 
 
 'You vill have your jokes, Mishter Mulligan. 
 Oh ! you are a funnee fellow, Mishter Mulligan.' 
 
 Mulligan stepped behind him, and pinioned his
 
 ALL FOE GLITTEKING GOLD 73 
 
 arms. Schniedelhause did not resist, except in 
 mild protest, for he was half dead with fright. 
 
 I now heard the voice of Jones the ironmonger, 
 muttering curses on Abel and Mulligan, which if 
 not loud were certainly deep. 
 
 I afterwards heard that he had knocked 
 Mulligan down, and had given Abel some trouble 
 before he was secured. He always seemed a very 
 meek little man, so I am sure the mutineers were 
 rather astonished at the resistance he made. 
 
 Captain Bravery, I also found out, was the first 
 man captured. They pounced upon him while 
 asleep, and they immediately gagged him to keep 
 him from raising an alarm. 
 
 The mutineers had now secured the captain 
 and mates who were knocked down on deck and 
 all the male passengers except myself. 
 
 By this time most of the crew were quite tipsy, 
 having taken advantage of the row to break into 
 the spirit-room. Abel, Mulligan, and a few of the 
 ringleaders, were, however, perfectly sober, and 
 were endeavouring to keep order. 
 
 I soon heard the Yankee's shuffling steps 
 coming my way. He stopped at my door, and told 
 me, after he had unfastened it, that I could walk 
 out, which I did with a loaded pistol in each hand.
 
 74 ALL FOR GLITTERING GOLD 
 
 If any personal violence had been offered me at 
 that moment, I should certainly have shot the first 
 person who meddled with me. No one spoke to 
 me, or interfered with me. I looked round and 
 found Captain Bravery, Jones, and Schniedelhause 
 sitting in a corner, in a very woebegone state. 
 
 'You had better put down your pistols, old 
 hoss,' said Abel, ' for if you don't, them boys,' 
 pointing to the skylight through which the 
 muzzles of four guns were pointed full at me, 
 ' will make crow's meat of you in another second.' 
 
 I gave one earnest glance all round. Every 
 way of escape was barred against me. Abel had 
 a cutlass and pistols lying on the table before him. 
 Mulligan stood at the other end of the saloon with 
 a rifle pointed at me. The odds were fearfully 
 against me. I threw my weapons behind me, and 
 stepped towards Abel, for with all his faults I 
 preferred giving myself up to him, rather than to 
 Mulligan, whom I utterly abhorred. 
 
 ' Bind him,' said Abel. 
 
 Two men seized me from behind, and dexter- 
 ously tied me hand and foot with stout ropes. 
 They then unceremoniously gave me a push, and I 
 tumbled into the corner beside my fellow sufferers. 
 
 All this time poor Mrs. Smith was shut up in
 
 ALL FOR GLITTERING- GOLD 75 
 
 her cabin, find half doad with fright. Her little 
 girls, who could hardly have comprehended the full 
 state of the case, were crying like to break their 
 hearts ; while their mother was sobbing con- 
 vulsively, and occasionally going off into hysterics. 
 
 The conspirators were in complete possession 
 of the ship, and were strutting about with the 
 greatest assurance possible. The Yankee had 
 taken command, and gave orders to alter the ship's 
 course. I saw him through the skylight, coolly 
 taking an observation of the sun. In a few 
 minutes he came into the saloon, with the quad- 
 rant stuck jauntily under his firm, and sat down 
 at the table to work out the calculations. lie was 
 not long in doing them, and I felt certain, from his 
 business-like manner, that he was quite at home 
 in the work. This idea was confirmed when he 
 pricked off the ship's position on the chart. Our 
 position, I was about to write, but ire were woefully 
 out in <>nr reckoning. 
 
 The captain had been completely stunned, and 
 seemed, from what I heard, to be dead, but now 
 began to show signs of reviving. By the aid of 
 some stimulants which Pompey was ordered to pour 
 down his throat, he was soon restored. He began 
 to storm and rave like a madman, and threatened
 
 76 ALL FOE GLITTERING GOLD 
 
 and coaxed by turns ; but, as no one heeded him, 
 he ceased after about an hour's violent use of his 
 lungs. 
 
 It was well on in the afternoon when Abel 
 shouted, ' Clear away the long boat.' 
 
 This order was quickly obeyed, for we soon 
 heard the ropes passing through the blocks. 
 
 ' Pass out the prisoners Googe first, and gag 
 him.' 
 
 Mulligan gagged the captain in spite of his 
 vigorous protests, and four sailors carried him out, 
 notwithstanding his determined attempts at re- 
 sistance. 
 
 Captain Bravery was carried out next, complain- 
 ing of the indignity put upon an officer and a gen- 
 tleman. Jones's turn came next ; then Mrs. 
 Schniedelhause was bundled out, declaring, as 
 usual, that 'her head was like to shplit.' Her 
 husband was taken next, and then I was carried out 
 like the others. I was hoisted over the ship's side, 
 and lowered into the boat, which was swinging 
 about a foot from the water. I found my com- 
 panions in trouble all huddled together, and looking 
 the very picture of distress. 
 
 Mrs. Smith was now brought out, with her little 
 girls, who had stopped crying.
 
 ALL FOK GLITTEKING GOLD 77 
 
 ' Ma'am,' said Abel, 'if you'll sail with us, you'll 
 be as slick and comfortable as we can make you ; 
 and as for the little girls, why they'll have no end 
 of kindness, for they never shunned me, and they 
 never hated me like all the rest of them cusses in 
 the boat. If it had not been for your girls, and 
 their innocent ways, where do you think you'd all 
 be now ? Why, nowhere in Davy Jones's locker, 
 which tells no tales. That's where you'd be, every 
 mother's son of you. I've played with them, Mrs. 
 Smith, and wished I was a boy again, playing under 
 the maple trees at my old home. I've wished I'd 
 been took when a youngster.' Here he dashed his 
 hand across his eyes. ' But that's neither here nor 
 there now.' 
 
 I felt sure he wiped a tear from his eye. 
 ' What's the use of preachin' ? ' said Mulligan ; 
 ' bundle over, you brats.' 
 
 Little Jenny began to cry, and clung to Abel's 
 knees. 
 
 ' Darn it ! ' roared Abel, ' you've raised my 
 dander. The very infants know you're a devil 
 incarnate. But you'll swing for it, if your foul 
 tongue offends them again.' 
 
 ' Don't let him kill me,' said Jenny, addressing 
 Abel.
 
 78 ALL FOE GLITTERING GOLD 
 
 ' No, my pet, he shan't harm a hair of your 
 head ; and, what's more, no harm shall be done to 
 any of you, big or little, for your sakes.' ' Wall, 
 ma'am,' he added, ' will you sail with us or 
 not? I'll land you safe and sound anywhere 
 you like.' 
 
 'No, no,' said Mrs. Smith sobbing. 'I'll go 
 with the others'.' 
 
 ' Very well, ma'am, I'll just go into the saloon, 
 and bring out some blankets and warm things for 
 you and the girls.' 
 
 He came back in a few minutes with Mrs. 
 Smith's luggage, and a heap of blankets, which he 
 lowered into the boat. He also threw in some 
 mattresses, biscuits, preserved meats, and other 
 stores ; also a compass," quadrant, and chronometer. 
 He then helped Mrs. Smith into the boat, also the 
 little girls, after having kissed them. 
 
 Pompey had scrambled down unobserved, and 
 was crouching behind the captain. Abel's sharp 
 eyes soon detected him, and his manner altered in 
 a moment. 
 
 ' Come out of that, you darned nigger ! You 
 infernal cuss ! make tracks or I'll shoot you dead.' 
 
 ' Let me go, massa. Let me go, Mass Wineoop,' 
 said Pompey, very piteously.
 
 ALL FOR GLITTERING GOLD 79 
 
 ' No,' roared Abel, pointing his pistol at him. 
 
 ' I'm comin', massa, comin'.' 
 
 Pompey, as he passed the captain, whispered 
 something in his ear, which sent a ray of pleasure 
 across his dejected face. 
 
 Pompey had no sooner reached the deck than 
 he tried to dodge the blow that Abel aimed at him, 
 but he could not avoid it, and he was sent sprawl- 
 ing on his back, making a terrific uproar as he 
 half slid and half tumbled out of -the way of the 
 Yankee. 
 
 ' Mrs. Smith,' said Abel, putting his head over 
 the bulwarks, ' here's a knife. When the boat's 
 adrift you can cut the cords and set everybody free. 
 Lower away.' 
 
 ' Aye, aye, sir,' said the men. 
 
 The boat touched the water, and floated quietly 
 astern. We were fairly launched on the wide 
 Pacific, which would, for aught we could see, soon 
 be our grave. 
 
 After a few minutes Mrs. Smith cut the cords, 
 and we were all free. 
 
 The sun was just setting. His great round face 
 hung on the water, and burned with a dull red glare, 
 lighting up the ship with splashes of crimson, from 
 keel to top-mast. We seemed to be floating on a
 
 80 ALL FOE GLITTEEING GOLD 
 
 sea of blood, and all within our ken had a weird 
 and ominous look, which chilled and awed me. 
 
 The captain was every inch a brave man. He 
 took command of the boat, and issued his orders 
 with as much coolness and decision as if he had 
 been on board the ' Mary Jane.' 
 
 Captain Bravery, Jones, Schniedelhause, and I 
 were ordered to take the oars, which we cheerfully 
 did. The captain steered, and we were soon hard 
 at work. 
 
 ' Now, gentlemen,' said the captain, ' I am going 
 to steer straight for my ship. As there is almost a 
 calm, and as she has hardly any sail set, we ought 
 to catch her up in a few hours' time. I count on 
 your assistance. When I tell you that our lives 
 depend on the coolness and courage you display, I 
 need hardly urge you to do your very best. Only 
 obey my instructions implicitly , and I do not doubt 
 that all will be well with us soon.' 
 
 We all promised to carry out his orders to the 
 very letter. Without knowing more of his plans, 
 we prepared to do what we were told. His manner 
 inspired us with confidence, and we worked with a 
 will. 
 
 After a hard hour's rowing we lost sight of the 
 ship altogether. The night was very dark, a thin
 
 ALL FOR ^LITTERING- GOLD 81 
 
 veil of clouds having shut out the stars. We toiled 
 on as well as we were able. The perspiration 
 streamed from every pore. Being all landsmen, we 
 did not handle our oars in the most approved 
 fashion ; still, we got on wonderfully well. 
 
 ' Hurrah ! ' shouted the captain. ' I see her. 
 Fompoy has hung out a light. Look ! there it is, 
 straight ahead.' 
 
 There it was, sure enough, and a very bright 
 light too. Our hopes, which had sunk to a very 
 low ebb, began to rise again, and we all pulled 
 with rone 1 wed vigour ; the captain all the while 
 encouraging us by his approval, and reporting 
 from time to time that we were gaining on the 
 ship. 
 
 'I'll bet you a pound/ said the captain, ' they 
 haven't a man at the wheel, or he is drunk. She's 
 boxing the compass, and no mistake, and yawing 
 about in the most absurd way, just as if she had 
 swallowed a hogshead of rum.' 
 
 ft was near eleven o'clock, as we judged, when 
 Captain (loo^e reported that we were within a 
 quarter of a mile of the chase. 
 
 ' Kvery man mul'lle his oar with a blanket,' 
 said lie. 
 
 This was soon done, and we went on our way
 
 82 ALL FOE G-LITTEKING GOLD 
 
 noiselessly. In half an hour more we were under 
 the Mary Jane's stern. 
 
 The captain groped about, and at last found a 
 rope dangling, to which we made fast, much to 
 our relief, for we were beginning to feel rather 
 tired. 
 
 Only some indistinct sounds were heard on board 
 the ship. We were unable to say for some time 
 what they were, but by patient listening we made 
 out that three or four people were trying to sing a 
 chorus, and were too drunk to come within twenty 
 miles of the tune. Another group appeared to be 
 quarrelling, in the last stages of helpless imbecility. 
 Every sound spelt rum. 
 
 As we were all sitting as still as the grave, we 
 were startled by seeing some dark object moving 
 above us. We watched in breathless anxiety. 
 Presently we saw a man peering all round, as if in 
 search of something on the water. The captain 
 closely scanned the man's movements for a short 
 ime, and then whispered : 
 
 ' Is that you, Pompey ? ' 
 
 'Yes, massa. Oh ! I'se joyful to see you.' 
 
 I was sure he could not see anything of us, for 
 he immediately said : 
 
 ' Where are you, massa ? '
 
 ALL FOE GLITTERING GOLD 83 
 
 ' Here we are, just below you. Come down and 
 tell us the news.' 
 
 ' I'll be dar in a moment, cap'en, as de t'under 
 said to de lightnin'.' 
 
 He went away for a moment, but soon came 
 back and slid down the rope. 
 
 ' Well, Pomp, what's our chance ? ' 
 
 ' No chance at all, massa. Pomp doesn't leave 
 it to chances. Sartain sure, an' no mistake ! De 
 fellars all as drunk as hogs. I fill 'em all up to 
 de bunghole wid rum. It's de bully liquor, 
 cap'en. De tarn Yankee lock up de spirit-room 
 for his own cheek, and put key in pocket; but 
 dis chile warn't born yesterday. No, no ! got 
 'nother key in Pompey's pocket, ya ! ya ! an' got 
 power o' rum into fo'castle. Make all drunk as 
 blazes.' 
 
 ' Could you get us some pistols and cutlasses, 
 Pompey ? ' 
 
 ' All right, cap'en. Pompey all dar on 'casion 
 like dis. Debbil of a cunning fellow is Pomp, massa. 
 Come all up dis here rope an' you'll see.' 
 
 We all scrambled up, leaving the women and 
 children in the boat, with strict injunctions not to 
 move or make the slightest noise. 
 
 When we got on deck Pompey put a revolver 
 
 o 2 

 
 84 ALL FOR GLITTEKING GOLD 
 
 into each man's hand. We were also supplied with 
 a cutlass apiece. 
 
 We took off our boots, and crept round to the 
 saloon door and looked in. Abel and Mulligan 
 were at the head of the table, and appeared to be 
 very tipsy. Sam White and Ben Shakle, two of 
 the seamen and chief conspirators, were sitting near 
 them. They seemed helplessly drunk, and were 
 leaning on the table as if half asleep. Heaps 
 of sovereigns and gold-dust were piled up and 
 scattered about the table. The scoundrels had 
 evidently been dividing the plunder. The sight 
 of my carpet bag under Abel's elbow nearly drove 
 me mad, and I longed to put a bullet through him. 
 Was it for this that he had dogged me through the 
 streets of Melbourne? I vowed, there and then, 
 that I would be even with him yet. 
 
 Pompey came up, puffing and blowing, carrying 
 two buckets full of hot water, which sent up clouds 
 of steam. 
 
 ' Wait a moment, massa ; wait a moment till I 
 come back.' 
 
 He mounted the steps leading to the poop, and 
 went to one of the skylights which happened to be 
 just above Abel and Mulligan. He had no sooner 
 reached it than we were all startled by a loud noise
 
 ALL FOE GLITTEEING GOLD 85 
 
 of falling water, and then screams of agony from 
 the Yankee and his friend. The saloon was filled 
 with steam in a moment, and we could not see 
 what had occurred. Mingled with the screams we 
 could hear Pompey shouting and laughing as loud 
 as he could roar. 
 
 ' Oh, golly ! what a go ! Ha, ha, ha ! De debbils 
 is in a hot place. Ha, ha, ha ! Dat's hot liquor, 
 Yankee Abel ! Ho, ho, ho ! Ye won't hit Pompey 
 again, will ye ? Ha, ha, ha ! Lor' ! I shall die 
 laffin'. Ha, ha, ha ! ho, ho, ho ! ' 
 
 When the steam had cleared away, we all rushed 
 into the saloon. Abel and Mulligan were under the 
 table, writhing in agony. They were very badly 
 scalded about the head and chest. They seemed 
 so stupefied with drink as to be hardly conscious of 
 what had happened. We immediately secured them, 
 and the two seamen also. 
 
 Leaving Schniedelhause to guard the captives, 
 we went in a body to the fo'castle. As we passed 
 the galley, Jim the black cook came out and said, 
 * Welcome back, cap'en ; welcome back. I biled de 
 hot water for de darned Yankees, and sarve dem 
 right. 5 
 
 The sailors were easily secured, as they were 
 all dead drunk. They were sprawling about in all
 
 86 ALL FOE GLITTEKING GOLD 
 
 directions. Some had bottles in their hands, or 
 pannikins, from which they had drunk the rum. 
 We clapped them in irons, with the exception of 
 three, who were known ' to be quiet, inoffensive 
 fellows, from whom no trouble need be expected. 
 
 As we were now masters of the vessel, our first 
 care was to get the women and children on board, 
 which we soon did, much to their delight. We 
 then liberated the first and second mates, who had 
 been wounded early in the morning, when the ship 
 was seized. They had been kept on board by Abel 
 in the hope that they would assist him in navi- 
 gating the ship. 
 
 My first care now was to secure my gold, which 
 was scattered about on the table. By dint of great 
 perseverance I was able to pick up nearly the 
 whole of it. I think I only lost a little over an 
 ounce and a half, so I was very well pleased. 
 
 Abel, Mulligan, Sam White, and Ben Shakle 
 were put in heavy irons, and watched night and 
 day. They had nothing to eat but bread, and a 
 little meat once a week. After a few days we 
 found that the other men were willing to work. 
 They loudly protested their innocence. We libe- 
 rated them one by one, and the captain, promised 
 that he would never mention the matter against
 
 ALL FOE GLITTEKING GOLD 87 
 
 them if they did their duty satisfactorily during the 
 voyage. I must say that after this they behaved 
 well, and were as meek as lambs. 
 
 Our success in capturing the ship was mainly 
 due to Pompey, who had suggested the scheme 
 when he whispered to the captain in the boat. He 
 it was, too, who hung out the light to guide us, and 
 he put the rope out at the stern; he stole the 
 pistols and loaded them for our use ; he secured 
 the cutlasses and had them in readiness ; but the 
 rum was the most potent factor of all. 
 
 We all agreed that Pompey should be rewarded, 
 so a subscription was set on foot for him, and the 
 handsome sum of a little over 200L was put down 
 in a few minutes. 
 
 We had a very protracted voyage. We were 
 fully a month in rounding the Horn ; then we had 
 some favourable weather until we got into latitude 
 17 North, where we encountered strong easterly 
 gales which drove us up the coast of North 
 America. Our provisions and water were now 
 running short, so the captain determined to put 
 into New York Harbour for a supply. We ran in 
 with a fair wind, and anchored off Staten Island. 
 The Customs officers came on board, but when 
 they learnt for what purpose we had put in, and
 
 88 ALL FOE GLITTERING GOLD 
 
 that they would not be required, they stopped to 
 have a yarn with us. With true Yankee inquisi- 
 tiveness they soon wormed out the story of the 
 mutiny, and when they heard that the chief ring- 
 leader was an American, of course they wished to 
 see him. 
 
 The captain took them below and showed them 
 the prisoners. 
 
 ' Wall, if this here don't beat cockfighting ! 
 May I never liquor up again if I haven't seen your 
 ugly phiz before,' said the chief officer to Abel. 
 
 ' Git out, you fool ! ' said Abel gruffly. 
 
 'I have it! Thunder and lightning! if this 
 ain't old Slocum, who murdered the bank manager 
 Chattanooga way, and cut and run with all the 
 dollars.' 
 
 ' Bless me ! ' said the captain ; ' what a villain ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, sirree ; as great a villain as ever respirated. 
 There's a reward offered for him of five thousand 
 dollars. Flay me, if I don't make tracks for shore 
 and claim it. I'll go halves with you, captain.' 
 
 ' With all my heart,' said the captain. ' I'll be 
 delighted to get rid of the rascal, you may be sure. 
 Besides, I don't want any row about this affair when 
 I get home to London. Why, if it were known that 
 the ship had been seized I should never get a pas-
 
 ALL FOR GLITTEKING GOLD 89 
 
 senger again, and my owners would assuredly 
 dispense with my services in future.' 
 
 ' Done then, captain ; it's a bargain. I guess we 
 had better take the other chap, Mulligan, as you 
 call him. I'll bet a mint julep he was a pal of 
 Slocum's, and we may get a round sum for him too.' 
 
 ' Take him, and welcome,' said the captain. 
 
 Abel and Mulligan were taken ashore and lodged 
 in the Tombs, which is the facetious name for the 
 Central Prison of New York. Mulligan was, as con- 
 jectured by the Customs officer, implicated in the 
 murder of the banker. They were tried, found 
 guilty, and were hanged soon after. The officer got 
 the reward for apprehending the murderers, but, 
 being a cute Yankee and a smart man, did not 
 make haste to remit the promised moiety to Captain 
 Googe. 
 
 We arrived safely in the Thames after a good 
 run across. Sam White and Bob Shakle got a month 
 each for insubordination. The captain would not 
 charge them with any more serious crime, as he 
 was afraid he would lose his ship and be ruined if 
 all the circumstances came out. 
 
 We all agreed to keep the matter quiet, so there 
 was no talk about it at the time. However, as a 
 good many years have passed since then, I thought
 
 90 ALL FOE GLITTEKING GOLD 
 
 I might safely tell the story just as it happened. 
 I have used fictitious names throughout, so that no 
 one need be offended, or suffer in any way through 
 me. 
 
 I may just as well say before I close that I 
 found Mary, Tom, Jack, and Lily as jolly as sand- 
 boys, and right glad we all were to see each other 
 again.
 
 JACK EEEVELEY
 
 CHAPTEE I 
 
 SORKOW, misery, and trouble sometimes fasten on a 
 family with a tenacious grip. The sufferers, through 
 their tears, seem to see the heavens falling, and they 
 think God has forgotten them, or, in their despair, 
 imagine that He is nowhere. The clouds are black, 
 the sky is like brass, and all nature is shrouded in 
 gloom. There is no gleam of hope, no ray of com- 
 fort. All is gone; nothing left in the world but 
 blank despondency. 
 
 Mrs. Keeveley was in such sad case one bright 
 June day. She had been left a widow, in Melbourne, 
 about a fortnight before. Her husband had been long 
 an invalid, and had been confined to bed for monthsi. 
 Their little store of money had been long exhausted, 
 and, bit by bit, their furniture had been sold to pay 
 the rent of the miserable cottage in which they lived, 
 and to provide food and medicine. The loved hus- 
 band had been laid in the grave, and the grass was 
 beginning to grow over it. Like the prophet Jonah,
 
 94 JACK KEEVELEY 
 
 she wished she was dead. She had three children, 
 Jack, aged eighteen, Annie five, and Lucy three. 
 
 She had also living with her a niece and nephew, 
 Mary, aged sixteen, and Willie twelve, children of a 
 ne'er-do-weel brother, named Breeve, who had run 
 away and utterly disappeared. He had deserted 
 these children about eleven years before our story 
 opens, and, from the day he left them, he had not 
 been heard of. All inquiries had been baffled. The 
 children thought he was dead. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Eeeveley had taken them and brought them up. 
 She did not think her brother was dead; she 
 thought he had deliberately abandoned them, and 
 she thought he would never come to claim them. 
 
 Mrs. Eeeveley was a delicate woman with a wan, 
 pinched fa,ce. Care sat on it, and misery brooded 
 over it. She was always anticipating trouble, and 
 when it came she lay down, metaphorically, and 
 let it jump on her, and kick her, and cuff her. 
 When it was gone she would get up, morally limp, 
 and in evil case. 
 
 She sat thus one day after the funeral, rocking 
 herself to and fro, and she said, ' We have nothing 
 to eat. God has forgotten me.' Annie said, 
 ' Father told me God is everywhere, and He always 
 hears us. Tell God, mother, that we are hungry.'
 
 JACK EEEVELKY 95 
 
 The mother, with tears streaming down her checks, 
 fell upon her knees and poured out her heart in 
 prayer. Mary, Willie, and Annie did the same. 
 They were all hungry, and their prayers were 
 earnest. One of them had no douht that the ceil- 
 ing would open, and that bread would he showered 
 down before they got up from their knees. What 
 did happen, however, astonished them all, for their 
 landlord, a crusty, crabbed old man, known for his 
 miserly ways, opened the door without knocking, 
 put a basket on the floor, and vanished like a shot. 
 Willie saw him, and said it was Santa Glaus. 
 Annie, who expected the blessing, jumped up and 
 said it had come. She lifted the basket with both 
 hands, dragged it to her mother, and shouted, 
 ' I told you, mother, God has not forgotten us. He 
 has sent us plenty to eat.' 
 
 There was enough for a week. If anyone says 
 this was not an answer to prayer, but onl_y a chance 
 circumstance, he knows nothing. I have known too 
 many cases of the kind ever to doubt again. God 
 sent the man, just as he sends the stars in their 
 courses. The man said afterwards that lie knew the 
 family was starving, and he could not help tailing 
 them UK.' basket of food anymore than the momi 
 can help going its ceaseless round. .Ja<k happened
 
 96 JACK REEVELEY 
 
 to be out at the time, looking for a situation. He 
 came in soon after, and they all fell to, and ate as 
 they had not done for many a day. Hunger is a 
 fine appetiser, and requires no pressing to eat, or 
 any salt, pepper, or sauce. They had the first, and 
 wasted no time in looking for the others. When 
 Jack's sharp hunger was blunted, he said : 
 
 'Mother, I've found a situation, and I am to 
 have a pound a week.' 
 
 ' I'll never doubt God any more, Jack. He has 
 been very good to us this day.' 
 
 The sun began to shine once more. The moon 
 was clearer that night, and the stars twinkled more 
 brightly than Mrs. Eeeveley remembered for a long 
 time. She lay awake for hours, communing with 
 God, and she thought she was like Thomas, ' of 
 little faith.' Life is like a kaleidoscope, but the 
 colours are not usually so bright, or the pattern so 
 symmetrical. The one is as full of changes as the 
 other. Life is woven of duller hues and tenderer 
 tones. Seen ' through a glass darkly,' often 
 through tears, the view is dreary enough, and the 
 aspect clouded. To-day does not borrow any relief 
 from to-morrow. There is neither money in the 
 purse, nor bread in the basket. Sorrow for the 
 night does not whisper of joy in the morning.
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 97 
 
 The blank wall of to-day hides the hope of to- 
 morrow. 
 
 Jack was up betimes in the morning. He was 
 the future breadwinner of the family, and he must 
 be up and stirring. He was to be a man of business, 
 and he already thought he heard the twenty shillings 
 chinking in his pocket, and making music like silver 
 bells. No music could be sweeter. On Saturday 
 evenings, when the shutters were up, he would buy 
 a few sweets on his way home, and scatter sunshine 
 among the children as soon as he opened the door. 
 
 He took his breakfast quickly, and said good-bye 
 to his mother and the children. He then wended 
 his way citywards as fast as he could, so as to be at 
 the shop in Bourke Street before it was opened. He 
 arrived about five minutes to eight. Before the last 
 stroke of the hour had died away among the clouds, 
 a key was thrust into the lock by his master. 
 Without pausing a moment, the man looked over 
 his shoulder and said : 
 
 ' Ah ! the new boy. Ah ! that'll do. Punctual, 
 I see. Punctuality is the soul of business. Yes, 
 and body too. Soul and body. Spirit and flesh. 
 Why, without punctuality this shop would not 
 have been opened at eight o'clock, sun or shower, 
 for twenty long years without missing a day. 
 
 H
 
 98 JACK REEVELEY 
 
 When you can beat that score, my boy, off your own 
 bat, I'll give you a partnership, with a tenth of the 
 profits. Ha, ha, ha ! a joke is like sugar in your 
 tea it sweetens life, boy ; sweetens life.' 
 
 John Blenheim the bookseller was a middle-sized 
 man with a slight stoop, caused by leaning forward 
 to read, for he was short-sighted and wore spec- 
 tacles. He had a pale, thin face, a hook nose, and 
 long, straggling hair. He had a habit of . diving 
 into any book that lay nearest his hand, when not 
 serving a customer, and burying his face in it until 
 he heard some fresh footstep coming into the shop ; 
 then he would raise his head and look over his 
 spectacles with the last idea, be it grave or gay, still 
 lingering in his eye. The thoughts of the author 
 played on his brain as the wind does on the harp, 
 or as the clay takes the impress of the potter's 
 fingers. 
 
 He had never married, and, so far as he knew, 
 had not a relation in the world. He was a lonely 
 man, and was absorbed in making and saving 
 money. People said he hid his money in odd nooks 
 and corners, and that he did not trust banks very 
 much. He always bought for cash. ' Ready money, 
 cash down,' he said. ' Buy in the cheapest market 
 and sell in the dearest ; that's my principle, sir.
 
 JACK KEEVELEY 99 
 
 When you put cash down you can always walk into 
 the cheapest market, or the market walks to you. 
 It's a remarkable thing that whenever a man 
 wants money very badly, it's just at that precise 
 moment he has goods for sale. That's the exact 
 time I buy.' 
 
 Money-making was his ruling passion ; reading 
 was his recreation. He was a kindly man withal, 
 and would even make money sometimes serve a 
 benevolent purpose. Give me a reading man, and 
 money-making will not harden his heart altogether. 
 There is a soft spot somewhere. 
 
 The bookseller took Jack round the shop and 
 showed him where everything was kept. At last 
 he came to a drawer. 
 
 ' I always keep this drawer locked,' he said. * It 
 has only a few old letters and photos in it ; they are 
 only for my own eye. It used to be the old sealing- 
 wax drawer, so I've left " SEALING-WAX " on it still, 
 to show that it's to be close as wax to everybody 
 but me.' 
 
 ' Yes, sir, of course,' said Jack. 
 
 Jack determined to be punctual in everything, 
 and to do his best. He showed great attention to 
 business. He was quick to learn, and in a few 
 days could tell where the various articles were 
 
 H 2
 
 100 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 kept. He knew the private marks as if he had 
 known them all his life, and generally proved 
 himself invaluable to the old bookseller, who trusted 
 him more and more as the weeks went past. 
 
 One of Jack's duties was to take down the 
 shutters in the morning and put them up at night. 
 One night when he went out to put them up, a man 
 was peering into the shop, his nose flat against 
 the window-pane. He was on tip-toe, and every 
 movement showed intense and absorbing interest, 
 if not downright excitement. The man was terribly 
 in earnest; there could be no doubt about that. 
 Every feature of his face, of which only the left side 
 was visible, was stamped on Jack's brain in a 
 moment. The pattern of the veins that ran over 
 his cheek, like the delta of the Nile on a map, 
 the mole on his chin, which stood out against the 
 light, with three hairs on the top, and the 
 colour of his eyebrows all were noted by Jack and 
 remembered. 
 
 Lost to all besides, the man did not cease 
 staring in at the window till Jack got up one of 
 the shutters ; then he turned round, and said, 
 ' That's a fine picture in the window, youngster.' 
 
 Then he slunk away, and disappeared among 
 the crowd of aimless and listless people who were
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 101 
 
 sauntering to and fro, without apparently having 
 one single object in life but to kill time. ' I'll 
 know you again,' thought Jack, ' when I see you 
 next time.' 
 
 Jack put up the shutters and went inside the 
 shop. The bookseller was fumbling in a curious 
 and furtive manner at the drawer marked ' Sealing- 
 wax.' He shut the drawer as Jack came in, and 
 locked it. Jack thought he heard money chink, 
 and that the bookseller was secreting his cash. 
 Suddenly it flashed across his mind that the man 
 at the window had been watching his master, and 
 that he had done so with no good object. 
 
 ' I saw a man looking in at the window,' said 
 Jack, ' and he was evidently watching you, sir. He 
 looked like a thief or housebreaker.' 
 
 ' What was he like, boy ? What was he like ? ' 
 
 Jack described him. The bookseller stroked 
 his chin and looked very grave. Jack heard him 
 mutter, ' A bad lot, a bad lot ; ' then he said 
 aloud, ' I would bet any amount his name begins 
 with a B.' 
 
 The boy said nothing. He felt for the old man 
 because he seemed so distressed, and he thought 
 from the remark that the name began ' with a B,' 
 (or that the bookseller guessed so), that the word
 
 102 JACK REEVELEY 
 
 in his master's mind must be Blenheim, his own 
 name, and therefore some relation's. Here was a 
 discovery. Jack determined to watch and wait 
 and protect his master's property, because it was 
 evidently in danger. 
 
 ' Would you mind, Jack, going next door for 
 change of a pound ? ' 
 
 Jack took the pound note and went next door 
 to the grocer's and got the change, and was soon 
 back. 
 
 The bookseller had evidently been to the same 
 drawer again, for he was just beside it, and his 
 hand was going into his pocket with the key, no 
 doubt. He was whistling a lively air and looking 
 nervous. 
 
 Some things are plain and clear, as the ostrich 
 is when its head is thrust into a bush. No whistling 
 or apparent unconcern could hide from Jack the fact 
 that his master had been to the drawer, and had 
 put money or valuables into his pocket. 
 
 Nothing happened out of the ordinary way for 
 a few days. The incident of the man at the window 
 was almost driven out of Jack's head by trouble at 
 home. His mother was very unwell. She had 
 caught cold, and it had settled on her lungs. She 
 coughed frequently, and at night she was worse,
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 103 
 
 with feverish symptoms and almost incessant cough. 
 She would not send for a doctor because she could 
 not pay him. She did not get up in the morning. 
 So Jack rose very early, lighted the fire, washed 
 and dressed the younger children with the help of 
 Mary, got breakfast ready, made his mother take a 
 cup of tea, and marched off to the shop, punctual 
 as usual. 
 
 About one o'clock Mr. Blenheim went to dinner. 
 Almost as soon as he was gone a man marched into 
 the shop. Jack felt something was going to happen. 
 A queer sensation came over him. The presence 
 of the man was somehow baleful. The boy felt it, 
 but could not account for it until he looked round. 
 The man who had flattened his nose against the 
 window pane stood before him. 
 
 Jack stared with open mouth, and all the blood 
 in his body seemed to rush to his heart, where it 
 thumped and banged like fifty sledge-hammers. 
 After he had recovered a little from his astonish- 
 ment he went forward, outwardly cool enough, but 
 inwardly a feverish fire seemed to burn him. 
 
 ' Would you show me that picture in the 
 window ? ' said the man. 
 
 'Here is one just the same, exactly,' said 
 Jack.
 
 104 JACK KEEVELEY 
 
 ' I have taken a fancy to that one in the window,' 
 said the man, ' and I won't take any other.' 
 
 Jack, very unwillingly, put his head between 
 some books, and stretched himself half across the 
 window, and pulled out the picture as quickly as 
 he could. When he got back the man \vas standing 
 close to the drawer marked ' Sealing-wax.' 
 
 ' By-the-bye,' said the man, 'I want some 
 sealing-wax.' 
 
 Jack went across the shop and brought some. 
 
 ' Not that sort. I used to get it out of this 
 drawer.' 
 
 ' We don't keep it there now.' 
 
 ' Why don't you keep it there now ? ' 
 
 'Because we don't. There's nothing in that 
 drawer.' 
 
 ' Don't tell me that, my chicken. When there's 
 a Chubb's patent lock on a drawer you mustn't tell 
 me there's nothing in it. People don't keep no- 
 thing behind a Chubb. I am accustomed to no- 
 thing, and I don't keep it in that safe way. What 
 do you keep in that drawer, my boy ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing,' said the boy. 'It's my master's 
 drawer where he keeps his old letters.' 
 
 ' Walker ! ' said the man. ' Give me the key, 
 and I'll show you the sealing-wax.'
 
 JACK KEEVELEY 105 
 
 ' I haven't got it,' said Jack. 
 
 ' No ! tight as wax, I see. Well, if I can't 
 get the sealing-wax I used to buy here, I won't 
 take the picture,' and the man stalked out of the 
 shop with his nose in the air. 
 
 Jack had felt like a prisoner at the bar all the 
 time the man was in the shop. Now he felt like 
 one reprieved. A load of care seemed to be gone. 
 The clouds had lifted, and the sun shone once more. 
 A flood of song poured through the air from a 
 canary which was warbling in a cage at a neigh- 
 bour's window. Jack was as happy as the bird. He 
 had passed an ordeal such as he never passed before. 
 
 The bookseller came back in about half an 
 hour. Something in the boy's manner struck him 
 as peculiar. He went straight to the drawer. He 
 had some difficulty in getting the key far enough 
 into the lock. He took the key out, poked a pin 
 into it, blew into it, and poked it again. Then he 
 put it in once more and wriggled it about, shook 
 the drawer, and pushed it in by main force. When 
 the key turned in the lock and the drawer opened he 
 looked quite relieved. He examined the receptacle, 
 and appeared to find everything untampered with, 
 but when closing the drawer, observed a bit of wax 
 adhering to the keyhole.
 
 106 JACK KEEVELEY 
 
 ' What's this, boy ? What's this ? ' 
 Jack told him all about the man ; that he was 
 the same man who had flattened his face against 
 the window and had watched him so intently. 
 Also what the man said about the drawer. 
 Blenheim shook his head and looked grave. ' This 
 is a serious matter,' he said. What could the man 
 want with the drawer ? Why should he put wax 
 on the key -hole ? To take a cast of it, no doubt ; 
 to bring a key that would fit the lock ; to come, 
 some day when only Jack was in the shop, and 
 either tamper with the boy's honesty or overcome 
 him by main force, gag him, and rob the place. Or 
 could he intend breaking into the shop at night ? 
 This was worse than all. This might mean ruin. 
 He might find money. He might find many things ; 
 many old family papers. This man, too, whom he 
 knew so well, who was thought to be dead, or many 
 thousands of miles away ! Now he had suddenly 
 appeared, and for no good. It was a bolt out of a 
 clear sky, an unseen shaft hurtling through the 
 air, a harbinger of evil. He could not doubt the 
 man was drifting into dangerous waters and was 
 sinking deeper and deeper. There was a lower 
 depth coming. If only he could save him ! He had 
 once pulled this man out of a quicksand, at the
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 107 
 
 risk of his own life, when his head only was visible. 
 If the man had not worn his hair long he could 
 not have done it. He had saved this man 
 before, and here he was again, in more need 
 of saving than ever. He had been smirched 
 before, with a spot here and there ; but now he 
 seemed black beyond all hope of washing white 
 again. The base ingratitude of the man, too, who 
 was going to try his best to rob his benefactor 
 and friend. This was gratitude ! He had read 
 of a cruel fellow who struck his dog one day by 
 the side of a deep river. In doing so he fell into 
 the water and was in danger of drowning, for he 
 could not swim. The poor annual, following its 
 instinct or teaching, which it never got from man, 
 immediately dashed into the river and pulled his 
 master out ; the wretch seized his stick again and 
 smashed in the faithful creature's skull. This 
 story came into the bookseller's mind at this 
 moment. ' Here's a case in point,' he thought. 
 ' Man, thy name is ingratitude ! ' There have been 
 men who have died for their friend, and men who 
 have killed their friend; so far are the poles 
 asunder. There is no doubt as to the place in the 
 index which he would have assigned to this man. 
 Jack noticed that his master was very long in
 
 108 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 making his arrangements at shutting-up time. 
 When the gas was put out, and all ready for 
 locking up, he said, ' My boy, I've forgotten some- 
 thing,' and he ran back in the dark. He fumbled 
 about, and moved hastily to and fro. In a few 
 moments he came back, and quickly locked the 
 door. 
 
 'I've forgotten my pocket-knife,' said Jack. 
 ' Please open the door again and let me get it.' 
 
 ' Where did you leave it, my boy ? ' 
 
 ' On the counter,' said Jack. 
 
 ' Never mind the knife ; you'll get it in the 
 morning,' and he walked away humming ' All in a 
 Flowery Vale.' 
 
 The bookseller walked up Bourke Street, past 
 the Eastern Market. The night was dark, but the 
 street was a blaze of light from the shop windows. 
 He had just got abreast of one of the lanes of evil 
 repute in that neighbourhood, when a man 
 standing at the corner suddenly turned and fled 
 up the lane. The bookseller saw his face in the 
 full light that streamed from a window just for a 
 moment, but that moment revealed the face of a 
 man he had never forgotten, and never would 
 forget. The man vanished like a flash; the 
 darkness swallowed him up. Blenheim ran up
 
 JACK REEVELEY 109 
 
 the lane. The glare of the street lights had blinded 
 him for a moment, but he went on in the dark, 
 with his arms out, groping his way, till he came 
 to an open door. He thought he heard someone 
 breathing hard just inside the doorway. In a 
 second he was reeling in the middle of the lane. 
 He had received a blow on the head, and fell 
 heavily to the ground.
 
 110 JACK KEEVELEY 
 
 CHAPTEE II 
 
 JACK went home, and not long after supper 
 went to bed. He had to get up in the morn- 
 ing betimes, so he wisely made it a rule to go to 
 bed early. This night his sleep was troubled. 
 He tossed to and fro, muttered to himself, and 
 sometimes cried out in his dreams. He thought 
 he was struggling with the man he had seen in 
 the shop during the day. He thought the man 
 had broken into the shop. He had just time to 
 call ' Police ! ' and had then closed with the 
 burglar. A long and desperate struggle took 
 place. He awoke in a fright. He was wet with 
 perspiration. His heart beat furiously and his 
 head throbbed painfully. 
 
 He got up and looked out. It was intensely 
 dark, excepting now and again when the moon 
 peeped through the heavy clouds which tore along 
 at a great rate in wild confusion. He thought 
 of the shop and the man, and felt an irresistible
 
 JACK REEVELEY 111 
 
 impulse to go down to Bourke Street and look at 
 the place, to see if all was right. It was clear he 
 must do something. The dream was too vivid to 
 gainsay. 
 
 When he got to the shop he thought he saw 
 someone moving furtively across the road. He 
 went over and followed the man, who moved 
 away as if he did not wish to be seen. The moon 
 just looked out, and the boy saw that the man 
 was his master, and that he seemed feeble and 
 haggard. 
 
 ' What are you doing here, boy ? ' 
 
 Jack told him of his dream, and that everything 
 was so vivid and real he could not rest until he had 
 come down to see that all was right. 
 
 ' Come along and see,' said his master. 
 
 They silently tried the front door. It was all 
 right. Then they went up the right-of-way at the 
 side of the building and tried the back door. It was 
 locked. Then they went to the back window. 
 
 ' By Jove, it's open ! ' said the bookseller. 
 
 In his excitement his spectacles fell off. He 
 thrust his head against the casement, and his hat 
 fell off. He was just about to get in at the window, 
 regardless of danger, when he received a terrific 
 blow on the side of his head, which sent him back
 
 112 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 stunned and staggering ; a man jumped out and 
 fell over the bookseller. Jack jumped on him, and 
 yelled ' Police ! ' at the top of his voice, and held on 
 like a bulldog. He grasped the man round the 
 neck and dug his nails into his flesh. He could 
 feel the blood trickling over his fingers. The man 
 felt almost suffocated. The blood rushed to his 
 head. The veins of his neck rose like ropes. His 
 breathing was short and laboured. By a mighty 
 effort he swung himself round, and in doing so 
 almost fell on his hands and knees. Jack rolled 
 round on the man's back, and his legs swayed out 
 like a pendulum. As he felt himself slipping, his 
 right hand caught in the breast pocket of the man's 
 coat, and just prevented him from being thrown off. 
 His left hand clutched the collar of the coat, and 
 by these holds he clung with such a desperate grip 
 that he felt the threads of the cloth buried in his 
 flesh. I have heard of a sailor who fell overboard 
 in a gale who had a rope thrown to him, which he 
 caught and grasped so tightly that when he was 
 hauled up the strands of the rope had so buried 
 themselves in his hands that he could not let go for 
 hours. So it was with Jack. He felt as if he 
 could not let go. Come what might he must hold 
 on. His hand and the cloth seemed welded
 
 JACK KEEVELEY 113 
 
 together, and inseparably fixed. The man writhed 
 and struggled with intense energy. He felt he 
 must get rid of this incubus, this old man of the 
 sea, at all costs. He must sacrifice his coat, at 
 least, if not his liberty. He now thought he heard 
 the police coming, so, making one terrible effort, he 
 dragged Jack by main force to an old fence, and he 
 jumped up, clutched the top, and had the satis- 
 faction of feeling the boy fall off his back. He 
 tumbled over the other side ; as he did so he turned 
 his face. The moon shone out. He was a negro, 
 as black as soot. 
 
 Jack fell, but he carried off the right sleeve and 
 breast pocket of the man's coat. It tore clean 
 away. If it had not the boy must have gone over 
 the fence on the man's back. When Jack recovered 
 himself, he made a dash at the fence, and scrambled 
 over in pursuit of the robber, but he had vanished. 
 The darkness had swallowed him up and he was 
 gone. Jack felt it was useless to proceed further in 
 chase of the man. He went over the fence again, 
 and began to think of his master who lay groaning 
 where he had fallen. He helped him up. He said 
 he was bruised, but he thought no bones were 
 broken. He felt faint and weak. Jack said he 
 would soon recover, and tried to cheer him up by 
 
 I
 
 114 JACK KEEVELEY 
 
 saying he thought the robber had carried off no 
 plunder. 
 
 ' Get me some water, Jack.' 
 
 Jack jumped through the open window, and 
 brought a tumbler of water. The bookseller drank 
 some, and bathed his forehead with the rest. Then 
 he walked about a little, and soon felt stronger. 
 Jack said he would go inside the shop and fasten 
 the window, then get out by the front door. The 
 bookseller went round and opened it for him. 
 
 The boy had to do all the thinking. He now 
 proposed that they should light the gas, and go 
 round the shop to see whether anything had been 
 taken away. 
 
 They lit the gas. Boylike, Jack looked for the 
 knife he had left on the counter the night before. 
 It was nowhere to be seen. The man must have 
 taken it. 
 
 ' I'll know it again,' said Jack. ' My initials 
 are on it.' 
 
 The bookseller hurriedly put his hand on several 
 hiding-places where he had secreted money. None 
 of them had been interfered with. He then went 
 to the sealing-wax drawer. It had been forced and 
 its contents lay scattered about. 
 
 ' Ha, ha, ha ! ' laughed the bookseller. ' I was
 
 JACK KEEVELEY 115 
 
 too cunning for him. He hasn't got a penny. The 
 man with the mole on his chin is done this time.' 
 
 ' It wasn't him/ said Jack. ' It was a negro, as 
 black as my hat.' 
 
 ' There are plenty of white men under a black 
 skin when they want to disguise themselves. Your 
 friend with the mole is up to any dodge.' 
 
 ' He was a black fellow, no mistake about that,' 
 said Jack. ' Anyway, I've got a piece of his coat 
 which tore off in the struggle I had with him. It 
 might lead to his discovery.' 
 
 ' Let me see it,' said the bookseller. ' Head out 
 the description, and I will take it down in writing.' 
 
 ' Piece of an old coat,' said Jack ; ' right sleeve 
 and pocket, nothing in it.' 
 
 ' Just like him,' muttered the bookseller to 
 himself. 
 
 ' Cloth frayed and threadbare.' 
 
 ' Like his character, fits him to a tee.' 
 
 ' Check pattern.' 
 
 ' Exact again : checked this time.' 
 
 ' And stripes,' said Jack. 
 
 ' Deserves them richly.' 
 
 ' Now, that's all,' said Jack. Til put it away 
 till to-morrow.' 
 
 Iff put it away under the r-minter, While doing
 
 116 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 so, he saw a letter lying on the floor. It was yellow 
 with age. He lifted it up and spread it on the 
 counter. He looked at it long and carefully. He 
 knew the writing. Yes, he knew it. It was his 
 mother's writing, there could be no doubt about 
 that. He turned white as a sheet, and fell down in 
 a dead faint. 
 
 When he revived a little, he saw the bookseller 
 bending over him, and dashing water in his face. 
 
 ' My poor boy, this night's work is too much 
 for you.' 
 
 ' It isn't that,' said Jack. ' I saw one of my 
 mother's letters on the floor ; I am sure it was 
 hers. I would know her writing anywhere, and it 
 was signed with her maiden name. Where could 
 it have come from ? ' 
 
 ' All fancy, my boy, all fancy. What tricks our 
 imaginations play us ! First you say the robber 
 was a black man, now you say you saw a letter 
 written by your mother. You see there is no letter 
 here,' and he pointed to the counter. ' Perhaps 
 you will believe it is all imagination.' 
 
 ' It must be a trick of my fancy,' thought the 
 boy. ' I must have imagined it when I fainted.' 
 
 He soon recovered, and the first thing he did 
 was to look round furtively for the letter. It was
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 117 
 
 gone. The bookseller had slipped it into his pocket. 
 They now put out the gas and locked the door. 
 
 The events here recorded did not occupy half 
 an hour ; no policeman had appeared on the scene, 
 although the gas-light must have shone through 
 the chinks of the door. They walked up Bourke 
 Street very slowly and silently. Not a word passed 
 between them. Each had thoughts running through 
 his brain which gave much food for reflection. 
 The morning might bring some light on what now 
 seemed dark and confused. A policeman at last 
 hove in sight. 
 
 ' Tell the policeman of the robbery,' said Jack. 
 
 ' No, no, my boy, keep it quiet. I don't want it 
 to be known. Tell no one ; I begin to suspect that 
 it will be better for both you and me to say nothing 
 about it.' 
 
 Jack made no reply. He could not understand 
 the case in the least. It was a tangled skein, of 
 which he had got the wrong end ; a maze to which 
 he had not got the right turning. He was fogged, 
 and wholly in the dark. 
 
 They walked slowly. Jack seemed to lead, and 
 he mechanically went homewards. He expected 
 the bookseller to branch off at every turning, but 
 he kept plodding on by his side. They were getting
 
 118 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 near the boy's home, and he did not want to show his 
 master the meanness of it. They came abreast of 
 the house, and Jack had almost made up his mind 
 to walk past it, when his master suddenly said : 
 
 ' Where do you live, my boy ? ' 
 
 Jack would not tell a lie, so he said, ' Here, this 
 is our house.' 
 
 'Well, I've seen you home safely. So good 
 morning. Be down at eight o'clock as usual.' 
 
 At that moment a man ran away from Jack's 
 window, and dashed past them. Jack made a 
 clutch at him, but got a bad hold, as he was taken 
 unawares. It was sufficient, however, to check the 
 man's career. He looked round and gave the boy 
 a blow on the chest which sent him staggering into 
 the gutter. He turned his head to see what had 
 become of the boy. Jack saw his face clearly ; the 
 sleeve of his coat was gone. He was the man who 
 broke into the shop, that was plain ; but he was a 
 white man. 
 
 The bookseller ran to help the boy up. He set 
 him on his feet, and said, ' More thieves, my boy ! 
 The world is full of them. They meet you at every 
 turn. Are you hurt, my boy ? ' 
 
 ' No, I didn't feel the blow a bit. Good morning, 
 sir. I'll be down at eight.'
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 119 
 
 Jack let himself in by the window, which he 
 had left unfastened. He found the room all in 
 confusion. The man had ransacked the whole 
 place. Could he have come after his missing coat- 
 sleeve, thought Jack, and could he really be the 
 same man he had encountered at the shop. It was 
 possible, of course, as his master had hinted, that 
 the robber had blackened his face as a disguise, and 
 had since washed it. The robber evidently knew 
 that Jack lived here, and had come to the house, 
 as soon as he could, to recover the coat-sleeve, 
 which would perhaps be the means of identifying 
 him, and' bringing him to punishment. He had 
 heard of a policeman being so sharp as to be able 
 to say, when he saw a shred of cloth hanging to a 
 hook in a jeweller's shop, ' I once saw Bill Sikes, 
 or Tommy the Screw, wearing a coat of this pattern,' 
 and then go away with a pair of handcuffs in his 
 pocket, and come back with the man, fit the shred 
 of cloth to the coat, and charge him with robbery, 
 recover the jewellery, and get the man convicted, 
 and all by the scrap of cloth. 
 
 The man had come looking for the coat-sleeve. 
 The boy thought it was a good thing he had not 
 been in bed and asleep. Perhaps the man was 
 desperate, and would have murdered him. He
 
 120 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 fastened the window, and drove a nail into the 
 sash to prevent it being opened. He then jumped 
 into bed, but he could not sleep. He got up early, 
 prepared breakfast, and helped to wash and dress 
 the children. Then he made his way to the shop. 
 His master had not arrived. He looked at the post 
 office clock and found it was five minutes to eight. 
 He leant against the shop door, and was almost 
 asleep, when his master put his hand on his 
 shoulder, and said : 
 
 ' Nothing the worse for your rough-and-tumble 
 last night, I hope ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said the boy, ' but I feel very sleepy.' 
 The bookseller opened the door. The shutters 
 were taken down, the floor was swept, and the 
 business of the day was fairly begun, before Jack 
 began to think of the exciting scenes of the night 
 before. The only clue to the robber was the coat- 
 sleeve. He took it from under the counter, and 
 spread it out on a table. There was a pocket, but 
 nothing in it, no information there. He passed 
 his hand all down the seams. The lining was 
 thick, and there was a good deal of padding. He 
 ripped the seams with a pair of scissors, and 
 inserted his hand between the lining and the cloth. 
 He felt something which was neither cloth nor
 
 JACK REEYELEY 121 
 
 paper. It was too big to pull out through the 
 opening he had made, so he cut away some more 
 stitches. Then he pulled out a large piece of parch- 
 ment and unfolded it. It was evidently an official 
 document of some sort ; there were seals and 
 stamps on it, and it related to a piece or parcel of 
 land : so much Jack could make out at a glance. 
 The folds of the parchment were frayed and 
 worn, as if by much rubbing, and there were dis- 
 colourations here and there. Jack was about to 
 begin a careful reading of the document, when he 
 felt warm breathing on his cheek, lie looked up, 
 and felt, rather than saw, that the bookseller was 
 leaning over him, and that he was much excited. 
 
 ' My God, what is this ? ' said the book- 
 seller. 
 
 His face became ashy pale ; he clutched the 
 counter wildly, and would have fallen, had not 
 Jack caught him in his arms and held him up. 
 
 The bookseller very soon recovered ; he pulled 
 the parchment towards him and pored over it 
 in a dazed sort of way. lie breathed hard, and 
 tried to speak once or twice. 
 
 Jack was alarmed. lie gently slid his master 
 into a chair, and ran for a glass of water which ho 
 put to the man's lips, and then moistened his brow.
 
 122 JACK KEEVELEY 
 
 In a few minutes his master revived and gradually 
 became more self-possessed. 
 
 ' You do not know what you have done for me, 
 my boy. You have brought peace and happiness 
 to me, life and joy. I seem to have everything now 
 I could wish for. This parchment is the title to 
 the land on which this shop is built. It was stolen 
 from me years ago. The whole property is mine. 
 It belonged to a partner, but I bought him out. 
 He executed the deed in due form, and one night 
 he robbed me, and stole the title ; now it has been 
 restored to me by your means, my boy, in a most 
 wonderful manner.' 
 
 ' I'm very glad,' said the boy. 
 
 ' So you may, Jack, so you may. I am pleased 
 to hear you say so. I'm the gladdest man in 
 Melbourne to-day. I want you to be the gladdest 
 boy in the city, so I want you to run home and tell 
 your mother that you are my partner from to-day. 
 We'll paint up over the door, Blenheim and Eeeveley. 
 I'll tell everybody that you made more money in a 
 few minutes than I have made in twenty years. 
 Now we'll lock up the shop. Come with me, and 
 I'll lodge the title with a banker I know. I defy 
 the negro then to get it.' 
 
 The old man put the parchment in his pocket,
 
 JACK REEVELEY 123 
 
 then locked the door. They walked down to 
 Collins Street, and turned into a bank. The book- 
 seller went into the manager's room, and asked 
 him to lock up the title deed in his strong room. 
 He soon came back to the boy, and clapped him 
 on the back, and said, ' We are the funniest partners 
 in the city, and the happiest. The business is 
 worth 50,OOOZ., does not owe a shilling, and I make 
 over a quarter of it to you. Eun home now, and 
 tell your mother. And look here,' he said, calling 
 the boy back, and slipping a handful of sovereigns 
 into his pocket ; ' I'll look out for the best house I 
 can find for your mother, and we'll get her into 
 comfortable quarters soon. I'll send a doctor to 
 see her, and tell him what to do.' 
 
 The bookseller hurried away, and the boy went 
 homewards as one who dreamed. He pulled out 
 one of the sovereigns, and looked at it. He dropped 
 it in, and brought out another, and another, and 
 weighed them, and tried to bend them, and smelt 
 them. They were made of gold, no doubt. So 
 much was in evidence of the bookseller's good will ; 
 but there are day dreams as well as night dreams, 
 which tinge the hill-tops of life with brightest hues, 
 and the day brings forth nothing but the veriest 
 neutral tints or sober black.
 
 124 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 However, the boy was glad, and his master 
 was glad. This was plain, and the gladness of 
 both was the direct outcome of the fight with the 
 robber. This was clear. The title deed was evi- 
 dence. The whole thing was coherent and plain, 
 and the bookseller was going to reward him. 
 
 He held up his head and walked on. He began 
 to whistle. His face was radiant : a passing boy 
 called out to him, ' What's up ? Is your grand- 
 mother dead and left you a fortune ? ' This brought 
 him down from the clouds. He was walking once 
 more upon the earth, but he felt, somehow, that 
 his prospects were solid as the ground. 
 
 He went into a shop and bought a black bag. 
 
 A man with sovereigns in his pocket must be 
 respectable. At first he thought of a basket, but 
 that was not good enough. He wanted to buy a 
 lot of things and take them home some luxuries 
 for his mother, and some presents for Mary and the 
 children. He went into a grocer's shop and pur- 
 chased a lot of delicacies for his mother, and some 
 nice things for the children. A jeweller's shop 
 attracted him next. A brooch for Mary would be 
 rather- nice. He thought girls liked such things. 
 It would be pleasant to pin one on at her throat, 
 and give her a kiss at the same time. Mary was
 
 JACK KEEVELEY 125 
 
 the most beautiful girl in the world and the best. 
 He had never seen anyone more beautiful, and he 
 had never seen any better. He bought a brooch ; 
 just the one Mary would like, he thought. He 
 strode along homewards. He was happy, and was 
 going to dispense happiness. ' It is more blessed 
 to give than to receive.' Thinking of it made his 
 face shine. Presently he saw some toys hanging 
 in a window. Good idea ! he would get some. 
 In another minute he had a box of tea things, a 
 Noah's ark, a ball, and a bleating lamb in one 
 hand, and the black bag in the other. He was 
 soon at home, and was surrounded. His mother 
 was better. Package after package was taken out of 
 the bag. Parcel after parcel was opened, and the 
 various toys were distributed. Every one was 
 happy. ' Mary, come here,' said Jack ; and he ran 
 into another room. Mary followed him. The girl 
 was blushing like a rose. The brooch was pinned 
 on, and the kiss given. Boy and girl were radiant. 
 It was a lovely world, full of rainbows and sun- 
 shine. Jack had much to tell his mother. He 
 was a second Aladdin, and had found the wonderful 
 lamp. Like Midas, everything he touched had 
 turned into gold.
 
 126 JACK KEEVELEY 
 
 CHAPTEE III 
 
 JACK noticed, next day, that the bookseller was as 
 restless as a bee in springtime, and as busy. A 
 kindly light shone in his eyes : a beaming smile 
 lurked about his mouth, and played all over his 
 face like summer lightning. His step was more 
 springy than usual. He had shed the sere and 
 yellow leaf, and he suddenly began to look ten 
 years younger. 
 
 He was in and out of the shop all day. He had 
 no sooner come in than he wanted to go out again, 
 and his absences were longer and longer. This 
 went on for a few days. Jack's curiosity was 
 aroused, but he said nothing. Time would show 
 what all this meant. 
 
 On the fifth day the bookseller came to the 
 shop, and sat down with a sigh of satisfaction. 
 
 ' Jack,' said he, ' I have found a house for you.' 
 
 ' For me ! ' said Jack. 
 
 'Well, for your mother then, I want her to
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 127 
 
 get away from that unhealthy hole she is in. 
 We'll get her plump and strong again, Jack. "We'll 
 get the light in her eye, and the roses on her cheeks, 
 in no time, in no time, boy.' 
 
 The bookseller told Jack that he had bought 
 a cottage for his mother. It was quite a picture, 
 embowered in trees and flowers. It was all fur- 
 nished, ' spick and span ' new. He put the key in 
 Jack's hand, and told him what house it was. 
 When Jack comprehended, he was almost speech- 
 less, for he remembered that once, in passing it, he 
 had told his master that he thought it was the most 
 beautiful house he had ever seen. 
 
 'A furniture van will be at your house to- 
 morrow morning,' said the bookseller. ' Your 
 mother might like to take all her things to the new 
 'house. Get everything removed by twelve o'clock 
 to-morrow, and I'll send a carriage punctually at 
 twelve to take her and the children to the house.' 
 
 ' Oh ! you are too good,' said Jack. The glisten- 
 ing tears stood in his eyes. ' I cannot thank you 
 just now, but I will show my thankfulness by loving 
 you, and serving you, all my days.' 
 
 ' That's right, my boy, that's right. We'll have 
 many happy ones.' 
 
 The boy thought of his mother, and of all the
 
 128 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 possibilities of renewed health and happiness. 
 Hitherto her life had been dark and dreary. 
 Very little light had shone into it ; no joy and 
 no peace. All had been hard. Her path had been 
 rocky. Now, God had smiled upon him, and blessed, 
 and led, and guided him, and he thanked Him for 
 all His blessings and all His goodness. 
 
 Next day the furniture van appeared. Jack had 
 told his mother of the new house he was going to 
 take her to, but he let her know that his master 
 had bought it for her, and furnished it. He lauded 
 him to the skies, as the kindest man in the world. 
 
 Mrs. Eeeveley shook her head. She did not 
 understand it all. The clouds were breaking too 
 rapidly, and the sunshine was coming too quickly. 
 She had made up her mind that this world was a 
 vale of tears, and, if it had not turned out as watery 
 as she expected, she determined on keeping it as 
 damp as she could. 
 
 The furniture was packed in the van, and the 
 last rope was tied by the vanman. He mounted 
 his perch, cracked his whip, and the vehicle lum- 
 bered down the street, and swayed to and fro. The 
 mattresses nodded to the magpie, and the magpie 
 was pulled up short by an extra jolt, just as he had 
 started the first bar of ' There's nae Luck about the
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 129 
 
 House.' He gave it up as a bad job, and sulked in 
 the bottom of his cage. 
 
 The carriage arrived in due course. It was a 
 large and handsome one, and was drawn by two 
 fine upstanding horses, well groomed and beauti- 
 fully harnessed. Mrs. Eeeveley, Mary, and the 
 children got in. The coachman drove away. The 
 horses seemed to fly. The houses and trees ap- 
 peared to waltz past. The very clouds looked as if 
 they rolled away. It was an enchanting and bewil- 
 dering ride to all of them. The children's eyes 
 danced with joy. Mary smiled. Even Mrs. Eeeveley 
 condescended to relax one muscle, which undid the 
 severe and sorrowful expression which usually 
 hovered over her mouth in a chronic down-curve. 
 
 They reached their new house at last. It had 
 a new look about it. It was newly painted and 
 newly furnished. The lawn was newly cut and the 
 hedge was newly trimmed. 
 
 The bookseller waited for a few days until Mrs. 
 Eeeveley had got a little accustomed to the house. 
 One morning he asked Jack how his mother liked 
 it, and whether she was getting stronger. 
 
 ' Oh yes,' said Jack, ' she likes the house im- 
 mensely, and her health is improving every day. 
 Her cough is almost gone, She has a better appe- 
 
 K
 
 130 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 tite. She sleeps well, and she is happier than I 
 have seen her for a long time.' 
 
 ' That's right, that's right,' said the bookseller ; 
 ' do you think I may go and see her to-day ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Jack, ' she said she would like to see 
 you ; in fact, she said she would call at the shop to 
 thank you for all you have done for us. She is 
 always saying she cannot understand it all. She 
 has some idea that she must have known you ever 
 so long ago, when she was quite young, before she 
 was married. She says she knew a Mr. Blenheim 
 longer ago than she can remember, and wonders 
 whether you can be any relation, or whether you 
 are really the same gentleman she knew.' 
 
 'Yes, I'm the same; I'm the same,' said the 
 bookseller, in an absent and abstracted way ; ' the 
 same old John Blenheim, with the same old thoughts 
 of her. I can see her now, as she was twenty years 
 ago. I wonder whether she is like that ; whether 
 she would know me, a grizzled and grey old fellow. 
 I always think of her as still young and beautiful. 
 Oh ! the days that are gone ; oh ! the days that are 
 gone.' 
 
 Jack caught words here and there, and tried to 
 piece them together, but found it as difficult as 
 joining a letter which had been torn into a thousand
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 131 
 
 fragments. Lives are just like rings in the water, 
 caused by a stone thrown in. They fly apart and 
 take their own course, but some day, and perhaps 
 far off, they mix and mingle, and become united 
 like a mountain stream which runs for many miles 
 as one, but becomes separated into many channels, 
 and, at last, meets and mingles in the great ocean. 
 So is life. Like clouds blown hither and thither 
 returning whence they came to bless the earth. 
 Ships that had sailed on the same day may meet 
 long after in mid-ocean. Fragments of a broken 
 world may, after whirling for ages, lie side by side 
 as dust upon this earth, and talk of the far-off time. 
 The bookseller dressed himself in his best, and, 
 for a wonder, walked with his head erect ; a smile 
 on his face, and a merry tune in his heart. His 
 eyes twinkled, and his spectacles reflected the twinkle 
 and broke up every separate twinkle into a thousand 
 sparkles. If we could have seen through his spec- 
 tacles we would have beheld a fair world. Every 
 boy and girl an angel, the sky bluer, the sun 
 brighter and the air balmier than Garden of Eden 
 times. He went on and on, but steering straight 
 for the one house he was thinking of, and the one 
 woman he had thought of ever since he was a boy. 
 He soon came to the gate. It took a long time 
 
 K 2
 
 132 JACK REEVELEY 
 
 to open. The catch was unaccountably stiff, or his 
 hand was unusually tremulous. At last he got it 
 open and went in. His heart beat, and his foot- 
 steps seemed to crunch the gravel into powder, and 
 sound like thunder. Slowly but surely he reached 
 the door ; then he felt cooler and calmer, and more 
 his usual self. He rang the bell, and all the iron- 
 mongery in the world seemed to have broken loose, 
 and be coming down stairs in a hurry to meet him. 
 
 After an age, as it seemed, someone came to the 
 door. It was Mary. He stammered out : 
 
 Is Mrs. Eeeveley at home ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Mary ; ' walk in, sir.' 
 
 He walked in as he was told. He would have 
 done anything just then he had been told. He 
 would have gone away if he had been told. 
 
 Mrs. Keeveley came into the room with a flush 
 on her cheeks, and something of her old girlish 
 manner. 
 
 ' Mary, don't you know me ? ' 
 
 ' No ! Can it be ? Are you John Blenheim I used 
 to know long ago ? ' 
 
 ' I am the same John Blenheim ; yet changed, 
 yet changed; not quite the same, not quite the 
 same.' 
 
 ' Let me thank you from the bottom of my
 
 JACK REEVELEY 133 
 
 heart fur all your wonderful kindness to my boy, 
 and for all you have done for me and mine,' she 
 said faintly. She had sunk down into a chair, and 
 was holding her hand over her heart. Every par- 
 ticle of colour had left her face. She seemed to be 
 fainting. The bookseller sprang to her side, and 
 caught her in his arms as she was falling. He did 
 not know what to do any more than a three months 
 old baby, but she did not fall out of his arms. He 
 held her firmly enough. The colour came slowly 
 back to her face. Her eyes opened, and she smiled ; 
 actually smiled, when she saw the look of wonder 
 and amazement with which he regarded her. 
 
 ' I am better now,' she said. 'It was only the 
 sudden thoughts that came back after so many 
 years. Just the remembrances, like bells pealing 
 from far over the water.' 
 
 She sat with her eyes half-closed, pondering, 
 thinking, dreaming, as she thought of the days that 
 had gone, of the years that had llown away. X<> 
 single incident of her life dominated another. All 
 seemed to lly, hither and thither, through her 
 brain, to and fro, like a weaver's shuttle, or like 
 summer lightning playing at hide-and-seek among 
 the clouds. Sometimes she saw her husband, in 
 his early manhood, whom she had loved so much,
 
 134 JACK KEEV^LEY 
 
 and mourned so deeply, wooing her as of old, and 
 looking so handsome and good. Then she thought 
 of John Blenheim, and how he had loved her, and 
 was true and noble, and how sorry she was for him, 
 for she had liked him, and admired him, and knew 
 he was one of the best of men. Then she thought 
 of the time when she stood at the altar as a bride ; 
 the perfume of the orange-blossom swept past her 
 fresh and sweet, as it did, oh ! so many years ago, 
 and she thought she heard the pealing of the organ 
 as she went out of church proudly leaning on her 
 husband's arm. 
 
 Suddenly she came down from dreamland, and 
 found herself in this world of joy and sorrow, life 
 and death. The bookseller was looking at her 
 curiously, and wondering what he would do next. 
 He coughed and cleared his throat, for there was 
 something in it that comes when people are touched 
 with sympathy or emotion, or when tears are ready 
 to overflow their banks. Why such a prosaic food- 
 gulping and drink-swallowing place feels in this 
 fine and noble way, who can tell ? No one. There 
 it is, and there it was in the bookseller's throat. 
 He cleared it away at last, and said : 
 
 ' Mary, cheer up. The clouds are breaking, the 
 sun is shining, and I hope sorrow and sighing have
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 135 
 
 passed away. I think you are going to be happy 
 now. Jack is a treasure ; everything has prospered 
 with me since he came to me. I look upon him as 
 the foundation of all the prosperity that has come 
 upon me. I trust him with everything, and that is 
 the reason I have made him my partner. He will 
 have a fair income. He is a good son, and he will 
 make you happy. If you will let me try to make 
 you happy too, I shall be the most fortunate of men.' 
 
 They sat together late into the afternoon. The 
 servant who came in to light the gas said, after- 
 wards, that she was sure something was up with 
 Missus. ' She is so happy like.' 
 
 The bookseller went away humming ' All in a 
 Flowery Vale.' Peace in his heart, joy on his face. 
 The sun was setting in flaming vermilion, and 
 scattering splashes of the same on gable ends, 
 chimney pots, tree tops, tips of telegraph poles, 
 high window panes, and church steeples. When 
 these hot tints had faded, they appeared higher up 
 among the clouds, gilding them, burnishing them, 
 and illuminating them, like some missal of olden 
 times that an artist monk had pored over, and 
 painted, and stippled, and left as his masterpiece. 
 
 The bookseller looked up, and said aloud ' The 
 heavens declare the glory of God and the firma-
 
 136 JACK REEVELEY 
 
 ment showeth His handiwork.' ' I beg your pardon,' 
 said a slouching street lamp supporter who had 
 nothing else to do, and did it. ' Oh ! ' said the 
 bookseller, ' I was only admiring the sky.' 
 
 ' Thought you looked a fool,' said the man ; ' the 
 colour of a nip o' brandy is more richer. If you 
 come round the corner and have some we'll talk 
 about colour.' 
 
 The bookseller said nothing. He walked away, 
 looking down sadly as he went. All the bright 
 tints had gone out of the sky since this lump of 
 common clay had spoken to him. 
 
 ' Miserable brute ! I pity you from the bottom 
 of my heart. Your life is out of harmony. You 
 have no poetry in your soul. Neither form, nor 
 colour, nor drawing in your besotted, inane upper- 
 most end I wouldn't call it head for the world. 
 Wretched brandy cask, go thy way. Faugh ! ' 
 
 He felt better after delivering himself thus. 
 His step resumed its buoyancy. His stick began 
 to twirl. He hummed his favourite tune, and he 
 walked on briskly. He turned into Bourke Street, 
 and went westwards. The shop windows were 
 lighted. The street lamps were being lit. Many 
 busy feet were hurrying on, some with silent tread 
 from leanness of leather, others with vulgar creak
 
 JACK HEEVELEY 137 
 
 from too much fatness of it. Shopgirls and seam- 
 stresses were going eastward to tea. Workmen 
 and their wives were wending theatrewards as fast 
 as they could to secure a good place in the pit. 
 Publicans in their shirt-sleeves were standing at 
 their doors, like fat spiders waiting for their prey. 
 Newspaper boys, with nimble feet and glib tongue, 
 were proclaiming the news. Matchsellers were 
 uttering their monotonous chant, and blind beggars 
 were tapping the pavement with their stick, as 
 they felt their way. 
 
 When the bookseller was seized by an idea it 
 stuck to him, and he stuck to it. He looked at it 
 from every point, as an artist looks at a view before 
 he begins to sketch it. He strove with it, and 
 wrestled with it, as a gladiator might with his foe : 
 or he coaxed it, or played with it, just as the idea 
 warranted, or the mood took him. To-day an idea 
 had him in its grip, and he was willing that it 
 should be so. While the sunlight lasted he was 
 content, but now that the last tinge of colour had 
 left the sky, and the prosaic yellow gas lights 
 asserted themselves, thoughts of the shop, and Jack, 
 began to flit through his brain. The solid paving- 
 stones of the footpath were under his feet; the 
 roar and rattle of the street were in his ears;
 
 138 JACK HEEVELEY 
 
 the smells of gutters were in his nostrils ; and the 
 dust of the street was in his eyes and mouth. 
 
 Suddenly the shop window seemed to jump 
 into sight. Jack stood at the door. He had been 
 looking impatiently up and down the street in the 
 hope that his partner would soon appear. Jack 
 always thought of him as his master still, for the 
 word partner, and all it meant, seldom crossed his 
 brain. 
 
 Jack was glad to see him, and said so, for 
 shutting-up-time had come and gone, and the boy 
 had been anxiously waiting for him. Now he had 
 come he called the shopboy, for they had got one 
 since the partnership began, and told him to put 
 up the shutters. Jack helped him, for he was not 
 above doing as he had done so long. When every- 
 thing was ready the gas was put out. The shop- 
 boy went his way, whistling shrill and clear, happy 
 that the day's work was over and done with. The 
 bookseller closed the door with a bang, and locked 
 it. Jack turned the handle, and tried whether the 
 bolt had shot in the lock. They then said good 
 night. Jack turned to the right and the book- 
 seller to the left, and they took their several 
 ways. 
 
 When Jack reached home he found his mother
 
 JACK REEVELEY 139 
 
 and Mary sitting on the verandah, enjoying the 
 lovely evening. The garden looked like paradise to 
 Mary. The gravel walk was the ' Golden Street,' 
 and the Norfolk Island pine in the centre bed was 
 the ' Tree of Life,' and there was to be no sorrow 
 and sighing any more. 
 
 Mrs. Eeeveley kissed her son as usual, and he 
 sat down beside her. Mary nestled up on the other 
 side. The mother was in high spirits, and chatted 
 and laughed for a long time. Her invalid days 
 seemed over. Ever since she came to the new 
 house she had improved in health. Her appetite 
 was good, and her cough was gone. Prosperity, 
 with whip and spur, had left her troubles behind. 
 She had escaped from Giant Despair, and she was 
 walking in the land of Beulah. 
 
 The bookseller was a frequent visitor, and he 
 often came to spend the evening. After a while he 
 was looked on as one of the family. If by any 
 chance he missed coming for a day, his absence was 
 talked about. His ring at the door was looked for. 
 The children hung on his coat tails, and climbed on 
 bis knees. lie often bad picture-books in his 
 pocket for them, or sweets, or fruit. He seldom 
 came empty-handed, and he was looked upon as a 
 fairy godfather, who had only to wish and put his
 
 140 JACK REEVELEY 
 
 hand behind his back, and pull out present after 
 present for them. 
 
 A few months went past very swiftly. The 
 bookseller had established himself as prime favou- 
 rite with every member of the household. He had 
 visibly changed in his appearance. His clothes no 
 longer hung upon him as they hung on the 
 clothes-pegs. They fitted him. They were of 
 newer cut and more fashionable material. His 
 hair and beard were trimmed a la mode. His boots 
 were from Paris ; and his hat, the crucial test of 
 all, was one of Christie's best. His stoop was 
 almost gone, and his step was springy. His tally 
 of years seemed all wrong, and he suddenly appeared 
 to go back ten years, like the shadow of Hezekiah's 
 sundial. As he looked so spruce and youthful his 
 friends would stop him in the street and say, 
 ' Hullo ! Blenheim, what's up ? Going to be a boy 
 again ; ' or, * Taken a new lease ; ' or, ' Going to be 
 married, old boy ! ' 
 
 He bore all this chaff with his blandest smile 
 and the utmost good-nature, and laughed and 
 chuckled to himself, and went his way humming 
 ' All in a Flowery Vale.' 
 
 Mrs. Eeeveley noted all these signs, and she 
 thought something was going to happen. Every
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 141 
 
 day seemed to bring it nearer. Winter was past. 
 The trees and plants were putting forth buds, and 
 a flood of sunshine and song was about to burst 
 forth. 
 
 One day she and the bookseller were walking in 
 the garden, aimlessly apparently, but not so. He 
 was gradually leading her towards a summer-house 
 embowered in creepers. When they reached it, he 
 took her hand, and led her in, and they sat down. 
 
 Love is too holy for intrusion. A coach and 
 horses would not drag out of me a single word of 
 what was said. I w r ould rather be broken on the 
 wheel than divulge a syllable. I would rather be 
 banished to Siberia than write a sentence of the 
 conversation. It will ever be a close secret with 
 me, and it will go down to the grave with me. I 
 will only say that, when they came out, there was 
 an extra tinge of colour on their cheeks, and an 
 extra light in their eyes, and that light was the 
 light of love, which has ever been in the world, 
 since the morning stars sang together, and ever will 
 be till time shall be no more. 
 
 The wedding was a quiet one. Jack was the 
 ' best man,' and Mary was the bridesmaid. There 
 was not a happier household in Melbourne that day.
 
 142 JACK KEEVELEY 
 
 CHAPTEE IV 
 
 SOME months afterwards, Jack's mother lost the 
 key of one of her drawers, and she asked him to 
 bring a bunch from the locksmith's, so that she 
 might get a new key. When he came back at 
 night, she was busy, and she asked him to take the 
 keys he had brought, and see if one of them would 
 fit the lock. He went into the next room, and he 
 soon had the drawer open. He pulled it out, boy 
 like, to its full length. The first thing that caught 
 his eye was a photograph. Curiosity made him 
 look at it. It was a face he had seen before. It 
 had been photographed on his brain, one night, and 
 he had never forgotten it. There was a mole on 
 the chin, with three hairs in the centre. The face 
 was that of the man who had flattened his nose 
 on the shop window pane, and who had taken an 
 impression of the keyhole of the drawer marked 
 ' sealing-wax.'
 
 JACK REEVELEY 143 
 
 All the blood in Jack's body began to rush into 
 his face, and the next minute it began to course 
 back again. He turned white as death and cold 
 as marble, and fell down with a crash. 
 
 His mother jumped up in a fright, and ran into 
 the room. She called 'Mary ! ' and nearly went off 
 in a swoon herself. Mary came flying into the 
 room, and seeing Jack on the floor, ghastly white, 
 she ran to him and lifted his head, and rested it on 
 her lap, and called for water. When it was brought, 
 she dashed some in his face, and moved him gently 
 to and fro. In a few minutes he opened his eyes 
 and looked wildly round. Then he closed them 
 again and lay thinking. At first he thought he 
 had seen the man in the room. Then he remem- 
 bered the photograph. 
 
 Jack was just going to ask his mother about the 
 photograph when Mary's scared face caught his 
 eye. Something checked his curiosity, and he set 
 his teeth tight, and closed his lips. He must take 
 another opportunity, but he determined he would 
 not sleep that night until he had found out how the 
 photograph had got into his mother's drawer, and 
 who the villain was, for he knew him to be villain, 
 and that of the deepest dye. 
 
 Mary soon left the room. She had barely shut
 
 144 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 the door when Jack said, ' Mother, who is that 
 man? ' 
 
 ' What man ? ' 
 
 ' The man whose photo I saw in your 
 drawer.' 
 
 ' That is your uncle, my boy.' 
 
 ' Mary's father ? ' 
 
 < Yes.' 
 
 ' That's impossible ! I could not believe it. 
 Never ! ' 
 
 ' I know it's a bad likeness, and very far from 
 flattering. Certainly, Mary does not take after 
 him, but she is the image of what her mother was 
 at her age.' 
 
 ' Where is he now ? When did you see him 
 last ? ' 
 
 ' I have not seen him for many years. I think 
 he must be dead.' 
 
 ' Do you mean to say he is your brother ? ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' My poor dear mother.' 
 
 Mother and son looked into each other's eyes 
 for a moment, and they began to cry and sob 
 bitterly. The humiliating truth had burst upon 
 him in all it hideousness. He was the nephew of 
 a midnight robber, who, but for God's mercy,
 
 JACK KEEVELEY 145 
 
 might have been a murderer, too. He told his 
 mother the whole story. 
 
 ' Yes,' said his mother, * he was a partner of 
 Mr. Blenheim years ago, and I have heard he 
 cheated him and wronged him ; but he was forgiven, 
 time after time, until the breach was too wide for 
 forgiveness to bridge, and he went out into the 
 night, and passed, as I thought, from our ken for 
 ever. Oh ! what shall I do ! What shall I do ! ' 
 
 ' I believe Mr. Blenheim would forgive him even 
 now,' said Jack ; ' I believe he would do anything 
 for him. Oh, mother, if I could bring him back to 
 honest ways, and restore him again, for Mary's 
 sake, how happy I should be ! ' 
 
 ' I had a message from him once, from Ballarat, 
 I think, when he was in terrible straits for money. 
 I sent him my last farthing, and I have never 
 heard of him since.' 
 
 ' I hope he is dead,' said Jack, ' but that is too 
 good to be true. I don't think this is quite right, 
 mother, and I ought not to say it, but I could not 
 help it, the words just came out because the 
 thoughts were there. The bell rings, for something 
 makes it, and the thoughts come clanking on my 
 tongue because they are in my heart.' 
 
 ' He was once as pure and good as you, my son, 
 
 L
 
 146 JACK REEVELEY 
 
 but he fell, bit by bit ; temptation was too strong 
 for him ; bad companions led him astray. If he 
 could only be reasoned with, if only we could find 
 him and help him, and put him on the right track. 
 I think it would not be difficult to keep him on it 
 if we once had him among us again. We would 
 lavish all our kindness on him, and the children 
 would love him, and kiss him back into forgiveness 
 and happiness once more.' 
 
 ' Mother, for your sake and Mary's, I would like 
 to help him. It goes against the grain ; but it 
 must be done, and at once, or it may be too late. 
 I ought to go and look for him, and tell him you 
 love him still. I will speak to Mr. Blenheim ; 
 perhaps he will not discourage the idea. Perhaps 
 he will let me go for a month to make inquiries. 
 Perhaps I may be successful.' 
 
 It has been ever so since the world began. The 
 good have had to weep for the bad, and carry their 
 burden, and hush up their sorrow. There was an 
 Abel and a Cain, a Solomon and an Absalom, who 
 spread a blessing or a curse on the family name. 
 No one knows what was suffered before the crash 
 came, what tears and cries, what schemes for 
 reform, what bands of love stronger than death, 
 striving with the vile and the erring. Tears and
 
 JACK KEEVELEY 147 
 
 blood and broken hearts, lamentation and woe, 
 sorrow and sighing, down the weary ages. 
 
 Jack's uncle, the man Breeve, with the mole on 
 his chin, had skated over thin ice since his early 
 manhood. He had camped with sin and made 
 his bed with iniquity. Drink was his besetting 
 vice. When he had money he soaked it up like a 
 sponge. Sometimes he made good resolutions, but 
 the sponge wiped them out quick and clean. He 
 had absorbed all the vices of all the Breeve family 
 for generations, just to show how many unclean 
 spirits he could dwell with in his devilment. Many 
 a kind mother and loving sister or wife have tried 
 to save such a man. It has been done, thousands 
 of times, by the help of God. Without it, it is mop- 
 ping out the Atlantic. Let no man or woman try 
 it in their own strength. 
 
 Jack spoke to Mr. Blenheim next day on the 
 subject. His voice faltered and his cheek burned. 
 He knew now that his master was well aware, all 
 the time, who this man was, and why he had not 
 denounced him and handed him over to the police. 
 It had been for his mother's sake, and because the 
 man had been his partner. 
 
 Blenheim sighed and shook his head. ' No use, 
 I'm afraid ; no use. Let sleeping dogs lie. Don't 
 
 L 2
 
 148 JACK KEEVELES" 
 
 wake the lion. He's better away better away. I'm 
 afraid he'll only be a grief to your mother, my boy. 
 I would forgive him fast enough, but I could not 
 forgive him if he embitters her life. She's happy now. 
 Let the sun shine. - Keep out the hurricane's roar 
 and the lightning's flash. I'm a man of peace.' 
 
 The bookseller opened a drawer and turned 
 over some papers. He selected one, and handed 
 it to Jack. The boy took it and read it carefully. 
 It was a report by a private detective, who was 
 sent on the track of Breeve soon after the shop 
 was broken into. The bookseller had actually 
 commissioned the detective, whom he knew and 
 trusted, to seek out the man and offer him help 
 to relieve his necessities, to set him up in some 
 business, or to send him small sums of money 
 from time to time. This is the detective's report. 
 
 ' Traced B to Flemington, where he lay 
 
 concealed in a wood-house. He was seen leaving 
 it about daylight. He made his way across country, 
 carefully avoiding roads and houses. He was seen 
 at one or two points by people I interviewed. 
 Picked up a shred of cloth, torn from his trousers, 
 on a stringy bark fence he crossed. Cloth here- 
 with, which I recognise as part of the trousers he 
 had on when last seen in Bourke Street. He
 
 JACK REEVELEY 149 
 
 seems to have called at a low shanty at Keilor, and 
 taken dinner, same day. I was satisfied, from the 
 description, that he was the man. " Mole on chin 
 and three hairs on it." Enough for me. The man 
 went west, across Keilor plains, in the direction of 
 Ballarat. I walked over the plains, same direc- 
 tion, looking for "sign." Saw many " one-man " 
 encampments, with remains of charred wood, 
 where a fire had been lit. Poked about the places. 
 Nothing clear or definite. Hurried on, over the 
 dreary waste, without meeting any one to inquire 
 of. Beached Bacchus Marsh, and slept there all 
 night. Inquiries of no use here. Police could 
 have told me all I wanted, but you warned me not 
 to communicate with them. I walked up main 
 road, and came to a baker's shop, with three 
 loaves in the window, and a bag of flour at the 
 door. "Likely place," said I. "Just the place for 
 a hungry man to call." So I went in and bought 
 a loaf from the baker's wife. Pretended I was 
 hungry and began to eat it. I said, " This is 
 splendid bread." "Yes," said the woman, "the 
 best bread out of Melbourne, or in it for that 
 matter." " So a man told me," says I, " who 
 bought a loaf here a short time ago. Perhaps 
 vou remember the man." "What was he like?"
 
 150 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 says she. "If you ever saw him," says I, "you 
 would remember him. He has a mole on his 
 chin with three hairs on it." Lucky shot of 
 mine. The woman gave a start. " Oh ! that 
 man ! He looked like a man down on his luck, 
 or hiding from the police." "Oh no," says I, 
 "he's a millionaire, and goes about the country 
 in disguise." " Oh dear, man," says she, " if I had 
 known that I would not have been so short with 
 him. I was glad enough to see the last of the 
 mole, and the broad of his back, as he went up 
 the hill." " Good morning," says I. "I suppose 
 he was going to Ballarat." "I suppose so," she 
 said, "for my husband saw him in Ballan next 
 day." I had picked up the clew, and I knew the 
 end of the thread was at Ballan. I walked on 
 slowly, hoping some man would be making my 
 way with a vehicle and give me a lift. Sure 
 enough, in about five minutes, up drove a red- 
 faced farmer, in an old mud-spattered buggy 
 very slovenly. Always find slovenliness and good- 
 nature go together. Says I, "Good morning." 
 " Good morning," says he. " If you are goin' my 
 way I'll gie ye a lift." "I'm going to Ballan," 
 says I. "I'm just goin' there too." So he 
 stopped his horse, and I got up, and he drove
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 151 
 
 away. He was an amusing cuss, but I learnt 
 
 nothing of B from him. Good-natured folks 
 
 don't notice anything. It's the ill-natured sort 
 that observe and find out things. If there's a 
 black spot on a man's character they'll see it in 
 a brace of shakes and paint it blacker. Nothing 
 escapes that sort. I never knew a jolly detective 
 yet. I'm of the melancholy sort myself. 
 
 ' We got to Ballan by dinner-time. My friend 
 pulled up to water his horse at a second-rate hotel. 
 A pretty strong whiff of roast pork came round 
 the corner, so I says, " Will you take a snack of 
 something for dinner?" "Thank ye," says he. 
 " I've noticed that the good-natured sort is always 
 ready to eat. They never say no." 
 
 ' There was a tramp sitting at the table, with a 
 big swag on the form beside him. He looked at 
 me in a suspicious sort of way, and I took stock 
 of him. He must have known me, for the sight 
 of me took away his appetite. Only frighten a 
 man, and if you have to board him, you'll do it 
 cheap. He soon took out his pipe and tobacco, as 
 I expected, for they always smoke when they want 
 to steady their nerves. He then pulled out a 
 white-handled knife and began to cut his tobacco. 
 When he had cut enough he laid down the knife
 
 152 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 beside him. Shakespeare says there are "ser- 
 mons in stones and books in the running brooks ; " 
 and so there are in penknives, if you only know 
 how to read them. Lor' bless you ! I once hanged 
 a man for murder from what a penknife told me. 
 
 ' I said to the tramp, " Lend me your knife to 
 cut my tobacco." He would have hidden it, but 
 my eye was on him and he saw it was no use. 
 He handed it over. You remember telling me 
 that the man I was in search of had taken a knife 
 from your shop, with J. E. (your boy's initials) on 
 it. I held the identical knife in my hand : no 
 mistake about it. There was J. E. on it as plain 
 as print. I pulled out a pair of darbies that I 
 always carry in my coat pocket, and I went over to the 
 tramp. Says I, " I'm a detective. This is a stolen 
 knife, and if you don't tell me where you got it I'll 
 handcuff you and take you to the lockup." "Is 
 that all?" says he. "I got that knife from my 
 mate." "What is your mate like, and where is 
 he ? " says I. The tramp hesitated a moment, so I 
 said, "Here goes then," and I shook the darbies. 
 He got as white as a sheet, and he said, " Well, 
 McWhilly, I'll make a clean breast." Says I, to 
 cut a long story short, " What had he got on his 
 chin ? " " Well, McWhilly, you're on the lay. He's
 
 JACK EEEYELEY 153 
 
 got a mole on his chin." " Anything on the 
 mole ? " says I. " Three hairs," says he. " Eight," 
 says I. " Where is he ? I know, so tell me the 
 truth or you're a gone coon." " He's on Golden 
 Point, third tent from the main road, right hand." 
 " Is that true ?" says I. "Yes," says he. I saw 
 he was telling the truth. I said, "I may just 
 warn you; if what you say isn't true, you'll be 
 run in before you go far." 
 
 ' My good-natured friend had been listening, 
 open-mouthed, to all we had been saying, and he 
 now chimed in : 
 
 ' " Blest if I didn't think you was a softie. 
 Who'd a thought you was a detective ? It'll be a 
 good joke to tell my missus when I get home ! " 
 
 ' " Many thanks for the lift," says I. 
 
 '"You're welcome," says he. 
 
 ' I paid for the dinner and drinks. I was sure 
 of my man now. I was in a hurry to get to 
 Ballarat; I had heard the Ballarat coach would 
 pass the door in a quarter of an hour. I shook 
 hands with my good-natured farmer. He jumped 
 into his buggy, and drove away north, to his 
 farm among the hills. The tramp lay down near 
 the horse-trough, and fell asleep. 
 
 ' The coach drove up. I held up my hand.
 
 154 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 The driver stopped his horses, and I got on the 
 box-seat. We drove away in a cloud of dust. 
 Through the dust I thought I saw the tramp get 
 up and walk away. " If I'm sold after all," thought 
 I, " I'll be down on that fellow." 
 
 ' We got to Ballarat about eight o ! clock. I 
 went straight to Golden Point. I counted one 
 tent, two tents on the right hand from the main 
 road, then I come to a gap. 
 
 ' " What's become of the tent that was standing 
 here this afternoon ? " says I to a man at number 
 two tent. 
 
 ' " Oh ! " says he, " the man that owned that 
 place got a telegram about three hours ago, and 
 he took his tent down in a hurry, and said he 
 was going to Creswick to the rush." 
 
 ' " Sold ! " said I, and I went into the middle 
 of the road and " swore at large." 
 
 ' I went down to the telegraph office and went 
 in. I knew the operator. I said, " Did a telegram 
 come through from Ballan to a man at the third 
 tent from the main road, Golden Point, this after- 
 noon ? " 
 
 ' "Yes," said he, "and delivered at 4.40." 
 
 ' " What was in it ? " said I. 
 
 'He took up the message, which was lying
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 155 
 
 beside him, and read out, "McWhilly is on the 
 lay. Clear quick." 
 
 'I stayed in Ballarat for a week, and I never 
 came across the faintest sign of the man I was 
 in search of. You may as well look for a needle 
 in a stack of hay as look for a man in hiding on 
 the diggings. Bless you, he has only to go down 
 a hole, an' lie close, and the devil himself could not 
 find him ! I did my best, as you'll allow. It was 
 all that beastly tramp. I'll take it out of him 
 someday. ' W. MCWHILLY.' 
 
 Jack read the whole of the report, and not 
 one word escaped his eye or his brain. He read, 
 and he understood the meaning and significance 
 of every minute detail. He seemed to feel that 
 every stroke of the detective's pen was engraved 
 in clear-cut lines just under the base of his skull. 
 He could turn his spiritual gaze upon the writing 
 at any time. It was indelibly fixed like a carbon 
 print which the photographer warrants not to fade. 
 He handed the document to the bookseller, and he 
 gave a long-drawn sigh. 
 
 ' If I had not promised my mother that I would 
 do my best to find uncle, I would almost give up 
 the idea ; but I cannot go back now. My mind
 
 156 JACK REEVELEY 
 
 is made up. Perhaps I will succeed where the 
 detective failed.' 
 
 ' There is just one point on which I have no 
 information.' 
 
 ' What is that ? ' said the bookseller. 
 
 ' The detective says nothing descriptive about 
 the tramp. I will go and ask him to describe 
 the man. The whole thing is like one of those 
 puzzles you sometimes see. If one of the pieces 
 is missing you can't put it together. If a link is 
 gone the rest of chain may slip through your 
 fingers.' 
 
 Jack put on his hat and went to the detective 
 office. McWhilly was just coming out. 
 
 'I want to see you,' said Jack. 'Please de- 
 scribe to me the exact appearance of the tramp 
 you saw at Ballan. The man, I mean, who had 
 my knife.' 
 
 ' What's up, my boy ? I've vowed to pay that 
 fellow out.' 
 
 Jack told him that he was going to Ballarat 
 to look for the man the bookseller had commis- 
 sioned him to find, and, as a clue, he wanted a 
 description of the ' tramp.' 
 
 'I don't mind telling you, my boy. It isn't 
 professional, mind that, and the man's my game.
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 157 
 
 I've winged him already, and brought him down. 
 I've only to bag him when I think it's worth my 
 while. I'd hang him, too, to carry out the sports- 
 man idea, if I could ; but I wouldn't eat him, hang 
 me if I would ! ha ! ha ! ' 
 
 'At any rate give me his description,' said 
 Jack. 
 
 * All right ; don't be impatient, my buck.' 
 
 The detective pulled out a fat pocketbook and 
 turned over its pages. At last he opened it wide 
 and read : 
 
 ' Tramp at Ballan. Five feet six inches high, 
 broken nose, black eyes, tooth missing in front, 
 scar over right eye, dark complexion, black hair, 
 white tuft behind.' 
 
 The detective gabbled this off. 
 
 ' All right,' said Jack ; ' I'll make a copy.' He 
 wrote the description in his pocketbook. 
 
 ' If you ever clap eyes on that fellow,' said the 
 detective, ' he's wanted ; send for me.' 
 
 Jack went away. He told the bookseller that 
 he had seen the detective. He arranged to be 
 absent for a month. If at the end of that time 
 he could not find his uncle, he was to come back 
 and give up the search.
 
 158 JACK KEEVELEY 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THAT same afternoon Jack was sitting on the box- 
 seat of the Bendigo coach, in front of Cobb's 
 booking office. The coachman sat beside him, 
 with the reins in his hand, a straw in his mouth, 
 a pink in his buttonhole. The horses tossed their 
 heads and were impatient to be off. The luggage 
 was packed, the last passenger had taken his seat. 
 The coachman shook the reins and cracked his 
 whip. Away went the horses, as if they had no 
 intention of pulling up till the end of the first 
 stage. They suddenly stopped, however, of their 
 own accord, at the post office, to get the mails. 
 Two men in scarlet coats were waiting. The 
 coachman hoisted up the lid of the ' boot ' with 
 his heel. The mailbags were tumbled in, the lid 
 was shut with a snap, and away the coach went, 
 rattling over the dry and dusty street. In a few 
 minutes Elizabeth Street, the backbone of the city, 
 with all its ribs running east and west, was left
 
 JACK REEVELEY 159 
 
 behind. The passengers began to strike matches 
 on their trousers or soles of their boots ; then 
 hide their head, pipe, and match inside their hats 
 until the}' had got their tobacco fairly lit ; then 
 they clapped their hats on their heads ; smiled 
 with satisfaction, as if they had done something 
 worthy of notice, and began to smoke like chimneys. 
 
 J hillock drays, horse teams, butchers' carts, 
 drays, &c., were left behind ; cricketers turned 
 their heads to see the rolling patch of red rush 
 past; cottage doors were frames for brown faces, 
 touzled hair, and inquisitive eyes ; children making 
 dirt pies lifted their smudged faces, and raised a 
 feeble cheer ; dogs rushed after the galloping horses 
 and barked frantically, as if they were doing a day's 
 work in three minutes. Yellow grass, wild ilowers, 
 thistles, gorse, post and rail fences, and stunted gum 
 trees whirled past. Lowing cattle, bleating sheep, 
 and neighing horses then came upon the scene ; 
 then the smell of manna in the trees, and honey, 
 laid by in store by the bees in the high, hollow 
 trunk.-. The hills began to show in the north, all 
 purple and gold, and the sun was setting like a ball 
 of fire, when the coach drew up at Keilor for a 
 change of horses. 
 
 Tack got down from his perch and interviewed
 
 160 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 the landlady of the hotel. He was going to stay at 
 Keilor for the night. He wanted to go the same 
 route the detective had taken. He thought it was 
 the right thing to do. If there was anything to 
 find out on the way, he could pick it up and use it 
 in his search. 
 
 ' Can you let me have a bed for the night ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, yes,' said the landlady. ' There's a room 
 with a spare bed. It's the only bed that isn't 
 taken.' 
 
 ' All right,' said Jack. 
 
 He had a wash, and went in to tea. It was 
 served in a long room with slab walls and a bark 
 roof. The company was as heterogeneous as a bag 
 of mixed lollies, rough as primitive cave-men, and 
 armed at all points like a prickly pear. Every 
 man had a revolver in his belt and a knife on his 
 right hip. They were all diggers, going to or 
 returning from the gold-fields. If Jack had 
 dropped from the clouds he could not have been 
 more astonished. He felt rather scared, and his 
 face showed it. 
 
 ' Hillo, youngster ! where are you off to ? ' said 
 the man at his right hand, who was shovelling 
 potatoes and cabbage into his mouth with a horn- 
 handled knife.
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 16] 
 
 Jack looked at the man, and thought he had 
 seen him before. 
 
 ' Don't ye know me ? ' said the man. 
 
 ' I think I do,' said Jack, ' but where I have 
 seen you I cannot remember.' 
 
 ' I remember you very well, youngster. I used 
 to bring firewood to your mother's place all last 
 winter.' 
 
 ' I remember now,' said Jack. ' I never saw 
 you with your hat off, so no wonder I didn't know 
 you.' 
 
 ' Where are you going to, boy ? Are you run- 
 ning away ? ' 
 
 'I'm going to Ballarat,' said Jack, 'partly on 
 business.' 
 
 ' So am I,' said the man. ' Me and my mate,' 
 pointing with his thumb to the man beside him, 
 ' is going to Ballarat to try our luck. There's 
 precious little firewood wanted now that summer 
 is come ; so we are off. I've brought the horse, 
 to carry the tent and our picks and shovels. If 
 you're going our way, you can share the tent with 
 us, and take a bit o' what's going at grub-time.' 
 
 Jack liked the man's face. He remembered that 
 his mother had said the woodman was honest, so 
 he replied at once that he would be glad to go with 
 
 M
 
 162 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 the men if they would let him pay his share. The 
 woodman said, ' All right.' 
 
 As they were to start early in the morning they 
 soon wanted to go to bed. To Jack's disgust he 
 found he had to sleep in a room with four beds in 
 it. One bed was already occupied by a stertorous 
 sleeper. He was ruefully looking at the bed which 
 had been pointed out to him as the one he was to 
 sleep in, when to his great joy his friend the wood- 
 man popped his head in at the door and said, 
 ' This is my crib, is it ? All right.' Seeing Jack, 
 he came in quickly. ' Me and my mate is going to 
 sleep here too. That's lucky. We can wake each 
 other early.' 
 
 The woodman's name was Tom, and his mate's 
 Bill. These were the only names Jack ever knew 
 them by. 
 
 Jack slept well. He was awakened by feeling 
 himself roughly shaken by Tom. 
 
 ' Get up, lad. The sun is shining and the birds 
 are singing.' 
 
 Jack jumped out of bed, and was soon washed 
 and dressed. He slung his knapsack, which con- 
 tained a slender kit, over his shoulder. In a few 
 minutes he was standing at the door. Bill brought 
 the horse, which had passed the night in the small
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 163 
 
 paddock attached to the hotel. The tent was 
 packed, also the shovels and picks, and thus laden, 
 the horse waited quietly till the reckoning was 
 paid ; then Tom said, ' Gee up,' and away went horse, 
 men, and boy westward, across the plain, their long 
 shadows, like spears, leading the way. 
 
 ' Do you know the road ? ' said Jack. 
 
 ' Oh, yes,' said Tom. ' Nor'-nor' by west.' 
 
 ' Is that all you know ? ' 
 
 ' What more does a man want to know ? ' said 
 Bill. ' You get your course from the captain, and 
 you've nothing to do but steer. Tom and me came 
 from the Cape once. When it was his turn at the 
 wheel the captain said, 'East.' When it was my 
 turn at the wheel, the mate said 'East.' That's 
 the only course we had in 5,000 miles, and we hit 
 Port Phillip Head as straight as an arrow. On a 
 course of nor'-nor' by west, our old mate, Bill 
 Bo'sun, told us we would hit the main Ballarat 
 road about four bells on the second day out.' 
 
 ' Well, he knows, I suppose,' said Jack. 
 
 ' All right,' said Bill, ' he knows. He took the 
 bearings, and kept the log out and home.' 
 
 They plodded steadily on till about nine o'clock, 
 when a halt was called for breakfast. Bill unloaded 
 the horse and hobbled him. Then he left him to 
 
 M 2
 
 164 JACK BEEVELEY 
 
 browse on the scanty grass. Meanwhile, Tom and 
 Jack had collected a little dry wood and bark. The 
 fire was soon kindled. The ' billy ' was filled from 
 a clear pool of water close by. Jack saw a big 
 bird fly out of a tree, and he went, boy-like, to see 
 if there was a nest. He climbed up and found a 
 large one made of sticks and grass. There were 
 three eggs in it. He put them in his coat pocket, 
 and came down. When he got to camp he found 
 the ' billy ' had been taken off the fire ; a handful of 
 tea had been thrown in. Tom poured out a panni- 
 kin of tea for each. Then he produced some bread 
 and cold meat. Jack placed the three eggs in the 
 hot embers to roast. When they had eaten some 
 bread and meat, he pulled the eggs out of the 
 ashes with a crooked stick, and gave each of the 
 men one. He cracked the shell of the other. They 
 all began to eat them, very gingerly at first. As 
 the taste was good they went on eating, and did not 
 stop till every particle was done. In one breath 
 they declared they had never eaten a better egg. 
 They were all in high spirits, and much refreshed. 
 The men had a smoke. Jack lay at full length on 
 the grass, and thought of what he would do when 
 he got to Ballarat. He thought of his mother and 
 Mary, and the burning shame and disgrace of his
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 165 
 
 and their relationship with the man he was going 
 to find. He was going to find him no doubt on 
 this subject ever entered his mind now. He had 
 begun the search, and he was going to succeed, 
 with God's blessing. And after he had found him ; 
 what then happiness or misery ? 
 
 He was suddenly aroused from his reverie by 
 Tom calling out ' Pipe all hands.' 
 
 He jumped to his feet. The horse was laden, 
 and standing patiently. 
 
 ' Nor'-nor' west by west,' said Tom, and they 
 all went on in that direction. 
 
 ' How far will you go to-day ? ' said Jack. 
 
 ' We mean to anchor for the night at the Mer- 
 ribee river. I would clap on all sail, but this old 
 Dutch-built tub of a horse will only sail three knots 
 an hour. He isn't a clipper, so there's no use 
 cracking on.' 
 
 In the early afternoon they entered the main 
 street of Bacchus Marsh. 
 
 ' We must get some soft tack at the baker's,' 
 said Bill. ' Keep your weather eye open as we 
 sail up the street.' 
 
 ' There is a baker's shop a little farther on,' 
 said Jack. 
 
 ' How do you know ? Thought you'd never been 
 here before.'
 
 166 JACK HEEVELEY 
 
 ' A friend of mine told me all about the road to 
 Ballarat, so I know there is a baker's shop a little 
 farther on. There it is, I believe, on the left-hand 
 side.' 
 
 ' All right belay ! you go in, boy, and get a 
 four-pounder.' 
 
 Jack went in and asked the baker's wife, who 
 came in at the tinkle of the bell, for a four-pound 
 loaf. 
 
 ' We haven't a loaf in the shop,' said the 
 woman. ' We sent the last lot down to the store 
 half-an-hour ago.' 
 
 Jack's face fell. They must have bread. To 
 go back to the store was to lose time. He was 
 getting a little foot-sore too, as he had walked 
 further than he had ever walked in his life. 
 
 The woman looked at the boy with a wistful 
 eye. Something in his appearance seemed to call 
 up memories of the past. Her eyes suddenly filled 
 with tears. Two or three large drops trickled over, 
 and ran down her cheeks. Jack looked at her in 
 astonishment. 
 
 ' What is the matter ? ' he said. 
 
 ' Oh, my boy ! you remind me of my own 
 boy who is dead and gone.' Here the mother gave 
 way, and sobbed as if her heart would break.
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 167 
 
 ' Don't go away,' she said, after she had wiped 
 her eyes. ' I'll bring my husband.' 
 
 She went out to the kitchen, and in a few 
 minutes she came back with her husband. She 
 had evidently told him that the boy in the shop 
 reminded her of the son who was dead. 
 
 He was in his shirt-sleeves, plentifully sprinkled 
 with flour, a baker's cap on his head, a kindly, 
 rosy face beneath, and soft, tender eyes. He was 
 a Scotchman. 
 
 ' Let me see ye, ma lad.' He took Jack by the 
 top of his head and chin, and held his face up 
 to the light for two minutes. 'Yes, it's a maist 
 extraordinar likeness, wife ! Whar' dey ye come 
 frae, and whar' are ye gaen tae, ma dear boy ? ' 
 
 ' Have you got a mother ? ' said the woman. 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 'Well, I envy her. I wish I could keep you 
 all to myself.' She gave him a great hug, and 
 said, ' Oh, my bonny boy ! my bonny boy ! ' 
 
 ' Kin, gude wife, an' set the best ye has on 
 the table, an' he'll tak something wi' us. It's 
 jist as if our Willie had come hame after a lang 
 absence. Maybe the gude Lord has sent him 
 this way to ca' upon us to cheer us up like.' 
 
 His wife had never taken her eyes off the boy
 
 168 JACK KEEVELEY 
 
 all this time. She just seemed absorbed in con- 
 templation. She was trying to make out fresh 
 resemblances of her dead boy. 
 
 Jack was touched by the evident emotion of 
 the baker and his wife. At last he said, ' I am 
 sorry I must go. We must get some bread at the 
 store, I suppose.' 
 
 ' Ye canna gang the nicht. No, no, ma lad ! Ye 
 canna leave us just the noo. Ye maun eat at our 
 table, and drink o' our cup, and sleep in Willie's 
 bed, jist tae please us. Maybe we are entertainin' 
 an angel unawares. The Lord has sent ye tae us, 
 just for ae nicht, jist for ae nicht.' 
 
 Jack was soft-hearted. The couple clung to 
 him wistfully. He could not tear himself away. 
 He explained that he had two friends outside wait- 
 ing for him, and he really must go. 
 
 ' No, no, lad ! I'll gang oot an' speak tae 
 them,' said the baker. 
 
 He went out and explained the whole matter to 
 Tom and Bill. 
 
 Tom said ' I'm blest ! ' and Bill said < I'm 
 blest ! ' 
 
 The baker sent a boy to the store for bread, 
 who soon came back with two loaves. He gave 
 them to Tom and Bill, It was agreed that Jack
 
 JACK REEVELEY 169 
 
 was to stay all night at the baker's, and that the 
 two men were to go on to the Merribee and camp 
 for the night. The baker promised to drive Jack 
 to the camping-place by seven o'clock in the 
 morning. 
 
 < Well, I'm blest ! ' said Tom, ' if this here isn't 
 the rummesfc go. Beats Robinson Crusoe an' the 
 desolate island all to fits. Seems more as if I was 
 Reuben goin' down into Egypt to buy bread, an' 
 I was leavin' Benjamin behind. Expect I'll meet 
 Jacob somewhere, an' he'll say, "Where's Ben- 
 jamin ? " 
 
 The baker hurried Jack into the shop as soon 
 as Tom and Bill were fairly away. 
 
 ' Now, my laddie, conie ben. It's real kind of 
 ye, so it is, jist to humour an auld man an' his 
 wife, because we fancy we see a likeness in ye to 
 our dear bairn in heevin.' 
 
 He took Jack affectionately by the shoulders 
 and led him to the ' best ' room, where the good 
 wife had spread her snowiest tablecloth, and laid 
 out an abundant and dainty meal. Everything 
 was of the very best, and Jack's appetite, which 
 was very keen by this time, prompted him to 
 begin. He hung back, however, when he saw that 
 only one chair was placed at the table. He looked
 
 170 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 up inquiringly and said, 'Am I to sit down all 
 alone, Mrs. White ? ' He knew her name now, 
 for he had slyly glanced at the sign above the 
 door. 
 
 'If you could only call me mother, just for 
 one night, it would remind me of my boy,' she 
 said wistfully. 
 
 'We've had our denner, boy, and we could na 
 eat a bit ; we'll jist be real happy if you'll go on 
 by yoursel.' 
 
 The good wife pressed him to begin. Then she 
 went to the end of the table and poured out a cup 
 of tea, with plenty of cream and sugar in it. Jack 
 ate heartily, and drank two or three cups of tea. 
 Then he said, ' Mother, would you please give me 
 another cup ? ' 
 
 At the word ' mother ' a tear fell from the 
 woman's eye and hissed on the lid of the teapot 
 for a moment. 
 
 ' That's the sweetest sound I've heard for a 
 long time. I wish your name was Willie that I 
 might call you by it. It would just be heavenly. 
 You're sitting in Willie's chair and in Willie's 
 place, and I'm a happy woman to-day ; but I 
 dread to-morrow when you'll be away. Oh, boy, 
 if you'll only come and see us sometimes, at holi-
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 171 
 
 days say, we would look forward to your visits and 
 be just happy when you were with us.' 
 
 After a long time, as it seemed to Jack, he 
 finished eating and drinking, and leant back in 
 his chair. He had been suddenly thrust into a very 
 prominent position in this simple household. He 
 felt himself a hero of romance. He had come out 
 to look for adventures, and here he was, suddenly 
 plunged into one he had not bargained for. There 
 was enough for a three-volume novel sunshine 
 and tears, love and death. 
 
 The baker came in from the garden. His eye 
 was moist, and he surreptitiously wiped away a 
 tear. Recollections of his boy had overcome him. 
 The wound was still fresh, and it was inclined to 
 bleed. With a view to changing the subject upper- 
 most in his thoughts he said, 'Dick has come 
 back. He's lying asleep in the summer-house.' 
 
 'Who is Dick?' said Jack, well disposed to 
 make a dash through the opening thus presenting 
 itself. 
 
 ' Dick,' said the baker's wife, ' used to work in 
 the bakehouse. He was very fond of Willie, and 
 would take him out bees' -nesting, fishing, kan- 
 garooing, or 'possum hunting. He just loved the 
 boy. He would spend every moment he could
 
 172 JACK KEEVELEY 
 
 with him play marbles with him, spin tops, fly 
 kites, or anything else Willie fancied. It was quite 
 beautiful to see his devotion. You may guess we 
 will do anything for Dick, although he has been 
 a sore trial since we lost our boy. He just couldn't 
 settle to any work since then, and he has taken 
 up with bad characters, and left us for weeks 
 together. He gets fits of remorse, and comes back, 
 and works faithfully for awhile, and then he says 
 he must go away again, for he cannot endure the 
 place without Willie.' 
 
 When Willie's name was mentioned there was 
 a sob preceding the word and a tear following it. 
 It cut to the mother's heart, as the gardener's 
 knife cuts the branch when he prunes it and the 
 sap-tear follows. Tears are the heritage of all 
 living things. If they bring sorrow they also 
 bring joy. Many a mother, through her tears, has 
 seen far into the heavenly city. 
 
 The baker was getting perilously near a break- 
 down again. He went to the window and looked 
 out. ' There's Dick,' he said : ' come out and see 
 him.' Jack jumped up and went to the window. 
 He could just see a man, stretched at full length, 
 on a seat in the summer-house. 
 
 ' I would like a nearer view of Dick,' said Jack.
 
 JACK KEEVELEY 173 
 
 'Very well,' said the baker. 'Come oot and 
 maybe he'll wake up by-and-by.' 
 
 The man and boy went into the garden. The 
 bees were laden with honey, and yellow with pollen. 
 The flowers were shedding their perfume on the 
 lazy afternoon air. The pigeons were cooing on 
 the housetop. Butterflies were flitting from bloom 
 to bloom ; and here, amid this peaceful scene, lay a 
 man, evidently sleeping off a debauch. ' Only 
 man is vile,' says the poet. Jack was just about 
 to repeat the verse, but he thought it would not 
 be kind, so he refrained. Mrs. "White came out 
 to them. 
 
 The man was lying with his face buried in his 
 hands. His hat had fallen off. He had black 
 hair and there was a white tuft in it. Jack gave 
 a start of surprise. His face became crimson. If 
 he had not held on to a post of the summer-house, 
 he would have probably fallen to the ground. He 
 soon recovered. He thought to himself, ' This 
 is the tramp McWhilly saw at Ballan.' 
 
 He turned to the baker and said, 'I am a 
 necromancer or a wizard. I never saw this man 
 before; I cannot see his face, yet I will describe 
 it. Tell me if I am right.' 
 
 ' He lias a broken nose.'
 
 174 JACK KEEVELEY 
 
 ' Eicht,' said the baker. 
 
 ' Black eyes.' 
 
 ' Eicht again ! ' 
 
 ' Scar over right eye.' 
 
 ' Eicht once mair ! ' 
 
 ' Tooth missing in front.' 
 
 ' Maist extraordinar ! Have ye seen a photo 
 of 'im ? ' 
 
 ' No ! I never saw a photo of him, and I never 
 saw the man before the present time. I will tell 
 you more about this man. I see his past life 
 mapped out before me. Once a man came here ; 
 a man with a mole on his chin, with three hairs 
 growing on it.' 
 
 ' Oh, laddie, stop ! stop ! ye're surely a wizard 
 or a warlock.' 
 
 ' Let me go on,' said Jack. ' This man with 
 the mole met Dick somehow and somewhere. I 
 cannot see how or where, but I know somehow 
 they did meet. The man with the mole induced 
 Dick to go with him to the diggings yes ! Bal- 
 larat and they became mates. The man with 
 the mole taught Dick to drink, and after he drinks 
 he thinks he sees Willie and he is filled with 
 remorse, and he comes back here to try and get 
 away from evil ways and drink.'
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 175 
 
 ' It's a' true as gospel. Ye maun be an angel 
 o' licht, for nane ken what ye tauld us but oorsels.' 
 
 Jack laughed. ' I could tell you much more, but 
 this is enough. I would like to speak to Dick when 
 he awakes. I have something to ask him and 
 something to say to him. Come into the house.' 
 
 Mrs. White had been looking at the boy with rapt 
 gaze. He must be an uncommon boy. He was no or- 
 dinary traveller. He was altogether extraordinary. 
 Everything he had said and done, in the few hours 
 she had known him, struck her as being remark- 
 able. 
 
 The three went into the house. The baker 
 and his wife were too astonished to speak. They 
 were cogitating with themselves as to what manner 
 of boy this was who was able to describe Dick's 
 appearance and tell the main points of his life 
 since Willie's death. Jack was amused at their 
 evident bewilderment, but he soon began to think 
 that his role of fortune-telling could not be main- 
 tained if he were to question Dick about his uncle 
 and get any information out of him worth know- 
 ing. He saw that he could only get information 
 from him through Mr. and Mrs. White. When 
 this dawned upon him he at once told them that 
 the man with the mole was his uncle, and how he
 
 176 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 had learnt everything he knew about Dick from 
 the detective who had called at the baker's some 
 months before. He told them his whole story. 
 While telling it they listened with wide eyes and 
 open mouth. When he had finished the baker 
 said: 
 
 'You are nae common boy, and you'll be nae 
 common man. You mind me o' a story tauld me 
 by the dominie when I was a boy at schule. You 
 see, I had a little Latin, an' a smattering o' Greek. 
 When I got into the Greek, the dominie tauld us 
 that, when the great historian Thucydides was a 
 boy, he was noted for his studiousness. He would 
 be aye writin' essays, an' his schulefellows wad 
 come to him to write theirs. His schulemaister, 
 seeing Thucydides' cleverness, said to him ae day, 
 " Boy, when ye grow up ye'll be nae common man." 
 Noo, Jack ! my wife and me think an uncommon 
 lot o' ye for comin' oot into the wilds to look for 
 yer uncle. It's the maist astonishin' thing we 
 ever hard tell o'. Ye'll be nae common man, 
 I'm thinkin', nae common man ! ' 
 
 After tea Jack proposed waking Dick, for the 
 purpose of questioning him about his uncle. 
 
 ' Leave Dick to me,' said Mrs. White. 
 
 The three went to the summer-house. Mrs,
 
 JACK REEVELEY 177 
 
 White shook Dick by the shoulders. He said 
 softly, ' All right, Willie, I'm coming.' 
 
 ' Just listen to him,' she said. 
 
 ' It's me ! Waken up ! I want to speak to you,' 
 said the baker. 
 
 Dick opened his eyes and looked round. Seeing 
 the baker, Mrs. White, and Jack, he got off the seat, 
 very unsteadily. He held on to it for a minute, 
 then he staggered away. 
 
 ' Leave him alone,' said the baker ; ' he kens 
 what he's doin'.' 
 
 Dick went straight to the pump, and, with a 
 few vigorous strokes of the handle, the water came. 
 He put his head under. In this position he kept 
 the water going for about five minutes. Then he 
 suddenly stopped pumping, and looked round 
 smiling. 
 
 ' I'm as right as a trivet now, boss.' 
 
 ' I'm thinkin', Dick, ye've nae enemy but yer- 
 sel. Puir fellow ! Come an' get some tea.' 
 
 Mrs. White took Dick away to get the tea. 
 When they were gone Jack said : ' It will be 
 better for me not to be present when you ques- 
 tion Dick about my uncle. All I want to know 
 is where he is now, or where he is likely to be 
 found.' 
 
 N
 
 178 JACK REEVELEY 
 
 'Better so. My wife an' me can manage tae 
 get that oot o' him.' 
 
 The baker left Jack in the garden. He went to 
 his wife, who was now giving Dick some tea. He 
 whispered into his wife's ear, ' Ask him where the 
 man with the mole on his chin is.' 
 
 ' I hope you will never go near the man with 
 the mole on his chin again, Dick.' 
 
 ' Oh, no fear, missis ! 
 
 ' Where is he now, Dick ? ' 
 
 ' Curse him ! I never want to hear about him 
 again.' 
 
 * Is he on Ballarat ? ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' What part ? ' 
 
 ' Pegleg Gully.' 
 
 ' Have you quarrelled with him ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. I believe he's made his pile. Made me 
 drunk ; turned me out ; was in the lock-up a 
 week.' 
 
 After Dick had had his tea, he went off to a little 
 room behind the bakehouse to have another sleep. 
 Mrs. White hurried out and told Jack that his 
 uncle was on Pegleg Gully, Ballarat. 
 
 ' Many thanks ; ' said Jack : ' I can never repay 
 you for all your kindness.'
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 179 
 
 The baker and his wife sat with Jack in the 
 ' best ' room till late that night. They had become 
 intensely interested in Jack's family history. They 
 could not speak of anything else. 
 
 ' It just bangs a'. Just as absorbing as Josephus' 
 account o' the takin' o' Jeroosalem,' said the baker. 
 
 Mrs. White showed Jack his bedroom, which 
 had been Willie's. Everything was scrupulously 
 neat and clean. The baker called out, ' I'll waken 
 ye at half-past five.' 
 
 Jack had no sooner laid his head on the pillow 
 than he fell fast asleep. It had been a most exciting 
 day, crowded with incident. Towards morning he 
 began to dream. He thought his uncle was break- 
 ing into the room, and that he had got out of bed 
 to prevent him. All .at once he imagined the 
 window fell in with a crash the glass broke in a 
 thousand fragments around him. He grasped his 
 uncle, and held him tight. Then he thought they 
 struggled and fought on the floor for hours, till he 
 was left stunned and bleeding. When he awoke, 
 with a start, he found he had fallen out of bed and 
 that he was grasping a pillow. He slowly picked 
 himself up and went to the window. There was 
 no catch ; every pane was whole. Morning was 
 breaking : a pale rosy flush was spreading in the 
 
 N 2
 
 180 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 east : the morning star was getting faint and dim. 
 The swallows began to twitter in their nests and 
 the Australian nightingale was finishing his song. 
 Jack crept into bed ; sleep had departed, and could 
 not be wooed back again. The baker came to the 
 door about half-past five and knocked. 
 
 ' Get up, Jack,' he called ; ' ye mind I promised 
 ye wad be at the Merribee by seeven o' the clock.' 
 
 Jack tumbled out of bed and dressed himself 
 quickly. He very soon threw his window up and 
 opened the door. Mrs. White was waiting for him. 
 She gave him a kiss, and hoped he had slept well. 
 Then she led him to the breakfast-table in the next 
 room. The baker came hurrying in, and shook 
 hands with Jack. He clapped him on the back and 
 told him that he looked fresh as hot rolls, and 
 brown as a loaf just drawn from the oven. They 
 then sat down, and made a hearty breakfast. 
 
 The tramp of a horse's hoofs and the grating of 
 wheels came very distinctly on the still morning 
 air. The baker ran out, and immediately ran in 
 again. He popped his head in at the doftr and 
 called, ' All aboord.' Jack jumped up, so did Mrs. 
 "White, and she clung to the boy for a moment. 
 Then she said, ' Promise me faithfully that you'll 
 come back soon, for I'll never be happy till .you
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 181 
 
 come again.' Jack promised, and the good woman 
 followed him to the door. A horse and buggy were 
 standing all ready for the journey. The baker was 
 in his seat, with the reins in one hand, the whip in 
 the other. With a final kiss Mrs. White let Jack 
 go. He jumped up ; White said ' Gee up,' and 
 they were off. Jack turned round and took off his 
 hat. There stood Mrs. White, with a tear in her 
 eye, but a smile on her face. Thus she remained 
 till a bend of the road hid the boy from her sight. 
 The light went out of her eyes and the smile from 
 her face. She went slowly into the house, and she 
 said softly to herself, ' I know he will come again.' 
 The horse went on ; he was accustomed to go 
 his daily rounds with bread. The first house he 
 came to he stopped, and would not proceed till the 
 baker pretended to take a basket, with an imaginary 
 loaf, and go in at the cottage gate, giving the 
 customary bang. In a minute he came back and 
 got up to his seat. The horse went on quite satis- 
 fied. The same ceremony had to be gone through 
 at every house. Fortunately they were few and 
 far between, so there was not much time lost, and 
 there were no cross roads till the top of the hill was 
 reached. Then the horse wanted to go to the right 
 as usual, but the baker's patience was exhausted by
 
 182 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 this time. He said, ' Drat ye ! tak that,' and he 
 gave the beast a sharp cut over the right flank. 
 The horse looked round in astonishment. He had 
 never been so treated before. 
 
 ' Weel noo, I couldna help it. This conduct o' 
 yours is jist too much for a saunt.' 
 
 He jumped down, and went to the beast's head 
 and patted it, and whispered to it in endearing 
 fashion. Jack thought he heard him say, ' I am 
 very sorry, so I am ; I beg your pardon.' He led 
 the horse down the hill a hundred yards or so, then 
 he got up to his seat again and took the reins out 
 of Jack's hands. 
 
 ' That beast's as forgivin' as the best Christian 
 amang us.' 
 
 At the foot of the hill they came to the Merribee 
 river, and crossed it at the ford. About a stone's- 
 throw up the stream they saw Tom and Bill's tent. 
 Jack ' cooeed.' Tom peeped out at the tent door 
 and said, ' Well, Benjamin, has Joseph let ye go ? ' 
 
 The baker drew up at the tent. He pulled 
 out a basket from under the seat, and took from it 
 a small flour bag, which he handed to Jack. 
 
 ' Jist a few things from my wife, which she 
 tauld me no to forget.'
 
 JACK REEVELEY 183 
 
 ' Oh, thank you,' said Jack. ' I shall never 
 forget the kindness you and she have shown me.' 
 
 * My boy, don't you forget us. She'll be terrible 
 grieved if ye don't come to see us soon.' 
 
 ' I promise you I'll come soon. I will not forget, 
 I assure you.' 
 
 ' That's a good boy. Be sure.' 
 
 Here the baker hesitated, and began to stammer. 
 He could not say another word. He waved his 
 hand, turned the horse's head homewards, and 
 went slowly on his way. Jack watched him cross 
 the ford and go up the steep hill. He never looked 
 back once. 
 
 Jack handed the bag to Tom, and told him to 
 open it. He did so. The first thing he saw was a 
 little parcel tied to the mouth of the bag. He 
 opened it, and said ' I'm blest ! ' He slapped his 
 thigh and laughed. 
 
 ' What's the matter ? ' said Jack. 
 
 ' Look here,' said Tom. He held up a coin. 
 'This is the identical shilling I gave the baker 
 last night for the bread.' 
 
 ' No ! ' said Jack. 
 
 ' Yes ! Benjamin ; it's the money in the sack's 
 mouth. It's Joseph's doing. I didn't think he 
 would have let you out of Egypt. Ha ! ha ! '
 
 184 JACK KEEVELEY 
 
 He pulled out some nice tartlets and cakes, a 
 pot of jam, a jar of ginger, a cooked knuckle of ham, 
 and some bread. 
 
 ' Enough for a week. We're in luck an' no mis- 
 take,' said Bill. 
 
 The men sat down and took a good square 
 meal. When they had eaten then* fill they struck 
 the tent, rolled it up, and packed it on the horse, 
 also the spades and picks. They slung the bag of 
 bread, cakes, &c., on top. Then they wended their 
 way along the lush flats. Dewdrops sparkled on 
 every blade of grass, white cockatoos chattered in 
 the trees at a respectful distance, tree flies dinned 
 their discordant song into unwilling ears, lizards, 
 in silver and green, darted here and there, king- 
 fishers flashed with jewelled wing, bees hummed 
 and beetles droned in the still morning air. It 
 was a peaceful and quiet spot. Jack walked on 
 with springy gait, enjoying everything, and the 
 two men, who were little used to such scenes, could 
 not help seeing that Nature was in one of her most 
 charming moods. 
 
 They made good headway, and only halted 
 about noon for a quarter of an hour, without un- 
 lading the horse. They ate some bread and ham, 
 also some tartlets and cakes, which were too good
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 185 
 
 to neglect, and drank of the crystal stream that 
 came fresh from the mountains and flowed across 
 their path. 
 
 In the afternoon they got into a broad, well- 
 defined road, full of bullock dray ruts. Horse and 
 cattle teams were passed they were nearly all 
 going west. Diggers in twos and threes were 
 trudging along. An occasional cart made its ap- 
 pearance, laden with scant household stuff, a 
 woman and children sitting on top. A mob of 
 sheep in a cloud of dust, with a yelping dog 
 behind, were going to market and death ; and fresh 
 mounds of yellow clay and gravel, on each side of 
 the road, betokening the outskirts of the famous 
 Ballarat diggings, were coming thick and plentiful. 
 
 The signs were plain and clear. There was no 
 need to say, ' This is Ballarat.' Fortunes had been 
 made here ; storekeepers had become rich, diggers 
 had risen in the morning without a shilling, and, 
 by night, were worth thousands of pounds.
 
 186 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 CHAPTEE VI 
 
 JACK had been advised by McWhilly, the detective, 
 to go straight to the Eldorado Hotel, which, he 
 said, was a quiet house, kept by a countrywoman 
 of his own who would make Jack comfortable and 
 advise him what to do. He kept a sharp eye on 
 each side of the road for the hotel he was in quest 
 of. He told Tom and Bill he must leave them 
 soon, as he had to dig at the Eldorado, while they 
 were going to live in White Horse Gully, where a 
 friend of theirs had been doing well for some weeks. 
 By dint of inquiries here and there, they learnt 
 that the Eldorado was on the main road, about 
 half a mile farther on. At last it hove in sight, 
 and Jack called a halt. He pulled out his purse, 
 with a shy sort of manner, as if he did not quite 
 approve of what he was doing. 
 
 ' No, no, Benjamin, none o' that ! ' said Tom. 
 ' Why, we've been living in clover ever since we met 
 you.'
 
 JACK KEEVELEY 187 
 
 'Well,' said Jack, 'you must take a glass of 
 beer.' 
 
 ' We'll take a glass of beer,' said Bill. 
 
 They tethered the horse to a hitching post, and 
 the three went into the bar. They had the beer, 
 shook hands with Jack, and went their way. 
 
 Mrs. McWhae, the landlady, a rosy-cheeked, 
 bustling, breezy personage, now came forward and 
 held out her hand. Jack took it and was going to 
 give it a mild shake. It was grasped by Mrs. 
 McWhae, and shaken heartily up and down, as a 
 pump-handle is worked. When it was let go, Jack 
 put it in his pocket, out of harm's way. He was 
 afraid it would be seized upon next by the burly 
 digger who stood by him, and be bruised and 
 mangled in his horny grip. He had some doubts, 
 too, of the barmaid, who was about to hold out her 
 hand also, but drew back just in time when she 
 saw Jack's hand disappear. 
 
 Mrs. McWhae said, ' I've been on the look-out 
 for ye a' the efternoon. Maister McWhilly writ me 
 a letter to say ye were comin', an' I'm gled to see ye. 
 The diggins is an unco' place for a callant like ye 
 are. But we'll mak ye at hame.' 
 
 She showed him a little room upstairs, at the 
 back of the house, far removed from the noise of
 
 188 JACK REEVELEY 
 
 the bar and the rattle of the billiard balls. Here, 
 she thought, he would be able to sleep in peace. 
 The bed was a marvel of spotless white curtains 
 and counterpane. The room was a symphony. 
 Window-curtains, toilet-table cover, antimacassars 
 and towels were pure and snowy. The window 
 was wide open. Lavender was in the air. 
 
 After a good wash the boy felt refreshed. He 
 lay down on the bed for half an hour to rest, 
 then he got up and went down stairs. He found 
 Mrs. McWhae in a cosy parlour off the bar. 
 
 ' I had no idea,' said Jack, ' that Mr. McWhilly 
 would write to you and tell you I was coming. He 
 just told me to introduce myself to you, and men- 
 tion his name.' 
 
 ' I would do anything for Wullie McWhilly. 
 I've kent him ever since I was a bit lassie, an' we 
 hae been gude freends a' oor life.' 
 
 Jack felt at home at once with this kind, 
 motherly woman. He told her the same night 
 as much as he chose to tell of his reasons for 
 coming to Ballarat. He even described the man 
 he was looking for, not imagining for a moment 
 that Mrs. McWhae would ever be able to help him 
 in the search. She put her chin in her left hand
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 189 
 
 for a minute and went into a brown study ; then 
 she looked up with a smile. 
 
 ' Did McWhilly ever look for this man on 
 Ballarat ? ' 
 
 'Yes ; some time ago.' 
 
 ' McWhilly's a fule ! Thae men bodies hae 
 nae mair gumption hi their heids than us women 
 bodies has hi oor wee fingers. Wad ye believe it, 
 he sat here, ae nicht, an' talked at lairge about 
 extraordinary marks on folks' faces, sich as straw- 
 berry stains an' warts, an' that kind o' thing. If 
 he'd just spoken plain an' clear about moles, an' 
 three hairs growing oot o' ae particular ane, on a 
 man's chin, I could hae put him on his man, for 
 I kend whar he was hidin'. He was jist hidin' hi 
 oor stable, under the vera nose o' Wullie McWhilly. 
 I would na hae tauld Wullie though, if it wad 
 hae done the puir man ony harm. No ! no ! I'm 
 nae that sort ! ' 
 
 She knew nothing now of the man; he had 
 disappeared. He had not been seen near her 
 house for months. His was a remarkable face, 
 and once seen was not easily forgotten. She had 
 often seen him, and knew him well. There were 
 rumours that he had struck a rich patch some- 
 where, and that he and his mate had quarrelled ;
 
 190 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 some said he had cheated his mate, some said he 
 had half killed him, and some that he was killed 
 outright and buried in a deserted shaft. The man 
 was not liked, and was known to be a rogue. 
 
 All this and much more Jack learned the same 
 night. All was vague nothing definite. Someone 
 had seen the man, but he could not remember 
 where. Someone had seen a man who had told 
 him that a friend of his had seen him in Pegleg 
 Gully. This was months ago, and he might be 
 gone now to other 'rushes.' He picked up this 
 information in scraps and shreds, here a little and 
 there a little. 
 
 He began to haunt Pegleg Gully. He was there 
 before the sun was up. He wandered up and 
 down it almost every morning for an hour or two, 
 and then he would go to the hotel for breakfast. 
 About twelve o'clock he would be at the gully again, 
 narrowly watching the diggers as they came up 
 from their workings to eat their dinner in the sun- 
 light. He scanned them carefully when they were 
 resuming work. He would be there in the evening 
 again when the men came up for the day. 
 
 He had explored the gully with great care. 
 There was no sign : he could hear nothing of the 
 man. Some days had been spent in fruitless
 
 JACK REEVELEY 191 
 
 effort. If he could only get on his track he would 
 follow it with bloodhound tenacity. If he could 
 only feel sure that he was in the neighbourhood, he 
 would never leave it until he had found him, and 
 said, ' Uncle, I am Jack ; I have come to take you 
 home.' 
 
 One evening he was just about to give up the 
 search for the day, and was turning down a slight 
 depression that ran off from the main lead. He 
 had not gone far when he saw a small weather- 
 worn tent, a considerable distance from the others. 
 He was sure he had not come this way before, and 
 he thought he had never seen this tent. He went 
 slowly on, with bent head, for he was tired and 
 dejected. He was getting down-hearted. All at 
 once he saw something at his feet. He stooped 
 down to examine it. It was a discoloured pen- 
 knife that had been lying in the dust and mud for 
 some time. The blades were rusty. The handle 
 was encrusted with a thin layer of dirt. He took 
 it up in his hand and rubbed the dry earth off. 
 There was just light enough now to see that there 
 were letters cut on it. There were two. One was a J 
 and the other E. He gave a great start. The 
 initials were his, and the knife was the one his 
 uncle had taken from the shop, and the same that
 
 192 JACK_KEEVELEY 
 
 McWhilly found with Dick. Dick had been here 
 since then, that was clear, and the information he 
 had given of the whereabouts of his uncle was 
 correct. This was also clear. The proof was in 
 his hand. He held the end of the thread and he 
 was going to unravel the tangled skein. The 
 search was getting warm. The quarry could not 
 be far off. When his pulse was a little quieter 
 and his heart beating less fiercely, he put the 
 knife in his pocket. It was nearly dark, so he 
 retraced his steps, went up the gully, and went 
 back to the hotel. 
 
 He went to bed, but not to sleep. He tossed 
 about and ' counted the weary hours.' He felt he 
 was on the eve of discovery. The knife had 
 returned to him after many days. ' From small 
 beginnings great events arise.' The acorn does not 
 know it is the mother of navies, thundering out 
 death and deciding the fate of nations. The coral 
 insect does not know it is the greatest builder in 
 the world. The little stone did not know it was 
 going to lay a giant low and scatter the Phili- 
 stines. When Cortes, and all his men, ' gazed at 
 the Pacific with a wild surmise,' they did not see 
 the commerce wafted from every clime. When 
 Watt saw the steam from the kettle, he did not
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 198 
 
 hear the throb of the engine in every land. When 
 Gutenberg set up his newly invented types, he did 
 not see knowledge spreading over the earth. When 
 Wheatstone played with electricity he did not know 
 he was girdling the globe. When Jack left his 
 knife on the counter of the shop he did not suspect 
 what an important part it was going to play in this 
 history. 
 
 He got up in the morning unrefreshed : in body 
 tired ; in mind, clear as to what he was going to 
 do. He dressed quickly and went downstairs on 
 tiptoe. He let himself out by the back door, where 
 Boots was groaning and grunting over fifty pairs. 
 He went down the main street, and out into the 
 country, steering straight for Pegleg. There was 
 no stir or movement anywhere. No blue smoke 
 curled from the chimneys ; the birds had not begun 
 to sing. The sleeping dogs would not stir, or wag 
 their tongue or tail. 
 
 He went round by the back of the gully, and 
 slid down the grassy bank to the spot where he had 
 found the knife. Then he took a good survey 
 around. The nearest tent was the weather-beaten 
 one he had seen the night before. He went close 
 up to it ; there was no dog keeping watch at the 
 door ; there was no sound within. He stood 
 

 
 194 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 listening for some time, when suddenly a deep 
 groan came from the tent. It was so eerie in this 
 lonely spot, and so full of misery, he could not 
 help lifting the door-flap and peeping in. A man, 
 half naked, lay on a miserable stretcher formed of 
 saplings and old bags. He was tossing restlessly, 
 and sawing the air with his skinny arms and 
 clenched fists. His eyes were wild and glittering ; 
 his hair was matted. 
 
 ' Water ! water ! ' he cried. 
 
 Jack ran in and took up a pannikin and looked 
 for water. There was not a drop in the tent. 
 He rushed out, and searched in the neighbourhood, 
 but could not find any. He remembered seeing a 
 little spring oozing out of the ground at the foot of 
 the gully. He ran to it and filled the pannikin, 
 and slowly walked back, afraid to spill a drop. 
 How long he had been away he could not tell, but 
 it seemed to him to have been an age. He went 
 into the tent, and took the man round the neck 
 with his right arm and raised his head. With the 
 left he held the pannikin to his lips. The man 
 drank every drop, and called for more. Jack 
 searched about for a bucket ; at last he found one 
 under the bed, which he took and went again to the 
 spring and filled it by means of the pannikin.
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 195 
 
 When he got back to the tent, the gully -was show- 
 ing signs of life. Wood-chopping was going on, 
 and a few fires were being lit. 
 
 Jack filled the pannikin again, and put it to 
 the man's lips. He drank as before. When he 
 had finished it he lay down and shut his eyes, 
 and seemed to fall asleep. 
 
 A great awe fell on the boy. He was all alone 
 with a man who was very unwell gaunt and 
 wasted with a consuming fever. He had lain here 
 perhaps for days, all alone, without a soul to care 
 for him to raise his head, or to give him a drink 
 of water. The place had a neglected look. Empty 
 gin-bottles were the principal feature. It was the 
 home of a drunkard. Jack looked at the man 
 long and earnestly. His face seemed to recall 
 some memory of the past 1 ; but the key was lost, 
 and the lock could not be forced to reveal the 
 secret. The beard was short but thick, and ap- 
 parently of only a few weeks' growth. The blood- 
 less skin lay over the cheeks like parchment, but 
 running along under the pallor lay a network of 
 veins of a pattern he had seen before ; but where ? 
 That was the question, and he asked it again and 
 again, but got no answer. All at once the an- 
 swer came flashing into his brain, ' This is the 
 
 o 2
 
 196 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 man.' With his finger and thumb he pressed back 
 the hairs of the beard from the chin : there was 
 the mole with the three hairs. 
 
 His uncle lay before him. The long-lost man 
 was found at last. Fortune had favoured him. 
 The first thing he must do is to get a doctor, and 
 that speedily. The nearest one he knew of lived 
 near the camp. He could not leave the man now. 
 He must seek help. He saw a boy gathering chips 
 and bark a few hundreds of yards away, so he 
 called to him. The boy looked up inquiringly. 
 Jack beckoned frantically. The boy threw down 
 his armful of chips with visions of a snake or an 
 opossum. When he had got near enough Jack 
 called out, 'Kun for a doctor. There is a sick 
 man here. If you bring a doctor in half-an-hour 
 I'll give you five shillings.' 
 
 The boy ran off as quickly as his legs would 
 carry him, and he did not flag in his pace till 
 he got to the doctor's door. He rapped loud and 
 long. The doctor came. The boy was out of 
 breath, but he managed to stammer the message 
 that a man was sick down at Pegleg, and the 
 doctor was to come at once. 
 
 ' Who's to pay me ? ' said the doctor. 
 
 ' There's a chap there who's got plenty of
 
 JACK KEEVELEY 197 
 
 money. He promised me five shillings for com- 
 ing.' 
 
 The doctor pondered a moment. Then he said, 
 ' I'll get my hat and stick, and go with you.' 
 
 He came soon, and the boy led the way. The 
 doctor was a big, sallow, heavy man, with a snub 
 nose. Not much sentiment about him, but of the 
 rough and ready sort. The boy went on with 
 nimble foot. He was impatient for the fingering 
 of the five shillings, and the spending of them. 
 
 The doctor followed, puffing and blowing. 
 'Look here,' he said, 'if you don't slacken your 
 pace I'll give you a dose of jalap.' 
 
 The boy did not know what this might mean, 
 but there was no mistaking the tone in which it 
 was said. The doctor had a stick with which he 
 could give him a dose of another sort, so he 
 slackened his pace and went slower. 
 
 ' Down this way,' said the boy. 
 
 The two descended the bank and were soon at 
 the tent. Jack, hearing voices, came out to meet 
 them. He dropped five shillings into the boy's 
 outstretched hand, and led the doctor in. 
 
 After a careful examination of the patient he 
 turned round. ' Typhus bad case can't live.' 
 
 ' What shall I do ? ' said Jack ; ' he's my uncle ;
 
 198 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 save his life, doctor. Don't spare your time or 
 expense. Do you think he should go to the 
 hospital, or should I get a nurse for him ? ' 
 
 'If you move him he'll die on the road. I'll 
 send a nurse if I can, but I'm afraid there is not 
 one to be had.' He sat down and wrote a pre- 
 scription on a leaf of his pocketbook. 
 
 ' I cannot leave him,' said Jack. ' If it would 
 not be too much, would you call at the chemist's 
 and ask him to send the medicine quickly ? ' 
 
 ' I'll come again at twelve. My fee is a guinea 
 a visit.' 
 
 Jack dropped a sovereign and a shilling into 
 the big hand, whose fingers played around them 
 for a moment like the feelers of an octopus, and 
 then put them into a pocket. 
 
 The chemist's boy came in due course. Jack 
 detained him till he had opened the parcel. It 
 contained a bottle with a mixture in it. The 
 directions were ' a tablespoonful to be taken every 
 three hours.' There was not a tablespoon in the 
 tent, nor a glass to put the medicine in. What 
 was to be done ? He would scribble a note on a 
 scrap of paper and ask the boy to take it to Mrs. 
 McWhae. 
 
 'If you leave this note at the Eldorado, and
 
 JACK BEEVELEY 199 
 
 bring Mrs. McWhae here in an hour, I'll give you 
 five shillings.' 
 
 ' Done ! ' said the boy. 
 
 Within the hour Mrs. McWhae and the boy 
 arrived. He was carrying a basket. She went 
 straight into the tent, and said, ' My puir boy, to 
 be left a' yer lane wi' a man doon wi' the fever. 
 That'll never do, never ! ' 
 
 She moved about, putting things in their places. 
 She opened the basket and took out a tumbler and 
 spoon. She then poured out the medicine in the 
 prescribed quantity, and put it in the tumbler. 
 Jack held the man's head up, and she poured the 
 mixture down his throat. Then he lay quiet again 
 and began to mutter and talk in an incoherent way. 
 Then he rolled his eyes in frenzy, and raved and 
 scolded in impotent rage. Then he would lie still for 
 a few minutes, utterly exhausted, just to break out 
 again worse than before. His pulse was throbbing at 
 high pressure, his skin was burning, his tongue was 
 dry, and his eyes were blazing. 
 
 Mrs. McWhae sent Jack to the hotel for a small 
 tent, a feather pillow, and a few other things. He 
 walked away rapidly and soon reached the place. 
 He got a cab and put the things in quickly, and 
 caused the man to drive as rapidly as he could.
 
 200 JACK REEVELEY 
 
 When lie reached the tent he found Mrs. McWhae 
 at the door. 
 
 ' He's worse,' she said. ' He's ravin' aboot 
 gold. He asked me to bring his sister an' his 
 bairns ; he said he wanted to kiss them before he 
 dees.' 
 
 ' Poor uncle ! poor uncle ! If I only could do 
 anything for you ! ' said Jack, ready to cry. He 
 thought of his mother and Mary, and the grief this 
 would bring to them. 
 
 Mrs. McWhae quietly slipped the soft feather 
 pillow under the sick man's head. This seemed to 
 give him a little ease for a time ; then he shrieked 
 and moaned and tossed about violently, and after a 
 paroxysm sank back in a profuse perspiration. 
 
 ' Puir man ! puir man ! ' 
 
 Mrs. McWhae had brought a little chicken and 
 bread in the basket for Jack. She pressed him to 
 take some. To please her he sat down in the open 
 air, and tried to force himself to eat, but he was 
 unable to swallow a morsel. In the meantime 
 Mrs. McWhae had unrolled the tent and bedding 
 Jack had brought ; he came to help her. They 
 soon got the tent put up, and the bedding was 
 spread in a corner on the grass. 
 
 'Ye see, you an' me maun keep watch an'
 
 JACK KEEVELEY 201 
 
 watch, time aboot. It will never do to leave him 
 for lang at a time.' 
 
 When night came on Jack insisted on Mrs. 
 McWhae lying down in the newly erected tent, 
 while he kept watch with the sick man. He was to 
 call her if necessary. She went and lay down, 
 hoping to sleep, and she called out ' Wauken me at 
 twelve.' 
 
 Jack lighted a candle, and sat down on a box. 
 He watched the patient's every movement, and 
 noted every change. When the time came he gave 
 him the medicine. The man was in a furious de- 
 lirium about nine o'clock, and he raved at imaginary 
 people who were trying to steal his gold. Suddenly 
 he became quiet ; he opened his eyes, and stared 
 at Jack. He said slowly, and very distinctly : 
 
 'Yes, dear wife, I'm coming to you soon. I 
 know I have been bad, but I want to see the 
 children first, I don't know why ; I have not seen 
 them since morning. Little Mary and Willie love 
 me, and I love them. I'll leave them all my money. 
 I'm rich now.' He lay with his eyes closed, then 
 he opened them and stared at Jack. 
 
 ' Who are you ? Are you Willie ? ' 
 
 'No, I'm Jack Reeveley, your nephew. You 
 have been unwell, and I have come to nurse you.
 
 202 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 When you are better we will go away from here, 
 and you will see Mary and Willie.' 
 
 ' Yes, Jack, you are like your father, but you have 
 your mother's eyes. I remember now, I have seen 
 you often in my dreams. I was fighting with you 
 last night. Oh, it was a terrible fight : you were 
 going to steal my gold, but you'll never find it it's 
 hidden, do you hear ? No, I haven't got any ; not 
 a grain. Very poor very poor. Go away, and 
 never come near me. You'll never get anything 
 out of me. Go away, go away ! ' 
 
 Another fit of frenzy was coming on. He raved 
 and shouted and roared. He tried to rise, but 
 Jack forced him down again. He was weak as an 
 infant. Then he was still and quiet ; his mind was 
 dwelling on the past. He whispered, 'Mary and 
 Willie come here. That's right. I've got my 
 hands on your heads. I'm happy now. You are 
 to get all my gold. It's hidden under my bed ; dig 
 for it ; it is deep. Mary, be kind to Willie ; Willie, 
 love your sister.' 
 
 Here he gave a deep sigh, and said, ' What am 
 I saying ? No, no ! I've got no gold, do you hear ? 
 Not an ounce. What a fool I am ! Work for gold, 
 and give it away ! ' 
 
 About midnight there was a change in the
 
 JACK EEEVELEY 203 
 
 patient. He asked for a drink of water ; Jack gave 
 it to him. 
 
 ' I'm better now ; I'll be all right in a day or 
 two. Who are you ? I remember. You are Jack 
 Eeeveley, you said. I know you now, you were 
 always a good boy. Be kind to Mary and Willie. 
 I've tried to be good for some weeks now, and I have 
 been working like a horse in my claim, night and 
 day, and all for Mary and Willie. Tell them that 
 yes, tell them that I was going back to them. 
 Yes, I made a vow to God, and He was trying to 
 help me to say ' Our Father,' but the words would 
 stick in my throat, for I had not been a son to Him 
 for many a long day. I'm bitterly sorry now, but 
 it's too late. Pray for me, Jack ; pray for me. 
 What's this ? ' 
 
 He put out his hand. 'Yes, wife, I am 
 coming.' 
 
 Jack saw that he was sinking fast. He ran 
 and wakened Mrs. McWhae, who came rushing in. 
 When she saw the patient she shook her head. 
 ' It's a' up wi' him.' 
 
 He opened his eyes. ' Are you Mrs. McWhae, of 
 the Eldorado ? Do I owe you any money ? No ! 
 that's right. If I do, Jack will pay you.' 
 
 ' My puir man ! You don't owe me onything.
 
 204 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 Hae ye made your peace wi' yer Faither in 
 Heaven ? ' 
 
 'I have just been asking Him to forgive me, and 
 He said nothing, but He looked lovingly at me. I 
 think He is coming for me soon. If He comes, I'll 
 take it as a token. But I'm afraid, I'm afraid, 
 He'll never come for me.' 
 
 He fell back with a groan. Mrs. McWhae 
 thought he was gone. He opened his eyes again, 
 and whispered, 'He is coming.' A smile spread 
 over his face ; he was dead. 
 
 Jack cried a little. He was thankful that he 
 had been with his uncle, and that he had been able 
 to nurse him in his last moments ; he thought now 
 of his mother, and Mary, and how he would break 
 the news to them. 
 
 Jack told Mrs. McWhae what the dead man had 
 said about gold, and suggested that it might be well 
 to dig under th'e bed. 
 
 ' If he ever had any gold he never would have 
 rested till he had spent every penny o't.' 
 
 ' I think there was something in what he said, 
 so I must dig after the funeral.' 
 
 In the morning Jack went to the doctor. He 
 was in bed, and just recovering from a drinking 
 bout. When he got the guinea from Jack the day
 
 .TACK KEEVELEY 205 
 
 before, lie had kept his promise so far as calling at 
 the chemist's with the prescription ; but the next 
 house he came to was a hotel, and he could not 
 pass it with money in his pocket. He went in, and 
 did not come out till night ; then he reeled home 
 and went to bed. 
 
 ' I did not go again at twelve as I said I would. 
 What was the good ? I suppose the man's dead.' 
 
 'Yes,' said Jack, 'and I want a certificate.' 
 
 'All right,' said the doctor. 'My charge for a 
 certificate is two guineas cash in advance fork 
 out.' 
 
 Jack handed him two guineas. Then he asked 
 the boy to reach him pen, ink, and paper, which, 
 having disposed around him on the bed, he wrote 
 the certificate. Then he flung himself about, and 
 spilled the ink over the counterpane. Jack opened 
 the door and went away in disgust. He went 
 straight to the undertaker's shop, and gave orders 
 for immediate burial. Then he returned to the 
 tent and Mrs. McWliae. 
 
 They both sat down in the open air waiting for 
 the undertake} 1 . They were in the vk-inity of death, 
 and they spoke in whispers. The woman was 
 touched with the pity of humanity that is always 
 ready to spring up in ilie feminine breast at
 
 206 JACK KEEVELEY 
 
 such a time. She felt for this boy too, who 
 had been recommended to her care by Willie 
 McWhilly, her old friend. She could not leave him 
 while the corpse was above ground, and she would 
 accompany him to the grave and see the last rites. 
 
 The undertaker made his appearance in the 
 afternoon. He and his man did all that was 
 necessary. The coffin was passed into the hearse ; 
 Mrs. McWhae and Jack went into the coach, and 
 the two vehicles rapidly drove away. The unwonted 
 sight in Pegleg caused a mild stir. The men were, 
 with one or two exceptions, down below, and hard 
 at work. Old Dan Eiley, who was the original 
 prospector in the gully, was rheumatic to-day, and 
 he was sitting outside his tent door, sunning him- 
 self. 
 
 ' I believe it's the ould bloke,' he said to Bridget, 
 his wife. 
 
 * He wasn't a bad crayture after all,' said Bridget. 
 ' He wanst met our Mary coming from school, an' 
 axed her name. When she said it was Mary, he 
 told her, so he did, that he had wanst a little girl 
 named Mary, an' he patted her on the head, so he 
 did, an' gave her a shillin'.' 
 
 ' He was a bitter bad one,' said Dan. 
 
 ' Whist, Dan, sure the poor man's dead now.
 
 JACK KEEVELEY 207 
 
 An' if he called his gurl Mary, after the blessed 
 Vargin, sure his sins may be forgiven him.' 
 
 ' The blessed Vargin wouldn't touch him with a 
 red-hot poker, so she wouldn't,' said Dan. 
 
 ' How's that, ye ould backbiter ? ' 
 
 ' Becaze when Father O'Moriarty axed him for 
 a shilling to help bury poor Tim Dooley, he tould 
 him to go to blazes.' 
 
 ' Sure an' isn't he dead ? he may have repinted 
 av' it.' 
 
 ' He culdn't do it that's a sin that has no place 
 for repintance.' 
 
 ' Well ! well ! ' said Bridget, ' I'm sorry for the 
 poor man.' 
 
 ' You don't mean to tell me it's the owd fellow 
 as lived in the shatteridan place over there ? ' said a 
 burly man who had just come up from a claim 
 close by. 
 
 ' He was a mighty close-fishted ould rip,' said 
 Dan. 
 
 ' Whist, Dan ! Whist ! ' said Bridget. 
 
 ' He worn't that, anyway, Dan, for he sent me 
 out five shillings for going up to the camp for the 
 doctor,' said the boy who went the message. 
 
 The poor man was dead and buried. Where 
 4id he lift up his eyes ? We know not. The priest
 
 208 JACK KEEVELEY 
 
 had stood at the open grave and said : ' Man that 
 is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, 
 and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut 
 down like a flower ; he fleeth as it were a shadow, 
 and never continueth in one stay. 
 
 ' Ashes to ashes : dust to dust.' 
 
 Mrs. McWhae and Jack came back before dark 
 with the spring cart from the hotel. She wielded 
 the reins and handled the whip ; they wanted no 
 third person. Jack went into the tent and moved 
 the stretcher aside. Then with his uncle's pick 
 and shovel he dug in the place where the ground 
 had been disturbed. About a foot below the 
 surface he came upon something hard. It was a 
 tin box, without a lock. He lifted the lid ; the box 
 was full of gold. He called Mrs. McWhae. She 
 went in. When she saw the gold, she raised her 
 hands in astonishment, and exclaimed, ' Three 
 thousand ounces if there's a pennyweight.' 
 
 Jack ran and got a black bag from the spring 
 cart. He took it in and filled it ; Mrs. McWhae 
 filled her hand-bag. Then the boy was able to lift 
 the tin box. In this way they were able to carry 
 all the gold to the cart. They then drove to the 
 hotel. They put the cart in a stout shed and 
 locked the door. By this time they were both
 
 JACK REEVELEY 209 
 
 thoroughly exhausted. Jack crept up to bed. 
 Mrs. McWhae went into her parlour and counted the 
 money received during her absence. After locking 
 it up she also sought her bed. 
 
 In the morning Mrs. McWhae and Jack har- 
 nessed the horse and drove to the Government 
 offices, where they deposited the gold. It weighed 
 3,211 oz. 4 dwts. It was consigned to the Bank of 
 Australasia, to the credit of John Blenheim, Esq., 
 Bookseller, Bourke Street, Melbourne. 
 
 That same night Jack climbed to the box-seat 
 of the Geelong coach. He had taken an affec- 
 tionate farewell of Mrs. McWhae. He told her he 
 would never forget her and all the kindness she had 
 shown him. He reached Geelong in the early 
 morning, and went to Mac's hotel, where he got 
 breakfast. About ten o'clock he boarded the 
 steamer, which lay at the wharf, all ready to sail. 
 In a few minutes the captain called out, ' Go ahead ! ' 
 and the vessel ploughed her way along the peaceful 
 waters of Corio Bay, past Station Peak, Point Cooke, 
 and Williamstown. Then the Yarra's course was 
 safely negotiated and the Queen's Wharf was reached. 
 His mother and the bookseller were waiting for 
 him in the crowd, and he was clasped in his mother's 
 arms in spite of onlookers. On the way home he 
 
 P
 
 210 JACK EEEVELEY 
 
 filled in the detail of his adventures, praising his 
 uncle where he could, for his mother's sake. It 
 was arranged that the bookseller was to invest the 
 proceeds of the gold for the benefit of Mary and 
 Willie, the children of the dead man, and that they 
 should never be told of the evil nature of their 
 father's life ; but that, in some after time, his 
 loving messages in his last moments should be 
 made known to them, and that he had left them all 
 his money. 
 
 When McWhilly heard that Jack had discovered 
 his uncle when he, the trained detective, had failed, 
 he merely said, ' Some folks are born to luck, others 
 deserve it.' Jack gave all the credit to Mrs. 
 McWhae. 'That woman's worth her weight in 
 gold,' said the detective. ' She'll be Mrs. McWhilly 
 some day, mark my words ! ' 
 
 McWhilly was in Ballarat in a week's time ; 
 had popped the question, been accepted, and 
 married within the shortest possible time. Jack 
 was ' best man.' On the wedding morning he 
 clasped on the bride's wrist the most valuable 
 bracelet ever seen in Ballarat. 
 
 At the first opportunity Jack paid a visit to the 
 worthy baker and his wife. They overwhelmed 
 him with kindness.
 
 JACK KEEVELEY 211 
 
 Dick never 'wandered away again. He worked 
 hard in the service of Mr. White, and when the 
 latter retired from business, he succeeded to it, and 
 became a substantial and prosperous man. 
 
 It remains only to say that Jack and his cousin 
 Mary were married in a few years. A lovelier bride, 
 or a handsomer bridegroom, was never seen in 
 St. Peter's Church.
 
 A BUSH ADVENTURE
 
 A BUSH ADVENTURE 
 
 MY duties had been very arduous and harassing 
 during the summer of 1854, and my health was 
 suffering in consequence. Following the advice of 
 my medical man, I readily obtained a month's leave 
 of absence, and determined to take an excursion to 
 the residence of a relative, who had a station in the 
 neighbourhood of the Werribee Eiver, where I hoped 
 to recruit my failing health. 
 
 I presented myself one fine morning at the 
 Hobson's Bay Eailway Station, and secured a 
 through ticket for Williamstown. There were lucky 
 diggers with immense hirsute appendages, burly 
 squatters who owned many a rood, and merchants 
 who were so much accustomed to figures that cal- 
 culation could be seen in their eyes. There were 
 comfortable fathers of families who dragged along 
 youthful and troublesome charges, nervous mammas 
 full of bother and anxiety, and nurse-girls with 
 bandboxes and crying evils all bustling off to secure
 
 216 A BUSH ADVENTURE 
 
 their seats. The bell began to ring, porters were 
 hurry-scurrying up and down the wooden plat- 
 form, guards were bawling and shouting, and slam- 
 ming doors and locking them. 
 
 The engine was snorting and whistling impa- 
 tiently; all was wildness and confusion for a few 
 seconds, when, as if by magic, stillness reigned. 
 The motley throng had vanished. The guards were 
 dumb ; the porters folded their arms ; the engine 
 whistled shrill, and away we went over the bridge, 
 past the terror-stricken pigs, the bewildered 
 cattle, and the yelping curs, past the sign-posts 
 to the ferries, each purporting to point out the 
 shortest way, past the vessels in the river, the 
 viaduct, and Emerald Hill, and in a twinkling we 
 thundered up to the Sandridge station. The 
 guards unlocked the doors, and another bustling 
 scene commenced. Most of the passengers were 
 bound for England, and went on board a special 
 steamer which was to convey them to one of the 
 favourite ' Black Ball ' liners, then on the eve of sail- 
 ing. A few straggled off towards Sandridge, and a 
 few, along with myself, went on board the steamer 
 which ploughed its way across the Bay to Williams- 
 town in a few minutes. 
 
 I had sent a few necessaries on before me by the
 
 A BUSH ADVENTURE 217 
 
 mail cart, and, as the day was fine, I suddenly deter- 
 mined to walk over the plains, instead of riding, as 
 I had intended. I had my drawing materials with 
 me, with which I purposed to make sketches of the 
 scenery as I went along. I had also a stout 
 walking-stick to help me on, and a few biscuits for 
 the inner man. As I had only to walk about fifteen 
 miles, I sauntered along slowly. I reached the 
 crossing-place, on the Tea-Tree Creek, about mid- 
 day, and made a sketch of the remarkable volcanic 
 boulders which lay scattered along the creek. I 
 then struck through a fine belt of timber, and the 
 open plain, until I came to the Skeleton Waterholes, 
 which I crossed, and then went on my way towards 
 the Geelong road. I had not proceeded far, when 
 a fine view of Station Peak presented itself, with 
 the Pentland Hills in the distance. I sat down to 
 sketch the lovely scene. In the foreground waved 
 the tall kangaroo grass; a little further on was 
 some beautiful rising ground ; further still, steeped 
 in purple, were ' Woolarnanta,' or Station Peak, 
 and the Yowangs; and in the extreme distance 
 ' Myrniong,' or Mount Blackwood, reared its sable 
 brow. 
 
 I sat down full of enthusiasm, and was just 
 giving a few finishing touches, when horror of
 
 218 A BUSH ADVENTURE 
 
 horrors I looked behind, and there, within a hun- 
 dred yards of me, and coming on full tilt, were two 
 or three hundred of the fiercest cattle I had ever 
 seen. Their eyes were glaring with rage, and they 
 stamped on the ground and snorted in anything but 
 an agreeable manner. Their intentions might have 
 been peaceable enough, but I did not like their looks 
 at all. What was I to do ? If I remained where I 
 was, I should be trampled on and gored by the 
 infuriated beasts. I jumped to my feet, shouted, 
 and brandished my stick, but to no purpose on 
 they came the very ground shook, and so did I. 
 There was nothing for it but to run, and there was 
 no shelter within miles, with the exception of a 
 small, solitary, stunted tree, about a hundred yards 
 off. Towards it I ran at the top of my speed, 
 shouting as I went ; but I had hardly time to reach 
 it before they were on me. The tree was only a 
 few feet high, and had not a branch which would 
 support me, so I had to shelter myself behind its 
 slender trunk as well as I could. One huge bull 
 came straight at me, and shivered one of his horns 
 on the tree, at the spot where I had been standing 
 a moment before. This infuriated the beast to a 
 terrible degree, and he roared and bellowed with 
 pain. I could see that my position would not be
 
 A BUSH ADVE^fTUKE 219 
 
 tenable for many moments, and that my only chance 
 of escape was to get astride one of the savage 
 brutes. My gymnastic exercises served me in the 
 time of need. With a bound, I jumped astride of 
 the nearest, which happened to be an immense cow. 
 Her astonishment was excessive. She plunged and 
 danced about, and her hair stood on end with terror. 
 I held on with the firmness of despair ; and how I 
 managed to keep my seat was a marvel to myself, 
 and is so still. The other cattle stood in amazement. 
 My position seemed beyond their comprehension; 
 but, if it was novel to them, it was equally so to me. 
 After the cow had exhausted every effort to unseat 
 me, and was fairly mad with terror, she set off at a 
 fearful pace over the plain, and made straight for a 
 small forest of oaks, at which my steed arrived 
 thoroughly exhausted and subdued, shaking in every 
 limb. Now was my time I slipped off, and was up 
 a tree in an instant. 
 
 The danger and excitement had borne me up 
 until now. I felt faint and giddy ; my brow was 
 hot, my mouth was parched, and my hands were 
 burning. My first impulse was to offer up a prayer 
 of gratitude for my preservation and safety. I then 
 felt my limbs, and found that I had been more 
 frightened than hurt. I had now recovered my-
 
 220 A BUSH ADVENTUKE 
 
 self somewhat, and looked around for my as- 
 sailants. 
 
 The cow I had ridden was slowly staggering 
 towards the herd, which was about a mile off, in 
 the same position in which I had left them. No 
 doubt they had watched our course over the plain, 
 and, perhaps, enjoyed the spectacle as much as more 
 intelligent animals delight in little less dangerous 
 sport. To a non-performer our antics must have 
 been ludicrous beyond compare : the intense terror 
 of the beast, its efforts to rid itself of its unwelcome 
 rider, and its career over the plain, must have 
 afforded great amusement to the bovine spectators ; 
 as would also the fear depicted on my countenance. 
 My streaming hair, my knees firmly fixed, and the 
 clutch I had of the cow's neck, would, altogether, 
 form a strange picture. 
 
 I now descended the tree a little more leisurely 
 than I ascended it, and walked cautiously along 
 from tree to tree, with the timid air of a man who 
 fears the bailiffs. In a short time I got to the open 
 plain, and took a survey on all sides. I congratu- 
 lated myself that there was not a bullock to be seen. 
 The Geelong road was only about a mile off, and 
 toward it I hurried, as I did not feel altogether 
 safe after what had occurred. I passed the road,
 
 A BUSH ADVENTURE 221 
 
 and struck across the plain in a north-westerly 
 direction. My pace was now quickened, as the sun 
 was near setting, and I had still some miles to go. 
 I did not think much about the beauty of the 
 scenery, or the brilliancy of the sunset, or of the 
 golden and purple clouds that hovered around the 
 sun as he went to rest. I wished that I had the 
 pair of seven-league boots that Jack had, so that I 
 might make one step of it, and get safely housed for 
 the night. My shadow on the ground was becoming 
 longer and longer. As the sun went down, it 
 seemed to go quicker and quicker, until it sank 
 behind the hills. Every moment a darker shade 
 enveloped earth and sky ; every moment another 
 star began to twinkle ; every moment another 
 landmark was hidden in the gloom; and every 
 moment I became more conscious that I did not 
 know whither I was going. I was now in a 
 dilemma. I did not like ' bushing it,' although I 
 had often heard of it being done without ill conse- 
 quences. 
 
 However, I determined to make another effort, 
 and tried to guide myself by the stars. Taking 
 Venus for my pilot I walked for about an hour, when, 
 to my joy, I saw a light in the distance, and went 
 towards it as fast as I could. As I got nearer I
 
 222 A BUSH ADVENTUKE 
 
 could see that it was a small fire, and that two men 
 were sitting by it. When I went forward, the men 
 sprang to the opposite side of the fire. I could hear 
 their pistols click as they demanded, ' Who's there ? ' 
 I replied that I had lost my way, and desired that 
 they would allow me to sit by their fire till morning. 
 ' A sneaking spy, by George ! ' said one of them, 
 with a heavy oath. ' Arms above your head, or I '11 
 put a ball into you. Out with your money ! ' and 
 he pointed his pistol within a few feet of my breast. 
 The other man now came up, tied me to a tree, and 
 then proceeded to rifle my pockets. He found about 
 fifteen pounds in notes, and some loose silver ; also, 
 a small case, containing some papers, of no conse- 
 quence to any one, and a few of my visiting cards. 
 When his search was completed, he sat down 
 beside his companion, and examined the papers one 
 by one. He then pulled out my cards and handed 
 one to the tall man, or ' Scotty,' as he called him, 
 and said, ' My card, sir.' Scotty took it and 
 examined it carefully. They now began to talk to 
 each other in whispers. I thought their conversation 
 was about me, for now and again Scotty turned his 
 thumb over his shoulder, toward where I was sitting. 
 I could hear them say, 'Four hundred Ballarat 
 Eeward Government Stockade,' &c. After a
 
 223 
 
 long talk of this kind, Scotty again took up the card 
 and looked at it. 
 
 ' Is that your name ? ' said he gruffly, looking 
 up at me suddenly. 
 
 ' Yes,' said I, as gruffly and as suddenly. 
 
 ' Do you know anything about the Stockade at 
 Ballarat ? ' said the short man. 
 
 I had a key to their conversation in an instant, 
 to the examination of my card, and to the questions 
 they had asked me. I saw that they suspected me 
 to be one of the Ballarat rebels, who was implicated 
 in the disturbances which had taken place a short 
 time before, and for whom, dead or alive, Govern- 
 ment was offering a large reward. They thought 
 me to be the man because of the similarity of name, 
 and because I somewhat resembled the so-called 
 rebel. I had now the cards in my own hands, and 
 I determined to play them off to the best advantage, 
 as I expected that they would take me to town and 
 claim the offered reward. I tried to confirm their 
 suspicions as much as possible. I did not answer 
 the question about Ballarat, as I wished to gain 
 time for a reply. 
 
 ' I think I've see'd you spouting on Bakery Hill,' 
 said the little man. ' You did it up flash too. The 
 mob's uncommon tyrannical, treatin' the diggers
 
 224 A BUSH ADVENTURE 
 
 like beasts, and neither law nor justice to be had, 
 eh ! I remember it all,' said the little man. ' No 
 more license fee, and Maggy Carter and the Bill of 
 Eights,' and the little man roared and laughed until 
 the tears trickled down his cheeks. 
 
 ' I have seen you drilling under Colonel Vern at 
 the Stockade, have I not ? ' said I to Scotty. 
 
 ' No, and ' said he, ' when I poo the trigger 
 
 it's for the hard cash, an' no for ony o' yer 
 nonsensical political balderdash.' 
 
 Scotty now jumped to his feet, and said, ' Come, 
 freend, we hae a lang road before us, and ye'll hae 
 a gude horse to ride on, and gude company to guide 
 ye, and ye may consider yoursel as safe as twa ropes 
 can mak ye ; so ye need na be feer't, my man, for 
 ye'll be in Melbourne before mornin', and snugly 
 placed in Wintle's Bank, as a deposit worth four 
 hundred pounds.' 
 
 I now solemnly protested that I was not the 
 person they believed me to be ; but they only 
 laughed at me, and told me to ' tell that to the 
 marines,' which I would have been only too glad to 
 do, if any of them had come past our way. 
 
 They now brought forward two horses, on one 
 of which they set me. My legs were tied to the 
 saddle, and my arms were still fastened behind my
 
 A BUSH ADVENTURE 225 
 
 back. Scotty jumped on the other horse, and 
 ' Slikes,' for that was the little man's name got 
 up behind him. Scotty took the reins of the horse 
 I was on, and we were soon in motion. I now 
 feigned to be in despair, and I appealed to their 
 better feelings if it were right to deliver me up to 
 certain death for the sake of a few paltry pounds. 
 
 ' Paltry pounds, d'ye call 'em ? ' said Slikes ; 
 ' why, I'd put a ball through your brain, man, for 
 ten pounds.' 
 
 I wildly offered them all sorts of rewards, 
 bills of exchange, Government debentures, foreign 
 securities, Three per Cent. Consols, Spanish bonds, 
 and railway shares, if they would only take me to 
 my house in town before daylight, and thus screen 
 me from the myrmidons of the law who were thirst- 
 ing for my blood. At every new proposal the two 
 laughed loud and long, and ' wished I might get it.' 
 
 ' Well, then,' said I, ' take me to death, take me 
 to the gallows, let my body swing in ignominy, and 
 be scoffed and jeered by the unfeeling crowd. I 
 have done my duty to my country, and my name 
 shall not be forgotten by her.' Nothing could 
 exceed their merriment at this burst of assumed 
 feeling ; indeed, during our ride, it was a continual 
 fund of amusement to them. Whenever their mirth 
 
 Q
 
 225 A BUSH ADVENTURE 
 
 slacked, Slikes poked me in the ribs with his stick, 
 and shouted, ' No license fee, eh ! and Maggy 
 Carter and the Bill of Bight* ! ' "When he poked 
 his fun at me in this manner I had a great deal to 
 do to restrain myself from laughing outright. We 
 crossed the Saltwater Biver just as morning was 
 breaking, and before six o'clock we were at the 
 Police Office, Swanston Street. I was lifted from 
 the saddle and carried in, for my legs were quite 
 benumbed. Scotty walked up to the inspector, and 
 
 said, ' This is , the Ballarat rebel ; I give him 
 
 into your custody, and me and my mate here claim 
 the reward offered for him.' There w r ere two police- 
 men at the door. I shouted ' Policemen, guard the 
 door ! ' I then turned to the inspector, told him the 
 whole story, and explained who I was. I next gave 
 the men in charge for robbing me. This they denied 
 point-blank. I asked that they might be searched, 
 and I described minutely the notes they bad taken 
 from me. When the notes were examined, and 
 found to be as I had described them, Scotty and 
 Slikes became quite confused, and could not say a 
 word for themselves. Their trial came on soon after, 
 and they confessed their guilt. As it was their first 
 offence, they were only sentenced to two years on 
 the roads, with hard labour.
 
 A BUSH ADVENTURE 227 
 
 I need hardly say that I was able readily to make 
 myself known to the authorities, and so escape the 
 horrors of martyrdom, or otherwise, that were 
 thought to have been in store for me. 
 
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 12 A CATALOGUE OF BOOKS IN GENERAL LITERATURE 
 
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 [Continued.
 
 14 A CATALOGUE OF BOOKS IN GENERAL LITERATURE 
 
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 16 A CATALOGUE OF BOOKS IN GENERAL LITERATURE 
 
 MAX MTJLLER (F.)-INTRODUCTION TO THE SCIENCE OF RE- 
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 NATURAL RELIGION. The Gifford Lectures, delivered before the 
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 A SANSKRIT GRAMMAR FOR BEGINNERS. New and Abridged 
 
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 MAY (Sir Thomas Erskine). THE CONSTITUTIONAL HISTORY 
 OF ENGLAND since the Accession of George III. 3 vols. Crown 8vo. i8s, 
 
 MEADE (L. T.). THE O'DONNELLS OF INCHFAWN. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 DADDY'S BOY. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 5.5. 
 
 DEB AND THE DUCHESS. Illustrated by M. E. Edwards. Cr.Svo.5*. 
 
 HOUSE OF SURPRISES. Illustrated by E. M. Scannell. Cr. 8vo. y. 6d. 
 
 THEBERESFORD PRIZE. Illustrated by M. E. Edwards. Cr. 8vo. 55. 
 
 MEATH (The Earl of). SOCIAL ARROWS: Reprinted Articles on 
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 PROSPERITY OR PAUPERISM ? Physical, Industrial, and Technical 
 
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 MELVILLE (G-. J. Whyte). Novels by. Crown 8vo. 15. each, boards ; 
 is. 6d. each, cloth. 
 
 The Gladiators. 
 The Interpreter. 
 Good for Nothing. 
 
 The Queen's Maries. 
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 MENDELSSOHN. THE LETTERS OF FELIX MENDELSSOHN. 
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 MERIVALE (Rev. Chas.). HISTORY OF THE ROMANS UNDER 
 THE EMPIRE. Cabinet Edition, 8 vols. Crown 8vo. 485. Popular Edition, 
 8 vols. Crown 8vo. 31. 6d. each. 
 
 THE FALL OF THE ROMAN REPUBLIC : a Short History of the 
 
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 THE ROMAN TRIUMVIRATES. With Maps. Fcp. 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 MILES (W. A..). THE CORRESPONDENCE OF WILLIAM AUGUSTUS 
 MILES ON THE FRENCH REVOLUTION, 1789-1817. 2 vols. 8vo. 325. 
 
 MILL (James). ANALYSIS OF THE PHENOMENA OF THE HUMAN 
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 MILL (John Stuart). PRINCIPLES OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 
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 ON LIBERTY. Crown 8vo. is. ^d. [Continued.
 
 BY MESSRS. LONGMANS, GKEEN, & co. 
 
 MILL ( J. S.). ON REPRESENTATIVE GOVERNMENT. Crown 8vo. as. 
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 - NEIGHBOURS. With Illustrations by M. Ellen Edwards. Cr. 8vo. 6s. 
 - THE STORY OF A SPRING MORNING. With Illustrations. Cr.Svo.y. 
 
 MOORE (Edward). DANTE AND HIS EARLY BIOGRAPHERS. 
 Crown 8vo. 45. 6d. 
 
 MULHALL (Michael G.). HISTORY OF PRICES SINCE THE YEAR 
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 MURRAY (David Christie and Henry). A DANGEROUS CATS- 
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 MURRAY (Christie) and HERMAN" (Henry). WILD DARRIE : 
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 NANSEN (Dr. Fridtjof ). THE FIRST CROSSING OF GREENLAND. 
 With 5 Maps, 12 Plates, and 150 Illustrations in the Text, a vols. 8vo. 36^. 
 
 NAPIER. THE LIFE OF SIR JOSEPH NAPIER, BART., EX-LORD 
 CHANCELLOR OF IRELAND. By ALEX. CHARLES EWALD. 8vo. 151. 
 
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 HON. SIR JOSEPH NAPIER, BART. 8vo. las. 6d. 
 
 NESBIT (E.). LEAVES OF LIFE : Verses. Crown 8vo. $s. 
 
 NEWMAN. THE LETTERS AND CORRESPONDENCE OF JOHN 
 HENRY NEWMAN during his Life in the English Church. With a brief 
 Autobiographical Memoir. Edited by Anne Mozley. With Portraits, a vols. 
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 NEWMAN (Cardinal). Works by: 
 
 Sermons to Mixed Congregations. 
 
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 The Idea of a University denned and 
 
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 7S. Cheap Edition, Cr. 8vo. 35. 6d. 
 Historical Sketches. Cabinet Edition, 
 
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 The Arians of the Fourth Century. 
 
 Cabinet Edition, Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
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 Select Treatises of St. Athanasius in 
 
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 Discussion sand Arguments on Various 
 
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 8vo. 6s. Cheap Edition, Crown 
 
 8vo. 3?. 6d. 
 
 [Continued.
 
 NEWMAN (Cardinal). Works by -.(continued). 
 
 Apologia Pro Vita Sua. Cabinet Ed. , 
 Crown 8vo. 6s. Cheap Ed. y. 6d. 
 
 Development of Christian Doctrine. 
 Cabinet Edition, Crown 8vo. dr. 
 Cheap Edition, Cr. 8vo. y. 6d. 
 
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 Cabinet Edition. Vol. I. Crown 8vo. 
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 The Via Media of the Anglican Church, 
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 3J. 6d. each. 
 
 Essays, Critical and Historical. Cabi- 
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 Cheap Edition, 2 vols. Cr. 8vo. 7*. 
 
 Biblical and Ecclesiastical Miracles. 
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 Verses on Various Occasions. Cabinet 
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 NORTHCOTE (W. H.). LATHES AND TURNING, Simple, Me- 
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 PAUL (Hermann). PRINCIPLES OF THE HISTORY OF LANGUAGE. 
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 THE ' WORKS AND DAYS ' OF MOSES. Crown 8vo. y. 6d.
 
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 tion, is. Complete in i vol. 4to. 36^. 
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 The Orbs Around Us. Crown 8vo. y. 
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 Pleasant Ways in Science. Cr. 8vo. y. 
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 PRYCE (John). THE ANCIENT BRITISH CHURCH : an Historical 
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 RAN8OME (Cyril). THE RISE OF CONSTITUTIONAL GOVERN- 
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 20 A CATALOGUE OF BOOKS IN GENERAL LITERATURE 
 
 RICHARDSON (Dr. B. W.). NATIONAL HEALTH. A Review of 
 the Works of Sir Edwin Chadwick, K.C.B. Crown 4*. 6d. 
 
 RILEY (Athelstan). ATHOS ; or, The Mountain of the Monks. With 
 Map and 29 Illustrations. 8vo. zis. 
 
 ROBERTS (Alexander). GREEK THE LANGUAGE OF CHRIST 
 AND HIS APOSTLES. 8vo. i8j. 
 
 ROCKHILIi (W. W.). THE LAND OF THE LAMAS : Notes of a 
 Journey through China, Mongolia, and Tibet. With Maps and Illustrations. 
 8vo. 155. 
 
 ROO-ET (John Lewis). A HISTORY OF THE 'OLD WATER 
 COLOUR ' SOCIETY. 2 vols. Royal 8vo. 42*. 
 
 ROGET (Peter M.). THESAURUS OF ENGLISH WORDS AND 
 PHRASES. Crown 8vo. los. 6d. 
 
 RONALDS (Alfred). THE FLY-FISHER'S ETYMOLOGY. With 20 
 Coloured Plates. 8vo. 14^. 
 
 ROSSETTI (Maria Prancesca). A SHADOW OF DANTE : being an 
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 RUSSELL. A LIFE OF LORD JOHN RUSSELL. By SPENCER WALPOLE. 
 2 vols. 8vo. 365. Cabinet Edition, 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 12s. 
 
 SEEBOHM (Frederick). THE OXFORD REFORMERS JOHN 
 COLET, ERASMUS, AND THOMAS MORE. 8vo. 145. 
 
 THE ENGLISH VILLAGE COMMUNITY Examined in its Re- 
 lations to the Manorial and Tribal Systems, &c. 13 Maps and Plates. 8vo. i6s. 
 
 THE ERA OF THE PROTESTANT REVOLUTION. With Map. 
 
 Fcp. 8vo. us. 6d. 
 
 SEWELL (Elizabeth M.). STORIES AND TALES. Crown 8vo. is. 6d 
 each, cloth plain ; as. 6d. each, cloth extra, gilt edges : 
 
 Amy Herbert. 
 The Earl's Daughter. 
 The Experience of Life. 
 A Glimpse of the World. 
 Cleve Hall. 
 
 Katharine Ashton. 
 Margaret Percival. 
 Laneton Parsonage. 
 Ursula. 
 
 Gertrude. 
 Ivors. 
 Home Life. 
 After Life. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. BOWDLER'S FAMILY SHAKESPEARE, i vol. 8vo. 
 With 36 Woodcuts, 143. , or in 6 vols. Fcp. 8vo. 2is. 
 
 OUTLINE OF THE LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE. By J. O. 
 
 HALLIWELL-PHILLIPPS. 2 vols. Royal 8vo. i is. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. By JAMES WALTER. With 500 
 
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 THE SHAKESPEARE BIRTHDAY BOOK. By MARY F. DUNBAR. 
 
 321110. i.?. 6d. cloth. With Photographs, 32010. 55. Drawing -Room Edition, 
 with Photographs, Fcp. 8vo. icw. 6d. 
 
 SHORT (T. V.). SKETCH OF THE HISTORY OF THE CHURCH OF 
 ENGLAND to the Revolution of 1688. Crown 8vo. js. 6d.
 
 PUBLISHED BY MESSRS. LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO. 31 
 
 SILVER LIBRARY, The. Crown 
 
 BAKER'S (Sir S. W.) Eight Years in 
 Ceylon. With 6 Illustrations. 
 
 Rifle and Hound in Ceylon. 
 
 With 6 Illustrations. 
 
 BRASSEY'S (Lady) A Voyage in the 
 ' Sunbeam '. With 66 Illustrations. 
 
 CLODD'S (E.) Story of Creation : a 
 
 Plain Account of Evolution. With 
 77 Illustrations. 
 
 DOYLE'S (A. Conan) Hicah Clarke : a 
 Tale of Monmouth's Rebellion. 
 
 FROUDE'S (J. A.) Short Studies on 
 Great Subjects. 4 vols. 
 
 Caesar : a. Sketch. 
 
 Thomas Carlyle : a History 
 
 of his Life. 1795-1835. 2 vols. 
 1834-1881. 2 vols. 
 
 The Two Chiefs of Dunboy : 
 
 an Irish Romance of the Last 
 Century. 
 
 GLEIG'S (Rev. G. R.) Life of the Duke 
 of Wellington. With Portrait. 
 
 HAGGARD'S (H. R.) She : A History of 
 Adventure. 32 Illustrations. 
 
 Allan Quatermain. With 
 20 Illustrations. 
 
 Colonel Quaritch, V.C. : a 
 Tale of Country Life. 
 
 Cleopatra. With 29 Full- 
 page Illustrations. 
 
 HOWITT'S (W.) Visits to Remarkable 
 Places. 80 Illustrations. 
 
 JEFFERIES' (R.) The Story of My 
 Heart: My Autobiography. With 
 Portrait. 
 
 Field and Hedgerow. Last 
 Essays of. With Portrait 
 
 MACLEOD'S (H. D.) The Elements of 
 Banking. 
 
 MARSHMAN'S (J. C.) Memoirs of Sir 
 Henry Havelock. 
 
 MERIVALE'S (Dean) History of the 
 Romans under the Empire. 8 vols. 
 
 MILL'S (J. S.) Principles of Political 
 Economy. 
 
 System of Logic. 
 
 8vo. price 35. 6d. each volume. 
 
 NEWMAN'S (Cardinal) Historical 
 Sketches. 3 vols. 
 
 Apologia Pro Vita Sua. 
 
 Callista : a Tale of the Third 
 Century. 
 
 Loss and Gain : a Tale. 
 
 Essays, Critical and His- 
 torical. 2 vols. 
 
 An Essay on the Develop- 
 ment of Christian Doctrine. 
 
 The Arians of the Fourth 
 Century. 
 
 Verses on Various Occa- 
 sions. 
 
 Parochial and Plain Ser- 
 mons. 8 vols. 
 
 Selection, adapted to the 
 Seasons of the Ecclesiastical Year, 
 from the 'Parochial and Plain 
 Sermons '. 
 
 Difficulties felt by Anglicans 
 in Catholic Teaching Considered. 
 
 2 VolS. 
 
 The Idea of a University 
 defined and Illustrated. 
 
 Biblical and Ecclesiastical 
 Miracles. 
 
 Discussions and Arguments 
 
 on Various Subjects. 
 
 Grammar of Assent. 
 
 The Via Media of the An- 
 glican Church, illustrated in Lec- 
 tures, &c. 2 vols. 
 
 Sermons bearing upon Sub- 
 jects of the Day. Edited by the 
 Rev. J. W. Copeland, B.D.. late 
 Rector of Farnham, Essex. 
 
 STANLEY'S (Bishop) Familiar History 
 of Birds. With j6o Illustrations. 
 
 WOOD'S (Rev. J. G.) Petland Re- 
 visited. With 33 Illustrations. 
 
 Strange Dwellings. With 60 
 
 Illustrations. 
 
 trations. 
 
 Out of Doors. With n Illus-
 
 22 A CA TALOGUE OF BOOKS IN GENERAL LITERA TURE 
 
 SMITH (R. Bosworth).-CARTHAGE AND THE CARTHAGINIANS. 
 
 Maps, Plans, &c. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 SOPHOCLES. Translated into English Verse. By ROBERT WHITELAW. 
 
 Crown 8vo. 8s. 6d. 
 
 STANLEY (E.). A FAMILIAR HISTORY OF BIRDS. With 160 Wood- 
 cuts. Crown 8vo. 35. 6d. 
 
 STEEL (J. H.). A TREATISE ON THE DISEASES OF THE DOG; 
 being a Manual of Canine Pathology. 88 Illustrations. 8vo. io.f. 6d. 
 
 A TREATISE ON THE DISEASES OF THE OX ; being a Manual 
 
 of Bovine Pathology. 2 Plates and 117 Woodcuts. 8vo. 155. 
 
 A TREATISE ON THE DISEASES OF THE SHEEP; being a 
 
 Manual of Ovine Pathology. With Coloured Plate and 99 Woodcuts. 8vo. 125. 
 
 STEPHEN (Sir James). ESSAYS IN ECCLESIASTICAL BIO- 
 GRAPHY. Crown 8vo. 73. 6d. 
 
 STEPHEN'S (H. Morse). A HISTORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLU- 
 TION, svols. 8vo. Vol. I. i8j. Vol. II. i8j. [Vol. III. in the press. 
 
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