There was no sign of life about the premises, and we were led to wonder whether the gang was within the hut sleeping off last night's fatigue, or whether they were off on an expedition. If the latter surmise was correct, we might have to wait three or four days before they returned, and that was something which we could not afford to do.

If the gang was asleep, an excellent opportunity was offered to capture them without the loss of a man; but who would venture to creep to the hut and find out, when there was a probability of a dozen men being encompassed behind those walls, waiting to take us by surprise, instead of our treating them to such a course of strategy!

Murden looked first at his men, but they rather avoided his eyes, and then his glance wandered to the old convict, but he did not appear to take the hint, and returned the stave with one of mildness. Fred's turn came next, and in him the right man was found.

"I see what you want, lieutenant," Fred said, with a smile, "and I am ready to comply. Keep me well covered with your guns, and think there is not much danger."

He left his rifle with me, and then, getting upon his hands and knees, crept forward, carefully sheltering his body, as far as possible, with stumps and tufts of grass, until he reached the door, which stood open. He glanced hastily in, and then, without wasting time, turned his steps towards us as fast as possible.

"Well," we whispered, "what have you to report?"

"The bushrangers are in the hut, and sleeping, I think."

"Are you sure?" asked Murden.

"No. I am not sure that they are sleeping, but I am sure that they are lying on the floor, and apparently are not aware of our approach," returned Fred.

"Then let us move onward without delay, for the cracking of a branch might cost us our lives, and that is something none of us wish to spare, just now."

With cautious steps the men moved towards the hut, led by Fred and Murden. We met with no opposition, although it would not have surprised me to have heard a discharge of musketry as we advanced.

We gained the door without awakening our adversaries, and saw them stretched upon the floor, little dreaming that danger was so near.

On we stole until all our force was within the hut, and each policeman held a cocked carbine at the head of a bushranger. Still they did not awaken, and it could only be accounted for on the supposition that they had been up all night making merry over our supposed death by fire.

"Kill the first man that offers to stir, in his defence," the lieutenant said, after having carefully collected all the guns that could be found handy.

"We're betrayed!" he yelled, in a voice so shrill that it awoke every bushranger as suddenly as though the blast of a trumpet had rang through the room.

There were mingled oaths and exclamations, and desperate attempts to gain their feet; and one young fellow, who, in spite of warnings and threats, persisted in getting up, was shot through the head, and his brains spattered upon his comrades, who were lying by his side.

"Kill all who resist!" yelled Murden, scenting blood like a tiger; "if they submit, spare them, but death to the refractory."

The shooting of one appeared to have a good effect on the others, for although many a menacing glance was east upon us, and many a half-uttered oath was checked, yet there was no more struggling, or thoughts of resistance.

"I thought you dead," muttered Nosey, after a keen glance at the face of the lieutenant.

"It is not your fault that we are not," answered Murden, dryly.

"No, that it is not, for I meant to roast you and your force; in a few hours we intended to start on an expedition, and look for your bones. How did you escape?" asked the unabashed robber.

"That you will never know; be assured that Providence has no such fortune in store for you, and that if enough wood and rope can be found, the manner of your death will not remain a mystery."

"Perhaps you mean by that I shall die on the gallows?" demanded the bushranger.

Murden nodded his head in token of assent.

"I'll bet you two to one, that a rope will never end my existence," cried the fellow, with an impudence and coolness that almost surpassed belief.

"Bind the villains with stout cords, for the present," cried the lieutenant, returning no answer to the banter of Nosey, who fired with indignation at the epithet.

"Whom do you call villains?" he demanded. "We were forced to become robbers by the tyrants of the hulks, and all the wrongs which were there inflicted upon us we have returned; and we should not have been human had we acted otherwise."

"I have no time to bandy words with you, even if I had the inclination," returned Murden; "get upon your feet, and submit to be bound like the rest; we know no distinction, and serve all the same."

The bushranger slowly rose to his feet, and his hideous face seemed almost to burst, so livid were the scars which marked it; his eyes were injected with blood, and glared like those of a wild beast.

"Bind me as soon as you please; here are my hands; you see that I am harmless and unarmed; the lion can be taken by his mane, for his claws are clipped, and his teeth are broken."

"You think, I suppose," Nosey said, with an angry scowl, "that you will have the pleasure and triumph of carrying me to Melbourne alive; you are mistaken."

"Look well to your prisoner!" shouted the officer, as the men prepared to slip a cord over his wrists.

He was too late in his warning, for the desperate robber suddenly thrust his hand into his bosom and drew forth a huge knife, which he waved over his head.

The policemen started back, surprised and confused at the suddenness of the action; and before they could rush and disarm the prisoner, he was outside of the door, nourishing the knife, and threatening death to all who opposed him.

"Fire on him!" yelled Murden, perfectly frantic at the thought of his escape. "Kill him—kill him!"

The robber rushed towards the woods, and it seemed as though he would escape in spite of the loaded guns which we carried in our hands; but one of the men, more cool than the rest of us, discharged his carbine, and the ball struck the right leg of Nosey, and crushed the bone as easily as though it was a pipe stem.

Wounded as he was, he did not immediately stop, but continued on, striving to gain the woods, as though his safety was secure if he could reach them. But the effort was too much for human endurance. He staggered, struggled to maintain his erect position, and then fell with a crash to the ground. We went towards him; he did not move; we turned him over, and found that he was lying in a pool of blood, quite dead. Either by accident or design, he had fallen upon his knife, and it was sheathed to the hilt in his heart.

RETURN TO THE STOCKMAN'S HUT.—SMITH IN LOVE.

The bushrangers were struck with awe at the sudden death of their chief, and made no resistance as they were bound in pairs. Indeed their audacity appeared to desert them, although they maintained a sulken aspect until they got a glimpse of Steel Spring, who, to prevent mistakes had been bound to a tree, while we secured his comrades.

The glances of hate and scorn which were cast upon their betrayer appeared to have no effect upon his well-tried nerves, and he seemed to act as though he had done his duty and was not ashamed of it, and didn't care who knew the part which he had played in the drama. The death of Nosey, however, appeared to astonish Steel Spring, for when he was allowed to see the body he grew pathetic.

"Do you still think of robbery?" demanded Murden, sternly.

"No, sir; I vouldn't take a shillin' from a traveller to save my life. But ven I thinks of the times ve've had, I feels like shedding tears! A vonderful man vas Nosey; so 'andsome, too!"

"Cease your nonsense, and answer me one or two questions," Murden said; "the gang has plundered for months; do you know where they concealed their money?"

"I'm blessed if I do," replied Steel Spring, with alacrity.

"Do you think that our prisoners know?"

"Veil, that feller who is looking at me so cross, as though I'd hinjured him, could tell if he'd got a mind to," replied Steel Spring, pointing to a robber who seemed to be regarded as a sort of leader, now that Nosey was dead.

"Are you disposed to inform me where Nosey buried his money?" asked Murden, appealing to the man.

"And what inducements do you hold out, if I give you the information?" asked the robber, dryly.

"I do not promise you your life, but I think that I can get the sentence put off a few months," the lieutenant replied.

"And you suppose that I will reveal on such conditions?" demanded the bushranger, impudently.

"I do; you have every thing to gain, and nothing to lose."

"My life, I suppose, you call nothing; that is already forfeited, you seem to think; but you shall find that, robber as I am, I know how to keep a secret."

"Then you refuse to divulge?"' asked Murden.

The bushranger regarded him with a scornful air, and remained silent. Murden grew excited, and forgot that he was only an humble instrument of the law, and that life and death were not at his disposal after men had surrendered.

"Throw a tackle over the branch of yonder tree," he said, pointing to a sturdy gum tree which grew near; "we will save the courts of Melbourne the trouble of trying the fellow."

The bushranger did not seem surprised, or appear to be affected at the news.

Not so the policemen; they knew that their officer was exceeding his authority, but their discipline was too good to allow them to cavil at his orders, right or wrong.

They threw a rope over the shrub pointed out, and then making a slip-noose, passed it around the neck of the obstinate robber. Still he wore his scornful look, and did not even ask for mercy, which Murden had evidently anticipated.

"Will you reveal?" demanded the lieutenant.

"No!" he yelled: and with his refusal was a gesture of the most impudent and insulting nature.

"Up with him, men!" cried the officer, beside himself with passion.

Smith, during all of this time, had been a spectator, instead of an actor in the tragedy; but when he saw that the policemen were unable to carry their designs into effect, he appeared to recollect the death of his oxen, and to think that the present was an excellent time to avenge their death.

He rushed to the rope, and pulled away at it with such good will that the bushranger was raised from the ground a few inches, and by the spasmodic movement of his feet, I saw that he was choking, and could exist but a few minutes longer.

"Are you mad?" I asked of Murden; "you have no authority to hang the man; the courts of Melbourne will make a noise about the matter, be assured."

The lieutenant appeared to reflect, and seemed to think that my advice was worthy of being taken, for he waved his hand, and the nearly strangled man was lowered to the ground, much to the disgust of Smith, who appeared to think that he was cheated of his prey.

"Once more, I ask you to reveal the hiding-place of the treasure," the officer said, when he found that the robber had sufficiently recovered to answer his question.

"I refused when a rope was tightened around my neck, did I not?" the bushranger asked, in a gasping manner.

Murden nodded his head in token of assent.

"And do you think that, after being half choked to death, I'll reveal now?" he demanded, in an indignant tone; "I'll see you and your cowardly police d——d first; and sooner or later I know that you will be."

"Up with him again!" cried the angry lieutenant; but his rage was only momentary, and before the men could put his order into execution, he countermanded it.

"You are too impudent a scoundrel to die immediately; a few months' solitary confinement in the prison at Melbourne, with nothing but bread and water to eat, and the certain prospect of a long, lingering death, will tame your spirit, and make you docile."

"Do you think so?" asked the bushranger, with a sneer.

Murden made no reply.

"If I am placed in solitary confinement," the robber said, "I shall have the more time to think upon the many poor devils who have begged their lives of me, and yet never got their prayers granted. I shall think of the meet revenge I have had for my injuries during a long term of imprisonment at the hulks. I shall think of the many pounds of gold dust which I have robbed from passing trains; and better than all, I shall laugh to know that the police force of Melbourne cannot find it to enrich themselves."

"Devil!" yelled one of the men, more fiery than the rest, "do you mock us?"

He raised his carbine, and with no gentle hand let the breech fall upon the fellow's head. The blow loosened the skin, and let loose a torrent of blood.

He dipped his finger into his blood, and held it aloft for his comrades to see. Had those men been free, our number would have been lessened in a very few minutes; for such expressions of rage passed over their faces, that it seemed as though the devil had entered their bodies.

"You did wrong to strike him, Manuel," Murden said, and that was all the reproof the man received.

"When I'm arraigned before my judges, I shall tell them of the blow," muttered the bushranger, wiping the blood from his brow.

"Do so, if you think it will help your case any," answered Murden, indifferently. "When you get before the judges you speak of, let me advise you to keep a civil tongue, however, or the worse for you."

"I shall speak my mind," replied the bushranger, who appeared determined to have the last word.

Orders were now given to get ready for our passage through the woods; but before we started we threw the bodies of the dead robbers into the hut, and then set it on fire. Long before the flames ceased, we were safe out of the woods, and mounted on our horses, heading towards the old convict's hut.

Our travel was slow, as the bushrangers were compelled to walk with their hands tied behind their backs, and it was only by threatening to ride them down, that we could get them to move at any kind of decent pace.

Smith, whose whole ideas were concentrated on his lost cattle, left us to see if he could find one yoke which were unaccounted for. When we entered the woods in search of the gold buried by Jim Gulpin, we had left two yoke hitched to the cart and a tree, and after our severe ordeal of fire, we had found two oxen burned to death, while two more were missing.

Thinking that, they might have wandered to the corral where the remainder of the cattle were confined, Smith galloped across the prairie and was soon out of sight. He did not rejoin us until we reached the hut, where we found that he had regained his oxen, and was paying considerably more attention to the old stockman's daughter than to his own affairs.

There was one thing which he deserved credit for, and it was accorded him with all our hearts. The supper which he provided was capable of making us forget our pains and fatigue; for a roasted lamb was smoking on a table, and three or four gallons of coffee were all ready to be drank, to restore us to new life.

All the articles which we had left at the hut were found in good order, and nothing was missing. It may seem strange that a stockman's hovel, miles away from other habitations, should escape the assaults of bushrangers; but the latter knew their own interests too well to meddle with keepers of sheep and cattle.

The only instance of attack on my friend's house, on record, was when Jim Gulpin and his band required the surrender of a number of policemen sheltered within its walls. The result of that assault is well known to the readers of these sketches; so I will not review the circumstances.

During our absence the old man's daughter, or, in other words, Mrs. Becky Lang, had attended to her few household duties, and also watched our cattle, to prevent their straying from the corral. She had supplied them with water from the small stream, and in every respect behaved like a courageous woman, as she was. She had, apparently, recovered from the deepest of her grief on account of the loss of her husband, and her full ruddy cheek gave ample tokens of good health.

I saw that Smith was more attentive on our return than perhaps there was any occasion for; and I also noticed that the woman appeared anxious that he should have the best of every thing, and helped him twice to our once.

There was no occasion for our complaining, however, although we did joke Smith upon the conquest he had made, and asked if he had named the happy day; questions which he took in very good part, in spite of the blushes which mantled his sun-burned face.

That evening I offered my sincere congratulations, when Smith, after a confused account of what he wanted to do, informed me with an air of secrecy, that he had spoken to Becky, and that she had returned an answer that she thought she could make him happy the remainder of his life.

"But when is the wedding to take place?" I asked, coolly lighting my pipe; for the reader will please to note that it was not I who contemplated the awful act, and therefore I could condole with other people's woes with great equanimity.

"Well, I'd like to have it take place immediately, but there's no parson near," replied Smith, with great deliberation and solemnity.

Like all lovers, he wished to hasten his fate, and have the affair off his mind.

"But what will you do with your wife while absent with a load at the mines?" I asked.

"O, we've fixed all that—Becky and I have. She will live at our house in Melbourne, where she can be nice and comfortable, until I'm rich enough to start some kind of business in the city, when I can remain at home and enjoy her society."

I looked at the man, and actually compared him to a young lover, sighing at the first thoughts of his mistress, and picturing to himself how happy he could be with her in a cottage.

I filled my pipe afresh, and smoked for a few minutes in silence.

"Well, Smith," I said, extending my hand, "I give you joy, and hope that nothing will ever occur to disturb your happiness. I should like to be present at the ceremony, but I fear that it will be impossible."

"I don't know as it is so very difficult. There are parsons at the mines, and Ballarat is nearer than Melbourne."

I knew what he wanted me to do, but I feared that we should waste too much valuable time. He looked hard at me to see if I was not intending to urge him to take the lady with us, but as I smoked on in silence, he did not continue the conversation.

We were all tired enough at sundown to stretch our weary limbs upon the ground, and endeavor to sleep in peace for one night. To prevent our being surprised, sentinels were stationed around the hut, with orders to keep their eyes open, and report if any thing of a suspicious character was seen.

Whether they acted up to the orders is more than I know, but of one thing I'm positive. After I rested my head upon my knapsack, I did not awaken until I felt a hand laid upon my shoulder, when, starting up, I found that Murden was standing by my side.

"Day is just breaking," he said; "I am sorry to disturb you, but you know we must be on the march to Melbourne by sunrise. Have breakfast with us for the last time, and then we'll to the saddle."

I could not resist the temptation, and when I had packed my blankets, I found that the policemen had nearly completed their arrangements for breakfast, and were feeding the prisoners with the remnants of last night's repast.

Coffee was swallowed hastily, and then the clear, ringing notes of the bugle gave the signal for bringing up the horses.

"You surely don't intend to make these poor devils walk all the way?" I asked of the lieutenant, just before he started.

"They will have to walk until we come across teams on the road to Melbourne, and then I shall let them ride. There is no other way that I can do," he replied.

Even while we were talking, the bugle sounded to mount, so anxious were the men to reach the city.

"There will be a large amount of money placed to your credit," Murden said. "Remember that each bushranger killed or taken prisoner is worth one hundred pounds."

"We hope we shall never be poor enough to ask for it," Fred replied.

"I hope that you never will be in want, certainly," Murden said, "but I do hope that your sensibilities will not prevent you from accepting that which is legally your own. I have no time to argue with you more, but in less than a month I shall be at Ballarat, when we will further discuss the subject."

"You will have business there at that time?" I asked.

"I think that I shall. The miners have suddenly become convinced that it is not right to pay government taxes for the privilege of digging gold. Nothing serious has occurred as yet; but how long the storm will hold off is quite uncertain."

"I should be happy to see you both residents of Melbourne, but I cannot advise you to turn from the course you have marked out. Go to the mines and satisfy yourselves that the labor of gold digging is the hardest labor that you ever undertook, and that a week of such work is sufficient to convince you of the fact."

We resolved to follow Murden's advice, and were about to bid him farewell, when he added,—"If you conclude to remain at the mines, write me a full account of how matters stand, and what you think of the demands of the miners. I can rely upon you, for you have not mingled with the men, and of course do not at present sympathize with them. I do not ask the favor because I wish you to act the part of a spy, but simply for my own gratification."

We promised faithfully to keep him advised of our movements, and also those of the disaffected part of the residents of Ballarat, and with a hearty shake of his hand, Murden wheeled his horse and galloped after his command, which had been gone some time.

"Now, Smith, we are once more dependent upon ourselves. Shall we first go after our cart, and repair it, or do you feel like resting for a day or two?"

"Well, I don't know," answered Smith, in response to Fred's question. "I feel as though I should like to rest for a few hours; you see the confounded hole where we roosted was so hot, that I'm pretty nearly used up."

I saw through his design, but concluded not to notice it. Like all lovers, he hated to tear himself from the idol of his heart, and thought that a few hours might alleviate his pain.

"Well, we'll postpone our trip until to-morrow, and to be certain that we shall be ready then, we will take two yoke of cattle and bring up the team and repair it. Had we not lost that bag of gold which we have wasted so much time for, I think that we should have bought you a new cart, of later pattern."

Fred spoke jestingly, and yet not without a sigh at the magnitude of our loss. The old stockman, who was seated on a bench at his door, overheard the conversation, and interrupted us.

"Who says the gold is lost?" he asked.

"We all do," replied Fred; "the bag was not to be found where Jack placed it."

"I know that," the old man answered, with a silent chuckle.

"How do you know that it was gone!' I demanded.

"Why, because when you threw it down, I picked it up, and made my way out of the woods as fast as possible."

"And the bushrangers took it from you?" I demanded.

"I didn't say so," the stockman replied, coolly.

"You don't mean to tell me that the money is safe?" asked Fred.

"And let those police fellers share with us? No, no; I know too much for that; they would have required at least half the amount found, and I didn't think my young friends here would be willing to be bled to such an extent. They shall have the money, and can do as they please. I have redeemed my word; I promised to assist them, for they have assisted me; and when I have placed the gold in their hands, I shall think that I have only paid them a small portion of the debt which I owe them."

We were too much surprised and delighted to speak for some time, for the recovery of the money was something we were not prepared for.

RECOVERY OF THE GOLD.—ARRIVAL AT BALLARAT.

"Lead us to the spot where you have secreted our gold," we cried, with one accord.

"There's time enough," replied the old man; "I tell you that it is safe, and where I can get it any time. What more would you have?"

"We would have the assurance that we possess it, so that we can reward those who have aided us in searching for it. We wish to feel that we are indeed worth so much money, so that we can lay our plans for the future."

"Do you say that you wish to reward those who helped you obtain it?" asked the stockman, removing his pipe and pricking up his ears.

"Of course we do," replied Fred, eagerly; "do you think that we are so selfish as to claim the whole of the prize?"

"It's not for myself that I ask; 'tis for my daughter, who, in case I am called to rest, will be destitute. Every pound shall be returned to you, and then if you think from out of your abundant means, you can spare the old convict and his child a few grains of dust, why, we shall be thankful."

"Don't fear for me, father," the daughter said, with an expressive glance at the brawny form of Smith, which seemed to say that he is "strong enough to take care of me in this world of trouble."

"But I do care for you, for who else have I to love in this world?" answered the stockman, wiping away a tear.

"And will you not let another share that love?" she said, fondling his gray hairs, as though she had just awakened to a sense of his worth.

"What do you mean, girl?" he demanded, with a suspicious glance at her face, which was suffused with blushes.

"You have just lost one husband, and who thinks of whispering nonsense in your ears? Not these young gallants, I hope, for they never would be willing to introduce you to their homes; and if they mean false, the old gun is still capable of sending a bullet as true as the day that I took it from a bushranger for killing my sheep."

"O, no, father; the young gentlemen have hardly spoken to me, and if I should wait for them to make love, I should never be married."

"Then who has caught your fancy, and made you feel as though you wished to desert your old father?" demanded the old convict, sternly.

"Not to desert you, father, for you shall come and live with us, and give up your shepherd's occupation. The work is too hard and dangerous for one of your years, and if you wish to make money the city offers larger inducements."

"I don't understand all of this," cried the old man, wiping his brow, and staring at us as though he wished we would explain. "You want me to live with you, yet when, and where, I am left to conjecture."

"He will tell you all," cried the daughter, breaking away and entering the hut, her face nearly as red as Smith's, and the latter's seemed as though burning. He cast an imploring glance towards me, and I helped him out of the dilemma as well as I was able.

"A man whom you might well be proud to call son-in-law has taken a fancy to your daughter, and seeks to make her his wife. The match in one that you can't help approving, for he is able to support her and be a kind husband. What more can you ask for?"

"I ask for the name of the person, and you confuse me with a torrent of praise," exclaimed the old man, testily.

"Here he is to speak for himself," I said, leading Smith up. "This is the man who desires to become your son-in-law."

"Are you serious, Smith?" the stockman asked, with a suspicious glance of his keen, gray eye.

"I assure you that I am, and that I will labor with all my might to make your child a happy wife."

Smith bore the scrutiny without flinching, although his words were uttered by syllables.

"But my child is poor; I can give her neither wealth, nor a proud, untarnished name. I have been a sentenced convict."

"And what have I been?" asked Smith, with a tremulous voice, his head falling upon his breast.

"Let us not refer to such matters," cried the stockman, briskly, throwing off, with an effort, the constraint which the conversation had given him. "I ask you if you are willing to marry my daughter, poor as she is, and poor as you know me to be?"

The stockman's gray eyes were fixed upon the face of the suitor as though reading his most secret thoughts.

"Else I should not have uttered them," Smith answered.

"Then my daughter shall be your wife; but she will not be the penniless woman you think for. Follow me, and I will show you a sight that will surprise you."

Thinking that the invitation was not addressed to us, Fred and myself held back, and did not offer to follow the old man into his hut. The stockman saw that we hesitated, and he called to us.

"Come in, all of you. I can trust friends, and I am sure you have all proved to be such."

We followed, wondering what he meant by his words and hasty gestures, and half inclined to think that the late trials through which he had passed, had unsettled his brain.

"Come in," he whispered, "and shut the door. We don't want passing strangers to see what we have concealed. Becky, where is the iron bar?" he whispered, still lower.

His daughter handed a small iron bar to him, and with it he raised the corner of a heavy stone, which formed his hearth.

"Now hold the bar in that position for me," he said, addressing Smith.

The latter complied, with his request, when the stockman inserted his hand under the stone, and after groping about for a moment, pulled out a heavy sheepskin bag, and laid it beside him. Once more he reached, and again dragged to light another bag, similar in size and weight. He motioned to let the stone return to its place, and then turned to us with a triumphant air.

While the old man was thus employed, we remained silent, hardly knowing what the proceedings on his part meant. With trembling hands he untied the strings which confined the mouths of the bags, and held them up for us to view. To our amazement, we found they were filled with fine gold dust, of an excellent quality, and that the two sacks contained not less than twenty thousand dollars' worth.

We uttered an exclamation of astonishment, and could hardly believe that what we saw was real.

"Yes, yes; it's all good gold, God be praised," cried the stockman, eagerly; "you thought that the old man was poor and destitute, but you see that I'm not. I've wealth, and it's all my own. God be praised."

"But how came you in possession of so much gold dust?" asked Fred; a slight suspicion crossing his mind that the old convict might have employed his leisure hours at a bushranger's occupation.

"Honestly, good youth, honestly. God knows all things, and he will acquit me of obtaining the dust otherwise."

"The amount is large for a person to possess who has received only a few dollars per year for his services as shepherd," Fred remarked.

"I know—I know," cried the old man, trembling with eagerness, and hastily taking up the bags again, and depositing them under the stone.

The old convict actually straightened his lank body, and looked proudly upon his daughter, as he thought of the homage which he should receive as a wealthy man.

"But you have not told us how you became possessed of so much gold," Smith said, rather coolly.

"Never you mind how I got it—that is a secret. But be assured, one half goes to you on the day that you marry my daughter."

"I accept of the woman, but before the gold crosses my palm, I must know that it was—"

Smith hesitated, for he did not like to wound the old man's feelings.

"You would say honestly," cried the stockman, looking Smith full in the face with his calm, gray eyes. "I like you better for your reluctance to receive a portion with your wife until you know that you can use it with honor. Be assured that you can do so."

"Convince me of the fact by relating how it came into your possession, and I am satisfied," returned Smith.

"O James, James, have mercy," murmured the distressed daughter, who was a witness of the scene.

The sturdy Smith resisted her appeal, and did not withdraw his eyes from the face of the stockman, who seemed slightly discomposed at the pertinacity of his intended son-in-law.

The old man hesitated and muttered to himself, and at length appeared to recover sufficient confidence to speak.

"Will all three of you solemnly promise me that you will not divulge the secret which I am about to impart?" he demanded.

"We will readily give our consent, because we have fought too many battles, side by side, to injure a friend, even if he has been guilty of imprudence," he replied.

"And will you also promise not to interfere with my plans, and demand to share my profits?" he asked.

We smiled, for we thought how little he was capable of coping with the energy and enterprise of ourselves.

"I see that you consent," he cried; "and now for the friend that yielded all the wealth which I possess. Follow me a short distance."

He led the way at a rapid pace towards the small stream which we had crossed so many times, and near the very spot where we had encamped on our first visit to that part of the country.

"There is where I obtained my gold," he said, stopping suddenly, and pointing with his hand towards the bank of the stream.

"You are misleading us," I said, not knowing what he meant.

"So help me, Heaven, I am not. Here, on the banks of the stream, I have dug and washed thousands of pans full of earth, and yet no living soul ever saw me at work. Here did I collect my gold, a shilling's worth at a time, some days, and on other occasions by the ounce, until I gained what I possess. I have toiled for it during heat and wet, and every grain that you saw was obtained that way."

We were silent from wonder, and could hardly realize that he spoke the truth. At length, Fred remarked,—

"For months, then, you have been aware of the existence of gold in this particular spot?"

"Not only in one spot, but all along the stream can gold be found. Even where you stand scales of dust can be obtained. The earth is full of treasure, and requires but little stirring to enrich all who choose to work."

"Then there is no occasion for us to go farther," I said; "here will we rest and try our luck."

"You can't," shrieked the old man, shaking his withered hands, and gesticulating violently. "You have promised not to interfere with my work, and I hold you to your word. To me belongs the exclusive right of mining on this land. I cannot share it with strangers."

"Why, how unreasonable and selfish you are, to exclude us from the privileges which you enjoy!" returned Fred, angrily.

"Not so," replied the old man, somewhat mortified. "Let a rumor reach Melbourne that gold is to be found by the side of this small stream, and thousands of adventurers will flock here. My sheep would be driven off or destroyed—the stream would be dried up, for there is hardly water enough to supply my animals at the present time. Men would perish with thirst, and cut each other's throats in their despair. My home would be invaded, and the old man forced from the ground, and perhaps lose his all while struggling in the race for wealth."

There was too much truth in the old man's words, and we were not disposed to gainsay them. Still, we did not like to relinquish a chance for money-making, and therefore we were disposed to argue the question.

"Here are days," we said, "when not a team or a foot passenger passes this way. We could always be on the watch, and as soon as we saw strangers we could desist from digging. Besides, then you would have us near you to protect and look after your interest. Consider how much we could assist you."

"I considered every thing," replied the old man, with a shake of his gray head, as though he was determined not to be convinced. "I knew that, unless I exacted a solemn promise, you would be wild to take advantage of my information. But I know your hearts, and am well aware that you will not struggle against an old man's wishes."

"Our company is disagreeable to you, then," Fred said. "We will not force ourselves upon you, be assured. In an hour's time we shall turn our backs upon the place, and probably never return."

"Come, come," cried the old convict, extending his hand, which we were in no hurry to accept. "You are angry with me, and yet you have no just cause, for I would expose my life to assist you. You are richer than I, and need not quarrel with an old friend for the sake of working from the earth a few scales of gold. Let me remain here in peace; for the present, without being elbowed by strangers."

"We are agreed," I replied, pressing the stockman's hand: and as we did so, a vision of his services rose before us, and amply rewarded us for the slight sacrifice which we had made.

"Now," cried the stockman, "we are friends again; and to prove that I am such, before noon I will place in your hands the bag of gold which we came so near losing night before last"

"Ah, now we are convinced that you have our interest at heart," Fred said, joyfully. "Let us but touch the treasure and you shall share with us."

"I want no share—I've been repaid, ay, more than repaid, in obtaining my freedom through your instrumentality, and if I can make some return I shall be happy."

We no longer stopped to discuss the question of working upon his claim, and in less than ten minutes after our return to the hut, we had saddled our horses, and leaving Smith to follow with his oxen, for the purpose of bringing home his half-consumed cart, we started once more towards the still smoking woods.

The hot winds of Australia, which begin about ten o'clock in the forenoon, swept over the prairie with a blast that felt like the flames of an extensive conflagration, and yet we heeded it not, for our whole thoughts were fixed, like greedy misers, upon the gold which we were soon to acquire, and we speculated what we should do with our wealth, and how expend it.

We urged our panting horses to their utmost speed, and not until the old stockman cried out to us to draw up, or we should exhaust the brutes, did we allow them to take breath.

"There's no use in being in such a hurry," he said, "because we are near the spot, and have all the afternoon to get home."

In fact, even while he was speaking he dismounted near Smith's cart, and we quickly followed his example.

"When I made my escape from the bushrangers, and carried off the gold, I recollected that I had seen a stone near this spot, and that some kind of animal had burrowed under it. The knowledge served me a good turn, for when I gained the edge of the woods I scraped away a little dirt and dropped the bag into the hole. Then I rapidly covered it, and entered the forest again undiscovered."

While he was speaking our eyes had wandered in search of the rock which he was mentioning, and within a rod of us we found it. We hardly waited to hear the conclusion of his words before we had pushed aside the loose dirt, and saw the soiled canvas bag which we had taken from the earth on the day of our capture.

We raised it carefully from its hiding-place, and found that the weight had not diminished. With eager hands we untied the strings, and exposed to our longing eyes the glittering scales of gold dust, mixed with gold coins, sovereigns, and American ten and twenty dollar pieces.

"Well," asked the stockman, "how much do you think you are worth now?"

The old fellow was as cool as an iceberg, and offered a striking contrast to our excitement.

"Twenty thousand dollars," replied Fred, weighing the bag with both hands; and no easy matter he found it to hold the gold at arm's length.

"More than that," replied the stockman, with a smile of gratified pride at our pleasure. "Say thirty thousand, and you will come nearer the mark."

"Five thousand shall go to reward you for your trouble," I said.

We mounted our horses again, and hugging the bag of gold to my saddle bow, as though fearful I should meet bushrangers to dispute my right to it at every step, we recrossed the prairie, meeting Smith on the way, to whom we imparted our good fortune, and received his congratulations. By three o'clock the gold was safe under the hearthstone, and then we breathed free, and felt that we indeed owned it.

By six o'clock Smith joined us with his dilapidated cart, when we immediately commenced repairing it, and getting ready for our journey towards Ballarat.

By the ingenious use of tree limbs, we were enabled to repair it sufficiently to carry all of our freight; and after it was loaded on, we ate our supper, and prepared for an early start.

The gold, which we were so glad to obtain possession of, troubled us, however. We did not like to risk its safety with us, for we knew that the population of Ballarat were wild and lawless, and we were rather fearful of losing our treasure, now that we possessed it. We consulted with Smith, and came to the conclusion that the safest place was with the honest old stockman, buried beneath his stone hearth. He readily accepted of the trust, and promised to deliver it only upon a written order, signed by both of us, and with a private mark upon the paper.

With Smith we settled according to what we considered a liberal reward. The honest fellow refused, at first, to accept of any thing, saying that he had only performed his duty, and that he was still in our debt; but we would not listen to such reasoning, and weighed out five thousand dollars, as his share, for losses sustained, and time expended.

After that matter was settled, we retired to sleep, and only awakened to partake of a substantial breakfast, for which, I have always suspected, we were indebted to the kind consideration Smith was held in by Mrs. Becky. At any rate, every thing that we could desire was spread before us; and when we shook hands with the old stockman and his daughter, I observed that Smith held the woman's hand with a firm grasp, as though reluctant to relinquish it.

Our friends waved an adieu, Smith cracked his whip, and sighed, Rover barked joyfully, as he saw preparations for moving, Fred and myself cautioned the stockman, for the last time, to be careful of our gold, and then we were off; and in half an hour's time had shut out the hut behind a miniature hill, the first which we had seen for many days.

For two days we travelled, meeting teams and vehicles of all descriptions, owned by uncouth individuals, who asked us the news from Melbourne, and ridiculed us when we said that we didn't know the price of ale and beer, or what flour was worth per ton.

As we advanced towards the mining district, the road was filled with people flocking that way, while hundreds were on their return to Melbourne or Sydney.

Occasionally we saw a poor wretch by the roadside, who had apparently lain down to die, too exhausted to proceed upon his journey; while others hailed us, and begged us, in God's name, for a swallow of wine, or other stimulant, to cheer them on their way.

Long before we reached Ballarat our slender stock of liquors was exhausted, and yet we had not administered to the wants of one half of those who sought aid. Indeed, had we listened to all who begged, our provisions would also have disappeared, and we should have had to trust to our purses to replenish our supply.

Smith was an old campaigner in these regions, and cheeked our generosity, by giving us a few words of advice, which we afterwards found were correct.

On we went, the road growing worse and worse as we advanced, and as the wheels sunk into the deep ruts, I thought the wagon would be shattered to pieces in the struggle to extricate it. Dozens of teams were stuck, and despite the yells and curses of the drivers, the tired cattle refused to move.

Smith's oxen, the freshest and strongest we had seen on the road, were often borrowed to give distressed teamsters a lift, so that our progress was rather slow; and it was not until five o'clock that we entered the town of Ballarat, and passed along the main street, which was graced with huts and tents of rough boards, on each side.

On we went, passing the "Melbourne Saloon," the "Sydney Saloon," the "London Hotel," the "American Hotel," the "Californians' Retreat," and numbers of other tents, decorated with huge letters of black paint, and all setting forth the peculiar merits which each offered to the weary traveller.

At one place, we were told that real London porter could be obtained for ten shillings per bottle; and at another, that XX ale was selling for only one shilling per glass.

Signs innumerable greeted our eyes. Doctors, who informed the public that their charges were only one pound per visit, cash in advance to save trouble; carpenters, who offered to build houses at the cheapest rate; carriers, willing to freight goods to any part of Australia, and would not guarantee a safe delivery—all these were passed by without attracting any attention, although the scene was one of novelty and excitement to us.

We gained a portion of the town that was comparatively clear of tents, and near a stream of water. Here Smith thought we had better stop; and tired, and perhaps homesick, we pitched our tent, and ate our first supper at the mines of Ballarat.

THE BULLY OF BALLARAT.—FRED FIGHTS A DUEL.

Horse stealing is not regarded as a very serious crime, I regret to say, in Australia. There is a certain class of people who make no scruple of borrowing an animal without the owner's consent, and if great objection is made to such a proceeding, a resort to firearms quickly settles the matter, generally to the disadvantage of the remonstrant.

The mines are overrun with ruffians, who have no fear of law, and can only be kept in awe by courage superior to their own. Of this we were quickly made acquainted, as we were considered, by the old residents, green, having but recently arrived, and not yet learned the mysteries of Ballarat.

The first case occurred even before we had finished our supper, and perhaps gave us a better insight into the manners and customs of the miners than we could have otherwise learned for months.

I have already said that Fred and myself rode two fine horses, formerly owned by the police department of Melbourne. The animals, owing to the care which we had taken of them during our journey, were in capital order, and worth full as much money as when we first purchased them.

As we had understood that horseflesh was scarce and dear at the mines, we had determined to hold on to the brutes for a few days, and then, if we liked Ballarat, and were disposed to locate there, we had resolved to sell them, to save expense of keeping—no inconsiderable item, where to turn a horse out to pasture was to lose sight of him forever, and where barley was worth about ten dollars a hundred.

We were leisurely sipping our coffee, after looking to the comfort of the animals, having fed and rubbed them down, and allowed them to drink their fill of water, when a thick-set, black-bearded man, evidently partially intoxicated, came swaggering towards us. He wore a blue flannel shirt, open at the neck, exposing a chest brawny enough for Hercules; and around his waist was a leather belt, such as is worn by sailors on shipboard. In the belt was a long knife on one side, and on the other a pistol of mammoth dimensions; but it looked to me as though more dangerous to the holder than the one who stood before it, for the stock was broken, and the barrel rusty and neglected.

Thus equipped, the ruffian—for we could see that he was a ruffian in every movement and in every line of his animal face—swaggered towards us, nodded to Smith in a patronizing manner, and after a broad stare of half-defiance and half-wonder at Fred and myself,—an act of impertinence of which we took no notice,—he began examining the animals as though he was a connoisseur in horseflesh.

"Who is he?" we asked of Smith.

"The worst man in Ballarat. He is called the bully of the mines, and it is as much as a man's life is worth to anger him. His real name is Pete Burley; he served out his time for breaking a man's head and then robbing him, in London. Say nothing to him, but if he speaks, answer him civilly."

This was all spoken in a tone not above a whisper, and we began to think that the fellow was indeed dangerous, if a man like Smith displayed signs of fear in his presence.

After Mr. Pete had satisfied himself which horse possessed the best bottom, he turned towards us, and condescended to honor us with his attention.

"Is them hosses yourn?" he inquired, with a growl, as though the effort of asking a question was painful.

Fred intimated that they belonged to us, and that he considered them, confidentially, fine animals.

"I want to use this ere one, to-night; where's the saddle and fixins?"

"Let him have the animal," whispered Smith, without raising his eyes; "it's better than having trouble with him."

The advice was intended for our benefit, but the Yankee blood which coursed through Fred's veins was opposed to such an inglorious acquiescence.

"You don't intend to take the animal without asking our consent, do you?" inquired Fred, mildly.

The ruffian actually looked astonished, and for a moment did not reply, so bewildered did he seem.

"Have you told them fellers who I is?" asked Pete, appealing to Smith.

"I don't think that I have," replied Smith, hurriedly; "it's all right, Pete; you can have the horse, if you want him."

"If it's all right, I've no more to say; but if it's not all right, I can make it right, d——d quick," the ruffian said, still looking towards us, as though he should like to see a little opposition, just for the sake of showing us who he really was.

"My friend, here," said Fred, pointing to Smith, "is slightly mistaken in what he says. I own the horse you have selected for a ride, and I have objections against loaning him to strangers. You can't have him."

Fred was as cool as ever I saw him in my life. He reached over to the coffee-pot while he was speaking, and deliberately helped himself to coffee, sweetened it to his fancy, and then drank it, without showing the least agitation.

To my surprise, the ruffian, instead of answering Fred's speech, burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, which lasted for some minutes.

"I have told you once," replied Fred, a small, red spot beginning to appear on each cheek, "that the animal is not at your disposal. We are strangers here, it is true, but we are not disposed to be imposed upon."

"Now, I've half a mind to hammer the whole party till you're black and blue, and then drive you from the mines. Why, you fools, who am I? what do you take me for? am I a fighting man or not?'" roared the ruffian, his eyes beginning to grow bloodshot, and his bloated face livid with rage.

By this time, a large number of idlers began to gather around, and listen to the altercation of words. None of them seemed disposed to interfere, although I saw that the mass were too much under the influence of Bully to say a word in our favor, while half a dozen sycophant curs boldly encouraged him in his course of aggression, and whispered to each other, that we should soon knuckle into "nuggets," when the bully got fairly awakened.

We paid no attention to the crowd, but continued to keep our seats and sip our coffee; but when we saw that Pete was determined to carry off the horse at any rate, we concluded that it was time to interfere in earnest.

The bully had begun to unfasten the halter which held the horse, when Fred and myself rose to our feet. The crowd kept at a respectful distance, for they knew that Bully was a man who did not stop to consider who were for or against him, when in a rage, and that he had been known to discharge a pair of pistols in the midst of a party of friends, if he felt that it was necessary to keep up his reputation for fierceness and decision. Under such circumstances, there is but little cause to wonder why men were not disposed to press forward for the purpose of listening and offering assistance.

As I said before, Pete had begun to untie the halter, and the crowd applauded in approbation of his firmness. He held the strap in one hand, when Fred and myself, followed by Smith at a short distance, reached the spot.

"I have told you once, that you cannot have my horse!" cried Fred, firmly and decidedly; "will you have the extreme goodness to let him alone?"

"Look here, you cussed counter-jumper," roared the bully; "if you utter another word, I'll make you eat the hoss and saddle, and then boot you out of town in the bargain. I'm going to have a ride; so stand aside, and don't interfere with me."

He was walking off with the animal, when Fred laid his hand upon the halter. The ruffian turned suddenly, and aimed a blow at Fred's head that would have crushed his skull, had he not quickly avoided it, and allowed the huge fist to pass within a few inches of his face.

The impetus of the blow turned the bully half round, so that he exactly faced Fred, and for a moment he was off his guard; that opportunity was improved by my friend, who saw his advantage.

"By G——d, that was a Yankee blow," yelled a rough-looking genius, who had regarded the scene with great composure during the war of words. "Them fellers is Yankees, and my countrymen, and they is going to have fair play if I can get it. Stand back, all of you, and let us have this thing out. Bob," our new ally said, speaking to a friend, "you just run down to the Californe Saloon, and tell the boys a Yankee is in trouble, and needs help; and mind and tell 'um that they needn't stop to draw the charge of their revolvers."

The person addressed as Bob hastened from the spot; but before I could reward our new friend with a word of thanks, Pete, who had lain as if stunned for a few moments, began to show signs of reviving.

"We must look out for his pistol," said our rough friend, stepping from the crowd, and approaching me. "He will be certain to use it if he is not too groggy."

The words were prophetic; for hardly had the fallen man looked around, after rubbing his eye, when the whole transaction appeared to flash upon his mind.

"I have been struck," he yelled, springing to his feet, and stamping the ground in his rage. "Where is the man that dared to lay a hand upon me? Show him to me, and his blood shall run like water."

"Put up your pistol, Pete," said our new friend, laying his hand upon that weapon, which Burley had drawn, and was about to cock. "You begun this 'ere quarrel, and you are not going to use the barkers without giving the other side a chance. Is it a regular stand up and take match that you want, or do you like ten paces better? If you are for fight, you can be accommodated; but the fellow that fires the first shot, without a signal, dies, if there's any virtue in a revolver."

"A fight, a fight," yelled the outsiders, and even while they were cheering, I saw a dozen or twenty brawny-limbed fellows break through the crowd and rush into the ring.

"We just got word from you, Charley, that an American wanted fair play. Who is he?" asked one of the new comers; and by his peculiar dialect, I knew him for a native of old Vermont.

"These two 'Mericans have been pitched into by Pete Burley, 'cos they won't let him have their hoss. I happened 'long and saw the whole of it, and I tell you it was butfully done, and, no mistake. The Yankee give him Jesse, and yet he fetched him only one winder."

"We'll stick by you, and no mistake," cried our generous countryman, standing between the bully and Fred, for fear that the former should do him some harm. "The fellow is a nuisance, and ought to be kicked from the mines, for he makes his living by sponging and stealing."

"Come, Burley," cried the American addressed as Charley, "is it a fair stand up fight that you want, or an exchange of shots? Our countryman will accommodate you with either, I have no doubt."

"I want his blood; d—— him, I'll have his heart out of him," yelled the ruffian, who was also surrounded by a small circle of admirers. "He has struck me, and I want revenge."

"Well, don't cry about it," cried Charley, quite jocular. "I suppose that there will be no trouble in satisfying you. What say? shall I make arrangements for a meeting, so that you can have a pop at each other?" he continued, addressing Fred.

"The fact of it is," Charley said, dropping his voice to a whisper, "the fellow is a bloodthirsty wretch, and has committed more than half a dozen murders, yet they cannot be brought home to him. You have struck him, and he will take your life on the first opportunity. You had better shoot him, and get him out of the way. I will explain the matter to the government inspector, and there will be nothing said about the matter."

"But you forget that the ruffian may shoot me," replied Fred, with a smile.

"Well, the fact of it is, I disremembered that. But I'll tell you what I will do, if you think it will be of any consolation to you. If he hits you, I'll challenge him, and revenge your loss."

"I am much obliged to you, certainly," Fred replied; "but I won't request you to put your life in danger on my account. If you think I am bound to give satisfaction for the blow, please act in connection with my friend as my second."

"We'll arrange it, never fear," Charley said, with great readiness, as though the meeting was one of the most natural things in the world.

Cowards are always fickle, and can be swayed by good or bad success. Those who a few minutes before were silent, or encouraged the English bully in his course, now left his ranks, arrayed themselves upon our side, and many a hand, rough and hard with toil, was stretched out for us to grasp and receive congratulations.

"Faith, Mr. Yankee," whispered a Hibernian to Fred, "ef ye can kill the divil, do so wid all your heart, for a bigger thief never lived. He stole me boots day afore yesterday, and the spalpeen refuses to return 'um."

"He licked me last week," said another, in an under tone, "and if you think you can afford to beat him for a pound, I'll give it, readily."

"When you aim at him, be sure to fire a second afore the word is given," cried another new, but not very conscientious friend. "It's a trick the bully is up to, and it's that way he treated poor Billy Hanes, who accused him of stealing his dust. Do as I bid you, and you'll be all right."