The Gold Hunter's Adventures Or, Life In Australia Volume 2 ( Of 2 ) by William H. Thomes (books to read in your 30s TXT) 📕

His Man, And Thinking That Fred Was A Good-Natured Sort Of Person, Who

Would Comply With Every Wish.

"Name It," Replied Fred, With Some Little Impatience.

"Could You Lend Me Ten Pounds For A Few Days, Until I Can Collect A Few

Debts That Are Due Me?" The Scamp Asked.

"No, I Can't Do That," Rejoined Fred, Opening Wide The Store Door, "But

I Can Let You Have A Few Of These If They Will Suit You."

He Raised His Foot As He Spoke, And Administered A Few Energetic Kicks

To The Fellow's Posteriors, That Almost Took Him Off His Feet.

"They Fit Well Enough," Cried The Beggar, "But They Don't Suit;" And The

Twain Were Speedily Out Of Sight, And Whenever We Used To See Them

Afterwards, They Would Keep At A Respectable Distance, And Look To See

What Kind Of Boots We Wore.

As We Apprehended No Further Difficulty That Night, We Went To Bed, And

Got Quite A Comfortable Nap Before Sunrise.

Murden, Whose Visit Extended A Day Or Two Longer Than He Intended, Got

Ready To Start In The Afternoon, And Although He Had Only Brought A

Valise With Him, And A Change Of Clothing, Yet Did He Pretend, Every

Time That His Departure Was Mentioned, That He Had To Pack His Things,

And Away He Would Go, And Remain Absent Until He Had Recovered Composure

Sufficient To Face Us Like A Man, And Without A Display Of Weakness.

With A Hearty Shake Of Our Hands, And A Troubled Brow, Murden Left Us;

And Had He Not Undertaken The Difficult Task Of Driving Or Leading His

Newly-Caught Bird, The Cassiowary, Which Gave Him Trouble, And Required

All Of His Attention, He Would Have Broken Down In His Leave-Taking, And

Galloped Off Without Daring To Trust Himself With Words.

As For Steel Spring, He Appeared Delighted At The Idea Of Leaving; For

He Was Fond Of Change, And Required Exciting Scenes To Keep Him Out Of

Mischief, Which He Was Prone To, In Defiance Of The Vigilant Eye That

Murden Kept On Him; And I Had But Little Doubt, As I Stood And Watched

Their Forms Disappear Amidst A Labyrinth Of Tents And Crazy Huts, That

The Long-Limbed Wretch Would Have Murdered Him, And Rejoined A Gang Of

Bushrangers, Had It Not Been For A Sort Of Moral Fear That Prevented Him

From Committing The Crime.

We Felt Lonely For The Balance Of The Day, Although We Were Extremely

Busy In Arranging Our Goods, And In Selling. Our Store Was Crowded From

Noon Until Long Past Sunset, And Then We Were Compelled To Close And

Exclude The Crowd, Owing To Our Being Completely Exhausted, Both

Mentally And Physically, For The Adding Up Of Figures Was A New Kind Of

Brain Work, That Had Not Tasked Us Since The Days When We Were

Schoolboys.

How Many "Nigger Heads" We Sold That Day, Singly, For The Purpose Of

Allowing The Miners To Taste Our Stock Before They Bought Largely, I

Have No Means Of Knowing; But Fortunately For Our Reputation, Smith Had

Displayed Great Prudence In His Bargains, And His "Cavendish" And "Fine

Cut" Were At Length Pronounced The Best That Were Ever Brought To

Ballarat, And So We Got Up A Great Sale Of Tobacco, And Our Stock Ran

Low Before We Had Been Open A Week.

Smith, And The Man He Had Hired To Freight Goods, Remained With Us Three

Days, And Then Returned, In All Haste, To Melbourne For More Goods, For

Our Run Of Custom Was So Great That We Found That A Fresh Supply Of

Articles Was Needed Without Delay. Our Partner Did Not Need Urging To

Return To The City, For The Reader Will Recollect That He Was Recently

Married, And That His Wife Was At Melbourne.

We Found, When He Got Ready To Start, That We Had Taken Gold Dust Enough

To Pay For Our Next Cargo, Even Without Drawing On Our Reserve Fund,

Which Was Held Subject To Our Order In A Melbourne Bank.

We Were Sitting In Our Store One Evening, Smoking Our Pipes, As Usual,

And Talking Over The Business Of The Day, When We Heard A Knock At The

Door, Light And Timid, As Though Delivered By The Hand Of A Woman.

It Was Long Past The Hour Of Our Closing, And We Had Made Preparations

For Retiring For The Night, For Our Hammocks Were Slung, And Ready For

Occupancy, And It Was Seldom That We Had A Visitor At So Late An Hour.

The Knock Started Us, And Even Rover, Who Had Been Sleeping Soundly,

Awoke With A Growl, As Though He Scented Danger, And Was Going To Be

Prepared To Meet It.

"Who Can That Be?" Asked Fred, Involuntarily Placing His Hand Upon His

Revolver.

I Was Unable To Answer The Question, Of Course; But We Waited In Silence

For A Repetition Of The Knocking With As Much Anxiety As Though It Had

Been A Summons Of Instant Execution.

There Was A Secret Gang Of Ruffians In Ballarat At That Time, And In

Defiance Of The Vigilance Of The Police, They Had Committed Many Bold

Robberies, And Even Murders; And The Stories Told Of Their Atrocities

Had Awakened A Feeling In Our Hearts That Perhaps Some Night The

Villains Might Undertake An Attack Upon Ourselves, Knowing, As They

Must, That Our Sales Were Large, And That We Must Have Considerable

Money On Hand, Which We Did Not Deposit At The Government Office, For

The Purpose Of Being Sent To Melbourne Under Military Escort.

Every Night, Since We Had Grown In Importance And Wealth, We Had Slept

With Our Revolvers Under Our Heads, And Beneath Our Pillows Were Small

Bags Of Gold Dust, And Gold And Silver Coin; And When Men Begin To

Collect Riches, They Will Defend Them And Watch Over Them With More

Tenderness Than Any Thing Else That They Possess.

Again We Heard The Knock Upon Our Door, And, We Thought, A Low Groan;

But It Might Have Been The Wind. The Hound Was Snuffing At The Door, And

Uttered A Low Wail, As Though Mourning For The Dead. Two Or Three Times

He Trotted Towards Us, And Then Returned And Scratched At The Woodwork

With His Claws, As Though Anxious To Get Into The Street.

"I Can Stand This No Longer!" Cried Fred, Cocking His Revolver, And

Starting Up. "I Will See Who Is At The Door If A Dozen Robbers Are

Waiting Outside."

He Started Towards The Door As He Spoke, And I Followed Him. Just As We

Were About To Draw The Bolts, Another Knock, But Much Fainter, And A

Low, Death-Like Groan, Fell Upon Our Ears.

We Started, And Hesitated About Proceeding; But Rover Looked Up Into Our

Faces With Such An Expression, As Though To Encourage Us To See What The

Matter Was, That We Determined To Investigate, And No Longer Suspect A

Trick.

We Withdrew The Bolts And Suddenly Threw Open The Door, And As We Did

So, The Body Of A Man Fell Inward, And Lay At Our Feet Motionless,

Although By Our Lights, Dim As They Were, We Could See That Our Midnight

Visitor Was Covered With Blood.

We Were Surprised And Somewhat Startled At The Intrusion, But We Did Not

Stop To Exchange Surmises, Or To Ask Questions. A Man Was Lying At Our

Feet, Badly Wounded, And Was Bleeding Freely From Half A Dozen Cuts Or

Stabs.

We Considered That Our First Duty Was To Attend To Him, And Defend Him,

If Necessary, From A Fresh Attack Of Assailants, And That After His

Wounds Were Dressed, And He Was Able To Answer Questions, Then We Could

Investigate The Circumstances Connected With His Mysterious Appearance

At Our Door, And, If Possible, Bring To Justice The Perpetrators Of The

Wrong.

Before We Moved The Now Insensible Body, We Looked Out And Endeavored To

Discover If Persons Wore Loitering Near; But All Was Quiet, And Not A

Soul Was To Be Seen. We Hastily Closed The Door And Bolted It, And Then

Moved The Wounded Man To A Mattress That We Kept For Smith To Sleep Upon

When He Was With Us, And As We Did So, And The Light Fell Upon His

Features, We Were Surprised To Discover That Our Visitor Was Our Nearest

Neighbor, An Elderly Englishman By The Name Of Critchet, Who, In Company

With His Nephew, A Young Fellow Of Dissipated Habits, Was Working A Mine

About A Quarter Of A Mile From Our Store. The Young Man's Name Was

Follet; And While We Had Never Had Any Conversation With Him, Excepting

While Selling A Few Articles Which He Required From The Store, We Had

Taken A Strong Prejudice Against Him, Although Upon What Ground We Could

Not Really Tell.

He Was One Of Those Kind Of Men Who Never Look You Full In The Face

While Speaking, And If Indeed You Caught His Eye, It Was Only For The

Sixteenth Part Of A Second, And By Accident At That. He Had The Name Of

Being A Desperate Gambler, And Once Mr. Brown Had Called Our Attention

To Him, And Remarked That He Had Lost More Money At Card Playing Than He

Made Honestly, And Wondered If His Uncle Supplied His Extravagances.

The Latter Owned The Claim Which He Was Working, And Employed The Nephew

At A Fair Salary, And That Was All That We Knew Of The Connection

Between Them, Excepting That We Had Seen Them Talking Together In An

Excited Manner Quite Frequently, And Only The Day Before We Had Heard

Them Quarrel On Some Subject That We Did Not Care To Listen To, For It

Did Not Concern Us.

Report Had Often Reached Our Ears That Mr. Critchet Had Made Quite A

Fortune With His Claim, And That He Was Very Prudent In His

Expenditures; But As He Had Never Disputed Our Prices, And Paid What We

Demanded Without A Word Of Complaint, We Placed No Reliance Upon The

Assertions.

After Our First Expression Of Astonishment Was Over, We Set To Work

Without Delay To Ascertain What Injuries The Old Man Had Sustained. We

Removed His Vest And Shirt, And Found A Small Cut Near The Region Of

His Heart; But Upon Probing The Wound We Found That The Blow, Evidently

Intended To Be A Fatal One, Had Been Misdirected; That A Rib