It Is Never Too Late to Mend — Chapter LXV, part 1
CHAPTER LXV.
BLACK WILL no sooner found himself inside the tent than he took out a dark lantern and opened the slide cautiously.
There lay in one corner the two men fast asleep side by side.
Casting the glare around he saw at his feet a dog with a chain round him.
It startled him for a moment--but only for a moment.
He knew that dog was dead.
mephistopheles had told him within an hour after the feat was performed.
Close to his very hand was a pair of miner's boots.
He detached them from the canvas and passed them out of the tent; and now looking closely at the ground he observed a place where the soil seemed loose.
His eye flashed with triumph at this.
He turned up the openings of the tent behind him to make his retreat clear if necessary.
He made at once for the loose soil, and the moment he moved forward Robinson's gut-lines twisted his feet from under him.
He fell headlong in the middle, and half a dozen little bells rang furiously at the sleepers' heads.
Up jumped Tom and George, weapons in hand, but not before Black Will had wrenched himself clear and bounded back to the door.
At the door, in his rage at being balked, he turned like lightning and leveled his pistol at Robinson, who was coming at him cutlass in hand.
The ex-thief dropped on his knees and made a furious upward cut at his arm.
At one and the same moment the pistol exploded and the cutlass struck it and knocked it against the other side of the tent.
The bullet passed over Robinson's head.
Black Will gave a yell so frightful that for a moment it paralyzed the men, and even with this yell he burst backward through the opening, and with a violent wrench of his left hand brought the whole tent down and fled, leaving George and Robinson struggling in the canvas like cats in an empty flour-sack.
The baffled burglar had fled but a few yards, when, casting his eye back, he saw their helplessness.
Losing danger in hatred he came back, not now to rob, but murder, his left hand lifted high and gleaming like his cruel eye.
As he prepared to plunge his knife through the canvas, flash bang!
flash bang!
bang!
came three pistol-shots in his face from the patrol, who were running right slap at him not thirty yards off, and now it was life or death.
He turned and ran for his life, the patrol blazing and banging at him.
Eighteen shots they fired at him, one after another; more than one cut his clothes, and one went clean through his hat, but he was too fleet, he distanced them; but at the reports diggers peeped out of distant tents, and at sight of him running, flash bang went a pistol at him from every tent he passed, and George and Robinson, who had struggled out into the night, saw the red flashes issue, and then heard the loud reports bellow and re-echo as he dodged about down the line, and then all was still and calm as death under the cold, pure stars.
Craake!
They put up their tent again.
The patrol came panting back.
“He has got off--but he carried some of our lead in him.
Go to bed, captain, we won't leave your tent all night.
” Robinson and George lay down again thus guarded.
The patrol sat by the tent.
Two slept, one loaded the arms again and watched.
In a few minutes the friends were actually fast asleep again, lying silent as the vast camp lay beneath the silver stars.
Craake!
And now it was cold, much colder than before, darker, too, no moon now, only the silver stars; it makes one shiver.
Nature seemed to lie stark and stiff and dead, and that accursed craake her dirge.
All tended to shivering and gloom.
Yet a great event approached.
Craake!
A single event, a thousand times weightier to the world, each time it comes, than if with one fell stroke all the kingdoms of the globe became republics and all the republics empires, so to remain a thousand years.
An event a hundred times more beautiful than any other thing the eye can hope to see while in the flesh, yet it regaled the other senses, too, and blessed the universal heart.
Before this prodigious event came its little heralds sweeping across the face of night.
First came a little motion of cold air--it was dead-still before; then an undefinable freshness; then a very slight but rather grateful smell from the soil of the conscious earth.
Next twittered from the bush one little hesitating chirp.
Craake!
went the lugubrious quail, pooh-poohing the suggestion.
Then somehow rocks and forest and tents seemed less indistinct in shape;
outlines peeped where masses had been.
Jug!
jug!
went a bird with a sweet jurgle in his deep throat.
Craake!
went the ill-omened one directly, disputing the last inch of nature.
But a gray thrush took up the brighter view; otock otock tock!
o tuee o o!
o tuee oo!
o chio chee!
o chio chee!
sang the thrush, with a decision as well as a melody that seemed to say: “Ah!
but I am sure of it; I am sure, I am sure, wake up, joy!
joy!
” From that moment there was no more craake.
The lugubrious quail shut up in despair, perhaps in disdain,* and out gurgled another jug!
jug!
jug!
as sweet a chuckle as Nature's sweet voice ever uttered in any land;
and with that a mist like a white sheet came to light, but only for a moment, for it dared not stay to be inspected, “I know who is coming, I'm off,” and away it crept off close to the ground--and little drops of dew peeped sparkling in the frost-powdered grass.
* Like anonymous detraction before _vox populi.
_ Yock!
yock!
O chio faliera po!
Otock otock tock!
o chio chee!
o chio chee!
Jug!
jug!
jug!
jug!
Off we go!
off we go!
And now a thin red streak came into the sky, and perfume burst from the bushes, and the woods rang, not only with songs some shrill, some as sweet as honey, but with a grotesque yet beautiful electric merriment of birds that can only be heard in this land of wonders.
The pen can give but a shadow of the drollery and devilry of the sweet, merry rogues that hailed the smiling morn.
Ten thousand of them, each with half a dozen songs, besides chattering and talking and imitating the fiddle, the fife and the trombone.
Niel gow!
niel gow!
niel gow!
whined a leather-head.
Take care o' my hat!
cries a thrush, in a soft, melancholy voice; then with frightful harshness and severity, where is your bacca-box!
your box!
your box!
then before any one could answer, in a tone that said devil may care where the box is or anything else, gyroc de doc!
gyroc de doc!
roc de doc!
cheboc cheboc!
Then came a tremendous cackle ending with an obstreperous hoo!
hoo!
ha!
from the laughing jackass, who had caught sight of the red streak in the sky--harbinger, like himself, of morn; and the piping crows or whistling magpies modulating and humming and chanting, not like birds, but like practiced musicians with rich baritone voices, and the next moment creaking just for all the world like Punch, or barking like a pug dog.
And the delicious thrush with its sweet and mellow tune.
Nothing in an English wood so honey-sweet as his otock otock tock!
o tuee o o!
o tuee o o!
o chio chee!
o chio chee!
But the leather-heads beat all.
Niel gow!
niel gow!
niel gow!
off we go!
off we go!
off we go!
followed by rapid conversations, the words unintelligible but perfectly articulate, and interspersed with the oddest chuckles, plans of pleasure for the day, no doubt.
Then ri tiddle tiddle tiddle tiddle tiddle tiddle!
playing a thing like a fiddle with wires; then “off we go” again, and bow!
wow!
wow!
jug!
jug!
jug!
jug!
jug!
and the whole lot in exuberant spirits, such extravagance of drollery, such rollicking jollity, evidently splitting their sides with fun, and not able to contain themselves for it.
Oh!
it was twelve thousand miles above the monotonous and scanty strains of a European wood; and when the roving and laughing, and harshly demanding bacca-boxes and then as good as telling you they didn't care a feather for bacca-boxes or anything else, gyroc de doc!
cheboc cheboc cheboc!
and loudly announcing their immediate departure, and perching in the same place all the more and sweet, low modulations ending in putting on the steam and creaking like Punch, and then almost tumbling off the branches with laughing at the general accumulation of nonsense--when all this drollery and devilry and joy and absurdity were at their maddest, and a thousand feathered fountains bubbling song were at their highest, then came the cause of all the merry hubbub--the pinnacles of rock glowed burnished gold, Nature, that had crept from gloom to pallor, burst from pallor to light and life and burning color--the great sun's forehead came with one gallant stride into the sky--and it was day!
Out shone ten thousand tents of every size and hue and shape, from Isaac Levi's rood of white canvas down to sugar-loaves, and even to miserable roofs built on the bare ground with slips of bark, under which unlucky diggers crept at night like badgers--roofed beds--no more--the stars twinkling through chinks in the tester.
The myriad tents were clustered for full five miles on each side of the river, and it wound and sparkled in and out at various distances, and shone like a mirror in the distant background.
At the first ray the tents disgorged their inmates, and the human hive began to hum; then came the fight, the maneuvering, the desperate wrestle with Nature, and the keen fencing with their fellows--in short, the battle--to which, that nothing might be wanting, out burst the tremendous artillery of ten thousand cradles louder than thunder, and roaring and crashing without a pause.
The base of the two-peaked rock that looked so silvery in the moon is now seen to be covered with manuscript advertisements posted on it; we can only read two or three as we run to our work: “_Immense_ reduction in eggs only one shilling each!!!
Bevan's store.
” “Go-ahead library and registration office for new chums.
Tom Long in the dead-horse gully.
” “If this meets the i of Tom Bowles he will ear of is pal in the iron-bark gully.
” “This is to give notice that whereas my wife Elizabeth Sutton has taken to drink and gone off with my mate Bob, I will not be answerable for your debts nor hold any communication with you in future.
“JAMES SUTTON.
” A young Jew, Nathan, issued from Levi's tent with a rough table and two or three pair of scales and other paraphernalia of a gold assayer and merchant.
This was not the first mine by many the old Jew had traded in.
His first customers this morning were George and Robinson.
“Our tent was attacked last night, Mr. Levi.
” “Again?
humph!
” “Tom thinks he has got enemies in the camp.
” “Humph!
the young man puts himself too forward not to have enemies.
” “Well,” said George, quickly, “if he makes bitter enemies he makes warm friends.
” George then explained that his nerve and Robinson's were giving way under the repeated attacks.
“We have had a talk and we will sell the best part of our dust to you, sir.
Give him the best price you can afford for Susan's sake.
” And away went George to look for his quartz river, leaving the ex-thief to make the bargain and receive the money.
In the transaction that followed Mr. Levi did not appear to great advantage.
He made a little advance on the three pounds per ounce on account of the quantity, but he would not give a penny above three guineas.
No!
business was business; he could and would have _given_ George a couple of hundred pounds in day of need, but in buying and selling the habits of a life could not be shaken off.
Wherefore Robinson kept back eight pounds of gold-dust and sold him the rest for notes of the Sydney Bank.
“Well, sir,” said Tom, cheerfully, “now my heart is light; what we have got we can carry round our waists now by night or day.
Well, friend, what do you want, poking your nose into the tent?
” Coming out suddenly he had run against a man who was in a suspicious attitude at the entrance.
“No offense,” muttered the man, “I wanted to sell a little gold-dust.
” Levi heard what Robinson said, and came quickly out.
He seated himself behind the scales.
“Where is your gold?
” The man fumbled and brought out about an ounce.
All the time he weighed it, the Jew's keen eye kept glancing into his face he lowered his eyes and could not conceal a certain uneasiness.
When he was gone, Levi asked Robinson whether he knew that face.
“No,” said Robinson, “I don't. ” Levi called Nathan out.
“Nathan, look at that man, follow him cautiously, and tell me where we have seen him; above all, know him again.
Surely that is the face of an enemy.
” Then the old man asked himself where he had seen such an eye and brow and shambling walk as that; and he fell into a brown study and groped among many years for the clew.
“What!
is Erin-go-bragh up with the sun for once?
” cried Robinson to Mary McDogherty, who passed him spade on shoulder.
“Sure if she warn't she'd never keep up with Newgut,” was the instant rejoinder.
“Hem!
how is your husband, Mary?
” “Och, captain, it is a true friend ye are for inquiring.
Then it's tied in a knot he is.
“Mercy on us, tied in a knot?
” “Tied in a knot intirely--wid the rheumatism--and it's tin days I'm working for him and the childhre, and my heart's broke against gravel and stone intirely.
I wish it was pratees we are digging, I'd maybe dig up a dinner any way.
” “There is no difficulty, the secret is to look in the right place.
” “Ay!
ay!
take your divairsion, ye sly rogue!
--I wish ye had my five childhre.
” “Oh!
you spiteful cat!
” “Well, Ede, come to sell?
” “A little.
” “What is to do out there?
seems a bit of a crowd.
” “What, haven't you heard?
it is your friend Jem!
he has got a slice of luck, bought a hole of a stranger, saw the stuff glitter, so offered him thirty pounds; he was green and snapped at it; and if Jem didn't wash four ounces out the first cradleful I'm a Dutchman.
” “Well, I am right glad of that.
” A young digger now approached respectfully.
“Police report, captain.
” “Hand it here.
May I sit at your table a minute, Mr. Levi?
” Mr. Levi bowed assent.
“No clew to the parties that attacked our tent last night?
” “None at present, captain, but we are all on the lookout.
Some of us will be sure to hear of something, course of the day, and then I'll come and tell you.
Will you read the report?
There is the week's summary as well.
” “Of course I will.
Mum!
mum!
'Less violence on the whole this week; more petty larceny.'
That is bad.
I'll put it down, Mr. Levi.
I am determined to put it down.
What an infernal row the cradles make.
What is this?
'A great flow of strangers into the camp, most thought to be honest, but some great roughs; also a good many Yankees and Germans come in at the south side.'
What is this?
'A thief lynched yesterday.
Flung headforemost into a hole and stuck in the clay.
Not expected to live after it.'
Go it, my boys!
Didn't I say law is the best for all parties, thieves included?
Leave it, Andrew, I will examine it with the utmost minuteness.
” The dog used fine words on these occasions, that he might pass for a pundit with his clique, and being now alone he pored over his police-sheet as solemn and stern as if the nation depended on his investigations.
A short explosion of laughter from Andrew interrupted this grave occupation.
The beak looked up with offended dignity, and, in spite of a mighty effort, fell a sniggering.
For following Andrew's eyes he saw two gig umbrellas gliding erect and peaceful side by side among the pits.
“What on earth are they?
” “Chinamen, captain.
They are too lazy to dig.
They go about all day looking at the heaps and poking all over the camp.
They have got eyes like hawks.
It is wonderful, I am told, what they contrive to pick up first and last.
What hats!
Why, one of 'm would roof a tent.
” “Hurroo!
” “What is up now?
” “Hurroo!
” And up came Mary McDogherty dancing and jumping as only Irish ever jumped.
She had a lump of dim metal in one hand and a glittering mass in the other.
She came up to the table with a fantastic spring and spanked down the sparkling mass on it, bounding back one step like india-rubber even as she struck the table.
“There, ould gintleman, what will ye be after giving me for that?
Sure the luck is come to the right colleen at last.
” “I deal but in the precious metals and stones,” replied Isaac, quietly.
“Sure, and isn't gould a precious metal?
” “Do you offer me this for gold?
This is not even a metal.
It is mica--yellow mica.
“Mikee?
” cried Mary, ruefully, with an inquiring look.
At this juncture in ran George, hot as fire.
“There!
” cried he, triumphantly to Robinson, “was I right or wrong?
What becomes of your gold-dust?
” And he laid a nugget as big as his fist on the table.
“Ochone!
” cried the Irishwoman, “they all have the luck barrin' poor Molly McDogherty.
” The mica was handled, and George said to her compassionately, “You see, my poor girl, the first thing you should do is to heft it in your hand.
Now see, your lump is not heavy like--” “Pyrites!
” said Isaac, dryly, handing George back his lump.
“No!
pyrites is heavier than mica--and gold than pyrites.
” “Mr. Levi, don't go to tell me this is not a metal,” remonstrated George, rather sulkily, “for I won't have it.
” “Nay, it is a metal,” replied Levi, calmly, “and a very useful metal, but not of the precious metals.
It is iron.
” “How can it be iron when it is yellow?
And how is one to know iron from gold, at any rate?
” “Be patient, my son.
” said the old Jew calmly, “and learn.
Take this needle.
Here is a scale of gold; take it up on the needle-point.
You have done it.
Why?
Because gold is a soft metal.
Now take up this scale from your pyrites?
” “I can't. ” “No, because iron is a hard metal.
Here is another childish test--a bloodstone, called by some the touchstone.
Rub the pyrites on it.
It colors it not--a hard metal.
Now rub this little nugget of pure gold I have just bought.
” “Ay!
this stains the stone yellow.
” “A soft metal.
Here in this little phial is muriatic acid.
Pour a drop on my nugget.
The metal defies it.
Now pour on your pyrites.
See how it smokes and perishes.
It cannot resist the acid.
There are many other tests, but little needed.
No metal, no earthly substance, resembles gold in the least.
” “Not to a Jew's eye,” whispered Robinson.
“And much I marvel that any man or even any woman who has been in a gold mine and seen and handled virgin gold should take mica” (here he knocked the mica clean off the table) “or pyrites” (here he spanged that in another direction) “for the royal metal.
” “I'll tell you what to do, Mary,” began Robinson, cheerfully.
“Hallo!
she is crying.
Here is a faint heart.
