en my mate on the
voyage out, an active, clever chap, proposed that we should start for
the gold fields; so we started. It was a desperate long tramp, but we
reached them at last. Life was hard and rough, and for a time we worked
and worked, and got nothing. At last we found a pocket, just as we were
going to give up, and having secured a fair lot of gold, we divided our
gains and determined to leave the camp, which was not too safe for a
successful digger, before the rest knew of our treasure-trove. We
decided to trudge it to the nearest place where we could buy horses, and
then to make our way to Sydney as fast as we could. Somehow it must have
got out that we _had_ gold, for as the dusk of evening was closing round
us on the second day of our march we were attacked by some men on
horseback--bush-rangers, I suppose. We showed fight, and I was hit in
the shoulder. At the same time I stumbled over a stump, and pitched on
to my head, which stunned me. Just then, it seems, the sound of horses
approaching frightened the scoundrels, and they made off. My mate, not
knowing whether the new-comers were friends or foes, he says, got away
as fast as he could. His story is that as soon as all was still he crept
back, and finding me apparently quite dead, went on to report the
catastrophe at the first road-side inn he came to. _I_ believe that,
thinking me dead, he took all my gold, and said precious little about
me."

"His story to me," interrupted Mr. Newton, "was that he got assistance
and buried your remains as decently as he could."

"What induced him to apply to you at all?"

"I do not know. I fancy it was to hand over a few small nuggets, which
he said was your share of the findings, and which he took from your
waistband before committing you to the grave. As he seemed frank and
straightforward and quite poor, I confess I believed him, and even
requested Mr. Liddell to give him some small present. He said he was
going afloat again, and would sail in a few days. He had an old
clasp-knife which I myself had given you, and with it a small
pocket-book in which your name and my address were written in your own
hand. These were tolerably convincing proofs that he at least knew you.
Moreover, there seemed no need whatever that he should have made any
attempt to communicate with your people. He might have held his tongue,
and no question would have been raised respecting you."

"You are right," returned Liddell, bitterly.

"A