at used to terrorise the fields round there in the roaring days of
Gulgong. The Oracle had Uncle Bob, of course, and long Dave Regan, the
drover--a good-hearted, sawny kind of chap that'd break the devil's
own buck-jumper, or smash him, or get smashed himself--and little Jimmy
Nowlett, the bullocky, and one or two of the old, better-class diggers
that were left on the field.

"There's a clear space among the saplings in Specimen Gully, where they
used to pitch circuses; and here, in the cool of a summer evening, the
two men stood face to face. Redmond was a rough, roaring, foul-mouthed
man; he stripped to his shirt, and roared like a bull, and swore, and
sneered, and wanted to take the whole of Tom's crowd while he was at it,
and make one clean job of 'em. Couldn't waste time fighting them all one
after the other, because he wanted to get away to the new rush at Cattle
Creek next day. The fool had been drinking shanty-whisky.

"Tom stood up in his clean, white moles and white flannel shirt--one of
those sort with no sleeves, that give the arms play. He had a sort
of set expression and a look in his eyes that Uncle Bob--nor none of
them--had ever seen there before. 'Give us plenty of----room!' roared
Redmond; 'one of us is going to hell, now! This is going to be a fight
to a----finish, and a----short one!' And it was!" Joe paused.

"Go on," said Mitchell--"go on!"

Joe drew a long breath.

"The Oracle never got a mark! He was top-dog right from the start.
Perhaps it was his strength that Redmond had underrated, or his want
of science that puzzled him, or the awful silence of the man that
frightened him (it made even Uncle Bob uneasy). Or, perhaps, it was
Providence (it was a glorious chance for Providence), but, anyway, as
I say, the Oracle never got a mark, except on his knuckles. After a few
rounds Redmond funked and wanted to give in, but the chaps wouldn't let
him--not even his own mates--except Duigan. They made him take it as
long as he could stand on his feet. He even shammed to be knocked out,
and roared out something about having broken his----ankle--but it was
no use. And the Oracle! The chaps that knew thought that he'd refuse to
fight, and never hit a man that had given in. But he did. He just stood
there with that quiet look in his eyes and waited, and, when he did hit,
there wasn't any necessity for Redmond to PRETEND to be knocked down.
You'll see a glint of that old light in the Oracle's eyes even now