luice we got as much as 200 ounces a day, and thought the claim poor
when we got no more than fifty."

"I 'xpect you had a rare ole spree when you got to town," said the
Prospector. "How much did you divide?"

"Between twenty and thirty thousand," replied Moonlight. "I handed my
gold over to the Police escort, and went to town as comfortable as
if I was on a turnpike road. I didn't go on the wine--I'm almost a
teetotaler. A little red-headed girl got most of my pile--a red-headed
girl can generally twist me round her thumb. That must have been ten
years ago."

"You've grown older and, perhaps, wiser," interjected Benjamin.
"Wonderful thing, age."

"This time I'm going to take a draft on Timbuctoo, or Hong-kong, or some
place where red-headed girls are scarce, and see if I can't get away
with a little cash."

"Most probably you've got a widowed mother, like me," said Benjamin.
"Go, and comfort her declining years. Do like me: wipe out the
recollection of the good times you've had by acts of filial piety. A
widowed mother is good, but if you can rake up a maiden aunt and keep
her too, that'll be a work of supererogation."

"Of how much?" asked Bill.

"It's a word I picked up in my College days--I'm afraid I've forgotten
the precise meaning." Benjamin's face lit up with a smile that stretched
from ear to ear. He lifted his pannikin to his lips, nodded to his
companions, said, "Here's luck," and drank the black tea as though it
had been nectar. "That's the beauty of turning digger," he continued;
"the sobriety one acquires in the bush is phenomenal. If you asked me to
name the most virtuous man on this planet, I should say a prospector in
the bush--a bishop is nothing to him. But I own that when he goes
to town the digger becomes a very devil let loose. Think of the
surroundings here--innocent twittering birds, silent arboreous trees,
clear pellucid streams, nothing to tempt, nothing to degrade."

Tresco might have amplified his discourse as fully as a bishop, but that
at this point there was a shouting and the noise of dry boughs cracking
under advancing feet. In a moment the three men were standing, alert,
astonished, in various attitudes of defence.

Moonlight had armed himself with a pick, the Prospector had grasped a
shovel, Tresco drew a revolver from inside his "jumper."

The shouting continued, though nothing could be seen. Then came out of
the darkness, "What-ho there, Moonlight! Can't you give us a han