eager to exchange bank-notes for the virgin gold. On the
afternoon of their third working day, Jim and his mate were leaning on
the windlass, talking to two or three men who had gathered about, waiting
for one of the gold-buyers then riding along the lead, when they were
joined by a tall, fine-looking digger, with a remark ably handsome brown
beard and bushy brows.

'Good-day, mates! Got a good thing here?' he said, seating himself on one
of the logs.

'Oh, not so bad!'

The newcomer had dropped his revolver, apparently by accident. He stooped
and picked it up, but instead of returning it to his belt, toyed with it
absently as he made inquiries about the lead and the yields on the field.
All eyes were attracted by the peculiar manner in which he handled the
weapon, tossing it to and fro carelessly, and twirling it through his
fingers with remarkable rapidity.

'That's a pretty clever trick,' said Thorn.

'This is no great shakes.' The owner of the beautiful beard twirled his
revolver more rapidly. 'Lend me another.'

Thorn threw his, and the stranger caught it smartly, and juggled with the
two.

Brigalow Dick, the gold-buyer, rode up. A particularly bright ex-trooper
from Sydney, Brigalow Dick had a reputation as a safe man, and the horse
he rode was one of the finest on the field. On one side of the front of
his saddle was strapped the stout leather case carrying the gold, on the
other was a bag containing money.

'Any gold to sell to-day, Burton?' asked Dick.

'Yes, in half a minute, old man,' replied Mike, deeply interested in the
tricks of the juggler.

Brigalow Dick drew his horse up closer and watched the performance.

'Bet you're Californian, Whiskers,' he said.

The stranger nodded. 'Let me have another shooter,' he said.

A third was thrown to him, and he twirled the three in the air,
discharging each into the tip as it reached his hand.

'Bravo! bravo!' The performance was growing quite exciting.

'That's simply nothing,' said the amateur prestidigitateur modestly.
'Throw me another, and I'll show what I call a damn good trick.' He cast
his eye around the group. It lit upon the gold-buyer casually.

'Here you are.' Brigalow drew his revolver from his belt, and threw it.

'Very good, and many thanks,' said the stranger. He coolly placed the
other revolver in his shirt, turned the gold-buyer's long six-shooter on
its owner, and said: 'Come down off that horse, Richard, my boy!'
Brigalow lau