on shares during their stay at Simpson's Ranges, and Mike and
Peetree senior secured the land to which the party was entitled under its
licenses.

'She's well in on the lead all right,' said Josh, commenting on their
claim that evening after tea, 'an' if we don't hit it rich I'm a
Dutchman.'

Josh's opinion proved correct in the main. Mike cut the wash-dirt on the
following evening, and after sinking in it to the depth of two feet,
washed a prospect that promised the party an excellent return for their
labour. So far Jim Done had every reason to be grateful for his luck; and
the diggers were nearly all implicit believers in luck; a faith they held
to be justified by the scores of instances recited of good fortune
following individuals through extraordinary conditions, when less
favoured men all around them were not earning enough to satisfy the
storekeepers.

Although the various Victorian rushes were much alike in general
character, some peculiarity attached to each of them. Jim Crow was famous
for its vigorous and varied rascality; Simpson's Ranges became notorious
as the most reckless gambling-field in the country. Card-playing was the
recreation the diggers most indulged in here, if we except a decided
penchant for Chow-baiting. Done found that already the gambling
propensity had impressed itself on the lead, and the luckiest man on
Simpson's was a short, fat, complacent Yankee, who refused to handle pick
or shovel because, as he said to Done, it might spoil his hand. Jim did
not doubt that hands so slick in the manipulation of cards were worth all
the care Mr. Levi Long devoted to them. Jim became rather interested in
Long. The man was an amusing blackguard, and took the 'gruellings' that
occasional manual lapses led him into with a placidity that amounted
almost to quiet enjoyment, and tickled Done's sense of humour immensely.

'Man who drifts down the stream o' life in a painted barge on the broad
of his back among the Persian rugs, with a fat cigar in his teeth, an'
all his favourite drinks within reach, has gotter strike a snag now 'n
agin,' said Long. 'The question's just this--is it wuth it?'

'I can't understand why a tired man like you takes the trouble to shave,'
Jim said to him one night.

'Ever been tarred 'n feathered in your busy career, Mr. Done?' answered
Long.

Never.'

'If you had you'd realize that the onpleasantest thing that kin happen to
a man this side o' the great hot finish is to