igorous fight. The Chinese used their shovels and
sticks and stones, and what other weapons presented themselves, in
defence of their property, and for about five minutes the hand-to-hand
conflict raged with a rattle of pick-handles, a thud, thud, thud of busy
clubs, oaths in good round English, and a squeaking and yelling in shrill
Chinese, and then the Chows, overborne by numbers, backed, broke, and
fled, and the hunt was continued. In two hours' time there was not a
Chinaman in sight, and virtuous Europeans were busy washing the golden
gravel left near the river, satisfying their consciences when they
pinched that only even handed justice had been done in robbing the
robbers.

Five weeks passed before the Chinese went creeping back to Simpson's
Ranges, and by this time the diggers were engrossed in more important
affairs, and offered no serious opposition. It seemed that the trouble
was rapidly coming to a head at Ballarat. Wearying of the effort to
secure reform by peaceful agitation, the men were arming themselves as
best they could. The lawful endeavours of the miners had resulted only in
spurring their enemies to greater activity in oppression, and blundering
and brutal officials had chosen the moment when the agitation was at its
height to institute one of the most strenuous and tyrannical
license-hunting expeditions that had been inflicted upon the miners of
Ballarat. Diggers were brutally man-handled; in some cases their clothes
were torn from their backs, in others they were insulted and beaten by
the troopers. The hunt was manifestly an organized and deliberate effort
to display the contempt officialdom felt for the men and their cause.
Blood ran hotly; there were casual skirmishes between the people and the
police, who, while serving as the zealous and willing instruments of
oppression, offered the diggers absolutely no protection from the thieves
and ruffians infesting the fields.

Arrangements had been made to convey the news of a general rising to the
men at Simpson's Ranges in time to enable them to reach the disturbed
centre before the outbreak of hostilities, and on a Friday morning,
shortly after midnight, Jim Done, Mike Burton, and the three Peetrees set
off together. They left their tents as they stood, and carrying only a
blue blanket apiece and such arms as they possessed, started on their
long tramp to Ballarat as gaily as if bent upon a pleasure excursion.
They slept in the Bush on Friday nigh