und. His hair is short, black,
and curly, as are his beard and whiskers, but at this moment his whole
head and face are so besmeared with clay that his aspect is piebald and
not more becoming than his attitude. Still, there is a massive grandeur
in the outline of his features which cannot be destroyed by
incrustations of clay, although his complexion is obscured by it.

Like his comrade above, his costume consists of flannel shirt, dark
trousers, and big boots. His shirt sleeves being rolled up to the
shoulders, display a pair of arms that a sculptor might gaze on with
admiration.

This strong man pants and gasps more than ever with the heat as he
drives the pick and tears up the earth for gold. Presently the candle
burns dim; the air is getting foul.

"Hallo, the candle's going out!" cries the dark miner, scrambling
towards the bottom of the shaft on his hands and knees.

"Ha! time to take a mouthful o' fresh air, Jack," remarks the fair
miner, looking into the hole.

In another moment a wild dishevelled clay-bespattered figure comes to
the surface, rises like a giant out of the earth, and the countenance
and proportions of our friend John Bax are revealed, in spite of the
strange costume and black moustache and beard and incrustations of clay
which more than half disguise him.

"Whew! how hot it is," said Bax, as he stepped out of the hole.

"You may say that," observed his friend, rising; "but come along, Jack,
let's get up the stuff and wash out as much as we can before dinner.
Mind, you've got to write home this afternoon, and won't be able to help
me much in the evening."

"Come along then," said Bax, going to work again with redoubled energy.

There was a windlass over the hole by which the clay was raised to the
surface. Bax wrought at this, and his mate went below to fill the
buckets. Then they washed it out, and flooded away cartloads of
worthless soil, until a small residue of clear shining particles
remained behind. This they gathered carefully together, added it to the
bag that held their fortune, remarked that there were "no nuggets this
time," and that it was "hard work and little pay;" after which they
flung down their tools, washed their hands and faces, and went into
their tent to dine.

Thus did Bax and his mate (an old acquaintance unexpectedly met with
after arrival in Australia) dig, and sweat, and toil for gold.

But Bax and his friend worked thus hard, only because it was thei