than it has been in the memory of the oldest diggers.

"We have killed six or seven snakes lately. They are very numerous,
and the only things in the country we are absolutely _afraid_ of! You
have no idea of the sort of dread one feels on coming slap upon one
unexpectedly. Harry put his foot on one yesterday, but got no hurt.
They are not easily seen, and their bite is always fatal.

"From all this you will see that a gold-digger's life is a hard one,
and worse than that, it does not pay well. However, I like it in the
meantime, and having taken it up, I shall certainly give it a fair
trial.

"I wish you were here, Tommy; yet I am glad you are not. To have you
and Guy in the tent would make our party perfect, but it would try
your constitutions I fear, and do you no good mentally, for the
society by which we are surrounded is anything but select.

"But enough of the gold-fields. I have a lot of questions to ask and
messages to send to my old friends and mates at Deal."

At this point the reading of the letter was interrupted by an uproar
near the tent. High above the noise the voice of a boy was heard in
great indignation.

For a few minutes Bax and his friend did not move; they were too much
accustomed to scenes of violence among the miners to think of
interfering, unless things became very serious.

"Come, Bill, let him alone," cried a stern voice, "the lad's no thief,
as you may see if you look in his face."

"I don't give a straw for looks and faces," retorted Bill, who seemed to
have caused the uproar, "the young rascal came peeping into my tent, and
that's enough for me."

"What!" cried the boy, in an indignant shout, "may I not search through
the tents to find a friend without being abused by every scoundrel who
loves his gold so much that he thinks every one who looks at him wants
to steal it? Let me go, I say!"

At the first words of this sentence Bax started up with a look of
intense surprise. Before it was finished he had seized a thick stick,
and rushed from the tent, followed by his mate.

In two seconds they reached the centre of a ring of disputants, in the
midst of which a big, coarse-looking miner held by the collar the
indignant lad, who proved to be an old and truly unexpected
acquaintance.

"Bax!" shouted the boy.

"Tommy Bogey!" exclaimed Bax.

"Off your hands," cried Bax, striding forward.

The miner, who was a powerful man, hesitated. Bax