ched up to a post and rail fence in the most
ordinary fashion. But the people--there were all sorts and conditions of
men there, and a small sprinkling of women folk, for women were scarce
in those days.

As the sun rose higher the crowd grew thicker, till I think there must
have been fully fifteen hundred or two thousand people there. Deadman's
Creek, the goldfield nearest us, was in full swing, and it seemed to me
the place must be deserted that day, for though it was thirty miles away
as the crow flies, nobody had thought much of that distance in glorious
weather like this. Some of the red-shirted diggers were fine-looking
fellows enough; indeed, they ought to have been, for in those days
the finest gentleman was not ashamed to try his luck with the pick and
shovel like the labouring man who was his neighbour. If he got an honest
labouring man he was lucky, for, my dear, the times were rough, and they
did say there were a lot of old hands from Tasmania and the Sydney side
on Deadman's in those days, and their room would have been better than
their company. But those things didn't concern me much. All I thought of
was Paul. He stayed with me all the morning, taking me round, showing
me how fit and well Boatman looked, pointing out to me the bookmakers
already at work, and the men with the three-card trick, and various
other devices for passing away the time, and getting at the money of the
unwary. Some unfortunate had already got himself into trouble, for what
I know not, but I suspected it was too close an acquaintance with the
wine when it is red, for over on the other side of the paddock from the
house I saw an unfortunate chained to a tree with a stout bullock chain,
yelling with all his might, a solemn warning to others not to go and do
likewise. The police in the old days were often obliged to make use of
such primitive methods of detaining their prisoners--there was no help
for it, and nobody minded, not even the unlucky prisoner himself. I
suppose he looked upon it as all in the day's work or pleasure, if you
will. I tried to take an interest in everything for Paul's sake, but I
couldn't.

What did it matter to me how the day went off? What if the howling
bookmakers did win the district money? What if it was rumoured that Ben
Shepherd's mare was a little off, and not in her usual form, and she
was first favourite for the "Telowie Handicap?" It didn't matter to me,
nothing mattered to me, if only Boatman was f