fession, as well
as Steel Spring, although we knew that the latter would not be believed
in a court of justice, even if he did speak the truth, which he was not
addicted to.

We reached our store in safety, and found Rover watching by the side of
our patient, Mr. Critchet, who appeared to have slept during our
absence, and probably never knew that we left him for one of the most
dangerous expeditions that we ever ventured on, during a lengthy
residence in Australia.

The "Bloody Fight," as it was called, and is called to this day, by
those miners who were living at Ballarat at the time of its occurrence,
created a profound sensation in the country; and Mr. Brown gained high
encomiums for his bravery and good conduct in ridding the country of so
many notorious characters at one fell swoop.

The particulars of the _melee_ were never strictly inquired into by the
government; for to speak plainly, those in authority did not care a
straw whether Mr. Brown was justified or not in shooting down the
_habitues_ of the "Cricket;" and as our names did not appear in
connection with the affair, we were not disposed to work against the
best friend we had in Ballarat. The inspector was made a lieutenant, and
he deserved his promotion, but not for the part he took in the "Bloody
Fight," and he had good sense enough to know it. From that dreadful
night, Mr. Brown's name was a terror to evil doers; and bushrangers and
petty thieves gave our miners a wide berth, as sailors express it.

We changed our clothes after our return home, washed the soot and dirt
from our hands and faces, and while we were thus employed a modest rap
was heard at the door, and who should enter but Mr. Steel Spring,
looking as important, defiant, and boastful as ever.

"I's so glad to know that you is all right--that you is alive and
kicking, that it almost takes my breath," the fellow said, sinking
gracefully upon a vinegar barrel, and fanning his face with his hat.

"If we are alive, we have no thanks to offer you in return," Fred
muttered, rather testily.

"Vell, if here ain't gratitude, and no mistake. After I does all that a
cove can do to find the real assassin, and makes him tell his yarn right
afore ye, I'm treated--no, I'm not treated, for I've bin here five
minutes, and I'm not axed to drink."

We made no response to this gentle hint, but continued our occupation.
The fellow watched us in silence, and then began again.

"I'd like to know vot mo