osition to commence hostilities; but we silenced him, and thought
that we would let the fellow operate for a few moments without
remonstrance.

"Who is he?" we asked of Smith.

"The worst man in Ballarat. He is called the bully of the mines, and it
is as much as a man's life is worth to anger him. His real name is Pete
Burley; he served out his time for breaking a man's head and then
robbing him, in London. Say nothing to him, but if he speaks, answer him
civilly."

This was all spoken in a tone not above a whisper, and we began to think
that the fellow was indeed dangerous, if a man like Smith displayed
signs of fear in his presence.

After Mr. Pete had satisfied himself which horse possessed the best
bottom, he turned towards us, and condescended to honor us with his
attention.

"Is them hosses yourn?" he inquired, with a growl, as though the effort
of asking a question was painful.

Fred intimated that they belonged to us, and that he considered them,
confidentially, fine animals.

"I want to use this ere one, to-night; where's the saddle and fixins?"

"Let him have the animal," whispered Smith, without raising his eyes;
"it's better than having trouble with him."

The advice was intended for our benefit, but the Yankee blood which
coursed through Fred's veins was opposed to such an inglorious
acquiescence.

"You don't intend to take the animal without asking our consent, do
you?" inquired Fred, mildly.

The ruffian actually looked astonished, and for a moment did not reply,
so bewildered did he seem.

"Have you told them fellers who I is?" asked Pete, appealing to Smith.

"I don't think that I have," replied Smith, hurriedly; "it's all right,
Pete; you can have the horse, if you want him."

"If it's all right, I've no more to say; but if it's not all right, I
can make it right, d----d quick," the ruffian said, still looking
towards us, as though he should like to see a little opposition, just
for the sake of showing us who he really was.

"My friend, here," said Fred, pointing to Smith, "is slightly mistaken
in what he says. I own the horse you have selected for a ride, and I
have objections against loaning him to strangers. You can't have him."

Fred was as cool as ever I saw him in my life. He reached over to the
coffee-pot while he was speaking, and deliberately helped himself to
coffee, sweetened it to his fancy, and then drank it, without showing
the least agitation.

To my surprise, the