PART III

PROMISCUOUS WANDERINGS

IN THE AUSTRALIAN BACK-BLOCKS

Australia has attracted much attention from all quarters during the last few years, but to most people the vast interior is still a _terra incognita_; and even on the streets of Sydney or Melbourne the appearance of a copper-skinned back-blocker excites as much comment as might a being from another planet. The man from "out west" cares little for the opinion of the townsman, however; and if his carriage be not so graceful as that of those whom he so unceremoniously jostles on the pavements of Bourke Street or the "Block," he gets over the ground more quickly; and if his speech be ungrammatical, it is at least expressive, and only used when absolutely necessary.

The back-blocks, generally, are the western division of Queensland and New South Wales; and although in some parts of the former State the hardy squatter has established himself well out into the great desert, the country inside the "run" of his domain is probably unprospected, and outside entirely unexplored. In this almost boundless tract of country, where the bush merges into the silent desert, the back-blocker has his home, and, indifferent to the flight of time and the struggle and worries attending existence in the outside world, he leads a life of untrammelled independence.

Only occasionally does a stranger come among these sons of freedom; and if he once sees "where the pelican builds its nest," or experiences the strange fascination of the desert camp-fire circle, he will not soon leave them. The new-comer may be fresh from the old home-land, an outcast from continental Europe, or a wanderer from the crowded cities on the Australian coast-line; but in all cases he is welcomed, and soon he speaks in the same quaint dialect, forgets his past, and becomes a child of fortune.

"But how do you manage to exist? This place would not support a rabbit," I said to an assembly of those men one evening in Queensland. I had struck their camp while endeavouring with a companion to cycle from Spencer Gulf to the Gulf of Carpentaria; and our surprise may be imagined when, hundreds of miles from the nearest settlement, as we thought, their camp-fire suddenly appeared in front of us. There were about twelve men in the party, and, as it was just sundown, we naturally camped beside them, and, prompted by the somewhat elaborate preparations being made for supper, I had put my question.

"Oh, not too bad," a tall and gaunt Queenslander answered. "We keeps a team of our own always on the move with stores from the nearest township."

"But that must cost a lot of money so far out as this. How do you earn----?"

"We can always make tucker shootin' kangaroos and emus for their skins; an' if any man wants a cheque bad, for a spell or anything, he can always go shearing inside country. Of course we takes turns at opalling, if we strikes a good show; an' if thar's any new gold discoveries, we git there quick an' lively."

"But you can never make a fortune at work so uncertain?"

"Lor'! mate, but you is hard to please. Here, Charlie; you lend a hand here; this stranger's fresh, an' I is no good pitchin'----" Charlie stepped forward, and at once relieved his comrade of the burden of conversation.

"You reckons we can't make no money?" he said. "Well, I reckons ye is wrong. How about old Tyson, the millioner? An' how about Gilgai Charlie sitting over there?--my handle is Vic Charlie, cos' I comes from Victoria--he made four thousan' clear outen his opal claim only last week; an', darn it all, mate! there's Shandy Bill, that little fellow on yer left, he made ten ounces yesterday jes' by dry-blowing in a pan----"

"Ten ounces! of copper?"

"No--of gold; an' Long Tom here shot one hundred and twenty-three kangaroos at ninepence each----"

"Did you say that your companion found gold?"

"I reckon I did, stranger, an' what's more, we has all dropped on to gold."

"What! There is no gold so far west as this."

"So we was told, mate. Them as is supposed to know, say there can be no gold west of the ranges; but you can allow that this push knows gold when they see it, an'--but show it to him, Shandy." Shandy instantly detached a leather pouch from his belt, and without a word put it into my hands.

"That is gold without doubt," I said, handing it back; "I know by the weight." Vic Charlie seemed surprised at my knowledge of the metal, but he said nothing.

"Does you know much about minerals?" inquired an elderly man who had been listening intently to the conversation.

"I have prospected in most countries," I answered, "and ought to know all that is worth knowing by this time, for the experience was about all I did get."

"Tucker!" sang out some one. "Git table-covers for the visitors, an' look lively." My own companion, while I was talking, had been engaged in similar fashion in the centre of another group, and I smiled to see how intensely interested were his listeners. _He_ was not seeking information, I knew, but from the unconscious ejaculations which frequently arose from his audience, I guessed that he was imparting some; and his selections were invariably strange and wonderful. The cry of "Tucker," however, created a diversion, and during the half-hour that followed, all apparently had but one object in view, and being blessed with a healthy appetite, that same object was very pleasing to me. I was placed between a gentleman called Dead-broke Peter and one dubbed Silent Ted. I afterwards discovered that Peter had been a member of the New Zealand Parliament, but Long Tom introduced him simply as the best talker in camp. I suppose it was to balance matters that the thoughtful Tom placed Ted on my other side, for _he_ never spoke.

"He is a first-class cook an' a most extraordinar' thinker, though," said Tom; and as Ted's corrugated but wonderfully expressive face beamed at the compliment, I saw that a tongue to him was quite unnecessary. The night was very dark, and as the fitful fire-flashes lit up the surrounding gloom and cast fantastic shadows of the squatting men on the sands behind them, the scene was indeed weird. Towards the end of the meal Dead-broke Peter began a conversation, at first very general in character, and which I easily sustained without interrupting my study of the men around; but before I realised that Peter was a man with a past, I found myself floundering in the subject of astronomy hopelessly beyond my depths.

"Yes," I said, endeavouring to collect my senses, "it is wonderful how the science has advanced, but I cannot understand how you have made the heavens a clock."

"Oh, that is a simple matter," he replied. "Canopus sets behind Warrego plains at half-past nine at present; take that fact for your unit, and then the positions of the Cross will indicate plainly, even to minutes, the divisions of the night. But look at that poor snake crawling out of the hollow stump beside you; that means a cyclonic disturbance is approaching----"

"Great Scot! That's a black snake. Look out, boys!" I cried, springing to my feet. Ted, who had been drinking in every word spoken, quietly reached over, and catching the wriggling creature by the tail, skilfully swung it round his shoulder and brought its head forcibly against the log. The snake must have been killed instantly: but its long body quivered convulsively for a moment, and then with a sudden jerk shot backwards and coiled tightly round Ted's arm. To my surprise, none of his comrades troubled even to look at Ted during this performance: all, with the exception of Peter and himself, were absorbing the words of my very Scotch companion, who was relating with powerful dramatic effect some peculiar experiences of his in other parts of the world. But evidently Ted did not expect any attention, for without uttering a sound he arose, shook his encumbrance into the fire, and sat down again, with a look on his face that plainly said to us, "Go on! What have you stopped for?"

Peter politely directed my gaze to a nine-inch centipede that was prospecting across my boots, and then launched into a discourse on theological matters, which in time led into the supernatural, and finally narrowed down to a discussion on the mysterious rites of the aborigines' Bora.

"Little Bob, that tall man sitting next your companion, has had much experience among the natives of the north," Peter said, "and if you could only get him to talk he could tell some marvellous tales."

I looked over to the other side of the fire, and saw that Little Bob was the individual who had asked the extent of my mineral knowledge. "I have heard some tall stories of their corroborrees, Ghingis, and Bunyips," I answered; "but no white man has ever seen anything that could not be easily explained."

"Think not? Perhaps you are right, but my experience leads me to think differently. There is a Bunyip's pool seventeen miles from here--in fact, we get our water from it; but there is not a man in this camp who would go near it at night for--well for anything. And as for the corroborrees, there are men here who have actually gone through a series of them, and if you stay with us, or travel northwards, you will probably see some for yourself."

Peter's words interested me greatly, so, careful not to interrupt his flow of eloquence, I soon became as silent as the gentleman on my left, and was rewarded by hearing a most wonderful account of the dreaded Bunyip--that strange mysterious creature, half fish and half fiend, the very sight of which, it is said, means death to the unfortunate beholder. I had often heard of this "dweller in the waters" from half-caste aborigines in New South Wales, and knew that it was supposed to live in the subterranean pools which abound throughout the Australian interior; but I never imagined that white men could be so firmly convinced of its existence as were my present companions.

"It's in the Brumbie's water-hole, you can bet your life," said a strangely deformed man, who had joined our group when the name was mentioned.

"How do you know? Have you seen it?" I inquired.

"No, an' doesn't want to; but Jack Ford did."

"And where is he?"

"Ask Sam Wilkins. He's the only glory prospector here."

"What has he to do with it?"

"Lor'! stranger, if he doesn't know where Jack went, no one here does. Jack was as fine a mate as iver I met; but whether he staked off a claim up aloft, or pegged out in the other place, I'm darned if I knows. He saw the Bunyip one full moon, an' croaked the next day."

I now noticed that all the men had gathered round our little group, and before I could further question the speaker, Long Tom broke in. "Is ye in a hurry to git up to the Gulf country?" he said.

"Not particularly," I answered.

"Yer mate tells us you is a great mineralogist?"

"Oh, no,--not great; but I know a little of the science."

"Does ye know what that is?" Tom opened a sack as he spoke and took out a greenish mass of something.

"That is copper sulphide. Where did you get it?"

"Mate, if it's any good, there's hundreds and thousands o' tons o' it lyin' on top not mor'n fifty mile from here. But what is this?"

"Why, that is native silver; and that conglomeration in Ted's hand is an ironstone formation carrying gold----"

"Say, mate," interrupted Little Bob, "does ye know what this is?" He held in the palm of his hand a mixture resembling tea in appearance, but which after tasting I knew could not be that substance, "Ah! ye is bested, mate, an' I is glad," continued Bob. "I knows ye is honest now, an' don't skite when ye doesn't know."

"Thank you; but what is it?"

"Pidcherie, stranger. Money can't buy it. It comes from the Mullagine swamps; an' gold nor lead wouldn't make a black fellow part with it. Swallow that, an' you can dance in the fire an' not feel nothin'; cut yourself in little bits an' you'll think it fun. Only the niggers knows what it is, an' no white men barrin' us back boys has iver got any----"

"Time for that again, Little Bob," cried Long Tom, "The question just now is, Will the stranger jine us? Yous can git two shares an' we does all the work," he added, turning to me.

"But, Mr.--that is--Peter here knows more than I do. He----"

"Him!" snorted Tom. "Mate, he's the most onreasonable man in camp. When he starts talking we can't stop him; an' when he is stopped, darn me if we can start him." I turned to see how my late entertainer took these words, but he was lying back on the sand--asleep. Finally, after much quaint reasoning, the men persuaded us to try our luck with them, at least for a time. "Yous can leave us when you like, if it doesn't pay," was Tom's summing up; but as he had just told me of a sand-patch in which tucker could be made by dry-panning, and of a "darned curious country across the Cooper" which was on fire with opal lying on the surface, I thought that the adventure was well worth any risk in that direction. We were still talking when the Southern Cross dipped behind the Grey Ranges; but before we stretched ourselves on the sand to rest it was decided that I and three others should set out in the morning to inspect the opal formations beyond the Cooper, and pending our report as to its value, the others would keep up the funds by kangaroo-shooting and dry-blowing for gold.

Next morning with the first faint streaks of dawn we were ready. Mac and I had our cycles, which we stripped of all their previous accoutrements, and Kangaroo George and Gilgai Charlie rode two of the finest horses in Queensland.

"Be good boys," cried Long Tom, as we prepared to move off after breakfast.

"There is a willy-willy coming soon, so watch where you camp," warned Dead-broke Peter; and without more ado we plunged into a clump of gidgyas, and in a few minutes burst out on the ironshot plain. Neither George nor Charlie was inclined to waste his wisdom on the desert air, and even Mac found it advisable to keep his mouth closed when the fine clouds of sand began to rise. For hours we headed due west, dining at noon, in the open, on a piece of damper and some cold mutton, washed down with an extremely sparing amount of muddy fluid from our water-bags, and then going on again. Before sundown we reached a dried-up creek, where, after scraping in the sand among the roots of a solitary lime-tree, we found sufficient liquid for the horses, which we then hobbled and went into camp, fully forty miles from our starting-point. The sun was now racing down on the western horizon, and the desert around seemed like a sea of gold. The day had been oppressively hot, and consequently we expected that night would be kept lively by the many pests. Nor were we mistaken. Just as our surroundings became blurred in the shadows of night a dingo's dismal howl broke the strange stillness, and then the blood-curdling shrieks of some laughing-jackasses in the tree above irritated us almost beyond endurance. The mosquitoes next joined in, sinking their sawlike suckers deep into our sun-blistered skin; and when the mournful "morepork" added its depressing note, the desert orchestra was completed.

"I reckon there's a storm comin'," remarked George, as he assisted a small death-adder into the fire.

"For onysake let it come, then," growled Mac. "A dinna see what ye've got to complain aboot. Da----darn it!!"

"Is ye bit, Scottie?" inquired Charlie. "Lor'! there's a centipede on your neck. It feels like red-hot coal, doesn't it?" he added sympathetically.

"No," groaned Mac; "it's a rale cooling sensation; but, here, feel for yersel'." He poised the creature on a twig as he spoke, and skilfully landed it on Charlie's back, and the yell that followed might have awakened a Bunyip, had there been such a monster within five miles.

"Shut up! darn ye, Charlie!" roared George, lifting a nicely browned damper from the ashes; "ye has set the black fellows' ghosts off again. Lor'! just listen to 'em."

"Hurry up with that damper, George," I interrupted--"that is, if there's no snakes in it."

"There's many things worse than snakes, boss," innocently replied George; "they is prime, if ye roast 'em an' has got any salt----"

"Haud yer tongue, man, or A'll mak' a corroborree o' ye," roared the hungry Mac, and I had to interfere hastily to prevent bloodshed.

The memory of that night's tortures still haunts me. The desert was alive with all sorts of reptiles and insects, and from my companions, as they rolled sleeplessly in the sand, many short but heartfelt expressions arose which I dare not repeat. At sunrise we set out again, and all day travelled westward over country similar to that which we had already passed, camping at night on an "Ana" branch or backwater of the famous Cooper, and enduring another night of misery.

"I reckon we should be near the Ghingi's opal now," said George as we resumed our journey on the third day; "but say, boss, what's wrong with the ole sun? or is it the willy-willy?" There certainly was reason for George's question, for the sun as it shot up over the edge of the plains seemed merely a dull red ball; but the gem-shot haze which danced between showed the cause, and I realised that a cloud formed of minute particles of sand was partly obscuring it from view.

"We'll get across the main river and look for shelter," I said, "for evidently this storm has been working up for some days." We crossed the "Ana" channel and proceeded slowly, for the ground was now broken up as if by volcanic agencies. I was anxious to see the Cooper, the great inland sea of the early pioneers, but to my astonishment no water was yet in evidence as far as the eye could reach; so, leading our steeds, we picked our way over the cleft and burnt ironstone.

"These is the Ghingi's holes," said Charlie, as we came to some unusually large and deep chasms, "an' keep your eyes open, for there should be opal here."

"Whaur has that patent river got tae, I wunner," muttered Mac. "I never had muckle faith in Australian rivers, an' I doot the nearest water-hole in the way we're goin' is the Indian Ocean."

"Say, boss," suddenly said George, "how far is it to the war?"

"Oh, South Africa is about seven thousand miles from here. Are you thinking of going?"

"Well, some of the boys was talking that way; but none o' us knew the country, nor if the track was to sunrise or sundown."

"Africa is west from here, George."

"Is ther enuff water for horses on the trail?"

"Why, man! you cross the ocean."

"Well, I reckon old Joy here can cross anything; but it beats me to know how a fellow can carry tucker. I s'pose there is plenty stations on the road, though?" I looked at George in amazement, and Mac grinned with delight.

"Maybe they wouldn't want us, Kangaroo," put in Charlie; "but I reckon we can ride anything as has feet, an' shoot----"

"Lie down flat, mates!" shouted George; "here's the willy-willy."

I turned and saw a huge black wall gyrating wildly towards us. A roar like that of thunder filled the air, followed by a sound as of waves breaking upon a rocky beach. A fierce blast of back-drawn sand struck my face, and as I threw myself down I felt as if drowning for a moment; then a hail of stones, scrub, and sand rushed over me, tearing my clothes to shreds, and penetrating my skin like shot, while a thick blackness blotted out everything around. I lay still, conscious that a deposit of sand was fast covering me; but I also felt that the suffocating tension was already becoming less severe, and next minute a current of moist cool air, delightfully soothing to my sand-blasted skin, swept over the desert, and I sat up. It was still dark; but the awful vortex had passed, and away to the west I could still hear the indescribable rumbling sound of the flying boulders among the Ghingi holes.

"Is we all here?" sounded Charlie's voice close beside me, and I felt relieved when I heard the muffled responses of my comrades, for I knew that if caught in the centre of such a storm we had just escaped, nothing living could withstand it. I groped for my cycle, and moistened my throat with the damp sand that now filled the water-bag, noticing, as some of the contents spilled down my neck, that the temperature must have fallen considerably, for the accident caused me to shiver.

"Ye talk aboot gaun into the Australian interior," spoke Mac dolorously, as he in turn swallowed a mouthful, "but I'm thinkin' that a lot o' Australia has gone into mine."

"Never mind, Mac," I replied, as we all crawled towards each other, "here comes the first rain we have had since leaving Adelaide, and if the horses are all right, so are we."

"I reckon they is O.K.," said Charlie; "they knows more than most people, them horses."

While he was speaking we cast off our scanty garments and revelled in the refreshing drops; but rain in the back-blocks is worth more than its weight in gold, and this shower only lasted about a minute, and passed on in the wake of the willy-willy. Shortly afterwards the darkness rolled away to the west like a huge receding screen, and near us we saw the two horses rolling on the ground with evident enjoyment. But I did not ask my companions how it was that our four-footed friends had escaped so lightly, for my attention was attracted by a scintillating streak of something on the edge of a small hole, and as my eyes became used to the now blinding glare of the sun, I saw that the whole surface of the desert was literally blazing with small points of colour.

"Lor'!" exclaimed my Australian comrades simultaneously, "we has struck the very place after all."

"Ay, mon," said Mac wrathfully; "an' hoo did ye no' ken that afore?"

"'Cos the opal was dead," replied George, "an' the rain has made it 'live again."

Mac looked suspiciously at the speaker; but Charlie added that "dead" and "live" were terms used in speaking of dull opal that could be made to flash as if alive by the application of water. This explained why we had not seen the gems before, and without troubling to inquire where the Cooper had gone, or how--if Charlie and George were correct--we had got to the other side of it, we attacked the ironstone boulders with our small hand-picks.

"Every gibber's got an opal heart," remarked George, smashing a large boulder to fragments.

"Take care, then," I warned, "or you will break it too."

"Then how is we to do it, boss?" inquired Charlie, poising his pick in mid-air. "Does ye think it will come out if we whistle on it?"

I did not; nor to this day have I found how to get that opal out intact. We tried every method that could be devised, but without success, for each time we broke the outer casing the more brittle core was also shattered by the blow. Patiently and laboriously we chipped the ironstone, only to find that the gem was in powder form when we reached it. We then tried roasting the stones, carrying them to a small clump of stunted gidgyas for that purpose; but found then, that although the shell broke with less hammering, the "life" of the opal was destroyed by the heat, and a dull lump of glass-like substance was all our reward.

For two days we wandered among the Ghingi holes trying specimens continually, but with the same results, and at last I was convinced that further work under the circumstances was useless. The horses were now beginning to suffer for want of proper food, and I saw that the water question would also trouble us as soon as the pools formed by the willy-willy shower had evaporated. Cooper's creek as a flowing stream had ceased to exist. Probably its waters, or all that seven years' drought had left of them, had gone to feed that strange tide which ebbs and flows so mysteriously under the heart of the great Lone Land; but in its old channels we saw only dead and dying creatures of the desert, and the banks were simply a nursery for fever germs.

"I reckon we'll have to give it best," at length said Gilgai Charlie, and I could see no alternative.

"If sufficient rain came, we might be able to bring a team out," I said, "and cart a load of boulders back to Eromango. If we could not there get the ironstone dissolved with acid, we could at least send them to Brisbane and get them cut."

"That's all right, boss," spoke George, "but I reckon we might as well look for gold nuggets droppin' from the sky as enough water for a team." And I knew he was right.

We thought of striking across to the central ranges of South Australia to prospect the ruby formations there, but we found, when we reached the end of the broken ground, that our course lay through a belt of soft sand in which our wheels sank over the rims; and having neither sufficient water nor stores to risk walking for an unknown distance, we were forced to abandon the attempt. On the afternoon of the third day we started on the back track, and that night camped on the Ana pool. We made our old camp by the "soak" the next night, and at noon, the day following, struck the camps of those of our comrades who had gone dry-blowing.

"Well, mates, don't worry. It doesn't matter anyhow, for we'll git it some day, if we doesn't peg out," was the general comment when they had heard our story; and then the billy was boiled.

I was much surprised to see that gold was present in the sands of the desert; and even although the quantity was small, and only in patches widely apart, the fact afforded much food for thought. The process of dry-blowing adopted by the men was extremely simple, consisting of dropping the sand from one pan raised above the head to another resting on the ground, then reversing the positions of the pans and repeating the operation. In action, most of the sand and other light material was carried away or diverted by the wind; but the gold--if any--in accordance with the law of gravitation, dropped straight. When the bulk was thus reduced until only the precious metal and the heavier ironstones were left, the contents were put aside, and another panful proceeded with in the same manner. Finally the collected matter was thrown on an improvised inclined plane that had bars of wood fastened across its surface. In rolling down, the ironstone pebbles cleared these ripples and fell to the ground; but the gold, being too heavy to do likewise, was caught in the angles, and afterwards carefully removed by the operator. The work was very slow and laborious, and often attended with very disappointing results. "But," said Dead-broke Peter, while explaining this to me, "we sometimes strike a patch that pays well."

"Can you explain why there is _any_ gold here?" I asked. "There are no auriferous reefs which could shed it nearer than eight hundred miles, and, according to all geologists, the entire desert is the deposit of the ocean."

"That may be," Peter replied, "but I have conclusive proof that there is a gold-bearing reef not more than a quarter of a mile from where we stand. I have no doubt that the rocks carrying it once reared themselves above the surrounding sea; but that was--well--before our time; and now they are too deep for us to reach."

I suggested that if the men had some mechanical appliance which could treat the sand in large quantities, they might do well with the surface deposit. "Perhaps," Peter said indifferently; "but there would be too much worry attached." And seeing that Silent Ted had dinner ready, we changed the subject.

Long Tom and four of the men had gone out emu-and kangaroo-shooting, and were not expected back for a week, and knowing that neither Mac nor I could be of any special service to the men at dry-blowing, we at length resolved to proceed to the Gulf, as was our original intention.

Our companions were very sorry when we announced this; but I told them we had come out expressly to study the aborigines at home, and that when we had done so we might come back.

"You'll see them before you go far," said Shandy Bill.

"An' don't go foolin' near a corroborree, Scottie," warned Little Bob; "'cos if ye does thar will be a funeral, as sure as them currants in that damper there is only ants."

Dead-broke Peter was evidently qualifying for a Silent Ted reputation, for it was only when kicked repeatedly by that individual that he roused himself, and in effect said, "Remember, if you happen to get into trouble, that the various corroborrees are only stages in the grand Bora; and that the signs used in their working have a wonderful resemblance to those of a certain society to which I see you belong." This information was startling, to say the least of it; but Peter had again fallen into his listless attitude, and could not be induced to say more: so, after receiving many messages, written and verbal, to despatch from the first settlement reached, we departed.

Eight days later we crossed the north Cooper (here called the Thomson river) at Jundah--it was in flood here(!)--and in another four days we reached Winton. From this unique township we made good time northwards through a well-watered country, which, although in the tropics, is blessed with a pleasant climate; and while running down the Flinders river had our first adventure with the natives. The Australian aboriginal is believed to be the lowest form of humanity extant; but there are many things in his philosophy of which the white man has not dreamt. He fights with nature for his very existence, his food being the crawling creatures of the earth and what he wrests from other animals; and even then he is haunted with an eternal dread of devouring demons, who--according to his belief--are for ever seeking his destruction. His Bora is his only safeguard against these Ghingis and Bunyips; and it is in matters pertaining to the observance of its various corroborrees that he has achieved such triumphs over nature, and performs feats that, to the white man, are entirely inexplicable.

An ordinary corroborree is merely a meeting that may be summoned by the chief or elders of any tribe; but those relating to the Bora are a series of religious ceremonials culminating in a weird fire-test, which all young warriors must undergo before attaining to the state of manhood. This fire-test, with various modifications, is also practised by the New Guineans and South Sea Islanders; but with the latter it now seems to have degenerated into a performance for the priests alone; and in the Fiji Isles a form of fire-walking is still observed, chiefly for the benefit of the sensation-loving tourist. Among the Australian aborigines, however, the working of the Bora is the chief object of their existence, and with them the tests are very real indeed. The fire-test is worked by a procession of aspiring natives marching round on a path which leads through the centre of many fires. A figure in the fanciful attire of some strange monster apparently controls the movements of the warriors by the motion of some object which he swings rapidly round his head, and which produces a humming sound not unlike that of a steam-siren. The performance is followed by a warlike display supposed to strike terror to the heart of the dreaded Bunyip, and if that creature could see the grotesquely garbed warriors as we saw them--hiding in the mulga scrub with our bicycles lying beside us--I have no doubt that it would speedily take itself off to some less dangerous-looking part of the globe.

It is supposed that no white men have ever witnessed the higher corroborrees; but that belief is erroneous, for during our journey northwards we met several backblockers on the wallaby to the opal district who were quite familiar with the entire ceremony, and some, like little Bob, had even taken part in them, of course not willingly.

The aborigines are very scarce now, and happily, perhaps for us, most of our adventures with them tended more to be ludicrous than exciting, and in due course we arrived at Normanton, the chief town in the Gulf country.

A month later we landed at Brisbane from the ss. _Peregrine_, and in two days were completely tired out and disgusted with the artificialities of city life. The Queensland contingent of the Imperial Bushmen was to embark in the afternoon for South Africa, and we joined the cheering throng that lined Queen Street to see the men ride past. I have seen the Scots Greys in Edinburgh, but the men of "England's last hope" were not like them. Their smart dresses hung loosely on their angular frames, and their tanned faces were in vivid contrast to those of the Brisbanites. They were all tall, and sat in their saddles in a style that was certainly not military, and their faces wore an absent-minded expression. I knew, however, that fever would have no effect on these men, that they could stand any hardship, that an earthquake could not unhorse them, and that every time those eyes with the far-away look glanced along the rifle-barrel something would drop somewhere. A shout from Mac interrupted my musings, and knowing that he always had some reason for what he did, I followed him through the densely-packed crowd, and found him in the act of hauling a trooper from his horse.

"It's Kangaroo George!" he yelled, "an' he's dreamin'!"

"Hallo, Scottie!" suddenly said the roused warrior; "did yous see the nigs?"

"Hang the niggers!" roared Mac; "it's you I want tae ken aboot. Hoo----?"

"I see you have got on to the South African trail after all, George," I said, grasping his hand.

"Close up there, men!" roared the sergeant.

"Darn it! Dead-broke, doesn't ye see who is here?" remonstrated another familiar voice, and next instant I was shaking hands with Sergeant Dead-broke Peter--I never knew his other name. There was now a general confusion owing to the men having to lead their horses down to the wharf where the transport _Maori King_ was waiting to receive them, and by adopting tactics not unknown nearer home Mac and I got down with the troopers.

"An' has ye not a word for Shandy Bill?" suddenly spoke another voice at my side.

"An' Sam Wilkins?" said a quiet-looking trooper.

"An' me--Corporal Vic Charlie?" cried the one who had remonstrated with his sergeant.

"Is the whole camp here?" I cried surprisedly, while Mac muttered strange words anent the results of shaving on a person's appearance.

"No; only five," answered Vic Charlie. "Gilgai and Little Bob came down too; but they were too old, an' they is goin' out west again to-night when they see us away."

"I say, boss," whispered George to me, "you knows the trail, doesn't ye?"

"Fairly well, George," I replied; "you see the Southern Cross all the way."

"Then can you give us a notion how far out our first camp is?"

"You don't camp at all. You travel night and day--that is, unless the propellor shaft or something else breaks."

"Lor!" was all George's comment, but his face spoke volumes.

We stayed with our old comrades until the last moment arrived; and then, in company with Gilgai Charlie and the giant Little Bob, who had joined us on the wharf, went and dined. These two worthies were, as they said, already "full up with the city," and when the western express left that night it had on board four men and four cycles booked through for Cunnamulla _en route_ to the opal fields. Twenty-eight hours afterwards we landed at the western terminus, and taking advantage of the full moon and the hard camel-pads leading farther west, we made sixty miles before morning.

ON THE OPAL FIELDS OF WHITE CLIFFS

There are many strange places and peoples in this world, and of those the opal fields and opal miners of White Cliffs, New South Wales, are good examples. The opal district is situated sixty miles N.N.W. of Wilcannia, a somewhat remarkable township on the Darling River, and the men who make gem-hunting their profession number over two thousand. Of this amount, less than a half belong to some branch of the Anglo-Saxon race, the remainder being a mixture of all nationalities, of which Germans are the most numerous. The township of White Cliffs stands in a hollow in the centre of the "workings," but it is merely a collection of galvanised iron drinking saloons and stores; the population living out on their claims, some in tents, some in their horizontal excavations or "drives"; and others with only the sky for a roof. When it is stated that the town also contains a Warden's residence, a hospital, and a good substantial prison--there is as yet no church--that most of the stores are run by Chinamen, and that the Jew gem-buyers form the aristocracy, the description of the town is complete. The fields, however, at present extend for three miles round the town, and in all probability will stretch further out on the great western desert when some means of providing sufficient water for the miners is devised. But the opal has been proved to exist in such vast quantities within the three miles radius, that there is as yet no need for any one to go further out.

The methods employed in searching for opal are extremely simple. Briefly, this consists of sinking a shaft, or, if the claim happens to be located on a slope, tunnelling into the ground until a seam of gem-carrying matrix is encountered; from which the opal is then separated by means of a small "gouging" pick or other tool. These layers exist at various parallel levels from the surface down to forty feet, but no "paying" opal has yet been struck at greater depths. It is highly probable, however, that this is because the task of further sinking with the primitive means of pick, spade, and windlass, the only appliances used, becomes at this point somewhat difficult, and the men, knowing the value of the shallower levels, prefer spending their energies on another shaft in fresh country. The matrix in which the gem is found consists of a hard silicious conglomeration, usually thickly impregnated with ironstone. The opal is embedded in this material in the form of thin sheets, which, however large they may be while in the formation, can only be removed in divisions of about the size of a five shilling piece.

Opal is of all colours and shades, but unfortunately for the miner a piece of exquisitely coloured blue, green, or red stone is considered absolutely valueless if not accompanied with the vivid scintillating flash which denotes its "lifeness." Tons upon tons of this worthless stuff, "Potch," as it is called, are daily thrown out of the shafts by disgusted opallers, for in common with most things in this world, the bad is very plentiful, in fact it is almost impossible to get away from it; but the gem or "live" opal is correspondingly rare. Nevertheless, fortunes are frequently made here by the merest chance, and perhaps to a greater degree than elsewhere is a man justified by results in believing that some day he will "send his pick through a fortune." As said before, the miners are of nearly all the races of mankind, and many incongruous partnerships are formed for the holding and working of a two, three, or four men's claim; but on the whole, good fellowship rules throughout the camps, and an American negro, a half-caste Chinaman, or a Turk, stands by the windlass of a canny Scot, a Frenchman, or a Hindu.

There are no disputes between capital and labour in White Cliffs, every man is his own master, and follows out his own usually erratic inclinations, unless sometimes when, after a lucky find, he imbibes too much of a certain commodity falsely-labelled Scotch, and consequently the police exercise a slight control over his movements.

There are no surface indications to guide one in searching for opal, and as the most experienced "gouger" knows no more where the gem may be than the latest new chum, all work is done on chance. To such a strange state of mind has the desert environment reduced those men of the back-blocks, that they look upon the grim side of circumstances with indifference, and magnify the trivialities of life into a proportion which to the stranger suggests a land of Burlesque. But soon he, too, catches the mysterious infection, unconsciously he is overwhelmed by the influence of his surroundings, and he ceases to see anything remarkable either in his own doings or in those of his fellows. An observer, while he retained his own mental equilibrium, might see instances of this strange perversion in almost every man in White Cliffs; but, perhaps, my own experiences there may serve to give some fair examples.

My claim was staked about a mile from the town on a small stretch of rising ground which at some time in the Earth's history formed the banks of the lake, in the old bed of which White Cliffs now stands. For comrades I had a powerful Scotsman and two Australians, while the claims around us were worked by an American and a native of Mauritius, known as Black George, a German and an Englishman--the latter being termed the "Parson," a New Zealander and a Swede, and several other single miners, the chief being one called Satan. We were all good friends, and nightly gathered round a common camp-fire to discuss things in general.

Silent Ted and Emu Bill, my two Australian comrades, were perhaps the most experienced prospectors on the field; the one had a very thoughtful cast of countenance, and never spoke, and the other was a splendid specimen of the Australian pioneer, but when he spoke it was chiefly in short, crisp words, of decided colonial origin, which Mac said would have qualified him "A1 for the position of a Clyde stevedore." Together they had crossed the divide between the Darling River and Cooper's Creek, and occasionally, when the moon was full, and the Southern Cross dipping behind the Great Barrier Ranges, Bill would tell of a land where fire-flashing opal burst through the surface sands, and shone in dazzling streaks of every imaginable colour from every wind-swept ledge. Ted would eagerly follow his comrade's words, and his wonderful face would light up with genuine admiration when Bill's word-pictures were powerfully descriptive. But he was too sympathetic, and frequently, alas! got into trouble because of that.

"Shut up, Ted!" Bill would suddenly cry, pausing in the middle of his narrative. "Is it you that's tellin' this yarn or me?"

At these rough words the silent one would slowly turn a reproachful glance upon the speaker which said as plainly as words, "Why, Bill, I did not speak."

"I knows that," would come the unhesitating answer, "but your face does, an' it's been an' got to the end of this story afore me."

This was in a manner true, and sometimes when Bill, as Hoskins the American said, was "long-winded in getting to the point," we had but to look at Ted's face for the _dénoûement_.

"But how vas it you came away unt leave all dat opal? There must be millions there," our German friend would say when Bill's narrative was concluded.

"I reckon there is, Kaiser," the _raconteur_ would answer, "but the country is full o' darned crows an' willy-willys, an' ye can't sleep no how with the sand-flies an' snakes an' 'skeeturs. Water, did ye say? No, there ain't none."

However much Ted and Bill may have ignored the absence of the precious fluid, that was the only consideration with most of their listeners, and had there been any water, some of us, at least, would have gone out West at once and chanced everything else.

One evening Bill was unusually eloquent in his discourse on the lavishness with which Nature had gifted the desert, and as all our claims had been yielding but poor returns for the last week or so, we paid more attention to his words than we had been in the habit of doing.

"I wouldn't mind having a try out back," said Scottie, "if there were a railway, or if we had fleein' machines."

"Couldn't we go as we are?" lisped the Parson, "we may work here for ever, and not better ourselves."

Bill gave vent to some sarcastic remarks anent the last speaker's powers of endurance, but otherwise made no comment.

"Bill says the surface is ironshot," continued the Parson blandly, "and, as I saw a team come into town to-day with about two dozen bicycles for sale, I thought----"

"Man, ye are a thinker, Parson," cried Scottie, "I'll gang away wi' ye the morn if ye like--that is if the machines are no ow'r dear."

"I think we ought to get them, no matter what they cost," I remarked, "for if we do go out they would enable us to cross right over to the Cooper at a pinch, if they did not break down, and the ground was passable."

"Well, I guess I am one of the crowd that goes," announced Hoskins.

"Unt me," cried the German.

"I reckon we is all going," said Bill, looking round the camp-fire for corroboration. "Int you, Satan?"

"Of course I is," answered the individual addressed, a corrugated-skinned specimen of humanity. "I is goin' where Scottie an' the Parson goes; but where in tarnation is ye goin', and what for?"

"Cooper's Creek, for opal," roared Scottie.

"Opal," repeated Satan vacantly. Then his eyes kindled suddenly, and he exclaimed, "Lor', I forgot to tell ye, boys, I has been haulin' the stuff out by the sackful these last two weeks."

"What!" yelled all in chorus, springing to their feet, and even the stoical Ted stopped in the act of lighting his pipe to gaze at Satan.

"It are a fact, mates," continued that gentleman apologetically, "I reckon I has near got a waggon-load dumped out by now. Lor', what's the racket, mates?"

Few heard his last words, for as the full literal import of what he had just said began to dawn on the assembly, a stampede took place down the hill towards the shaft; but another surprise was in store. While some were rummaging in Black George's tent for candles to explore the long drive in Satan's claim, and others were sliding down his windlass rope, a series of sounds broke out round our deserted fire, the fervour of which made Hoskins say, "Hallo, boys, how is Bill not here?"

"I is here, darn ye!" came the muffled response from the darkness; "that's Ted that's shouting," which information made it clear to all that Silent Ted in his excitement had placed the blazing mulga stump in his mouth and thrown away his pipe.

I had known Ted for a long time, but that was only the second occasion on which I had heard the sound of his voice. A few seconds later we had crowded into Satan's drive, and after crawling over a heap of mullock that blocked the passage to within one foot of the roof, we found ourselves in the chamber where, from the presence of his pick and other implements, we knew he had recently been working. In a moment the candles were lit, and then a cry of wonder burst from all. We were standing in what might have been an Aladdin's palace, and the walls danced and flashed in the gloom as if alive. The roof was simply one blaze of ever-changing orange and green, and through the whole would dart spasmodically a "living" flash of fiery red. Clearly Satan had struck it, for there must have been several thousand pounds' worth of opal exposed, whatever amount may have been hidden behind. Bill was the first to break the silence of admiration, which had fallen over all, and he only said one word. It was characteristic and expressive, but quite unprintable; and slowly we filed out again and clambered up the rope to the surface. When we got back to our camp we found Ted, Satan, and the Swede sitting in silent meditation round the fire. Probably Ted would have accompanied us, had it not been for the fact that he, being cook, had to look after a mysterious compound of flour and other substances commonly known as damper, which every evening was prepared among the ashes.

"Well, boy, you have struck it, an' no mistake," called out Ford, the New Zealander, to Satan as we approached. "You're a millionaire now."

"Get awa' frae this fire, you unceevilised heathen," roared Scottie, in virtuous indignation. "A man that wouldna' tell his mates when he struck a ton of opal is nae frien' o' mine; get awa' before a dae ye damage."

"Come Scottie," began the Parson, but Mac would have none of him.

"Don't Scottie me," he bellowed, "Ye--ye----" Then seeing the look of pain on the face of the would-be peacemaker he calmed down and said, "Weel, ye shouldna anger me. I'll alloo ony man to judge if----"

"Lor', Scottie, what is ye sayin'?" interrupted Satan anxiously; "I forgot all about the darned stuff. I has no mate, and if you will come and help spend it you can have the half."

"Mein Gott," cried Kaiser, "I vil be your mate for von quarter."

"Satan," began Mac, "A'm sorry A spoke, but A can see ye're no fit to be left alane, among so mony Germans and foreign heathen. Sell yer opal, lad, and bank the money in Sydney. The coach leaves the morn's nicht."

"I'll be darned if I do. I never went and left my mates yet, an' I ain't goin' to start now," exclaimed Satan doggedly.

And then I explained that he had already done sufficient to merit our blessing by discovering the layer of opal at the forty-four feet level. "It in all probability extends throughout all our claims at that depth," I said, "so you had better go down to Sydney and dispose of yours before the news leaks out. Otherwise there will be so much of the opal for sale locally when we all strike it that the buyers may be frightened."

Ultimately we convinced Satan that he should go down to the coast, for it was evident he needed a change, and he could now well afford it. Shortly afterwards the party broke up for the night, and soon the camps were wrapt in slumber, each man dreaming, doubtless, of the opal he would get on the morrow four feet beneath the floor of his lowest drive.

In the morning the Parson, Kaiser, and Mac went over to assist Satan in working out the opal showing in his claim, and in the evening he departed with twenty pounds weight of first-grade opal tied securely in sacks so as to excite no suspicion. The news of the deep-level find soon spread, and at noon of the day following Satan's departure our little community was the centre of a "rush," which by evening had swelled into a great canvas settlement stretching right across the white glistening lake-bed towards the township.

That evening our usual camp-fire circle was increased by the addition of over a hundred hardened fortune-seekers eager to obtain any information as to the levels, depths, and formations of the country, which, obviously, only we who had shafts already sunk were able to supply.

"It are the forty-four feet level seam we has struck," Bill answered to all inquiries, "an' it likely spreads out all over the flat there, though I 'spects it turns into Potch before it goes far."

"I reckon we'll chance that," was the general response, and next day the many heaps of upturned sand that grew in proportion as we looked, showed that the new arrivals were fast doing so.

Meanwhile, the buyers were greatly agitated. They had heard exaggerated reports concerning the find of the "forty-four," and had arranged among themselves to beat down the prices of the opal to £4 an ounce. It, therefore, surprised them to find the days passing and no one offering to sell any opal; and one morning two of their fraternity repegged Satan's abandoned claim, evidently with the intention of investigating matter for themselves. As we had been endeavouring by various subterfuges to keep this claim intact, some of us having even altered our boundaries the better to do so, we were much chagrined at this brilliant move on their part, but marvelled how they had come to know that it was not legally manned. However, the claim was worked out, and as the two new holders knew as little about the practical part of mining for opal as we knew of the value of the gem, we consoled ourselves with the reflection that, after all, we might be able to turn their proximity to account.

Thus it was that every evening a well-packed sack was carefully hoisted from each of the shafts of the surrounding claim-holders, and a rumour spread abroad that a new Sydney syndicate was buying opal by the ton. Our two Hebrew friends, by dint of persistent effort, gradually insinuated themselves into our good graces, and one day astonished us by announcing that they were capitalists, and would purchase our claims if the terms were reasonable. At this straightforward way of doing business, so foreign to the nature of their compatriots, I felt that we had greatly wronged them, and as they said, truly enough, that they did not know what our claims contained, and that their offer was merely a part of honest speculation, the Parson and I were much worried over certain matters.

"I reckon I vote for selling," said Bill one evening as we held a meeting to consider the proposal. "The money will pay ex's for a trip West, an' darn 'em! they're Jews anyhow."

"A'm wi' ye, Bill," cried Mac, and one by one all signified their approval of the sentiments expressed until only the Parson and I were left.

"Of course I will not vote against my partner, Kaiser," began the Parson, "but really there is nothing in our cl----" He stopped abruptly, for, from the shadows of our mullock-heap, stepped a stranger. There seemed something familiar about his gait as he crossed the fire-lit zone, and sat down on the empty kerosene tin on which Satan used to sit, but I could not recollect whom he resembled. For a moment no one spoke; the stranger's amazing coolness had taken our breath away. He was dressed in, presumably, the latest style of Sydney clothing, but even in the dim light I could see that his garments hung loosely on his person. Evidently he had just arrived in White Cliffs, and had not yet been in a willy-willy (sand-storm).

"Look here, ma man, hae ye a ticket?" said Mac at length.

"If ye is a new chum ye will get tucker in that tent there," said Bill, "but----"

"Lor', mates! What does ye mean? Doesn't ye not know me?" interrupted the stranger. "I is Satan----"

"Golly! an' so it is, but--but where's your whiskers," cried Black George, holding a lighted match in the stranger's face.

"Satan, ye deevil, gie's yer hand," roared Scottie, "A'm rael glad to see ye."

"Oh, mates, I is glad to git back, I is," began our old friend. "I hasn't had a proper feed since I left, an' I has been disgraced. I went to a theatre in Sydney an' there was a fight on the stage, an' because I jumped up an' jined in socially like, the police came in an' started on me. I couldn't fight them all, for there war' mor'n a dozen, an' next day the judge, a very decent old gentleman, told me to git from Sydney, for it war' full o' sharks. I gitted to Melbourne, but, oh, Lor'! mates, don't none of you never go there----"

"But your opal, Satan? What did you get for it?" I broke in.

"Oh, that darned stuff? Mates, it weren't worth much after all. There war' two young fellows in the Wilcannia coach with me, an' they told me that it war' no good. They war' Jews of course; but they went down all the way with me an' took me round all the buyers in Sydney, an' none o' them would look at it. I didn't know what to do; and I was mighty glad when the two Jews gave me two hundred pounds for the lot. I spent the money as quick as I could, an' here I is back again, an'---- But has ye got no tucker?"

For full five minutes the air was filled with the most powerful words in at least four different languages, during which entertainment Satan unconcernedly ate the piece of damper which Ted had handed to him.

"I suppose you do not remember the names of your two kind friends, Satan?" I said, passing him the tea billy.

"No, but they both wears a chain with a most 'culiar pendant, something like what the Parson showed us one night."

"Ah!" I cried. "Gentlemen, our business is settled. We will sell our claims to-morrow: we cannot refuse the kindly, disinterested offer of Satan's two benefactors."

"But I reckon the price has risen, hasn't it?" inquired Bill.

"Yes," answered the Parson grimly. "Satan's opal was worth £8,000."

Next morning the two Hebrews came out from town a full hour earlier than usual, and without more ado the Parson, as spokesman, informed them that having considered everything and being desirous of going out West, we were willing to sell our joint claims for three thousand pounds in cash.

"But two tousant was the agreement," remonstrated one.

"There was no agreement," replied the Parson. "Candidly I can't imagine why you wish to have the claims, for opal seems to have fallen in the market, but if you still desire them that sum is our price until we hear from other possible purchasers."

While he was speaking, Mac and Hoskins were assiduously painting the address of a famous Sydney firm of jewellers on a well-roped candle-box, and after eyeing them intently for a minute, Aaron ---- said--

"Vell den, we don't cares, we is speculative business men. No, we do not want to see your drives. Ha, ha! we vas not built to go through rabbit-holes. Here is de money, sign this papers all of you, an' come and dine with us in the Australian Thirst saloon."

The above is the history of the finding of the "forty-four" feet level, and the selling of "Block 91." The money was equally divided among the men interested, after which most of them pegged out fresh claims elsewhere, but Bill, Ted, Satan, Black George, Scottie, the Parson, and I, procured bicycles and water-bags, and started off on our Western prospecting trip that same afternoon. It is unnecessary to repeat the details of our journey. The country was at first a hard, sandy plain dotted here and there with sparse growths of the ubiquitous mulga scrub, and occasionally broken by outcrops of silver lodes; but as we advanced, all forms of vegetation disappeared, and on the third day we found ourselves on an undulating sea of ironshot sand bounded only by the horizon. We had not as yet seen any signs of surface opal formations, and of course had no intention of sinking shafts to investigate, in the heart of such a desert. On the fourth day we calculated that we had now reached a point one hundred and forty miles west from White Cliffs, and that night we camped on the edge of a dry clay-pan and considered the advisability of returning. Bill and Ted, however, persisted that we had not yet gone far enough to see the place of which they had spoken so often, and although I could not understand how they had managed to travel such a distance, nor how they knew whether we had passed their farthest-out camp or not, I had implicit faith in the correctness of their observations.

"I reckon we has to go 'bout thirty miles yet. We was jest a day off here," said Bill.

"You must have been quite close to Lake Frome then," I said.

"Never seed it, nor knowed of it, nor don't believe there ever was any lake in this part o' the world," replied Bill, and I wondered greatly, seeing that Lake Frome was distinctly marked across our path on the Government map in my possession. We had no fire that night, there being nothing that would burn within at least a day's journey, and consequently our supper was not of a tempting nature.

"Well, men, I don't know that I care to be responsible for taking you further west," I announced. "How much water is left in the bags?"

"There war' six gallons between them all after supper," answered Satan, "but Ted took a drink since then."

"Let us try another day yet," advised the Parson, "we can go back over our tracks in two days, and the opal might only be an hour ahead."

All expressed their approval of these remarks, so soon after, we scraped the top off the hard sand and went to sleep. The pests were unusually energetic that night, and several times we were awakened by their voraciousness. The Parson and Black George seemed to be affected even more so than the others, but it must have been an exceptionally large and active centipede that bit our dusky comrade in three places before he could discard his garments. At any rate, his yells aroused four evil-eyed crows from their dreams of the gorge they expected to have soon, and a skulking dingo also started in affright, emitting as it retreated a blood-curdling howl, that instantly brought us all to our feet.

"Lor'! nigger! Has ye not never been bit before?" cried Satan in a reproving tone of voice, as he cast a sand-snake from under him.

"Who does ye expect can sleep with you on the corroborree, Nig? Darn it! An' you a black fellow too. I reckon you oughten 'pologise," grumbled Bill.

George's answer was picturesque, but three bleeding wounds on his back showed where the venomous creature had got in its work on him. He was a hardy piece of humanity, however, and after the Parson had lanced the rapid swelling flesh and applied ammonia, he went to sleep again. Shortly afterwards the Parson himself rose to his feet with an exclamation of annoyance, and began kicking up his sandy sleeping place.

"What's wrong?" I inquired.

"I don't know. There seems to be a boulder or something hard under me. Hallo! What's this--Great Scott! Opal!"

Again the party sprang up, and as the glistening stone was rolled out on the surface and examined by match-light, many and various were the comments made on the poor Parson's ignorance, for the boulder which had sought out the soft corners of his body was a mass of green copper sulphide.

"And has this material no value?" asked the object of the unkind remarks.

"None; it's worse than potch," roared Bill. "See, Scottie's got more. Lor'! it's everywhere."

"It is really worth a considerable amount," I said, "but the expense of treating it properly out here would be too much for us. That is an outcrop, and to all appearance it is one of the richest ever discovered."

We slept no more that night, and before sunrise started off across the clay-pan. The surface was smooth and hard, and with the aid of a slight breeze which arose with the sun we skimmed along at an almost incredible pace.

"Hallo, Ted! There's our old stakes," suddenly yelled Bill, steering for the crest of a broken piece of ground, and following in his tracks, we soon were standing round a broken pick-handle standing upright in the ground and on which was inscribed: "C.B. and S.T. Pros. Claim. Corner Peg."

"How on earth did you manage to lead us here, Bill?" cried the Parson wonderingly.

"Easy enough; this is the same season as when we were out, so we jest ran the ole sun down an' at night ye can always git the bearin's from the Cross."

The Parson's surprise might have been greater had he known that my compass had been useless since the second day out, and that but for a few haphazard observations taken, Bill had been our only guide. Meanwhile Ted had unstrapped a pick and set to work, and before I had fully realised that we stood on what--in the rainy season, if such a season existed in those parts--was an island in the centre of Lake Frome, and that it was its salt-encrusted bed we had been crossing since morning, he handed me a piece of some scintillating substance, inquiring, by the shape of his face, my opinion as to its value.

"Why, that's opalised wood," I exclaimed. "But what have we struck now?"

"The opal we told ye about, of course," grunted Bill. "The sand's blown over it, and Ted's dug it up again; that's all."

Truly we had encountered a marvellous formation. Great masses of fiery and orange opal were uncovered on every side, and for a day we did nothing but gather the best. It was evident that a forest had at one time occupied the site of the lake, for most of the opal showed the grains of wood throughout its structure, and many opalised leaves were found embedded in a matrix which looked uncommonly like bark. This latter fact was most puzzling, for the trees with bark in Australia are few indeed. We pegged out seven prospector's claims, and after a final look round prepared to move, our intention being to arrange for suitable transport for stores and water, and then come back.

"Ye talk about the effeeciency o' the steam engine," muttered Scottie, as he examined the liquid contents of our bags, "but it's far oot o' date now, for we've each got to run a hundred miles a day on a pint o' water, and if onything can beat this----"

"No doubt your remarks are the result of much study, Mac," I said, working out an elaborate calculation on the sand, "but we are not more than ninety miles from civilisation straight ahead, and if we care to travel over what remains of the lake by moonlight and the ground continues passable after that, we will strike the South Australian railway somewhere near Beltana siding to-morrow afternoon."

And so it proved. We reached the S.A. line on the following afternoon, and an hour after sundown stopped the Port Augusta-bound train by kindling a fire in the middle of the track. Thirty-six hours later we found ourselves parading Rundle Street, Adelaide, in quest of some of Scottie's friends who resided there.

A week later I was in Sydney, and while crossing on the _Kirribilli_ from Circular Quay to Milsons Point I came face to face with Aaron----.

"How vas you?" he cried effusively.

"As usual," I replied. "How are the claims turning out?"

"Oh, not too bad," he answered, but his flushed face told another story; "but tell me," he continued, "who vas it bought your opal in Sydney?"

"No one. We sent no opal to Sydney."

"But the boxes and sacks----?"

"Were filled with potch."

"An'--an' the forty-four feet level is--but ah! you make mistake; I bought five tousant pound of its opal before I saw you."

"Yes, I know, but you bought all that ever came from that depth. It was merely a pocket; we discovered that much two days after Satan, your old friend, left White Cliffs. It was in his claim, probably because it happened to be the lowest lying. We might not have sold our claims to you but for the fact that Satan returned, and--well, you know two hundred pounds is not fair value for five thousand."

Aaron's rage was great, but he afterwards paid six hundred sovereigns for the opal we had brought down from Lake Frome. We did not go back there, a shower of rain came on and flooded the lake, and after chasing the elusive gem over the greater part of Queensland with more or less success, our party reformed and set out on a gold-prospecting trip to British New Guinea.

PROSPECTING IN BRITISH NEW GUINEA

The life of the prospector in New Guinea is not fraught with many pleasures, but in my experience, oftener than elsewhere, he enjoys that exquisite sensation which attends the unexpected finding of gold, and here the dreary monotony of life in the Australian interior is exchanged for conditions more congenial to his wandering nature.

British New Guinea is to most people the least-known part of our empire; but there are few valleys in its dark interior in which the prospector has not "chipped" some quartz formation, or "panned" some sand from the river's bed. The British flag was first planted in Eastern New Guinea by Captain, now Admiral, John Moresby, of H.M.S. _Basilisk_, in 1872. This officer, whilst employed in superintending the pearl shell fisheries in Torres Straits, learnt that adventurers, both American and French, were contemplating expeditions and occupation of the then unknown shores of Eastern New Guinea.

The captain of the _Basilisk_, being aware of the great strategical importance of these coasts to Australia, resolved to forestall any such attempt, and fortunately succeeded in securing for England the whole of Eastern New Guinea and its adjacent islands. Ultimately, however, a large part of his labour was lost owing to the retrograde policy of the times, when Germany was allowed to seize so considerable a part of North-Eastern New Guinea without opposition.

Samarai has now eclipsed Port Moresby as the chief port of the possession. It is built, or rather erected, upon a small island at the extreme south-east of the mainland, and is in direct communication with Cooktown in Queensland and the Australian capitals. From Samarai coasting-steamers run regularly to the mouths of the Mambare, Kumusi, and Gira rivers on the northeastern coast, and in the upper reaches and sources of these rivers are the great gold deposits, the origin of which has completely baffled the mineralogist and geologist to explain. The men there do not trouble themselves as to its origin, however, and while the river-beds continue to yield a sure and steady quantity of gold to the ordinary miner, and the mountain gorges or creeks provide sensational "finds" for the more daring prospector, no one cares whether the presence of the precious metal is in accordance with the views of geologists or otherwise.

"It is a fact that the bottom is on top," said an old pioneer. "But then the outcrops are all inside the darned mountains, so we are quits."

The township of Tamata is the most important centre of the New Guinean goldfields, but the Yodda Valley camp rivals it closely, and it is expected that some of the new camps at the base of Mount Albert Edward will in time surpass them both. The fierce, unreasoning hostility of the natives renders prospecting at any distance from the settlements an extremely dangerous occupation, as the writer, who has had several experiences among the cannibalistic tribes of the lower ranges, can testify. As a rule, however, the prospector scorns all such dangers, and if he escapes the dreaded fever, trusts to his rifle for protection and his luck for fortune, and straightway proceeds to cut a path into some unknown river valley.

The famous Yodda Valley, where men at first made fifty ounces of gold (equivalent to £180 per day), was discovered in such manner, and if the stories of some of the prospecting parties who crossed New Guinea in all directions were given to the world, doubtless a "rush" would set in towards the deadly fever-swamps, unparalleled in the world's history both for its general extent and the amount of victims. Round the campfires at night, enveloped in their smoke to escape the many pests, the men of the various settlements regularly gather to discuss the latest news from the coast, and to consider the many strange reports of "great strikes" constantly circulated by the friendly natives. Frequently a party is organised to go and prove the truth of any such report, and when in turn word is sent back that the chances are good, a general exodus often takes place, all setting out for the new fields with light hearts and high hopes.

Miners cannot stay in New Guinea for more than one season at a time; they are forced by repeated attacks of the various fevers to leave their work and take a "spell" in the southern parts of Australia or New Zealand. In my opinion lack of proper food is the prime cause of these fevers, as it is only when the men are "run down" that the kuri-kuri breaks out among them. The stores are floated as far as possible up the rivers in oil-launches and whale-boats, and then transported overland to the camps by native carriers in the employment of the diggers. The majority of the miners are Australians; but in most prospecting parties there is usually a Scotsman and an Irishman, and not infrequently a German.

In the party with which I was associated there were two typical Australian prospectors, one German, one Irishman, and, including myself, two Scots. We also had six native carriers and two dogs. My Scottish comrade said that "the dugs were as guid as ony twa men"; but however that might apply to the whites, it was at least unfair to our dusky "boys," who were Fly River natives, and only cost one shilling each for wages per day. We all had had experience on other goldfields, and each man was fever-proof, which in New Guinea means impregnated with quinine. "Doc," the Irishman, was a Dublin University man of some repute. He had been in turn a member of a famous North Polar expedition, and an officer in the American Philippino campaign. Mac had been everywhere, but his accent seemed to become more pronounced the farther from home he wandered. The two Australians, Emu Bill and Starvation Sam, were good specimens of the wandering Anglo-Saxon. Bill was one of the pioneers of Coolgardie, but if he were addressed by his real name, William Hambley, he would probably not recognise it. Sam was the son of a governor of a not unknown "'link' in our chain of Empire"; but as he adopted his cognomen to hide his identity, and no one would dream of calling him anything else, perhaps I will be excused from going further into his family history. He was six feet five inches in height, had been in his time soldier, sailor, missionary, pearler, outlaw, and mail-carrier, from which description all Queenslanders and South Sea travellers will immediately recognise him. Our German companion was a first-class mineralogist and an excellent comrade--and cook; but he deeply resented the appellation of Kaiser, which Mac bestowed upon him.

"I am not Cherman," he would say. "I vas been as mooch English as you, Scodie."

"A ken that fine, Kaiser," Mac would answer. "A'm Scotch frae Dundee."

We left Tamata with the intention of prospecting the Owen Stanley ranges, and among the miners in general were considered to be the most experienced and best-equipped prospecting party that ever essayed that venture. Our journey for the first week was, allowing for the nature of the country--uneventful. A crocodile gripped one of our carriers while crossing the Ope River, but making a combined attack on the huge saurian, we forced it to relax its hold, and finally, as Bill remarked, "Ther' war one inseck less in the darned country." Another day we were attacked by myriads of bees, and, despite our face-nets, they inflicted much pain upon all. The New Guinean bee does not sting, in the strictest sense of the word; it has an intense craving for salt, and, obeying some instinct, it fastens into the skin and raises great blisters thereon by its peculiar suction action. At lunch-time we carefully made a pile of dry brushwood, and shook a small packet of salt over it. Instantly the bees left us and followed the salt down through the loose heap, and then with a chuckle of delight, and a grunt of satisfaction from Kaiser, Mac applied a lighted match. Doc said that Mac chased the only bee that escaped for over half a mile, but at any rate we were not troubled further that day.

Continuing our journey, which at first had been through the swampy and pestilential morass formed by the Ope River's periodical overflow, we at length crossed the "divide" between the Ope and Kumusi waters, and travelled through a country in which brilliantly-hued creepers blazed from the tree-tops, and luxuriant vegetation flourished everywhere. Gaudy-plumaged parrots, cockatoos, and birds of paradise flitted overhead, making the forest resound with their deafening chatter. Snakes of nearly all varieties started from the dense under-growths as we approached, and our dogs had plenty of exercise in chasing these undesirables. They in turn were the hunted when near rivers, and many a narrow escape Mac and his charges had from the enormous and impregnable crocodiles that infested the banks of all streams.

There were several native villages in the district which we now traversed, but having had previous experience of the treacherous nature and cannibalistic proclivities of most of the tribes in that quarter, we avoided them, and altered our course when we struck a native pad or track. We knew that our tracks must be seen, however, and nightly expected a visit from the warriors, who, fearing only the Government police, looked upon prospecting parties as the lawful prey allowed them by a considerate Government. We were not disappointed. One night, when camped near the Kumusi, and about thirty miles from the Yodda Valley camps, the long-expected attack came, and, to Mac's intense disgust, we did not stay to argue the point, but departed hurriedly and ignominiously. Two days later we reached the Yodda, and camped for some time, to try our luck and hear the latest reports from the mountains. A day previous to our arrival a strong party had set out to prospect Mount Scratchley, and while we were camped a famous pioneering company arrived from the interior, and reported the discovery of vast gold deposits in the gullies of the higher ranges. Several of the members showed some peculiar stones which they had taken from the mountain ravines, and one veteran, in whom Sam recognised an old comrade, hinted mysteriously that the nuggets and slugs which they had with them came from a lava deposit at the source of the Gira, in German territory. While Doc and I noted that significant fact for future reference, Kaiser was more interested in the stones.

"Dat is vat is called zircon," he whispered to me, as he placed a pebble on his tongue. "Gott! it is over twenty carats," he continued excitedly. "Ask him ver it vas come from."

"Why not ask him yourself?" I suggested jokingly, but the reproachful look he gave me made me regret that I had spoken. Kaiser's race, in most British colonies, is always suspected of underhand dealing. On my inquiring of the owner where he had found the stones, he placed them in my hands.

"In some creeks in the back ranges," he answered. "You can have them all. I ain't going to carry them further."

"But look," I said, chipping the edge of one, and disclosing a translucent mass of pale straw colour, in which a tinge of port wine danced according to the manner in which the stone was held.

"I don't care," he replied. "I is a gold-miner, an' I knows that every ounce of gold is worth £3 17s. 6d.; but that is darned stuff only Jews will buy, and I'll throw them away if you don't want them."

I had no spare money--the prospector never has--and as he refused to take a new Winchester rifle and my silver-mounted revolver, I did not know what to give him in return.

"Ye'll need all yer pop-guns where ye are goin'," he said. "I is going down to South Aus. with my pile; but say, if ye has any fruit-salt, or sugar, or quinine to spare, I an' the boys would be ontarnally obliged to ye."

I gave him a bottle of quinine tabloids, and another of saccharine, and, as few of the miners had ever heard of the latter substance, and of course seldom carried sugar, their delight was a treat to see. We entertained them to dinner, and next morning they started for the Kumusi River, _en route_ for the coast, Samarai, and Australia. At the same time we picked up their old tracks and steered for the distant peak of Mount Scratchley.

Our progress was now necessarily slow, for, in addition to being in a hostile country, through which Sir William Macgregor and his native police was the only armed force that had ever passed, we had to carry on prospecting operations. Three days out, our first "strike" was made. We bridged a deep river in the usual manner, by felling a tree across from bank to bank, and after we had crossed, Kaiser, who was an enthusiastic botanist, descended into the channel to examine a curious growth on an under branch.

"Come on, Kaiser," shouted Mac; "there's nae gold doon there."

"Bring up a sample, anyhow," Bill added, throwing him a gold-pan; and laughingly we all passed on, leaving our inquisitive comrade to follow at his leisure. Shortly afterwards Doc shot a wild pig, and, as all prospectors adopt the rule of dining when opportunity offers, a halt was called for that purpose. During cooking operations Kaiser arrived, carrying Bill's gold-pan. Bill took the dish from his hands with the intention of replacing it in its former position on a carrier's back; but, to his loudly and vigorously expressed astonishment, he found that his comrade had followed his instructions, and actually carried about two pounds of sand from the river's bed.

"Lor', but ye is green, Kaiser!" he remarked, preparing to throw the sand out.

"Haud on a wee," Mac cried, seizing his arm; "it's aye whaur ye dinna expect to find gold that ye get it. Noo, I dinna think there's ony there, so try it."

Bill looked at Mac in thoughtful silence for a minute.

"I reckon it's worth trying, anyhow," cried Sam. "Pitch it here, an' I'll pan it."

Bill did so, and Sam walked over to a creek near. Shortly after we were all startled by his shout. "Did you salt" (add gold to) "this dirt, Scottie?" he roared.

"Get oot, man, an' no mak' a fool o' yersel'!" Mac answered, walking over. "Hallo! Come here lads," he continued; "we've struck it!"

In a moment six excited men were round the pan, to which Sam was still imparting a gentle concentric motion, and, to our unbounded amazement, every movement of the dish still increased the comet-like tail of deep red gold in the ripple of the pan.

"Well, I'll be jiggered!" said the two Australians simultaneously.

"I'll be d--darned!" remarked Mac, with great feeling.

"Mine Gott! Tree ounce stuff!" cried Kaiser.

"Better come and have dinner," suggested Doc.

I do not remember what I said; but even our "boys" babbled away in unintelligible but excited language. Of course we returned to the river--one of the Kumusi head-waters--and by sundown had tested the sands at various points for a distance of two miles on both sides of our bridge. Kaiser, meanwhile, had set to work with his pan, and when we returned to our camping-ground he had about half an ounce of coarse gold to show for his efforts.

Next day we pegged out six prospectors' claims along both banks of the stream, including, of course, as much of the alluvial land on either side as our claims would allow. For several days afterwards we devoted some time to the most promising bars and deposits; but, as we had neither the tools nor the material for constructing sluice-boxes, our methods were restricted to simply washing the "dirt" in our pans. On the fourth day Mac threw down his pan, ejaculating at the same time the most-used word in his fairly-extensive vocabulary.

"What is the matter, Mac?" I cried, from the opposite bank.

"I dinna see hoo I shood hae tae work like a Clyde steevedore," he answered, "when ony man wi' the sma'est scienteefic abeelities could get as much gold in hauf an hoor as the lot o' us can in a day."

"Explain, Mac. Have you an idea?"

"Ay, thousands o' them. But what's tae hinder us frae taking a wheen split bamboos an' stringing them thegether like a sheet o' galvanised iron----"

"Nothing. We have our axes. But what----?"

"Turn the affair upside down and lean it against the bank there. Some o' us could throw the sand on tae the thing and Kaiser could keep it goin' wi' enough water tae wash the sand awa.'"

"But the bamboo is too smooth. The gold would be carried over the edges with the sand."

"Pit a hale bamboo in atween every twa split yins, an' if the gold could rise ow'r that it wad be too licht for savin' ony way."

"All right, Mac," I responded. "You make the affair, and if it works we will appoint you our chief engineer."

Mac did not answer. He knew that all his appointments merely meant so much additional work left to him as a matter of course; and even as things were, he never had "ony time for meeditaishun." He made his corrugated inclined plane, however, and as all his comrades, excepting Kaiser, laughed at his idea, he worked it himself for the first day. That evening, as we sat in the smoke of our camp-fire, Doc remarked, "Well, boys, I made about an ounce to-day, but I can't say that I care much about the work."

"I reckon I is good for an ounce too," said Bill.

Sam was cook, Kaiser camp-guard, and I had been writing up my log, so we had nothing to say. Mac evidently--like an Australian bushman--believed that silence was golden, for it was only after being asked several times that he spoke. "Ah, weel," he said reflectively, "there's some folk in this weary world content tae work awa' frae morn till nicht for a paltry three pounds seventeen an' saxpence worth" (one ounce of gold), "but I'm no ane o' them."

"Mac is home-sick," Doc laughed.

"Has your patent turned out a duffer?" inquired Sam.

"I reckon Scottie is keeping back his gold from his mates," said Bill aggrievedly.

"How much did you get, Mac?" I interrupted soothingly, for Mac had been my companion in many a journey, and I understood his nature well.

"I dinna ken," he answered, handing me a fair-sized pouch; "aboot hauf a pun', I think."

"What!" roared the men, springing to their feet.

"Lor, Scottie! Does ye mean----?"

"Eight ounces exactly," I announced. "Mac has made £30 for one day's work."

"Scodland for ever!" shouted Kaiser from the midst of a cloud of native tobacco-smoke, and the others echoed his sentiments. Next day all hands assisted at Mac's machine, which showed in its construction many signs of that gentleman's ingenuity; but it had not been designed to bear the strain now put upon it, and after a few hours' work the bamboo ripples fell away. However it may apply in other circumstances, it is a recognised law among prospectors that misfortunes never come singly, therefore we were not surprised that afternoon when the river suddenly came down "a banker" (in flood) and carried away all our preparations for a new machine. Doc, who was of a philosophical nature, went out shooting when it became apparent that no further work could be done that day. When he returned to camp I saw from his face that the last of our misfortunes had not yet been reached.

"The Papangis and Babagas are out," he said quietly.

"That means----?" I said.

"That we'd better git, quick an' lively too," interrupted Bill.

"This creek runs into a large river about three miles down," continued Doc, "and there is a palisaded village near the junction. I saw some canoes drawn up on the banks, and from their design and peculiar ornamentation I at once guessed who their owners were. There were also some bearing the symbol of the Sizuretas; but probably they were those taken from that tribe when the great massacre occurred. I did not see any natives, and as I was quite close to the palisades I therefore concluded that they did not wish to be seen, and you can all guess what that means."

Doc's words caused great consternation, and when our "boys" gathered that they were in the country of the dreaded Papangi they set up a wailing. "Papangi no good. Hims eat poor black devils. Stick head on pouri dubus" (sorcerer's house), cried one, on whom we had bestowed the title of King George.

"Dinna you be frichtened, ma man," said Mac consolingly. "If ony o' the Papangi heathens come near enough I'll gie them sic a feed o' lead that their ghosts'll hae indegeestion." King George did not understand all that Mac said; but he brightened up considerably at his words, and at once began to infuse spirit into his companions. Mac was always delighted at the prospect of a fight; but as these tribes had only a month previously murdered and eaten most of the inhabitants of Angerita, the chief village of the Sizuretas, and afterwards successfully given battle to the Warden of the Northern Division and his police, who had gone to punish them, we thought discretion the better part of valour, and prepared to move, much to Mac's disgust.

"Are ye gaun to rin awa' again?" he bellowed indignantly. "Let's get ma gun, an I'll gang an' fecht them ma'sel."

"An' your head vas look vell on pole-top, Scottie," said Kaiser as he struck our tent.

"We will fight if we can get a good camping-ground where they can't get behind us," I said, and with that Mac had to be content.

In a marvellously short space of time our carriers were loaded and across the stream, after which we cast our bridge adrift and started up the north bank, intending to follow the river to its source, and then prospect for the lode from which the gold was shed. The sun had just disappeared as we began our march. We had not stayed for supper, and perhaps this fact had something to do with the depressing influence that seemed to rest upon all. Animal life had suddenly become very active; and to feel a coiling, writhing object among the feet, or to tread upon some nameless amphibious creature, was anything but a pleasant sensation.

The moon shone brightly for the first two hours, and we travelled much faster than is usual in New Guinea. Our dogs, however, seemed conscious of some impending danger that was not yet apparent to us; and it grieved Mac sorely to see how his dumb charges hung so closely to his person, and how spiritless they had become.

"I fancy we should have stayed and risked a fight," Doc said at length, as we paused at the mouth of a narrow ravine through which the stream rushed furiously. "Our boys will never face that."

"Can't we get over the top?" I suggested; but Bill and Sam, who had been reconnoitring, said our only possible course was to traverse the stream and trust to there being no pools. This prospect was not very pleasing. We did not know the length of the ravine, nor what animals might have their homes in its depths, and our nerves were already at high tension.

The moon was now obscured with banks of dark clouds that had suddenly shot up from beneath Mount Victoria, and the birds of night, before so noisy, were now strangely silent. The atmosphere had also become oppressively close, and we had to throw down our loads, from sheer physical inability to longer sustain them.

"It's a 'buster' comin'," Sam gasped; "git up the flies--quick!" A flash of lightning lit up the valley as he spoke, and a terrific thunder-clap reverberated through the ravine. A minute of what felt unnatural silence passed, during which we all struggled with our long canvas "fly," and then the storm burst. We had got our flour-and rice-sacks under cover, and following Kaiser's example, crawled in under the folds beside them. The rain was the heaviest I have ever experienced, and soon we were drenched to the skin, even through the thick canvas. Suddenly one of the dogs started up, and instinctively fearing some new calamity, I gripped his nostrils tightly, while Doc crawled to the edge of our covering.

"It's them," he whispered. "They are on the other bank; Heaven help us if we are discovered!"

"Let me oot!" growled Mac; "I'm no gaun to be speared like a rabbit in a hole."

"Shut up, Mac," I remonstrated. "It's too dark for them to see, and they cannot cross the water in any case." The patter of feet could now be heard on the opposite bank, and an occasional Che-ep (battle-cry) showed that we were not mistaken. In this new excitement we soon forgot our miserable condition; and from the characteristic behaviour of the individual members of the party, it was evident that the actual presence of danger had dispelled the strange feeling of depression which previously had almost unnerved us. Mac was muttering to his dogs, Bill and Sam were--unconsciously, I believe--pouring out a torrent of Australian bush words which, as Kaiser afterwards said, "sounded like poedry." Kaiser himself, I knew, was munching a piece of damper, which with thoughtful precaution he had carried from our last camp. Our boys lay still, as if asleep. I was so engrossed in the study of my comrades that events outside passed unnoticed until Doc's voice startled us. "Come out, boys!" he cried; "all is clear." We crawled from under our soaked covering, and found Doc puffing at his pipe as serenely as if he had just risen from supper. The storm had ceased, the moon was shining again, and the dark clouds were speeding towards the Yodda Valley.

"Evidently our friends were surprised by the 'buster' as much as we were," Doc said; "at any rate, they have gone home to dine on something else."

"That minds me that I'm hungry tae," cried Mac; "come on, Kaiser; gi'e us a haun.'"

By some miraculous means these two worthies got a fire kindled, and while we dried ourselves by the blaze of the gum-logs, the "billies" were boiled, and soon some copious draughts of thick black tea made us feel quite recovered. When morning came the waters in the gorge had subsided, and after a hasty breakfast we forced a passage up the stream, and finally emerged on the wooded slopes of the mountains.

The details of our journey from thence onwards would require too much space to enumerate. We steered for the distant ranges, because we wished to prospect them before the state of our stores rendered that impossible, knowing that, if unlucky, we could always come back to the sands of the river. We were attacked twice by hunting tribes of what must have been the notorious Tugeris; but we were no longer inclined to run away, and for the benefit of the gold-seeker who might come after us, we taught them that it was dangerous to interfere with prospectors.

One day in the middle ranges we traced up a rich gold formation, and by the primitive method of dollying with improvised tools obtained 110 ounces from it in three days. In this region--near the source of the Gira--signs of gold were everywhere; but we were not equipped for systematic mining, and could only treat the rich free ore or the alluvial deposits. There seemed to be few natives here, and owing to the height above sea-level the country was much healthier than in the lower valleys. One day we came on a deserted village, in the stockaded garden of which were cocoanut and betel palms, and the usual taro and sweet-potatoes. The sugar-cane and tobacco-plant were also much in evidence, showing that some civilising influence--probably that of the missionaries--had been at work among the former inhabitants. We saw no sign of life, however, and therefore concluded that the fierce Tugeris had recently raided the place.

Another day Doc and I, while climbing up the mountain-side from our camp, found our progress suddenly barred by a steep gully that cut transversely along the slope. Descending with difficulty into the valley, and following up the course of an old water-channel, we found a heterogeneous deposit of zircons, sapphires, topazes, and many other gemstones amidst the _débris_ of an extinct blowhole. We gathered some of what appeared to be the best, intending to find out their value at the earliest possible opportunity. The valley formation itself would have gladdened the heart of any geologist; from any point lower down the mountain the slope seemed continuous, and only when at the edge of the "breakaway" was the valley evident.

We were now near the German boundary, and hesitated between our desires and our duty as law-abiding prospectors. While camped on doubtful territory an incident occurred that may serve to illustrate more than one thing. We were satisfied with our luck so far; and therefore light-hearted, so much so that one night Mac began to sing, and soon we all joined him. The air was very clear on the mountains, but it struck me that the echoes lingered strangely; and after we had turned in for the night, volumes of sound still rose and fell on the atmosphere, sweeter far than that produced by our own rough voices. Next night, as we sat at supper regarding ruefully our fast-diminishing stores, we were startled by a loud "Hallo!" "Hallo!" we shouted back, and then to our astonishment four men and six carriers marched into our fire-lit circle.

"It's a graun' nicht," cried one. "Hae ye onything for eatin'?"

"Well, I'll be--Scotched!" remarked Doc, while Mac sprang to his feet and stared at the new-comers.

"You are just in time," I said. "What clan do you represent?"

"Macpherson; A'm frae Laggan-side. Sandy here is a Glesga man, but Bob an' Jim are Englishmen; they're nane the waur o' that----"

"We heard you singing last night," interrupted Bob. "We are as hungry as hawks--but how is the war?"...

The new party had just come from a protracted trip in German territory, and they told many strange tales of what they had seen in that mysterious land. Unfortunately their stores had given out, and on investigation we found that ours could not last more than ten days for both parties. However, as Mr. Robert Elliot informed me, they had made enough gold to warrant their going back again; and, pending considerations as to the advisability of our joining forces, we all resolved to have a "spell."

We eventually reached the coast at Holnecote Bay; a week after we landed at Samarai, and eight days more found us in Sydney.

Here two Hebrew gentlemen offered Sam and Kaiser a £10 note for our entire stock of gem-stones. In consequence of this generous offer (!) and the fact that his great height afforded an easy means of identification, we had to send Sam rather hurriedly to Melbourne. We eventually restored peace, however, by selling our stones to the afore-mentioned individuals for £80; and since then Aaron K. has informed me that one stone alone, when cut into four parts and polished, fetched fifty-three sovereigns.

IN THE GUM-LAND OF WANGERI

There is a region away in the far north of New Zealand, where sooner or later the wanderer who knows the world by the track of his footsteps must surely gravitate, there to mingle with kindred spirits and pursue the even tenor of life's way for a brief space under tranquil circumstances, digging for the Kauri-resin deposits of former ages along the fern swamps and uplands, amassing wealth if fortune favours, but casually content with the generous subsistence his peaceful labours at the least will bring, until his restless nature compels him to journey forth again on his ceaseless pilgrimage.

My acquaintance with this odd corner of the globe was made some years ago, when chance--fatality, the gum-diggers would call it--led me to take a trip on a coasting steamer trading from Auckland northwards. I had never heard of the gum-digging industry except in the vaguest way, and curiosity had fired my interest in inverse ratio with the amount of information gathered. But I could not help noticing that all my inquiries on the subject were treated with scantily hidden disapproval, and in consequence I never pressed my apparently awkward questions, fearing that I had by accident hit on a conversational topic, which, like that of convict history in Australia, had best be tabooed. So it happened that when the SS. _Bulimba_ moored alongside the jetty in the beautiful harbour of Wangeri, I stepped ashore, meaning to put in a day or so in the picturesque little township which looked so alluring from the water, yet wholly unaware of the fact that I had at last reached the centre of the gum country. That was a small matter, however, on which I was speedily enlightened.

I had just got clear of the long wharf, and was looking about the quiet street in which I found myself, in hopes of spying the hospitable portals of an hotel near at hand, when four extremely ragged men emerged from the doorway of the establishment I had at that moment decided to patronise. Their outward appearance was bad--very bad, and though I have foregathered with all sorts and conditions in my time, I like to choose my company when I can. I resolved promptly to pass on to some other house. The disreputable quartette were now hurrying towards me, and I moved aside to give them ample room to go by. Three of the party were engaged in animated discussion; the fourth walked a little way ahead, his eyes fixed listlessly on the ground. He looked up as he noticed the shadow across his path, and at once an expression of relief brightened his weary countenance.

"I ask your pardon, sir," he said, with quaint courtesy. "But will you do me a small service?"

My hand slid into my pocket involuntarily; then I recollected that I was not in Britain, and withdrew it again carelessly. "Fire away," I said; "what's the trouble?"

The argumentative trio had meanwhile ceased their wordy altercations and were staring at me eagerly. Their polite spokesman began again:--

"I presume you have been in the various Australian cities?"--he nodded in the direction of my portmanteau, which I had set down in the middle of the road, whereon were emblazoned the advertising devices of many enterprising hotel proprietors.

"You are certainly a lineal descendant of Sherlock Holmes," I ventured with mild sarcasm, half wondering if in this remote settlement I had stumbled upon an adapted version of the old, old confidence trick.

He appeared to understand my innuendo, for he flushed up angrily, then suddenly glancing at his dilapidated wardrobe, he checked a fiery outburst and smiled feebly instead. His companions too seemed powerfully affected by my simple remark, and their wrath did not cool down as swiftly as I would have wished. They crowded around me threateningly, while the vials of their speech overflowed in a tempestuous torrent of indignant reproaches.

"We is Ostralians," they bellowed with one voice, "we is----"

"Calm yourselves, boys," I entreated. "You're oversensitive to be abroad in this wicked world. I said nothing----"

"An' don't say it again," interrupted the tallest and ugliest of the group. "I is known as Long Ted in these parts, I is; an' I fights when my fur is raised, I does."

It was now my turn to feel annoyed; the aggressive nature of the party almost confirmed me in my first doubt.

"Suppose you stand out of the way," I suggested. "I'm not holding a levee----"

The leader at this stage endeavoured to throw oil on the troubled waters. "I must apologise for bringing this trouble upon you," he said, frowning severely on his associates. "We are not tramps, though I have no doubt our looks are against us. We are gum-diggers out for a spell; at least my companions are on a holiday; I--I am only going to take care of them."

"Then the gum-diggings are here?" I exclaimed in surprise.

"All round about for sixty miles or more," Long Ted answered gruffly. "English Bob is going to Melbourne with us----"

"Sydney," interjected a voice at his elbow.

"Adelaide," prompted another.

English Bob quelled the rising storm with an impatient gesture. "You promised to let a stranger decide the matter," he cried appealingly; then turning to me he continued, "Will you be so kind as give me your opinion on these three cities mentioned. In short, which is the finest of the lot for a holiday?"

A murmuring babel of sound followed his words, and the three fire-eaters glared at me savagely, awaiting my verdict. But I had once before been in a similar position--only once, but that was enough. I realised that the harassed Englishman had in tow a South Australian, a citizen of New South Wales, and a Victorian. I approached the delicate question warily.

"Adelaide is a tidy little town," I hazarded tentatively. Long Ted's basilisk-like eyes peered at me dangerously.

"And Melbourne is a fine city," I continued reflectively. Long Ted smiled, but his nearest neighbour snarled. I could venture no further. "Not for gold or precious stones will I commit myself," I protested. "I am a peaceable individual----"

"Ho, ho, ho," laughed English Bob in genuine merriment, slapping me heartily on the shoulder. "You've sized them up right away. I have never been in Australia myself, and cannot understand why my companions should have such diversified opinions on a simple subject. I am certainly obliged to you for showing them my difficulty, for if you cannot tell them what they ask, how can I?"

"Toss for it, boys," I recommended; "it will be the safest way, and can arouse no ill-feeling."

"Right you are, mate," shouted Long Ted, and a twin echo of applause intimated that all danger of immediate disturbance was at an end. I seized my portmanteau in haste, and proceeded on my interrupted course; but the fighting trio leisurely kept pace, Long Ted gently insinuating the bag from my hand into his own horny palm as we walked along.

"If you don't mind," spoke English Bob, coming up in the rear, "I'd like to--to shout for you. We've plenty of time to catch the old _Bulimba_, and for my own part I'm not very anxious whether she sails south without us or not."

I marvelled at this strange _dénoûement_, but said nothing, and together we entered the hotel they had so recently vacated. Within the five minutes following our advent into the gilded "saloon bar," I had become fairly well acquainted with the vicissitudes of the gum-digger's life. Long Ted was as exceedingly communicative as English Bob was reticent, while the remaining pair added titbits of information now and then as occasion demanded.

"But what sort of men make it their special calling?" I asked at length. "No one seemed very willing to give me any knowledge on the subject in Auckland."

English Bob roused himself, and looked at me curiously. "We are a cosmopolitan lot," he answered, with just a note of sadness in his voice; "we come from all corners of the globe; but no one makes it a special calling unless, perhaps, a few Maoris----"

"We is the dead-beats o' civilisation, that's what we is," put in the garrulous Ted, with cheerful emphasis. "But say, boss, what is you goin' to do here? Is you goin' into the gum country? Is you full up o' Sydney and Melbourne too?"

I evaded the pertinent allusion, not knowing exactly its true import; I was commencing to understand why the gum-diggers were looked upon with suspicion by their eminently respectable brethren of the towns. Yet in spite of myself my sympathies went out to the world-wanderers who seemed to be brought together in this land through the subtle hand of an all-wise Providence.

"Give me the bearings of the camps, and I'll go out right away," I said. "Gum-digging may suit me as well as gold-digging, and I want to know what it's like, anyhow."

At that moment the _Bulimba's_ shrill whistle sounded out on the still air, and Long Ted immediately grabbed his "swag" and made a bolt for the door, a proceeding which his two Australian comrades copied with alacrity.

"Hold on, boys," I cried; "she won't sail for an hour yet; this is only a warning blast. Surely you are acquainted with the habits of coasters by this time."

English Bob, however, had made no movement, and missing him the excited trio came back. "I knows the old _Bulimba_," howled Ted. "Captain Thompson would hustle the blasted barge out just on purpose. Come on, Bob."

The Englishman stretched himself lazily, and started to follow his companions, who were again half-way down the street. "Goodbye, sir," he said; "I'll see you again soon if you are to remain in the country. But one word--don't judge by appearances on the gum-fields."

I returned his greeting, and thanked him for his advice, "Here's the _Auckland Express_," I said, fishing that paper from my pocket. "It is the latest date, and will be something to read on the boat."

He took it eagerly, and glanced casually down the open sheet; then his face paled, and the paper dropped from his nerveless fingers. I turned aside for a moment, and when I looked again, English Bob's countenance was stern and hard.

"You'd better go," I advised kindly; "the _Bulimba_ will be moving out soon."

He shook his head. "I have decided to stay and go back with you to the fields," he answered with an effort. "But I'll run down to the wharf and say good-bye to the boys."

He was gone before I could speak another word, and wonderingly I picked up the paper which had caused such a sudden change of programme. Only one item appeared in the page he had scanned which could in any way be considered of remotest private interest. But it read as follows: "Robert Lorimer, the absconding Bank Manager of a country town in England, has at last been traced to New Zealand. Local inquiries are being instituted, but it is regarded as tolerably certain that the defaulter will be found in the northern gum-land, and the police of that district have been warned accordingly. Meanwhile the port of Auckland will be stringently watched."

That was all, yet viewed in the light of recent events it was amply sufficient to suggest to me that English Bob and Robert Lorimer were one and the same person. Still, my late interrogator as to the attractions of Australian cities did not strike me as being such a man as the bald news paragraph implied. His face was gentle, and contained a certain quiet dignity, which I felt assured could belong to no criminal's countenance. His manner, too, was distinctly in his favour. Already I had forgotten the unprepossessing garb of the outer man. My reflections were cut short by the dismal shriek of the _Bulimia's_ syren--sure signal that that persevering vessel was at last under way.

"Yes, she's off now," volunteered the bar-tender, surveying the deserted arena beyond the counter ruefully, and making a mental calculation, I have no doubt, as to the probable "stagger juice" capacity of his solitary remaining customer. I disappointed him mightily by making my way outside, and there, to my surprise, I saw English Bob approaching with Long Ted expostulating volubly by his side.

"Hallo, Ted!" I cried, "have you also decided to remain where an unfeeling civilisation sent you?"

"Of course I stays with the boss," responded that gentleman, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, "but my poor old swag has gone with Slim Jim and Never Never Dan. They would have stopped too, only they couldn't swim, an' the darned ship had moved off afore they knew we wasn't comin'."

"We'll go back to our old camp by the coach to-night," said English Bob. "I'm tired of even this fringe of civilisation already. Will you come?"

I needed no pressing. Somehow I felt that I was being drawn into the final act of a life's drama; the damaging testimony of the _Auckland Express_ loomed largely before my vision, but the pale sad face of the exile awakened in me pity rather than repulsion, his silent exercise of a superbly strong will aroused in me admiration.

"I shall be glad to go with you," I answered.

That night we journeyed by mail-coach out towards Wangeri, a constantly shifting settlement forming the headquarters of the ever-roving gum-diggers. For the early part of the route our lumbering vehicle careered over rocky bluffs and steeps, then down into beautiful alluvial valleys and forest glades, where silvery streams of purest water gushed onwards to meet the sea, their winding channels, glittering in the moon's filtering beams, showing at intervals through the wavy fronds of the stately kauri. But soon the majestic forest lands gave place to rolling plains of burnt soil, with occasional stretches of fern-swamp and tea-tree dunes.

"This is the old forest country of New Zealand," explained English Bob. Ted had long since fallen asleep.

"And is the gum not to be found here also?" I asked, somewhat nonplussed to find the site of an ancient forest so bare and desolate.

My companion gravely acquiesced. "Gum-diggers are not as a rule a careful class," he said; "and the young timber on these flats has all been recklessly burnt down to suit their needs."

Long and deep channels here and there intersected the scorched wastes, and mounds like gigantic mole-hills were abundantly evident. But in the vague light only a blurred panorama of the true aspect of things could be seen; which was perhaps just as well, for the New Zealand Government has long complained about the devastating nature of the gum-seeker's employment. They certainly do not make the desert "blossom like the rose," but if an opposite parallel could be drawn, it would suit them exactly. This feature of affairs was due, I was told, to the plodding and ceaseless excavations of a number of Austrians who stormed the country many years before, and not to the more leisurely routine pursued by the orthodox happy-go-lucky digger.

Once again, however, we entered a broad timber belt which extended far along with undulating hillside forming our southern boundary at this stage, and seemingly feathered the land for a very considerable distance northward also. And now many twinkling lights began to shine through the sparse foliage at the base of the tall kauri, and fleeting glimpses were caught of groups of men standing at the doors of their "whares," watching the coach rumble past with an odd listlessness which seemed the more strange considering that the arrival of the mails was but a weekly occurrence, and sometimes not even that when the rainy season was on, and the valleys and flats alike were flooded to a dangerous depth.

"Their interest is in their daily occupation," said English Bob, guessing my thoughts. "The men you meet here for the most part know the world well. This is a haven of rest for the wide earth's wanderers. Mail day to them means little, for they receive few letters and perhaps send less."

"And have you travelled far, that you speak in such a strain?" I asked chidingly. "Surely the world has not grown dim to your eyes, which have seen fewer years than mine."

"Years do not always bring sadness," he answered evasively, "nor does the lack of them make one the less liable to suffer. As for my travels--do not ask. I have----"

"Wangeri," yelled the driver, reining up the horses with a jerk which had the effect of propelling the slumbering Ted heavily on to the floor of the coach. The words that issued from that valiant warrior's lips then were sulphurous in the extreme, and the offending Jehu, hearing of his own premeditated doom, slid hastily from his perch and vanished into the night. There was little indeed to see at Wangeri. A small "store and post-office" occupied the central position in a forest clearing, and around it in a straggling ring about a dozen log huts were dully discernible through the gloom.

"The whares are scattered all through the forest for miles around," said English Bob. "Wangeri is only a kind of station for the export of the resin collected. But come along to my little wigwam; it is a bit away from the others, but it's on a good patch, and you are welcome to try your luck with Ted and me."

I expressed my gratitude in, I fear, rather stinted terms, for the eerie shadow of the great pines had a somewhat depressing influence on my spirits. I tramped on with my new acquaintances in silence, my swag slung picturesquely over my shoulder as in days of yore.

"It _is_ a bit lonesome like," grumbled Long Ted, as he marched on ahead, separating the festooning branches for our easier progress. "Can you blame a man for being ragged after this?" he demanded irrelevantly a few moments later, his mind apparently reverting to our first meeting. It was clear that Long Ted's frustrated holiday was still a rankling subject in that worthy's breast.

The air was wonderfully cool and invigorating, despite the enclustering thicket, and the absence of the ubiquitous mosquito made me marvel not a little. It was the deathlike silence that hurt; it oppressed the senses to an appalling degree, and tended to reduce one unaccustomed to forest solitudes to an enervating state of melancholy. Had the journey been made by daylight it might have been different, but fate ordains that the traveller to this land should first see Nature's most dreary aspect. I was startled from my unprofitable musings by English Bob shouting--

"Here we are at last. Now, Ted, make us some supper; and let us be merry, for to-morrow we----"

"Go out gum-digging," I prompted, sinking down in a corner of the aptly-named wigwam with a sigh of relief.

It was a week later. The sun was shining brightly over the sylvan slopes of the great gum region, and tinging the nodding plumes of the stately forest giants with a deep bronze effulgence; yet down below the spreading branches a perpetual twilight reigned, and here, piercing and trenching the mossy sward in search of the fossilised resin residue, the strangely assorted waifs of the world wandered, English Bob and I had become fast friends during our brief sojourn together. Concerning his past I did not inquire, having already learned that the grim gum-land swallows up many of life's tragedies; but day by day I expected a dread _dénoûement_. The newspaper paragraph still haunted me; my mind was filled with conflicting doubts and fears. The motley assembly who formed our neighbours near and distant were a generous and true-hearted people, among whom it was a pleasure to abide. The same environment affected all, and for the time we were as one huge family, dwelling within the encircling arm of grand old mother Nature.

Each day we sallied out armed with spade and spear, the latter implement being merely a long pointed stick provided with a handle for leverage, and rarely indeed did we return to camp without a goodly store of the amberlike deposit. The method of working was simple. By means of the spear the spongy soil was easily penetrated, and the presence of any gum strata localised at once, after which the spade came into play. The value of the crude material thus brought to the surface was no mean figure, ranging from £50 to £70 a ton.

This morning we had been exceptionally fortunate, Long Ted spearing a huge block of the gelatinous substance almost with his first effort, and we were busy clearing away the covering earth when two woe-begone individuals appeared before us.

"Slim Jim and Never Never Dan," gasped Long Ted, gazing at the apparitions in undisguised wonder. "Where--what--how--an' ye does have a mighty neck to come back in them togs."

Then I noticed that the miserable-looking pair were arrayed in fashionable raiment, though already considerably torn by contact with the entangling brush.

"We didn't git no farther than Auckland," muttered Slim Jim shamefacedly. "We didn't calc'late on goin' nowheres without the boss, so we has come back."

English Bob smiled. "But how have you managed to arrive at this time?" he asked. "Surely you did not walk from Wangeri."

"We just did," asserted Never Never Dan. "We couldn't wait on the bally old coach, so we came right away last night----"

"Come an' have some tucker, you heavenly twins," roared Ted, relinquishing his shovel, his honest face glowing with pleasure at the return of the prodigals.

When they had departed towards the hut, English Bob looked at me inquiringly. "Could you imagine men like these in any other country than this?" he said. "They are just like children."

Slowly the sun climbed up in the heavens, and we two persevered at our work of excavation. Then gradually I became aware of the rhythmic hoof-beats of many horses sounding faintly in the distance, and soon the dense forest rang out with the unwonted echoes. And now the rushing of the gum-diggers hither and thither came plainly to our ears, and a chorus of warning cries swelled out above the prevailing din--"The troopers are coming."

At once the truth flashed over me that the man whose whare I shared was the object of their search; the inevitable crisis had come at last. As for him, he stood almost defiantly erect, with the blood alternately surging to his cheeks, then leaving them deathly pallid.

I laid my hand on his shoulder. "Why do you try to hide from me that which I already know?" I said gently. "Sometimes it is possible to help----"

"You know?" he gasped.

"I saw the paper," I answered simply.

He covered his face with his hands, and his whole frame shook with a strong man's emotion. "Do you--believe?" he asked hoarsely, without looking at me.

"Assuredly not," I said.

He gave a sigh of thankfulness. "I have been tracked like a dog all over the world," he murmured brokenly, "but I have reached the end of the tether now."

"But why did you run away?" I asked hurriedly. "Surely an innocent man only courts disaster by flight."

The troopers were now near at hand. I could hear their sergeant talking to some of the diggers scarcely a hundred yards from where we stood. English Bob recovered himself with an extreme effort of will. "I may have been foolish," he said quietly, "but things looked very black against me, and--and the disgrace would have killed my old mother."

I did not reason further. "There may be a way of escape yet," I said, seized with an uncontrollable impulse. "We are both very much alike. I'll talk to the sergeant."

"No, no!" he cried, "I cannot allow----"

"Why, man," I interrupted impatiently, "it's your only chance. They'll find out their mistake soon enough."

"Good morning, boys," came a jovial voice from the timber, and its owner, a stalwart New Zealander, bearing the emblem of his office on his arm, rode forward alone. We responded to this cheery salutation gloomily.

"Why," he exclaimed, "you've struck a patch here. But I do wish you people would be more careful and take out licences before you start to dig. The Government is getting rather riled about your free-lance way of working."

"But we have licences," I remarked mildly.

He laughed. "I'm glad of that," he said, "for I find very few of your neighbours have thought it necessary, and my troopers seem to have the deuce of a job in explaining matters to them." He wheeled his horse, then reined up again suddenly, and came back. "Which of you is Robert Lorimer?" he said directly.

His method of procedure appeared to me unnecessarily cruel. "That's me," I answered sharply, before my companion could speak. "But couldn't you have asked at first?"

He stared at me wonderingly. "Great Southern Cross, man!" he cried. "What!" He broke off in a long low whistle, and held out his hand. "Let me be the first to congratulate you, sir," he said. "Of course you could not have heard, but you needn't be so hard on me for all that. But let me tell my story," he continued, waving aside my interruptions. "I was instructed from headquarters to come for you officially seven days ago, but though I am a policeman I don't like the job of running any man to earth, and I delayed until I should have to come in any case to attend to the licence question. Only yesterday I was informed that the warrant was off, as the notes you were accused of stealing had been found in an old ledger, placed there, no doubt, by some careless clerk. That's all. Good luck to you, my boy, and a safe journey home."

He was gone in an instant. Then English Bob and I clasped hands in silence.

WITH THE PEARLERS OF NORTH-WESTERN AUSTRALIA

On the north-western shores of Australia, between Cossack township and Port Darwin, lies a strip of coastline which has not yet received much attention from the outside world. This is the pearling-grounds of the Nor'-West, and the lordly pioneers who rule there hope that their preserves may long continue to be neglected by the check-suited globe-trotter. The headquarters of the pearling industry is at Broome, the landing station of one of the Australian cable systems. Broome, when the fleet is in port, has a population of about 1,500, which is made up of 200 white men, 800 Malays, 100 Japanese, and the same number of what are termed Manilamen, the remainder being a heterogeneous lot of aborigines, coolies, Kanakas, and specimens of almost every other race on earth. When the pearlers are out, however, the town is practically deserted.

Dampier was the first European to skirt this coast, but it was long after his advent that it became famous for its pearl-shell deposits, although, even before the great explorer's time, it was probably known to the aborigines, who until recently were in the habit of gathering for food the bivalves that the monsoon storms threw up on the beach. But since the days of Dampier many changes have occurred on these desolate shores, and it is even doubtful if the coast has the same configuration now as it had then. While the eastern states of Australia were still struggling for existence, the fierce Malay pirates reigned here, and indeed it is only lately that it has been freed from all suspicion in that respect, although the pirates may not always have been the Malays. The early sea-rovers were not long in finding out that it would pay them to give some attention to the treasures of the sea, and it is probably owing to their efforts that Roebuck Bay and the Ninety-Mile beach came into prominence as pearling-grounds. From that time up to about twenty years ago these individuals worked the shores and shallows by various methods peculiar to themselves, the chief consisting of forcing the unfortunate aborigines to dive for the shells while they merely extracted the pearls.

This system ceased suddenly so far as the power of the Malays was concerned; for towards the end of the 'Seventies some colonial adventurers sailed up the coast from Fremantle, and although little is officially known as to what then transpired, pearling shortly afterwards became a recognised profession among our colonial cousins. Some of those pioneers are still engaged in the trade, and many strange stories are told of their doings before the light of civilisation, in the shape of telegraphic communication, was let in upon their coast.

At present, taken as they stand, the pearlers of the Nor'-West are one of the wealthiest bodies of men in the world. They are certainly one of the most daring and most hospitable, and do not hesitate to share their wealth with any unlucky comrades. The methods in vogue now are much different from those employed twenty years ago. Beach-combing and enforced labour have given place to specially-designed luggers, profit-sharing systems, and the most modern diving-dresses, although among the South Pacific Islands beach-combing is still another name for piracy and slave-raiding. Strangely enough, the pearls do not now form the chief support of the industry. Nevertheless, some are frequently found worth £100 and upwards, and many of a value of £10, while from that sum downwards to 1s. for a thousand the pearls are very plentiful. The shell, however, is now the backbone of the industry. It is valued at from £100 to £180 per ton, and finds ready sale through Singapore agencies of London firms at anything between those prices.

The pearler of the present day is a Briton in every sense of the word, and takes great care to impress that fact upon all who visit his domain. He usually owns the lugger he commands, but in some cases he has only a share in it and its profits, the real owner being a speculative gentleman who resides in his schooner and pays only occasional visits to the various luggers under his flag. In some of these deputy-managed craft the only qualification necessary to obtain the position of skipper or commander is that of being a white man and not a German; but when the master pearler goes to the British port of Singapore he is invariably forced to "come down a bit," and do his business with the prosperous and well-satisfied sons of the Fatherland.

Pearling is chiefly carried on in what are termed "proved grounds"; but if a good haul be made at any time the pearler is not averse to prospecting for new grounds (waters). As a rule the commander is the only white man on board the lugger. The crew is composed of Malays and coolies, but the diver is always an intelligent Manilaman or Filipino, who receives a small commission on the results of his work. The depth at which the shell is found is now about sixteen fathoms. Of course shallower ledges are still worked, but it is considered that they are almost exhausted, and few pearlers waste time over them. In working, the diver is lowered over the gunwale by means of a winch, or in some cases dropped over unceremoniously by two of the Malay crew, and another two pump air down to him.

These people are always quarrelling among themselves, and consequently the diver runs many risks he does not at the time know of, unless he guesses what is happening above when he experiences the sensations attending the stoppage of his air supply. He is accustomed to such trifles, however, and being more or less a fatalist, probably wonders what the men at the pumps are quarrelling about, and in a disinterested sort of way speculates on which of his two pumpsmen will prove the weaker, and accordingly feed the sharks with him. Notwithstanding the uncertainty of life, he gathers all the shells within his limited range of vision, and when--if not too late--the men aloft stop fighting, he is hauled to the gunwale, where he is relieved of his spoil and dropped over again.

The shells are found in patches, and when one deposit is exhausted--or perhaps before, for the vessel is drifting all the time--the diver moves on to the next, crashing through dense forests of coral and other strange submarine growths _en route_, and frequently having to cut the fearful coiling creepers from his person. Often, too, he is precipitated into a deep, dark chasm of unknown extent. In such moments the diver's sole idea is to preserve his balance, for he is really but a feather-weight in the water at the sixteen-fathom level, and in due time he is safely hauled across the gulf, when, if he has not retained a vertical position, or if his line has not been kept taut overhead, he is dragged head-first through any vegetation or oozy slime that may lie in his path. When he regains his equilibrium, he once more turns his attention to the oyster-beds.

Meanwhile the lugger drifts erratically over the surface of the ocean. An evil-eyed Malay may be asleep by the tiller, and the white commander will likewise be serenely indifferent to his surroundings, unless the thought strikes him that the quality of the last case of whisky he had was not in accordance with the labels on the bottles or the price he paid, in which event he will probably be making things lively among the crew, and the profits of the trip will increase in proportion. Every fifteen minutes or so the diver comes up for a "blow." If the shells are plentiful he may send them up in a net between times; but, as a rule, there are a few yards separating the shells of any size, and it is not often that he cannot bring them all aloft with him. A "blow" to this individual means being suspended over the gunwale with his helmet unscrewed for such time as the lugger may take to sail to the next known patch, after which he is allowed to drop again.

When a full cargo of shell has been obtained, the lugger's course is shaped towards Broome, where the molluscs are opened in sheds erected for the purpose. In the cases of the pearlers who possess several luggers a schooner is sent round periodically to collect the shell from the smaller craft, thus saving the latter a journey which they are ill able to accomplish, owing to their peculiar design and extremely small freeboard. The process of opening is sometimes carried on while the schooner sails for Broome; but, as most of the pearler kings make their homes on board these vessels now, and do not care to suffer the attending unpleasantness, the system is fast dying out, and the schooner, in turn, discharges at the Broome opening-sheds.

The methods of opening are many. In the early days the shells were torn apart with a knife or any other convenient weapon, and if no pearls rewarded a brief search, the carcass of the oyster was scooped out and left to rot on the sand until a merciful monsoon tide caused its removal. Lately, however, the pearlers have copied the plan of the Chinese beachcombers of the Archipelago, and a simpler system could not well be devised. The shells are laid on a slightly-inclined bench, at the lowest edge of which is a carefully-constructed ledge containing some water in the angle formed. After two days in this position the oyster "gapes" and "spits out" the pearl--if any--which, of course, rolls down the bench until it is caught in the angle, from where it is gathered by the attendant Japanese or coolies. The number of pearls obtained in this way is about 30 per cent. greater than was formerly the case by the forcible method, and it is therefore evident that the hasty pearlers must have lost a considerable amount through their carelessness and the incompleteness of their method of extraction. As said before, the pearls do not now form the chief part of the business; nevertheless there are usually a fair number in the shells discharged from one schooner. When the pearls have been collected the molluscs are cleaned out from the shells and either buried or otherwise destroyed, their late casings being stored to await shipment. The chief opening establishments are owned by a London syndicate of jewellers, who employ in their service as many aborigines, coolies, and Japanese as may care to offer themselves. This syndicate is always willing to purchase "on chance" any shipment of shell that may come into port, and have a large fleet of their own luggers constantly on the waters during the season. As might be expected, this organised company is not liked by the independent pearlers, who--rightly or not--imagine that a monopoly of the trade is the real object in view. To such an extent is this rivalry carried that, notwithstanding the fact that Messrs. S. & Co. have special facilities for shipping, and will pay full Singapore prices for all shells sold to them, the pearlers, unless temporarily financially embarrassed, will have nothing to do with them, and prefer to pay the expense of shipping their own shell to Singapore by some of the Holt Line of steamers, which call regularly in at Broome for that purpose while _en route_ from Fremantle to the great Oriental metropolis.

During the monsoon season the pearling fleet shelters in Roebuck Bay, on the shores of which Broome stands, and then that wicked and evil-smelling township wakens up from its sleep. Its drinking saloons are crowded with black, yellow, and white humanity; the joss-houses are filled with maddened nondescripts; and the far-seeing abilities and correct judgment of the man who designed the prison to hold the entire population becomes apparent. Unfortunately there are some renegade whites who run gambling-hells; but, in justice to Britons at large, it should be stated that these men are mostly mongrel foreigners. The master pearlers, as a rule, do not frequent these places, preferring the narrower but healthier confines of their own vessels to that of the filthy, mosquito-infested town; but if any do go ashore, they all meet in a saloon owned by a gentleman with a very Highland name and dusky countenance, or in the cable-house, where fortunes may be gambled away in a night. These men are indifferent to this matter. Money, to most of them, has no attractions, and if they were denied the excitement of being alternately worth a fair fortune and without a sixpence in their possession they would probably die of _ennui_. But some of the pearlers--indeed, the majority--are made of sterner stuff; they still retain memories of lands where green vegetation and flowing streams of crystal water take the place of hideous mangrove swamps and parching deserts, and their efforts are all made in the hope that some day the results will enable them to return to those lands. These men only come into Broome when in need of stores, and, after landing their crews, spend the "off" season in some of the numerous bays and inlets farther north, occasionally finding rich patches in those sheltered sounds capable of being worked at all seasons.

It matters little on this coast what the original temperament of any person may have been, the influence of his surroundings soon has its effect upon him and makes him like his fellows. With the pearlers this takes the form of a feeling of reckless indifference, and a stranger suddenly thrown among them sees much to interest and amuse him in the incongruities brought about by this state of affairs.

When I visited this quarter I was not aware that there was any special industry carried on; in fact, I did not even know that a township existed between Roebourne and Derby until one evening the SS. _Nemesis_ sailed into Roebuck Bay, and the skipper calmly announced that I would require to go ashore and await the next steamer, as he was going no farther. I was booked to London, _viâ_ Singapore, but I had expected to be dumped ashore somewhere, as the _Nemesis_ was not the regular connecting steamer, and I had taken it chiefly with the desire to get away from plague-stricken Fremantle, to which city I had come round from Northern Queensland.

"All right, captain," I said; "but you might give me my bearings first."

"Go straight ahead from the jetty until you see the cable station, then starboard hard, and you are into Roderick's Hotel. Drinks don't cost more than a shilling there."

"Thanks. But what is the name of the port? I presume we are still in Australia?"

"We are. This is Broome, the headquarters of the pearling fleet, and the hottest hole on earth."

"Oh, I think I'll survive till the _Australind_ comes along," I said, as indifferently as I could; and, after seeing my baggage on shore, I followed out the captain's directions, and finally entered a well-lit saloon, in which the strains of a gramaphone were evidently causing much appreciation. No one seemed to notice me as I made my way forward. All the occupants were clustered round the gramaphone and indulging in various comments as to the correctness of the song it was giving forth. There were about ten men in the party, all of whom were white. Some were garbed in the most approved London clubland fashion, while others were very scantily clad indeed; but the careless manner in which handfuls of sovereigns were occasionally flung down on the counter showed that money at least was not much of a consideration with any of them.

"Hallo, boys! here's a stranger," suddenly cried one, seeing me looking on interestedly, and instantly a general move was made in my direction.

"Name it, boss," spoke the bar-tender, coming forward; "that is, if you is not an S----'s man."

"What will happen if I am?" I inquired, slightly curious to know what an S----'s man was.

"You'll get fired; that's all----"

"Shut up, Bob," reproved a tall, broad-shouldered man. "This is the master-pearlers' club," he continued, addressing me, "and as a stranger you are very welcome to whatever it affords."

"Thank you, but I understood that this was Roderick's Hotel?"

"Same thing," laughed several of the men. "Who sent you here?"

"Captain Lawrence of the _Nemesis_."

"Then it's all O.K. He is one of us," said the first speaker. "You will be my guest to-night, after which we will consider what is best to do with you."

"Gently there; I am a Britisher, and quite able to look after myself."

"You can bet, my boy, that we're all coloured red here, but of course if you don't wish----"

"You are needing a spell south, Wilcox," interrupted another gentleman. "You don't give the stranger half a chance. We are pearlers," he continued, turning to me. "This is the off season, and as hell is let loose in this town when the fleet is at home, we arrange to look after any white stranger that may be cast upon these shores. Listen! There's the Malays' infernal racket starting now. I shouldn't wonder but they will have a fight with the aborigines before morning."

"I see I have made a mistake, then, gentlemen," I said, "in coming here, but I assure you that it was not from choice I came."

"Oh, don't let that trouble you. We are very glad to have you. But you can now understand why we reserve this hotel for our own use. We don't all necessarily make beasts of ourselves, although you see us here. Some of us, it is true, have a failing that way, and there are others over in the cable shanty now going it pretty stiff; we therefore make it a point that a dozen of us come here every night to look after any of the boys who may take more stagger-juice than they can carry; but allow me to introduce the company. This is Alf Chambers. Here is Sam Wilcox--Moore--Macpherson--Edward Wilson, commonly known as Dandy Dick--Will Biddles--Gordon, of G.B. diving-dress fame, and, the finest gentleman on the Australian coast, Gentleman James----"

"What about yourself, Cap?" spoke the last-named, waving his hand deprecatingly at the compliment.

"Me? Oh, I forgot. I am Biddles. You may have heard of me down in Perth?"

"I believe I have," I answered. "You are the man whom the American skipper mistook for a pirate, and who, up in King Sound----"

"I see you have my history all right, lad; but there goes the dinner-gong, so come along and sample Broome fare."

In the company of the light-hearted pearlers the time passed very quickly. It transpired that I had known in Queensland some of their comrades who had drifted down country from the Gulf pearling-grounds, and being well accustomed to meeting all sorts of people, I readily grasped the little peculiarities of my hosts, and soon became on the best of terms with them all.

"I think we'll go now, boys," said Wilcox, some time about midnight. "You fellows that are sober can see after the other boys, and we two will get aboard the _Thetis_."

"Why, don't you stay here?" I cried.

"Not likely. There wouldn't be an ounce of blood left in us by morning. The mosquitoes here are A 1; but can you swim?"

"A little. Why?"

"Because I expect you will have to. You see we don't care to give the mob a chance of going aboard while we are on shore; so we never use our dinghys."

"Oh, how about your clothes?"

"Leave them on the jetty. I always send the cook round for them in the morning."

I did not answer; I recognised that I was again among a strange people. We were now threading our way among the coolies' huts and shanties towards the beach. The moon was shining brightly, thus enabling us to jump over several forms which were huddled up in various positions across our path without disturbing them.

"These people would stick a knife in a man for his bootlaces," my companion remarked; "but luckily they are always too drunk to stand."

"But if you treated them fairly might there not be better results?"

"Look here, my lad, you've still got some of the old country notions about you. You can't treat the Malays as you do white men. They do not understand what gratitude means. Great Southern Cross! don't you know the history of this coast? Haven't you heard of poor Woods? He was going to reform everything. Gave the beggars a share of the profits, and wages besides. First thing we knew was when his Chinese cook rushed into Roderick's one night and told some of us that Woods's crew had mutinied because of their tinned dog being off colour--as if it ever was anything else."

"And what was the result?"

"Oh, they killed Woods and threw his body into the sea, and then sailed for Java. The cook jumped overboard and swam ashore, and that's how we knew. The Dutchmen chased them up and sent them back from Surabaya in chains, and we hung them."

"These men were Malays?"

"Yes, but the half-castes and aborigines are just as bad. Take the case of Dr. Vines, for instance; they murdered him because he couldn't give them what he hadn't got himself. And then there was Captain Skinner; but you'll not sleep if I tell you any more. Yonder is my craft. Get ready."

Wilcox discarded his coat as he spoke and plunged into the inviting waters, and somewhat dubiously I followed; for although my garments were of the usual Siamese silk variety, and therefore did not greatly impede my movements, I could not help wondering what would happen if there were any sharks about. As I struggled after Wilcox this thought kept recurring to me in spite of all my attempts to convince myself that there could be no such creatures there, and just when I had almost succeeded in believing that such might somehow be the case, I suddenly remembered that I had been watching these very monsters playing around the _Nemesis_ all that afternoon.

"What about sharks?" I gasped, as the stern light of the _Thetis_ shone out ahead.

"They're too well fed here to trouble about white men," came the reply, and I had to satisfy myself with the hope that the sharks would be able to distinguish without personal investigation that I was of the fortunate colour. We reached the schooner without mishap, however, and scrambled over its stern by means of a friendly rope, and soon after I was asleep in what might have been a comfortable berth but for the presence of some hundreds of other occupants of divers kinds.

Next morning I found my baggage and the clothes I had thrown off in the cabin beside me, and on going out on deck had my first view of Broome by daylight. It was not much to look at. There were some tents, two or three dozen "humpies" and "wind-breaks," and about twelve galvanised-iron structures, of which the jail, the cable station, Gummows' and Roderick's Hotels, were the most conspicuous. The _Nemesis_ had sailed away south again during the night, and there was no sign of life anywhere. During the day--by way of a treat--Wilcox and some others took me to inspect "their prison," in which they had evidently great pride; but I could not work up any enthusiasm over the sight of a score of miserable wretches chained together by the ankles.

"These are the murderers of old Smith," remarked one of my companions. "They turned on him because he plugged one of them with a '44,' one day when he was drunk, up in King Sound."

"We're keeping them here until we can get an executioner," added the jailer, "but it's spoiling the trade of the town; every one is afraid of getting drunk, as they might then be induced to take the job on."

I was glad when we left the place, and, eager to obtain information of a more pleasant kind, I asked to be shown the opening sheds.

"Well, you are a strange fellow!" was Wilcox's only comment as he led the way thither, and as we neared the shell-strewn benches I began to understand the meaning of his words, and signified that, after all, I thought I would rather not go farther.

"They do smell a bit strong," laughed my friend; "but we're not near enough yet, and the wind is not off the proper quarter to give a Broome appetiser. But there's Biddles semaphoring for us to dine with him in the club; let's get along."

Several days passed agreeably enough to me among these free-hearted Britons; but in time I began to calculate when the next steamer would be due. "I fear there's no steamer coming into Broome for two months, my boy," said Captain Biddles, when I asked him, and a visit to the cable station confirmed his fears; for, when the obliging officials there wired to Fremantle, they received the reply that the SS. _Australind_ would miss Broome and call instead at Derby, on the head of King Sound.

"Then I will have to cross country to Derby," I said. "I suppose that is easy enough; the telegraph line runs all the way?"

"Oh, it's about as easy as going to heaven!" answered Biddles. "The aborigines are very considerate between here and Derby--they always kill you before they make a dinner out of you. But are you sure you can't stay here?"

"It is four years since I was north of the equator," I said, "and I have a strong desire to cross it as soon as possible."

"In that case, I suppose you will have to go. Wish I could myself."

"Why can't you? You are rich enough now, surely?"

"Ha, ha! Imagine old Biddles going back to civilisation! Why, man, they would---- Well, well; never mind. Here's the boys coming. We'll see what can be done."

That evening I was informed that the _Bessie Fraser_ was to sail north to King Sound in the morning with stores for George Hobart's schooners. I could go with it, and Hobart would find some means of landing me at Derby. This arrangement, the pearlers assured me, was not made in my behalf, as the _Bessie Fraser_ would have to sail in any case. Thus it came about that next morning I parted with my kindly friends, and in company with Harry Quin, the skipper, six Malays for a crew, a Chinese cook, and a Manilaman diver, rounded the long, sandy point and headed northwards.

After lunch, the captain announced his intention of having a sleep if I didn't mind, and, thinking that he would require to be on the watch during the night, which would certainly be stormy, I said that I could easily pass the time looking round, and, in an endeavour to do so, soon after entered into conversation with the cook.

"Is it going to be rough to-night, John?" I said, by way of introduction, watching him as he went through some mysterious performances necessary for the preparation of our next meal.

"Velly. Me no need make breakfast. Captain sick. No want any."

"What! The captain sick? What do you mean?"

"Huh! Him no sail man. Him only gole' glabber; no know nothing 'bout sea. D----" John disappeared as he gave vent to his last exclamation, and, turning round, I saw that Aguinili, the diver and sarang, was approaching.

"Good day, sir," he said, in excellent English.

"Good day, Aguinili. You have given Ah Sing a fright."

"He gabble gabble all day when captain not well."

"Great Scot! What is wrong? The captain was all right half an hour ago."

"Yes, but we are round the head now, and the monsoon is on. I come speak with you, for to-night I have only one man to steer with me; the rest no good. I come ask will you take helm for time to-night, else we must go back?"

I was certainly surprised at Aguinili's words, but, grasping their import, I at once signified that I would willingly take a watch, and following him aft, I was made acquainted with the little peculiarities of the schooner in regards to her steering.

"Malay bad man--you no trust him," remarked Aguinili. "No let them know captain not well?"

"Never fear!" I answered; "I have sailed with their kind before. But call me when you want me, for I cannot navigate by the stars as you do, so I must hunt up a chart and get out my own instruments."

At that moment Ah Sing came aft and informed me that the captain desired my presence, so, making my way to his stuffy cabin, I soon stood beside him. He was lying in his bunk reading, but as I entered he cast aside the book and said, "I say, mate, ye needn't give me away more than ye can help."

"Why, what's the matter?"

"Nothing, so long as I lie on my back; but this darned motion doesn't agree with me in any other position."

"Do you mean to say----?"

"That I is no sailor? You struck the bull first shot. I ain't. I is a gold-miner, and got stranded in Broome after making a pile on the Marble Bar fields, an' losing it down in Roebourne. Lord knows how I got here, but old Wilcox got me this billet with Hobart, 'cause I could swear at the nigs better than any man he knowed. I know nothing about navigation except what a bushman knows, and here I is at sea entirely."

"But have you never had any accidents?"

"Oh, there have been some narrow squeaks, but that chap Aguinili is a smart fellow; he manages somehow, and I swears at---- Lor'! but I is bad. Oh!----"

"You'll be all right soon," I said sympathisingly, as I left him. He was the best example of a bluffer I had ever come across, but he had the true grit of the sons of the Southern Cross, and as he knew nothing of navigation, he got along wonderfully well by leaving everything to fate and Aguinili.

It was a very rough night, but the _Bessie Fraser_ weathered it all right, thanks to the skilful handling of the sarang. Next evening we entered King Sound, and by seven o'clock were safely moored alongside the schooner _Electron_, George Hobart's headquarters.

This gentleman was a very superior person to those usually met in such latitudes; he was of a scientific turn of mind, and had designed many strange appliances which were the wonder and admiration of the pearling fraternity.

"You have just arrived in time to witness the trial of my new dress," were almost his first words to me; and after dinner, in answer to my inquiry, he proceeded to explain wherein his dress differed from others, and to point out its anticipated advantages. "Sixteen fathoms is the greatest depth at which we can work with the old dress, you know," he said, "and even at that a diver can only last out three seasons."

"Well, what's the odds?" interrupted Quin; "they're cheap, ain't they? and there's any amount where they come from."

"That may be; but this dress is designed to give the diver a longer lease of life, and also to enable him to stand a good two or three fathoms more pressure. I have just got down a new G.B. dress from Singapore, and I intend to try mine alongside it to-morrow."

I did not then know what a G.B. dress was, but not wishing to display my ignorance, I did not inquire, and during the evening's conversation I gathered that it was the invention of two Glasgow engineers, who had designed it to allow of greater depths being explored.

In the morning all hands began to prepare for the trials, and after breakfast Aguinili, as the most experienced diver, was lowered from the derrick in the G.B. dress, and Jim Mackenzie, the _Electron's_ chief officer, was also weighted and dropped over in Hobart's.

"Isn't there a nigger handy to go down in the old dress now?" asked Quin, kicking over a helmet. "I'll go two to one on it yet."

"The water is too deep here," answered Hobart. "No man could bottom in the old dress."

"I'll go," said the intrepid Quin, "and chance it."

"No. Hallo! Mackenzie is down. Great heavens! The pumps are not working." Hobart sprang to the pumps, and threw the two Malay operators across the deck, then, assisted by Quin and myself, began pumping furiously. It was useless. The pumps were not drawing air. The perspiration burst out over my face as I realised the position that poor Mackenzie was in. Quin swore, and then rushed to the winch, where the crew, in answer to Hobart's signal, were already hauling in. In less time than it takes to tell the diver was above the surface, and in another second his helmet was unscrewed.

"Poor old Mac," said Quin, as the limp form was removed from its cage; "I always reckoned that he would peg out before me."

"Wrong again, Quin," feebly murmured Mackenzie. "You won't be mate of the _Electron_ this trip----But I say, there's shells down there as big as a table, and they are packed like peas."

"Never mind them at present, Mac," spoke Hobart. "We're glad to see you all right again; but what happened to the dress----?"

"The dress is all right, but the beggars must have stopped pumping while I was sinking, and when they started again I fancy the check-valve would not work."

"Ah! then we burst the connection on deck when we rushed to the pumps. That means my dress won't do for twenty fathoms at any rate. Hallo! there's Aguinili's signal. Haul away. Why, it is shell, and look at the size."

In answer to the diver's signal the men had hauled up his shell-net, and when it appeared above the waters the size of the shells had drawn forth an exclamation of surprise from all. Soon after Aguinili himself came up laden with the spoil of the nineteen-fathom ledge, and when he was brought on deck and his helmet removed he told a wonderful story of the wealth of the deep deposits, which hitherto no man had seen.

"Shell plenty. No need move away; fill net all time same place. Good shell for pearl, I know that, for I see sea-snake feed much. I go down again quick."

"No, no, Aguinili," cried Hobart, handing him a glass of spirits. "We have plenty of time for that. Have the shell been moving much?"

"No. Shells grow there. No currents; no monsoons; deep, deep coral bottom. No shell on sixteen-fathom bottom here."

"Well, gentlemen," finally said Hobart, "we have seen the result of the G.B. comes out first. I will cable to Singapore to send down some more of them, and I will see that Gentleman James, Captain Biddies, and the others get to know of its good points. Who knows what fortunes we may now obtain from these deep neglected sounds."

Two hours afterwards the _Electron_ was sailing down King Sound towards the Indian Ocean, and on my venturing to ask where we were bound for, Hobart informed me that he had received word from Derby that the bubonic plague had broken out afresh in Fremantle, and it was therefore obvious that the _Australind_ would not now call at the northern port; for if she did so she would assuredly be quarantined at Singapore through not having been sufficient time at sea since leaving Australian waters.

"We are going to put you on board now," he added, "and Mackenzie is going up to Raffles with you to see about the new dresses. Meanwhile the men are opening the shells from the deep level, and I hope that we will find a memento to give you of your visit to this coast."

Early in the afternoon a long hanging cloud of black smoke became visible away on the southern horizon, and knowing that it must be issuing from the funnels of the _Australind_ or the Adelaide Steamship Co.'s trader _Albany_, we steered out to investigate, and, if need be, to intercept. It proved to be the former vessel, and in due course she answered our signal and hove to.

"Well, goodbye then, lad. I hope you will come back to this coast when you are tired of the old country," were Hobart's parting words as Mackenzie and I clambered up the sides of the _Australind_.

"If you see a lugger cheap at Singapore you might buy it for me," cried Quin, throwing me a miner's gold-bag; "and, I say, you might send me the second part of the book you gave me to read when we were coming up through the monsoon on the _Bessie_. I am darned curious to know the wind-up."

"And here's a pair of the deep shells; take care of them," cried Hobart, fastening a couple into the sling in which my baggage was being hoisted.

* * * * *

Three days after landing at Singapore I bought a small lugger for Quin, and sent back the balance of his money, and a complete copy of the "Pilgrim's Progress" (which was the book requested) with Mackenzie, who also undertook to see about the lugger going south. Four days later, while tossing in the bay of Bengal on the SS. _Ballarat_, I began to rearrange my belongings so that they might be readily transferred to the connecting P. and O. mail steamer _Himalaya_ at Colombo. In doing so I chanced to open my shells and found therein two magnificent pearls, and a note which read: "Please accept one of the enclosed from me. The other is from Aguinili, who has asked me to offer it to you in kind remembrance."

The Gresham Press,

UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, WOKING AND LONDON.

Siberia:

A Record of Travel, Climbing, and Exploration.

BY SAMUEL TURNER, F.R.G.S.

WITH A PREFACE BY BARON HEYKING.

_With more than 100 Illustrations, and with 2 Maps._

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The materials for this book were gathered during a journey in Siberia in 1903. Helped by over 100 merchants (Siberian, Russian, Danish and English) the writer was able to collect much information, and observe the present social and industrial condition of the country. The trade and country life of the mixed races of Siberia is described, and valuable information is given about their chief industry (dairy produce), which goes far to dissipate the common idea that Siberia is snow-bound, and to show that it is now one of the leading agricultural countries in the world.

* * * * *

The author describes his unaccompanied climbs in the mountains which he discovered in the Kutunski Belki range in the Altai, about 800 miles off the Great Siberian Railway line from a point about 2,500 miles beyond Moscow. He made a winter journey of 1,600 miles on sledge, drosky, and horseback, 250 miles of this journey being through country which has never been penetrated by any other European even in summer. He also describes 40 miles of what was probably the most difficult winter exploration that has ever been undertaken, proving that even the rigour of a Siberian winter cannot keep a true mountaineer from scaling unknown peaks.

* * * * *

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John Chinaman at Home

BY THE REV. E. J. HARDY,

Author of "How to be Happy though Married"; lately Chaplain to H.M. Forces in Hong Kong.

_With 36 Illustrations. Demy 8vo, cloth, 10/6 net._

CONTENTS.

Hong Kong; Tientsin and Peking; Canton; On the West River; Swatow, Amoy, Foochow; Up the Yangtze; Village Life; Topsy-turvy; Some Chinese Characteristics; Chinese Food; Medicine and Surgery; Chinese Clothes; Houses and Gardens; Chinese Servants; Betrothal and Marriage; Death and Burial; Mourning; Education in China; Boys in China; Girls and Women; Chinese Manners; Government in China; Punishments; Chinese Soldiers; The Religions of China; Outside and Inside a Temple; New Year's Day; Monks and Priests; Spirits; Feng shiu and other Superstitions; Missionaries; as the Chinese See Us.

* * * * *

The reader will not be bored with politics or the "future of China," for the book only treats of the common every-day things of the Chinese which seem so peculiar to us. These are described and, when possible, explained. Anecdotes are freely used to illustrate.

LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN.

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Somerset House, Past and Present

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This book deals with the history of Somerset House from its foundation by the Lord Protector in 1547 to the present day. It is as far as possible a continuous record of the events which in times gone by gathered illustrious personages within the walls of the old palace and made it a centre of English social life. For two centuries Somerset House was the home of Queens and Princesses; it was associated with the stalwart Protestants of the Reformation and the intriguing Catholics of the Revolution; it has passed through greater vicissitudes than almost any other secular edifice in London. The modern building housed the early exhibitions of the Royal Academy of Arts, a Naval Museum, the Royal and other learned Societies, until, within the last fifty years, it was given over to its present occupants and the matter-of-fact romance of the Imperial Revenue. The history includes the story of King's College, which since its inauguration has occupied a building erected on the eastern edge of the site, and designed to harmonise with the main structure. The volume is illustrated by reproductions of rare old prints and a fine series of modern photographs.

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The Age of the Earth, and other Geological Studies

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Professor of Geology in the University of Oxford

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Transcriber's Note

Minor printer's errors and inconsistencies have been silently corrected.

=Bold text= has been represented using equal signs. _Italic text_ has been represented using underscores.

End of Project Gutenberg's In Search of El Dorado, by Alexander MacDonald