c 
 
 JOHN SCARLETT, GANGER
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 THE MAN FROM CURDIE'S 
 RIVER 
 
 Popular Edition, 6d. 
 LONDON: HODDER AND STOUGHTON
 
 JOHN SCARLETT, 
 GANGER 
 
 BY 
 
 DONALD MACLEAN 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 'THE MAN FROM CURDIK'S RIVER' 
 
 HODDER AND STOUGHTON 
 LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO
 
 Printed in 1912
 
 StacfC 
 Annex 
 
 i 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 TO HER FROM WHOM I LEARNED THAT LIFE CONSISTS 
 
 NOT IN HOLDING ALL THE TRUMP CARDS, BUT 
 
 IN PLAYING A POOR HAND WELL, THE 
 
 BRAVEST HEART I EVER KNEW 
 
 MY MOTHER
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PACK 
 
 MR. SECRETARY SMITH IS A DISAPPOINTED MAN . I 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 CONCERNING JOHN SCARLETT, AND MELBOURNE TEA- 6 
 
 ROOMS 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 IN WHICH A LISTENER HEARS NO GOOD FOR HIMSELF II 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 THE GENERAL STATES THE POSITION . . 1 6 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 OFF TO POWLETT RIVER . . . * . 2O 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 JOHN SCARLETT IS THE WRONG MAN . . -25 
 
 vii
 
 viii CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 MM 
 
 THE HUSTLER . . . . . - 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 THE 'OLD BULL AND BUSH* . 38 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 IN WHICH JOHN SCARLETT ARGUES A KNOTTY PROBLEM 44 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 THE BABYLONIANS . . . . 49 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 AT THE SEVENTEEN MILE . . . 58 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 JOHN DRAWS FIRST BLOOD .... 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 'BATING THE DIVIL ' . . . . . J2 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 THE LADY OF THE CAMP . . . 78
 
 CONTENTS ix 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PROS AND CONS . .... 88 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 FATHER CHRISTMAS COMES DOWN . 96 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 THE RAID ...... 101 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 MR. CHIRNSIDE TURNS UP .... 107 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 THE COMBAT . . . . . JI 7 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 THE REAL AUSTRALIA . . . . -125 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 GOSSIP ..... I3 2 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 CONCERNING LOVE . . . . J 37
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE LITTLE CHURCH IN THE HILLS . . . 141 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 JOHN'S ONE TALENT GETS A CHANCE . . -147 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 ASTOUNDING BEHAVIOUR OF JOHN . . .152 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 HOME FROM THE PLAY . . . . . l6o 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 THE PROBLEM OF' THE 'PILGRIM' 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 THE MAN OF RIGHTS . . . . -174 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 JOHN GOES OUT TO TEA 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 PAY-NIGHT ......
 
 CONTENTS x i 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE BUN STRUGGLE ... 2OI 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 THE STORY OF ACHAN ... 2 o8 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 THE SNAG ... 226 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 'CUM GRAND SALIS ' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 EXIT THE 'BLUE PIG' 
 
 233 
 
 244 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 A DAY IN CANVAS TOWN .... 253 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 BLUEBELL ... 2 cg 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 THE YANK TAKES A HAND . . . 2 66
 
 xii CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 JOHN RECEIVES A LETTER . . . .273 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 SCARLETT'S SHIVOO 
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS .... 288 
 
 CHAPTER XLII 
 1 GOODBYE, SHEILA ' 296
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MR. SECRETARY SMITH IS A DISAPPOINTED MAN 
 
 ' I'LL be hanged if I know now but what I've 
 made the biggest blunder of my life.' So saying, 
 Mr. Secretary Smith flung his pencil on the desk, 
 pushed back his chair, and looked up at his 
 assistant, who was standing in the doorway between 
 the offices, whither he had come expectantly when 
 he heard the door close behind the visitor. 
 
 ' What's the matter with him? ' the assistant 
 inquired anxiously. 
 
 ' Matter 1 Everything's the matter. He's such 
 a a weed, for one thing.' 
 
 ' He's a weed all right,' the assistant agreed, 
 surveying his own portly figure with approval in 
 the mirror opposite, and making a mental com- 
 parison, ' but still, it is not all in fat, you know.' 
 
 ' And he's not only a weed to look at,' the 
 General went on unheedingly, wrinkling up his 
 forehead and tugging furiously at his big 
 moustache, ' but he has no personality he's as 
 nervous as a girl he blushed like a girl, too, when 
 he came in. And he has nothing to say for him- 
 self, either he only made one remark the whole 
 time he was here.' 
 
 ' What was that? ' 
 
 ' Why, when I told him that in all probability 
 the work would be dangerous, because the men 
 
 John Scarlett, Ganger. 2 I
 
 2 MR. SECRETARY. SMITH 
 
 on this line were just about the scum of the 
 earth, he said, " Well, I suppose they'll stop short 
 of murder? " ' 
 
 ' He didn't seem to be bluffed, then? ' 
 
 ' Bluffed? No ; but he didn't seem to realise 
 the kind of thing he's taking on, either, and that's 
 partly the trouble. If he had savvy enough to 
 know, he might have been bluffed, for it will 
 be no kindergarten. No/ the General went on 
 again after a pause in which he weighed the matter 
 over carefully, ' he's not the kind I was after. I 
 wanted a manly man, a manly-looking man one 
 who would impress the men and that's what this 
 chap will never do. It's terrible,' he continued, 
 presently. ' I see great possibilities in this field 
 work, but the Board is not keen on it. They think 
 we've too many irons in the fire as it is, and if 
 this fellow makes a mess of things in the 
 beginning, it's goodbye to all its poss'ibilities for 
 ever.' 
 
 ' But we had good reports of his work amongst 
 the timber-getters in the West,' the assistant 
 ventured. 
 
 ' Yes, we had, and I brought him here on the 
 strength of them ; but, after all, what are reports? 
 Still,' he added, ' this is no good. We've got him 
 now on our shoulders, like the Old Man of the 
 Sea, and we'll have to carry him and see what he'll 
 do, but I hope and pray he'll turn out better than 
 he looks.' 
 
 Having nothing to say to this, the assistant went 
 back to his place, and the General turned to the 
 pile of letters on his desk, but every now and then 
 he would pause in his work and rest his chin in 
 his hand, while his thoughts ran after the man 
 who had recently left him. And the more he 
 thought, the more convinced was he that Mr. John
 
 IS A DISAPPOINTED MAN 3 
 
 Scarlett would prove the square, peg in the round 
 hole. 
 
 ' It's a question of man, man, man, right through 
 the piece,' he muttered, ' a man for men : trie 
 right man would have made this thing hum, and 
 now we're saddled with this this young woman."' 
 He relieved his feelings somewhat by banging the 
 last letter down and ringing for the stenographer. 
 
 And making due allowance for all things, the 
 ' General,' as his staff affectionately called him, 
 had some cause for his perturbation. He was 
 General Secretary of the Y.M.C.A., and a short 
 time previously had stumbled across an engineer 
 engaged on the new railway to the Powlett River 
 coalfields. The engineer had sketched a graphic 
 picture of the horrors of the life the men were 
 compelled to lead in the camps the ' two-up ' 
 schools, the women, the ' shanties,' the drink and 
 debauchery, and the total absence of all comfort, 
 amusement, or recreation, save such as the shanties 
 provided. ' Couldn't something be done for those 
 men? ' he wanted to know. The General's big 
 heart was touched and stirred. He thought some- 
 thing could be done, and resolved to try, and 
 accordingly, having studied the matter out, at the 
 next meeting of the Board of Control, he laid down 
 a scheme which he thought would meet the 
 case. 
 
 There was nothing remarkable about the 
 scheme. They were simply to find out a suitable 
 man and equip him with a big marquee, well 
 supplied with books, papers, magazines, writing 
 and Post Office facilities, together with games of 
 various kinds, and a portable organ and phono- 
 graph, and send him down to camp amongst the 
 men, the idea being to create a social centre where 
 the men might come and put in their evenings,
 
 4 MR. SECRETARY SMITH 
 
 and where religious services could be held on 
 Sundays. 
 
 Some of the younger members were enthusi- 
 astic, but the Board as a whole was sceptical 
 they had so many things on hand the financial 
 problem was pressing and in the end the General 
 won but a reluctant assent. However, assent was 
 given, and if only he could make good and justify 
 the undertaking, all would be well, and a beginning 
 made with what might prove to be a great national 
 movement ; but if the scheme broke down, his 
 reputation, to say nothing of the interests of the 
 Association, would suffer severely. 
 
 Having won the consent of the Board, the first 
 problem to be faced in connection with the new 
 venture was that of the man to take charge of it ; 
 for the General rightly felt that, humanly speaking, 
 the whole thing depended upon the leader. If he 
 could get the right man, all would be well, but 
 if the wrong man were sent, the work would simply 
 crumble in his hands. 
 
 For a time it seemed as though he would never 
 find the one he was looking for, but at length he 
 heard of a man named Scarlett, who had done 
 a good work in a timber-getters' camp in the 
 West, and after such further inquiry as was 
 possible, Smith wired to know if he could come 
 East and take up the work, and when a reply in 
 the affirmative was received, he wired again for 
 him to come at once. Smith felt he was taking 
 risks, but time was short, ' and anyhow,' he said, 
 when this was pointed out to him, ' a man must 
 take risks or take a back seat.' 
 
 But it must be acknowledged that when the 
 man from the West, after knocking timidly, came 
 awkwardly into the office, the General felt that 
 he had taken a risk too many. It needed but a'
 
 IS A DISAPPOINTED MAN 5 
 
 glance at the spare form, the thin, clean-shaven, 
 nervous face, the stylish, almost foppish, cut of 
 the clothes, to convince him that he had got the 
 wrong man, and, moreover, it required but a 
 moment's reflection to see that he was in a clove- 
 hitch in regard to him. He had brought him a 
 sea-journey of two thousand miles, to say nothing 
 of two or three hundred by land, at great expense, 
 and he could not now dismiss him without giving 
 him a trial. There was nothing for it but to 
 send him on and take the further risk. But after 
 flying his kite so high, and prophesying such great 
 things from the new move, it was one of the 
 biggest set-backs the General had ever experi- 
 enced, and he was correspondingly disappointed.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 CONCERNING JOHN SCARLETT AND MELBOURNE 
 TEA-ROOMS 
 
 BUT what of the man whose mere appearance upon 
 the scene had laid Smith's high hopes in the dust? 
 Descending the steps into the street a good deal 
 more lightly than he had gone up them, he gave 
 vent to a sigh of relief. 
 
 ' Well, thank Heaven, that's over 1 ' he said to 
 himself as he slid his hands into his pockets and 
 set off along the footpath. ' I like him, but I'm! 
 afraid he doesn't think much of me. And it's not 
 to be wondered at,' he added presently, with some- 
 thing of bitterness, and then walked moodily on in 
 no very pleasant frame of mind. After a time 
 he came to a halt before the window of a large 
 draper's shop, and surveyed his reflection therein 
 critically and with considerable disfavour. It was 
 quite as the General had said he was physically 
 a ' weed,' and there was no denying the fact ; 
 nor could he see a single redeeming feature 
 in the face that looked out at him from the 
 glass. 
 
 He knew full well what kind of face was 
 required for such work as he had given himself 
 to, but his was not that kind. The mouth espe- 
 cially disappointed him. He coveted one the lips 
 of which clamped together like the jaws of a
 
 CONCERNING JOHN SCARLETT 7 
 
 mantrap ; but his were of another pattern, and, 
 like Sentimental Tommy's, merely rested one upon 
 the other. 
 
 ' What could a fellow do with a mouth like that? ' 
 he demanded of himself, with an expression akin 
 to contempt. His mouth was his chief trouble. 
 His pale blue and rather sleepy eyes did not con- 
 cern him much, but he fairly glared at his thin, 
 sandy-coloured hair ; that, he felt, was another 
 weak spot in his panoply of war. ' If it had only, 
 been black ! ' he sighed. 
 
 The clothes did not trouble him as they did the 
 General. They, unlike his mouth and hair, were 
 of his own choosing. He saw nothing incongruous 
 in them in fact, he was rather proud of them ; 
 and, in any case, they were not fixtures, as the 
 others were, and he could lay them aside when the 
 occasion demanded it. 
 
 Presently he turned his back upon the window 
 and strolled slowly along until he came to the 
 cathedral corner. There he was brought up 
 standing at sight of the rush of traffic along 
 Swanston Street to the railway -station. 
 
 Flinders Street Station, Melbourne, is believed 
 to be the busiest passenger station in the world, 
 and, strange as this may seem when one 
 remembers that the population of Melbourne is 
 but a little over half a million, there are solid 
 grounds for the belief, for every ordinary day 
 something like one hundred and fifty thousand 
 people pass in and out its gates. 
 
 And in some respects there is no sight more 
 remarkable to be seen in these Southern lands 
 than this great flood of humanity going forth to 
 its labour till the evening, and then returning 
 home. The tide from the suburbs begins to flow 
 citywards in the early hours of the morning,
 
 8 CONCERNING JOHN SCARLETT 
 
 reaching flood tide between eight and nine o'clock. 
 The ebb begins about four in the afternoon, and 
 from five to six races out like a torrent ; and it 
 was this backwash now beginning that Scarlett 
 stood aside to see. 
 
 For a time he watched the ever -increasing 
 volume with interest not unmixed with wonder, for 
 after some years in the vast, empty spaces of the 
 wide -spreading Western State, the sight of these 
 hurrying multitudes almost bewildered him. But 
 he soon became accustomed to them, and after a 
 time his eyes turned inward, so to speak, and he 
 lost sight of the crowds in the conflict of his 
 thoughts. But it was no longer the problem of 
 his mouth and hair that engaged him ; that had 
 given place to another. He had the remainder of 
 the afternoon and the whole of the evening before 
 him, and the question was, What should he do 
 with them? Should he return to his lodgings 
 and do some very necessary preparation for the 
 work he was soon to set about, or should he go 
 down the block, have afternoon tea in some dainty 
 tea-room, and go to a concert or picture show to 
 finish up? 
 
 Work, with a singular resemblance to duty, 
 called him loudly from the city, but inclination and 
 the lure of the tea-rooms were too strong ; and 
 presently, turning to the right, he strolled along 
 Swanston Street to Collins Street, and so down 
 the block. But as he went his conscience smote 
 him as Balaam his ass, and he reflected miserably 
 that had his lips only clamped together he would 
 probably have gone home to work. 
 
 One may live many weeks in Melbourne before 
 he is acquainted with its multitude of tea-rooms. 
 Indeed, one may live a lifetime in the city, and be 
 unconscious of their manifold existence. But
 
 AND MELBOURNE TEA-ROOMS 9 
 
 there they are in the oddest places downstairs in 
 basements, upstairs in attics, tucked away in 
 corners, anywhere and everywhere but where you 
 expect to meet them ; and the best, of course, are 
 those which are most difficult to find. But Scarlett 
 knew his Melbourne well. 
 
 In the old days that were not so old, before he 
 had gone to find a fortune in the Golden West, and 
 had found instead a new conception and ideal in 
 life, he had been a clerk in a city bank, and it 
 had been his custom after leaving the office at 
 four o'clock to go with the multitude to one or 
 other of the tea-rooms. There he would drink 
 delight of battle with his peers, in the shape of 
 tea or coffee ; and there too, where it was per- 
 missible, he would smoke cigarettes with a mature 
 air, and discuss the points of the fair Hebes in 
 attendance ; or if it chanced as it periodically 
 did that the land lay that way, he would hungrily 
 follow their movements with his eyes in the sweet 
 misery of unrequited love : a love which was 
 somehow fed and fostered by the languorous music 
 of a Hungarian band. In those days Scarlett 
 learnt the tea-room system off by, heart, and 
 to-day, after three years in the strenuous West, 
 the old glamour of it all came thick upon him, 
 and shortly after he had drifted to a decision as 
 a derelict comes to a beach he had found his way 
 into one of his old haunts, and was stretched out 
 luxuriously in the corner of a big, soft, leather- 
 covered sofa, his feet up and his hands locked 
 behind his head ; and there, for a delicious hour, 
 he was well content to lie idly watching through 
 a fog of tobacco smoke the graceful figures of the 
 waiting-girls as they flitted to and fro, and 
 listening dreamily to the seductive music of 
 Mendelssohn's " Spring Song " tossing lightly
 
 io CONCERNING JOHN SCARLETT 
 
 above the low, euphonious murmuring of many 
 voices. 
 
 Nobody noticed him. Nobody ever did notice 
 him. Even the girl who served him, and whose 
 business it was to take special interest in every- 
 body, could not have told the next minute anything 
 at all about him ; and that was precisely as he 
 wished it, for the old confidence with which three 
 years ago he had engaged these pretty girls in 
 conversation had completely departed from him. 
 Probably, in the first place, it was merely a kind 
 of wolf-pack confidence born of the numbers of 
 the young cubs with whom he used to come, and 
 was not truly part of him ; but however that 
 may be, it is unquestionable that now it had given 
 place to shyness, and he did not so much as lift 
 his eyes to the face of the waitress when giving 
 his order. 
 
 After it was executed nobody spoke to him or 
 troubled him, and he lay soaking, so to speak, 
 in the seductive atmosphere of his surroundings. 
 In some undefined degree Scarlett had within him 
 the instincts of an artist or a poet, and for that 
 reason this place, with its perfumes, music, and 
 beautiful women, appealed to him mightily, and 
 letting the reins of his fancy loose, he gave himself 
 up to the full enjoyment of it.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 IN WHICH A LISTENER HEARS NO GOOD FOR 
 HIMSELF 
 
 AFTER a time Scarlett became conscious of a con- 
 versation going on between two men at a table 
 close by. They had only recently entered, and 
 one, who seemed from his appearance to have 
 come from the country, did most of the talking. 
 
 It was the word ' Powlett ' which first caught 
 Scarlett's wandering attention and arrested it, for 
 Powlett in those days was a name to conjure 
 with. The great coal strike in the North, the 
 prospects of a great coal famine, the opportune dis- 
 covery of vast deposits of coal in the Powlett River 
 basin, less than one hundred miles from Melbourne, 
 the swift decision of the Victorian Government 
 (notwithstanding fierce opposition) to open up the 
 deposits, the feverish rapidity with which the fields 
 were being developed and a railway pushed towards 
 them had struck the imagination of the Common- 
 wealth to such an extent that, for a time, Powlett 
 was more talked of than politics, and the man who 
 had been there was everywhere listened to as an 
 oracle, while he who had sailed the world round 
 was by comparison considered untravelled and 
 commonplace. 
 
 In Scarlett's case there was the additional fact 
 that it was in this Powlett River country he was
 
 to do his work ; consequently the bare mention of 
 the place was sufficient to bring him back to earth, 
 listening eagerly for information concerning it. 
 But it was not so much of the country as of men 
 that the newcomers talked. 
 
 ' iWork I ' he of the backblocks was saying, ' the 
 Super beats the band. I never saw anything like 
 him. He's never in bed before midnight, and he's 
 up again at five every morning. How he stands 
 it is the mystery, for there isn't a great deal of 
 him except length. But work seems to be meat 
 and drink to him, and he's just a glutton for it. 
 And the worst of it is,' the man went on, ' he 
 seems to infect everybody about him with the same 
 complaint. You catch it from him like a disease. 
 I am not a hog for work, as you know, but 
 somehow I never feel justified in going to bed 
 now until he goes, and I can't for shame's sake 
 stay in after he gets up. I was thirteen stone 
 eight when I went up there barely three months 
 ago ; to-day I weighed on the railway-station 
 at Nyora coming down and I'm barely eleven. 
 I'm nothing but a clothes -rack.' 
 
 ' How about the others? ' the city man asked. 
 
 ' Same as me,' the first replied. ' Robertson, 
 the engineer in charge of the section from Nyora 
 to the Bass River, has worked himself nearly blind. 
 Kelly, the boss of the platelayers, was the life 
 of the camp when we first went up, but he never 
 speaks a word now ; he's like a fellow running 
 a long race, and knows if he speaks he won't have 
 breath enough to finish. Big Tom Johnston, the 
 bridge foreman, is in the same condition. He 
 hasn't said anything but " Yes " and " No " for 
 weeks. When he gives directions he gives them 
 like a dumb man, by signs.' 
 
 The coming of the tea-girl switched their
 
 NO GOOD FOR HIMSELF 13 
 
 thoughts off on to other lines. .What would they 
 have? The engineer laughed. 
 
 ' Made me think of Black Charlie,' he remarked 
 presently, by way of explanation to his friend 
 ' our cook, you know, or chef, as we have to 
 call him, he never asks us what we'll have ; he 
 gives us what he thinks proper, and we just have 
 to take it and be thankful, whether we like it 
 or not. There isn't one of them, from the assistant 
 engineers down, who is not afraid of the Super ; 
 but the Super himself is afraid of Charlie. It's 
 very funny I ' 
 
 There was another interruption then, owing to 
 the girl returning with their order, and by the 
 time she had finished her work and gone the con- 
 versation had shifted to the navvies who were 
 employed on the work. Scarlett listened with all 
 his ears. Now he would hear something. 
 
 ' tWhat class of men have you got? ' the city 
 man was asking. 
 
 ' Men 1 ' the other replied in tones of contempt, 
 ' they're not men at all they're beasts ! And you 
 have to treat them like beasts. I've seen some 
 pretty rough stuff, as you know, at Marble Bar 
 and Broome and on the goldfields line in the 
 .West, but these beat all. Possibly they would 
 not be so bad if it were not for the shanties and 
 the women. But there they are they work like 
 galley-slaves in the daytime and drink like swine 
 and fight like devils at night. Pay nights 
 especially the camps are like hell. I wouldn't 
 live a week in one of them for a pension. It 
 wouldn't be safe if a man had anything to lose,' 
 he went on. ' Some of those fellows would blow 
 your light out for a drink. How do we manage? ' 
 he echoed in reply to a question by the other. 
 1 Oh, we have our " portables," and take jolly fine
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE GENERAL STATES THE POSITION 
 
 IT was necessary to the success of the undertaking 
 to enlist, if possible, the sympathy of the Chief 
 Engineer of Railways, and get transport for the 
 outfit over such part of the new line as had been 
 laid down, so the General and Scarlett went the 
 following day to seek an interview and lay the 
 scheme before the chief. The prospect of beard- 
 ing this lion in his den filled Scarlett with dismay, 
 and he would gladly have escaped the ordeal had 
 it been possible. The General may have been 
 perturbed also, but, if so, he made no sign, and 
 together they set out. However, what fears they 
 may have entertained as to their reception were, 
 once inside the office, quickly dispelled. They 
 found the chief infinitely more approachable than 
 the hall porter, and their requests had only to be 
 made known to be granted, and in fifteen minutes 
 their business was complete and their course clear. 
 ' It will be best for you to go down as far as 
 Nyora by the late train,' the chief concluded ; 
 ' put up at the hotel for the night if you can get a 
 bed, and make your arrangements with Mr. Fer- 
 guson, the superintending engineer, to get your 
 stuff aboard a construction train. You will prob- 
 ably get it down the new line the following day 
 that is, as far as the line goes. Wje'll see you
 
 THE GENERAL STATES THE POSITION 17 
 
 through as far as that. But if you decide to camp 
 at Kilkunda, you'll have to make what arrange- 
 ments you can to get your outfit the rest of the 
 way.' 
 
 ' Well, we can't ask more than that ! ' the 
 General replied, well pleased ; ' and if you get 
 us as far as the end of the line, we'll manage the 
 other.' 
 
 ' I promise you that,' the chief responded 
 briskly, ' and anything else we can do to help you 
 we'll gladly do. I wish you luck ! Goodbye ! ' 
 
 ' Goodbye, and thank you ! ' 
 
 ' Good man the chief 1 ' the General remarked 
 as he and Scarlett descended the stairs towards 
 the street. ' It isn't every one who would put 
 himself about to help us as he is doing. But 
 he's really a big man every way, and my experience 
 of big men is that they are always ready to listen 
 to a reasonable proposition. In fact, it takes a 
 big man to see the value of little things not that 
 this work of ours is little,' he added, ' but it might 
 easily appear so to a little man.' 
 
 ' And where is our special value to the chief 
 engineer? ' Scarlett asked innocently. 
 
 The question was unfortunate from every point 
 of view, and the General's gorge rose against his 
 henchman. .What kind of a fellow was he? .What 
 kind of man had he got hold of? He groaned 
 inwardly at the thought of committing this work 
 to such a numskull. 
 
 ' What's our value to the chief? ' he echoed with 
 heat, tinged with sarcasm. ' It will depend upon 
 you very largely. If you can manage to win the 
 confidence of the men and make our place 
 sufficiently attractive, the camp will shift its centre 
 from the shanties, round which it swings now, 
 and swing round us, and that will make all the 
 
 John Scarlett, Ganger. 3
 
 1 8 THE GENERAL STATES THE POSITION 
 
 difference in the world to the chief. For if we 
 succeed in keeping the men away from the drink, 
 it means that the chief will have men he can 
 depend upon for his work, where he can't depend 
 upon them now. And what's more, he will get 
 far more work out of them then than he can 
 while they are eternally suffering a recovery from 
 drink, as at present. Then again, with games, 
 reading matter, and entertainments, and a place 
 where they can spend their evenings comfortably, 
 the men will be far more contented, and the 
 engineers will be able to keep them on the job 
 till it's finished, which is more than they can do 
 now and that's something from an engineer's 
 point of view ; for every new man who is taken 
 on has to be broken in and taught his work, and 
 it's all so much waste time. That's our value to 
 the chief,' the General concluded, as he ran up 
 the steps of headquarters ; ' that is,' he added, 
 ' if we make good but,' and this with a disparag- 
 ing look at his subordinate, ' it's a man's work.' 
 Now, all these things Scarlett knew quite well, 
 and had asked his question more for the sake 
 of having something to say than for information, 
 and he was upon the point of telling Mr. Smith 
 so in very hard words, for he felt the sting in the 
 remarks, and bitterly resented it, but on second 
 thoughts he decided that nothing could be gained 
 by doing so, and mastering his anger, he climbed 
 the stairs to the bathroom. Nobody was about 
 at that hour, and he stood a minute before a large 
 mirror and steadfastly regarded himself. He ran 
 his fingers through his thin red hair, stood it up 
 straight on his head, and looked at it. From his 
 hair his gaze fell to his mouth, the lines of which 
 he studied with rueful countenance, then he flung 
 away from the mirror in disgust.
 
 THE GENERAL STATES THE POSITION 19 
 
 ' It's no wonder the General can't get up any 
 faith in me,' he muttered. ' Hair like this, and 
 mouth like this I can hardly believe in myself.' 
 
 ' But,' he added presently with fierce energy, 
 dashing his hat on the floor and tearing off his 
 collar, ' I've begun to do several things many 
 times, and I've always made good at the last. 
 The General may look askance at me now, and 
 wish to Heaven he could get rid of me, but he 
 won't until I've had a try, and, God helping me, 
 I shall make good, and he and everybody else 
 will have to admit it.' 
 
 He did not know for he was a very usual young 
 man and his field of history (like that field of the 
 slothful man in the Scriptures) was all grown over 
 with thorns he did not know that one of the 
 greatest Stars that shine down upon us from the 
 fretted political sky of the nineteenth century 
 began his amazing career in somewhat similar 
 mood, and with almost identical words. But 
 chancing at that moment to again catch sight of 
 his face in the glass, he was almost startled at its 
 look of fierce determination ; the jaws were locked 
 together like the jaws of a bulldog, while the eyes 
 fairly snapped, and while he stood astonished, con- 
 templating this amazing transformation, he quite 
 forgot about the colour of his hair.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 OFF TO POWLETT RIVER 
 
 VICTORIA, roughly speaking, is divided into four 
 great provinces, though the dividing is the work 
 of use and custom rather than of surveyor or 
 engineer. There is the wealthy Western District 
 out towards the South Australian border ; the 
 Mallee, which describes the great wheat belt in 
 the north, running east and west along the 
 Murray ; Gippsland, in the extreme east, which 
 lies towards the sea and is washed by the Pacific 
 all the way round from Westernport to New South 
 Wales ; and, finally, the Central Province, which 
 contains the capital and the very heart of the 
 State, but has no special designation as have the 
 others. 
 
 Gippsland may fittingly be called the Highlands 
 of Australia, and is in many respects the most 
 romantic province of them all. In Gippsland 
 grow, if Von Mueller may be believed, the tallest 
 trees in the world. In Gippsland rise Australia's 
 highest mountains. From Gippsland go out the 
 great rivers which water the earth of the southern 
 interior. No part of the land has such splendid 
 lakes. Nowhere else in Australia shall you find 
 ski-ing and snow-shoeing and skating, for nowhere 
 else does the snow fall so thickly, or the water 
 freeze sufficiently hard to bear the weight of the
 
 OFF TO POWLETT RIVER 21 
 
 skater. All manner of metals are mined there, 
 from gold to tin. Whole mountains of marble, 
 rivalling in their purity the finest Carrara, lie 
 ready to the hand of the sculptor, and there, too, 
 are endless quantities of coal. 
 
 Gippsland, because of its forests, its mountains, 
 its wildness, and its inaccessibility, was for long 
 the Cinderella of Victoria's provinces, but to-day it 
 is coming to its own, and its future is big with 
 possibility. 
 
 Some of these things John Scarlett remembered 
 and pondered as, having placed his swag in a 
 compartment of the South-East Express, he sat 
 at the window watching the type of people who 
 were boarding her. He had never been in 
 Gippsland, and was looking forward with keen 
 interest to seeing that romantic country. His 
 reflections, however, were cut short by the 
 appearance of the General, with a great swag 
 done up in military fashion slung across his 
 shoulders, and followed by a seedy-looking indi- 
 vidual of middle age bearing an old-fashioned 
 carpet-bag and a basket of carpenter's tools. 
 
 ' This way I ' Scarlett shouted as soon as he 
 saw them. ' Room here 1 ' 
 
 ' Good I ' the General answered approvingly, 
 as he made his way into the car and piled his 
 swag on the rack. 
 
 ' This way, Anderson I ' he called to the seedy 
 one. ' Plenty of room here ! Want to keep my 
 eye on him,' he said in an aside to Scarlett. 
 Then, as the individual concerned pushed his way 
 into the compartment : ' I was detained at the 
 office and had to cut it fine. But in time is 
 good time.' 
 
 The stowing of their luggage occupied the 
 General and his companion some moments, and
 
 22 OFF TO POWLETT RIVER 
 
 by the time it was finished the train was already 
 clear of the station and swinging round the curve 
 towards Richmond. 
 
 Scarlett had reserved seats 'for his companions 
 by the old-fashioned but effective expedient of 
 sitting down himself and piling his goods and 
 chattels on a great part of the seat opposite. 
 These being now removed and all settled, the 
 General introduced his seedy follower as ' Mr. 
 Anderson.' He explained that the gentleman in 
 question was a carpenter coming down to aid in 
 the erection of the marquee. 
 
 Mr. Anderson shook hands feebly with a damp, 
 clammy hand, but found energy enough to deny 
 the carpentership, claiming with thin dignity to 
 be a cabinet-maker. The General apologised, and 
 Scarlett, in his short, nervous sentences, professed 
 himself highly gratified at making Mr. Anderson's 
 acquaintance, though it did occur to him as rather 
 odd that a cabinet-maker should be so shabbily 
 dressed and engaged upon such a primitive job 
 as the erection of a marquee. 
 
 However, he was not left to puzzle over the 
 matter for any length of time, for Mr. Anderson 
 presently getting into conversation with a grizzly 
 farmer next to him, the General took the oppor- 
 tunity to lean over and explain that the cabinet- 
 maker was a good man gone to the devil through 
 drink, that he had picked him up at the Gospel 
 Hall in Little Bourke Street, and had brought 
 him along as much for the sake of getting him 
 away from temptation as for any use he might be. 
 
 ' But what's the matter with his face? ' Scarlett 
 asked. 
 
 The General laughed. ' It's one of the oddest 
 things I've come across for a long time,' he said. 
 ' Poor old Anderson was coming across Queen's
 
 23 
 
 Bridge from South Melbourne last Saturday after- 
 noon sober as I am now, for a wonder when he 
 happened to meet two drunken German sailors. 
 For some reason or another they didn't like 
 the look of him, and took and gave him an 
 unmerciful hiding. Fortunately for Anderson, or 
 unfortunately, I hardly know which, two policemen 
 arrived in the thick of it, and arrested all three 
 of them and took them off to the lock-up. Old 
 Anderson protested his innocence all the way ; but 
 it wasn't a bit of good ; they locked them all up 
 on a charge of disorderly conduct, and kept them 
 there until the court sat on Monday. The end 
 of it was, the sailors were fined five pounds each, 
 and Anderson was discharged with a caution. But 
 if you want to hear him go off about British justice, 
 just mention the thing to him. " The sailors had 
 the fun," he says, " the Government had the ten 
 pounds, and I got a terrible hiding and thirty- 
 six hours in gaol." And really, when you come 
 to 'think of it, it was a bit too bad.' And when 
 Scarlett looked at the battered face of the cabinet- 
 maker, he was inclined to agree that it was. 
 
 By this time the city was left behind them, and 
 the train, running express, had passed through the 
 beautiful stretch of residential suburbs that extend 
 to Oakleigh, and was roaring its way up into the 
 hills with the Dandenong Ranges on the left. The 
 weather was blistering hot, for it was early 
 January ; the sun was low on the horizon, showing 
 like a great blazing disc through a thin haze of 
 smoke, but the rush of the express created a cool- 
 ing breeze, and there came to them the good 
 fresh smell of the soil tanged with the odour of 
 bush and scrub. 
 
 The General seemed a new man in his new sur- 
 roundings. He had left care behind in the office,
 
 24 OFF TO POWLETT RIVER 
 
 and meant to make the most o"f this little break 
 in the office routine. Old Anderson sat with his 
 eyes closed and head at rest against the wall of 
 the carriage, contentedly puffing his pipe, and 
 Scarlett, for his part, lay back in his hard corner 
 and thought it luxury. For the time being he had 
 contrived to banish the nightmare of the coming 
 work from his mind. 
 
 Probably no man was ever more eager to win 
 the approval of his superiors than Scarlett, and 
 it was with a great deal of thankfulness he 
 observed that Smith was more cordial to him than 
 he had yet been. He did not worry himself try- 
 ing to account for the change in the General ; he 
 was quite content to know and rejoice in it, though 
 it is safe to say that the reason, had he known 
 it, would have filled him with amazement. 
 
 For, in Smith's eyes, the greatest of all Scarlett's 
 offences was the foppishness of his clothes. 
 Severely plain and practical in himself, anything 
 tending in the direction of foppery jarred upon 
 him terribly, and Scarlett's loud tweeds, split tails, 
 and patent leather boots had been to him like 
 an orange rosette to an Irishman. But to-day 
 Scarlett had undergone a transformation, and when 
 Smith arrived upon the station and found him 
 arrayed in an old and tough-looking suit of grey 
 serge, strong, serviceable boots surmounted by a 
 pair of leggings a good deal the worse for wear, 
 and having on the back of his head an old slouch 
 hat, he realised that he was not altogether lost to 
 a sense of the .fitness of things, and thawed 
 accordingly.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 JOHN SCARLETT IS THE WRONG MAN 
 
 THE General was not much of a talker as a rule, 
 but to-day the freedom from the office, the ex- 
 hilaration of the flying express, and the good, 
 clean scent of the bush carried him out of himself. 
 
 ' How did you first come to engage in this kind 
 of work? ' he asked presently. 
 
 ' How do you mean exactly? ' Scarlett replied, 
 with a rather puzzled expression of face. 
 
 ' Why, how did you come to take up work 
 amongst the timber-getters? ' 
 
 ' Timber-getters? What work? ' 
 
 ' Don't try to be funny 1 ' the General rasped 
 somewhat shortly. ' You were running a kind 
 of social centre amongst the timber-getters on 
 the Great Southern in k West Australia, weren't 
 you? ' 
 
 ' No, I was not. I was never in a timber- 
 getters' camp in my life.' 
 
 ' What 1 ' the General gasped, sitting bolt up- 
 right. ' Say that over again ! ' 
 
 ' I will, if you're deaf,' Scarlett replied, some- 
 what nettled. ' I was never in a timber-getters' 
 camp in my life, and what's more, there are no 
 timber-getters' camps on the Great Southern, they 
 are in the Jarrah country, and that's in another 
 quarter of the State altogether.' 
 
 25
 
 26 JOHN SCARLETT 
 
 The General looked at him for a full half -minute, 
 as though unable to believe his ears ; then he 
 crumpled up and sank back in his seat like a man 
 stricken with paralysis. Presently, however, he 
 rallied sufficiently to lean forward and ask 
 
 4 Then how, in the name of all that is wonderful, 
 do you come to be here? ' 
 
 4 How do I come to be here? ' S.carlett answered 
 in turn. ' Well, that's pretty cool ! Didn't you 
 wire me to come? ' 
 
 The General shook his head wearily. ' I give it 
 up,' he said. ' I telegraphed certainly, bu,t I under- 
 stood you were working amongst the men in a 
 timber-getters' camp away down in the Jarrah 
 country. Your name is Scarlett John Scarlett? ' 
 he added, bethinking himself. 
 
 ' Yes, it is. I was a clerk in the W. A. Bank in 
 Perth, and in the Association there, and when your 
 telegram came to me in the care of Jameson, the 
 secretary, they handed it over, and after thinking 
 it out I decided to accept, so I threw up my 
 billet and came.' 
 
 The General stared at him during this narration 
 with open mouth, and for a time was too bewildered 
 to make any further remark, then light seemed 
 slowly to dawn upon him. 
 
 4 Did Jameson himself give you that telegram? ' 
 he asked directly. 
 
 4 No. Jameson was away on the goldfields ; 
 the assistant gave it to me.' 
 
 The General smote his leg. ' That accounts for 
 it ! ' he cried ; 4 there must have been two Scarletts 
 (though in all my life I never came across another 
 of the same name), and that ass in the office 
 bungled things up. If Jamie had been there it 
 would not have happened. There is no doubt 
 my luck is in,' he groaned ; and pulling his hat
 
 IS THE .WRONG MAN 27 
 
 over his eyes, he leaned back in his seat to do some 
 hard thinking. 
 
 What was he to do? That was the query. He 
 was pledged to this work, and the outfit was all 
 aboard the train it must go on. But what possible 
 hope was there of making good? He could not 
 stay in the camp longer than to see the tent up, 
 even if every navvy's life depended upon it. Was 
 there nobody to whom he could wire to come and 
 take charge? Try as he would, he could think 
 of no one, and at last he was forced to the con- 
 clusion that he must leave Scarlett in charge, be 
 the consequences what they may ; but the mental 
 picture that arose when he thought of this city- 
 bred dandy in the midst of the toughs and shanties 
 of a navvies' camp filled him with such dismay that 
 he uttered no further word until the express ran 
 shrieking into Nyora. 
 
 In the great days yet to be Nyora will in all 
 probability be a large and important railway town, 
 but at the time when Mr. Secretary Smith and 
 his followers alighted there from the Gippsland 
 express, it could boast but half a dozen houses. 
 There was a store, a butcher's shop, a blacksmith's 
 shop, a church (used once a month), two or three 
 places for railway men, and last and first, in those 
 days a public-house. 
 
 Craning his neck from the window as they came 
 near, it seemed to Scarlett the ugliest and least 
 inviting place he had ever set eyes upon. Num- 
 berless fires had burnt their way through all the 
 surrounding country, and all that was left of once 
 stately forest was a wilderness of blackened 
 stumps and stunted scrub. Such an appearance 
 of desolation and misery hung about the place as 
 cannot be described only felt. 
 
 Scarlett, like most men of artistic temperament,
 
 28 JOHN SCARLETT 
 
 was peculiarly susceptible to scenery and environ- 
 ment, and the first sight of this uninviting country 
 sent a chill through his blood and filled him with 
 depression and misery. However, an all-wise 
 Providence has decreed that for most diseases there 
 is an antidote close by for him who has eyes to 
 see. The natural antidote for ' blues ' is activity, 
 and as they drew near to the station yard Scarlett 
 found it on all sides of him. 
 
 The work of the day was over, and the rank and 
 file of the navvies were, for the most part, engaged 
 in culinary operations before their tents. Every- 
 where their fires flashed brightly, and there came 
 to the travellers, borne upon the breeze, the 
 fragrant, indescribable smell of burning gum- 
 leaves, impregnated with the reek of frying meat, 
 and as the express came running down the line, 
 the men about the fires paused in their operations, 
 and stood silhouetted against the sky, pan or pot 
 in hand, each one a statue of robust manhood, 
 curiously watching its arrival. 
 
 The yard, as they came into it, seemed to 
 Scarlett a chaos of timber and iron, and such it 
 was. The little goods shed, built in other days 
 to suit the small needs of the few farmers and 
 fruit-growers in the district, had, like some tiny 
 dam in the way of a spring flood, burst its sides 
 with the unwonted pressure, spilling a flood of 
 boxes, cases and machinery, iron and timber, all 
 over the place. Everywhere he looked trucks were 
 to be seen in process of loading and unloading, 
 while a number of engines, that seemed out of 
 breath with the heat of the day and long running, 
 panted wearily here and there in obedience to 
 the directions of a small individual with a pro- 
 digious whistle, and on all sides was the hurry and 
 confusion consequent upon the breaking and
 
 IS THE WRONG MAN 29 
 
 making -up of trains. And when at length the 
 express pulled up, and they alighted on the plat- 
 form, they found themselves at once in the midst 
 of a crowd of roughly dressed, and, for the most 
 part, rough-looking men, pushing, swearing, laugh- 
 ing, but too much engrossed in the arrival of the 
 express and the chances of getting a city paper 
 to take the least notice of John Scarlett or any- 
 body else.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE HUSTLER 
 
 A ' PORTABLE ' is a wooden building made in 
 sections and so arranged that it can be dumped 
 down anywhere, and by the mere process of 
 bolting the different sections together a weather- 
 proof house is provided in an incredibly short 
 space of time. A tent is very well, but a portable 
 is not much more difficult to erect, and once erected 
 there is no further anxiety, and for that reason 
 they are usually furnished to the engineering staffs 
 on Government works. 
 
 The portables of the engineers employed on the 
 Powlett River Railway were pitched on clear 
 ground close to the railway line, but some distance 
 back from the station, and thither the General and 
 his followers bent their steps as soon as their be- 
 longings were safely deposited in the station office. 
 Their object in going was to see the superintending 
 engineer, and learn what their prospects were of 
 getting their outfit along the line. Scarlett, bearing 
 in mind the conversation he had heard in the tea- 
 room, was all eagerness to see a man with such 
 a terrific appetite for work as the engineer had 
 described, and, as they stumbled along the line 
 towards the portables, tried to imagine what he 
 would be like. 
 
 He mentally sketched a small, fiery, Captain 
 
 30
 
 THE HUSTLER 31 
 
 Kettle type of man, quick and irritable in his 
 manner, and jerking himself about from place to 
 place like a figure on springs. But when they 
 stood at the door of the portable and looked in, 
 instead of the figure he had imagined he saw 
 some six feet of languid indolence leaning lazily 
 against the wall, with one hand in his trousers 
 pocket and the other holding to his ear a telephone 
 receiver. 
 
 The man's hair was fair and curling, but his 
 beard, which he wore full, probably from lack of 
 time to shave, was soft and silky, with a tendency 
 to raggedness. He raised his eyes languidly when 
 the visitors appeared in the doorway, but betrayed 
 no surprise at seeing them. Indeed, for him to 
 have assumed a look of surprise, or to have altered 
 the set of his features in any way, would have 
 required the exercise of more energy than Mr. 
 Ferguson appeared to possess. Any one looking 
 less like a hustler, or less calculated to inspire 
 a thousand men of all ranks with a feverish activity 
 in their work, it would have been impossible to 
 imagine, and Scarlett, after the first glance, was 
 inclined to believe they had struck the wrong 
 man. 
 
 With more experience and a better knowledge 
 of his countrymen he might, however, have formed 
 a different opinion of that long, loose-jointed 
 frame. For who in this land cannot recall at 
 will thrilling days of international cricket, when 
 Trumble, Laver, Armstrong, Noble, all of them 
 of this type, would lounge out from the pavilion 
 to face a position that was the despair of Australia 
 and the joy of Britain, and, going to work in 
 their tired way with apparent indifference to the 
 result, would yet contrive by indomitable patience 
 and skill, and (when there was nothing else for
 
 32 THE HUSTLER 
 
 it) amazing dash and energy, to drag the game 
 out of danger and turn the tables on their 
 opponents. 
 
 But possibly an even better illustration was pro- 
 vided when the United States sent her magnificent 
 trio of champions south to recover the long-lost 
 Davis Cup. There was a day of days when 
 Norman Brookes, of Australia, went out to face 
 the great McLoughlin, of America, and such a 
 battle resulted as probably never was seen on any 
 court in the world before. The big American, 
 the incarnation of vitality and dash, radiating his 
 superabundant energy from every part of him with 
 every move he made, played the game of his life. 
 And such a game 1 His amazing cleverness, his 
 staggering swiftness and brilliancy so dazzled the 
 eyes of all assembled, friend and foe alike, that 
 they beheld the wonderful display as though fasci- 
 nated. Every stroke brought forth a storm of 
 cheers, every return an ovation. He was the only 
 man on the court. 
 
 Yet it takes two to play tennis, even though 
 one be completely outshone by the other. And 
 at the opposite end of the court, facing this 
 bewildering player, was a lean, gaunt Australian. 
 His tired, disinterested eyes looked out wearily 
 from a face almost dead in its utter lack of expres- 
 sion, and, so far as it was possible to determine, 
 he had no more concern for the result of the 
 game than if he were filling in time with some 
 Miss at a garden-party. Never overreaching, never 
 rushing at things beyond him, never moving a 
 foot unless compelled to, evoking no enthusiasm, 
 receiving no ovation, completely overshadowed and 
 eclipsed by the other, and seemingly content to 
 have it so, and yet and yet it was this inert 
 slab of indolence and indifference, and not his
 
 THE HUSTLER 33 
 
 brilliant antagonist, who emerged triumphant from 
 the great ordeal. 
 
 And, after all, that dreadful appearance of 
 laziness which so vexes our visitors from other 
 climes is probably far more apparent than real. 
 The eyes may seem half-asleep, but they miss 
 nothing ; the tall figure may droop, but it is 
 not for lack of strength. The man may seem 
 the embodiment of indolence, but so, for that 
 matter, is a panther ; and in both cases it is 
 indolence born of the consciousness of vast reserves 
 of strength and of ability to achieve its purpose, 
 if not without effort, at least without display. Some 
 day in the future a man will arise to call this 
 wisdom. For, after all, is not energy concentrated 
 life? iWhy, then, expend that priceless treasure 
 where it is not required? None but fools get 
 up steam in a locomotive in order to remove a 
 hatful of gravel. 
 
 This, then, was the type of man their eyes beheld 
 in the portable, and they soon discovered that his 
 speech was quite in keeping with the rest of him ; 
 for when he answered the man at the other end 
 of the wire it was in sleepy, drawling tones, with 
 a very decided lisp, and to Scarlett it seemed 
 fitting, in an odd way, that the conversation was 
 concerning ' sleepers.' Altogether he looked more 
 like an overgrown and somewhat supercilious clerk 
 in an office taking advantage of the boss's absence 
 to loaf round and ring up a friend than the head 
 of an army of railway-men working feverishly 
 against time to save their country from a coal 
 famine. 
 
 All this time the new arrivals stood in the door- 
 way and waited, with what patience they could 
 command, for the business over the wires to come 
 to an end, and when at length, it did the engineer 
 
 John Scarlett, Ganger. A
 
 34 THE HUSTLER 
 
 hung the receiver on the hook and turned with 
 a look of inquiry to his visitors. Smith began to 
 explain, but before he could do so they were inter- 
 rupted by the entrance of the rouseabout, a short, 
 sturdy man of austere countenance, who stumbled 
 into the office and deposited on the table an armful 
 of letters and packets. The engineer groaned 
 miserably at the sight of them. 
 
 ' They seem to think we haven't enough to do 
 up here/ he complained bitterly, ' and whenever 
 they are out of a job in town they sit down 
 and write me instructions about nothing, and 
 always finish up, " N.B. Reply requested by 
 return." The end of it will be,' he added, with 
 mild conviction, ' that things will begin to accu- 
 mulate at this end,' Then looking after the mail- 
 man, who was already outside the door, ' Excuse 
 me, gentlemen. Kitchener I Kitchener ! ' he 
 called with feeble energy. 
 
 Kitchener, evidently much against his inclina- 
 tion, slowly returned, and poked his solemn head 
 through the door. 
 
 ' Wot is it, Mister Ferguson? ' he said. 
 
 4 There's a coal -train from Korumburra going 
 through here at half-past five in the morning, 
 Kitchener. I'll get outside this little pile of mail 
 before bedtime, and if you're about a little after 
 five, you might look in here, Kitchener, and get 
 the replies aboard that train. There's an ordinary 
 at nine, but there's no reason why we shouldn't 
 catch the other. Don't rise on purpose, Kitchener, 
 but I shall be off down the line at four, and if 
 you are about, it would oblige me greatly.' 
 
 The engineer appeared almost exhausted with 
 this long speech, and Kitchener nodded and with- 
 drew. But it was easy to see that he was far 
 from pleased, and, standing by the door, Scarlett
 
 THE HUSTLER 35 
 
 could hear him grumbling as he stumbled off into 
 the night. 
 
 ' " If you're about, Kitchener,' " he muttered re- 
 belliously ' " if you're about, Kitchener ! " 'Ow 
 very polite we are 1 It's not " I want you 'ere, an* 
 mind you are 'ere 1 " Oh, no, for 'e knows jolly 
 well wot I'd say to 'im. No, it's " If you're about, 
 Kitchener ! " Same as if I was in the 'abit of 
 roamin' about at five o'clock in the morning 1 "If 
 you're about, Kitchener I " No doubt I'll be about 
 the Lord help me if I'm not ! but I'd a darn 
 sight sooner be in me bunk.' 
 
 Any further remarks he may have made were 
 cut short at this juncture by a piece of fencing- 
 wire which lay across his path. Kitchener, striding 
 viciously on, tripped over it and measured his 
 little length on the ground ; but he was not hurt, 
 and arose presently, full of cursing and bitterness, 
 and went on his way. 
 
 Meantime the superintendent waved his hand 
 towards a biscuit-box. ' Be seated, gentlemen,' 
 he said, and they seated themselves accordingly ; 
 but Smith, who had been with Lord Kitchener in 
 Africa, remarked, with a jerk of his head towards 
 the door 
 
 ' Rather a contrast to the Kitchener ! ' 
 
 ' Think so? ' the engineer replied, with real or 
 affected surprise. ' I understood there was a very 
 striking likeness ; in fact, that's why he is called 
 Kitchener. Some one remarked upon the great 
 resemblance when first he came here, and from 
 that time he has been called Lord Kitchener. 
 Nobody knows him by any other name, and, in 
 fact, he won't answer to any other, so he gets 
 nothing else. But is there anything I can do for 
 you, gentlemen? ' he concluded, his eyes resting a 
 moment on the pile of mail matter that awaited him.
 
 36 THE HUSTLER 
 
 Smith caught the glance, and himself a man of 
 business to his finger-tips, needed no further hint 
 as to the value of time. In a few words he 
 explained who and what they were, and what it 
 was they required. To his infinite relief he found 
 the superintendent, if not enthusiastic, at least 
 courteous, and if a little sceptical as to the result, 
 quite sympathetic with the object in view, and 
 willing to do all in his power to help. He would 
 set apart a truck for their outfit, and give instruc- 
 tions that it be loaded and left at the seventeen- 
 mile, where, upon his advice, Smith determined 
 to make the headquarters of his camp. 
 
 * You are taking charge of the work yourself, 
 Mr. Smith, I presume? ' he concluded, noting with 
 approval the tall figure and brisk business ways 
 of the General. 
 
 4 No,' Smith returned reluctantly, ' I'm not. Mr. 
 Scarlett here is to take charge.' 
 
 The superintendent raised his eyebrows the least 
 bit in the world as he turned his eyes upon the 
 blushing Scarlett, and it was not difficult to analyse 
 his thoughts. Then the corners of his mouth 
 twitched in response to inward amusement as he 
 pictured this nervous, ladylike young man in the 
 midst of a Sunday ' two -up ' school trying to turn 
 the men from the error of their ways. However, 
 there was nothing but encouragement in his voice 
 when next he spoke. 
 
 ' Well, Mr. Scarlett,' he observed, with a deep 
 and wide yawn, ' you don't look exactly the kind 
 of man to handle navvies and shanty-keepers. But 
 that remains to be seen, and, anyhow, I wish you 
 luck. We've had bad weather, and bottomless 
 pits, and flooded rivers, and the Lord only knows 
 what else to fight on this line, but with the single 
 exception of the office in town all these things
 
 THE HUSTLER 37 
 
 together have not delayed me one -half so 
 much as those confounded shanties, and if you 
 can do anything to lessen their influence I'll be 
 eternally grateful to you.' 
 
 This long speech was the climax, for, having 
 delivered it, the engineer sank back exhausted in 
 his chair and spoke no more. He nodded wearily 
 to the thanks and farewells of the others, but 
 speech seemed beyond him, and they left him to 
 his pipe and his mail. 
 
 But for all his languor and apparent indifference 
 no man was ever in more deadly earnest about his 
 work than Ferguson. He had fought his way 
 up to his present position without friends or influ- 
 ence, the while looking for an opportunity to get 
 his foot on the ladder which led to the top. The 
 opportunity came with the almost impossible task 
 of building this railway in the space of time 
 allowed, and he had reached for it with both hands. 
 If he succeeded, his future was safe ; if he failed 
 well but he was so determined to succeed that 
 he made no preparations for failure. 
 
 Of these things Scarlett was ignorant, of course, 
 which is rather a pity, for the knowledge that 
 he was not the only man who was to sink or swim 
 by his work on this line would have cheered him 
 greatly.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE ' OLD BULL AND BUSH ' 
 
 THE Old Bull and Bush Hotel was enjoying 
 unprecedented prosperity. A few short months 
 ago it was as dull and dead as only a bush public - 
 house can be, but the building of the railway had 
 brought hundreds of men to its doors, and having 
 nowhere else to go when the work of the day was 
 done, they went inside and gave themselves up to 
 such as it afforded ; that is to say, they drank 
 great quantities of a vile kind of beer which they 
 did not want, and parted with their hard-earned 
 money which they did want, and sent far less 
 than was due to their expectant wives and needy 
 children, reducing them to rags and penury, the 
 while they decked the landlord's wife in silks and 
 furs. Incidentally, they parted with much self- 
 respect in consequence of this, and being con- 
 scious of the fact, endeavoured to regain it by the 
 process of flinging good money after bad. 
 
 The General and his companions, after their 
 interview with the superintendent, made their way 
 to the place where these odd things were done, and 
 as they drew near were duly impressed with what 
 was taking place. 
 
 Every door and window stood wide open, and 
 the garish light, streaming out from within, shone 
 
 blatantly on the white dust of the roadway. The 
 
 38
 
 THE ' OLD BULL AND BUSH ' 39 
 
 place was full of men, every one of whom seemed 
 to be talking, laughing, singing, or swearing. 
 Such a medley and mixture of sound Scarlett had 
 never heard, and he shivered in the hot night as 
 they drew near. From the billiard-room came 
 the sharp click of the ivory balls breaking through 
 the babel of tongues. From the interior of the 
 house came the sound of music and the tramping 
 of heavy feet in a dance, while from the bar 
 there came the clink of glasses and the song of 
 the drmkards, interspersed with snatches of argu- 
 ment, where a knot of beer-inspired politicians 
 discussed the coming election and settled the 
 destiny of the country. 
 
 As they approached, some one in a melancholy 
 voice vas droning out 
 
 'In the shade of the ole apple-tree, 
 The love in your eyes I could see, 
 'Twas your voice that I 'card ' 
 
 4 Oh. shut up I ' a tired voice, evidently that of 
 the publican, interjected wearily. Then the poli- 
 ticians prevailed. 
 
 ' She wins 1 she wins ! ' a strident voice was 
 saying ; ' labour wins, I tell you, and w'en she 
 does, God 'elp the fat man ! Once labour gets 
 'old of the reins ' 
 
 ' I could 'ear the dull 'um of the bee 
 In the blossom w'en you said to me ' 
 
 ' Look 'ere, Harry, if you don't shut up your 
 jaw you'll not get another beer to-night. You're 
 something sickenin'. You've been singing about 
 that blasted apple-tree ever since you come 'ere 
 this morning, an' '
 
 40 THE ' OLD BULL AND BUSH ' 
 
 ' Wages will go up with a bump, and the work- 
 ing-man ' 
 
 ' I seen 'im once goin' aboard a boat for Tas- 
 mania, and Jimmy Mulcahey says to me, " There's 
 General Booth," 'e says ; " old man, ain't 'e? " 
 An' I 'ad a look at 'im, and I says, " Many a man's 
 lived longer'n 'im, Jimmy, that's 'ad to work for 
 'e'es livin', and besides " 
 
 ' They think they know a darn lot, but Billy 
 Hughes knows as much as any of 'em. He'll go 
 through 'em like a packet of ' 
 
 'With a 'eart that is true, 
 I'll be waiting for you-oo-oo ' 
 
 ' There, that finishes it ; not another drop do 
 you get to-night, not if your tongue was hanging 
 out a chain, and you was to offer me peails and 
 diamonds for it.' 
 
 And so on ad infinitum ad nauseam. 
 
 1 Well, that's the kind of material you've got to 
 work on,' the General remarked to Scarlett as he 
 turned away, ' and it's not very promising. Still,' 
 he added with a touch of sympathy as he noticed 
 the pale face of his lieutenant, ' they wi.l turn 
 out better than they look at first sight. Let's go 
 and see if we can get anything to eat, and arrange 
 about to-night.' 
 
 Going along the side of the house, they entered 
 a passage which led by the back of the bar, and 
 by that room incidental to every Australian public- 
 house, and known as the ' bar-parlour.' In some 
 places it is snug and cosy enough, but in the 
 majority it is miserable and cheerless to a degree. 
 This was one of the latter type, but to-night what 
 it lacked in comfort it made up in animation. It 
 was full of men young men mostly, dressed in
 
 THE ' OLD BULL AND BUSH * 41 
 
 trousers and shirt, with coloured handkerchiefs 
 about their necks and broad-brimmed hats pushed 
 back on their heads. One of them sat upon a 
 barrel with his legs crossed, playing an accordion, 
 and about half a dozen couples, all of them men, 
 were waltzing heavily around the room. Con- 
 spicuous among the dancers was a coal-black negro 
 and a ruddy-faced Irishman, and upon these two 
 the eyes of the spectators were fixed, though the 
 bulk of them were doubled up with laughter. 
 
 The negro was of the graver sort, and took the 
 matter very seriously. His precision, poise, cor- 
 rectness, and general deportment would have 
 befitted an elderly duke at a Court function, while 
 the fashion in which the Irishman imitated and 
 played up to him was ridiculously funny, and 
 worthy of Dan Barry at his best. 
 
 ' Hould on, Bland 1 Hould on ! Shtop it now,' a 
 rich voice broke in ' shtop it now ; can't you see 
 we're all bustin' our boilers wid laughin'? Rudolph, 
 you black divil, if you don't give over Oi'll have 
 you up under the Whoite Australia Act.' 
 
 But it was no use ; Rudolph went on rapturously, 
 oblivious to the demands made upon him. How- 
 ever, the Irishman jerked his head round and 
 begged for ' foive minutes more of Paradoise.' 
 But it was not to be, for the musician at that 
 juncture dropped his accordion on the floor, and 
 if ell off beside it, and the dance came to an end. 
 
 ' Come on,' Smith said, turning away, ' we'd 
 better get out of this.' 
 
 For a time neither of his companions acceded 
 to the request. Scarlett was gazing on the scene 
 before him as though fascinated, while old Ander- 
 son's dull eye, incited by the generous spirituous 
 atmosphere, flashed brightly, and a very few 
 minutes more would have seen him out of hand and
 
 42 THE ' OLD BULL AND BUSH ' 
 
 taking his fill at the bar, though fifty Smiths 
 endeavoured to dissuade him. 
 
 ' Come on/ the General said again, ' and let 
 us see if we can get anything to eat, and what 
 chance there is of a bed.' 
 
 His voice broke the spell which bound Scarlett, 
 and at the same time laid Anderson's vaulting 
 ambition in the dust. Scarlett, once awake, was 
 glad to get away, but Anderson moved reluctantly 
 this sort of thing was after his own heart. 
 
 Making their way along the passage towards the 
 rear of the building, they presently came upon a 
 dining-room with tables decently spread, but no- 
 where could they see anything to eat, neither could 
 they, though they searched ever so diligently, dis- 
 cover any one about who could provide for their 
 wants, so there was nothing for it but to go back 
 and hunt up the landlord, which they accordingly 
 did. 
 
 Leaving Scarlett and Anderson outside, Smith 
 pushed his way into the bar, and bluntly asked if 
 there was any prospect of tea. 
 
 * No hope, my son,' the publican replied. ' The 
 missus and the cook and everybody belonging to 
 'em have gone to bed. There's plenty to do 'ere, 
 mister, with all these men to look after. You 'ave 
 to keep your fingers out of your mouth all right, 
 and w'en night-time comes, the women don't waste 
 any time getting to bed.' 
 
 ' Hum I Well, is there any chance of a room? ' 
 
 ' I don't know about a room, mister,' he 
 responded presently, ' but I think I could find you 
 a bed/ 
 
 1 Any chance of three beds? ' 
 
 ' Three 1 Now you're asking for miracles ; 
 but,' he added, 4 it so 'appens that I've got that 
 miracle. Three of the chaps that were staying
 
 THE ' OLD BULL AND BUSH ' 43 
 
 'ere got the bullet to-day, an' cleared out by the 
 evening train, an' if you all camp in one room, I 
 can manage it right enough.' 
 
 Smith's gorge rose at the idea of having to 
 share a room with the grimy Anderson, but as 
 there seemed no other way out of the difficulty, he 
 was compelled at last to agree. 
 
 ' .Well, let's have a look at it,' he said, and 
 the landlord, after casting an anxious eye across 
 the counter, and carefully locking his till, headed 
 the little procession down the passage and into a 
 room on the right. To the General's relief, it was 
 fairly large, and of the three beds, one was behind 
 the door, while the other two were close against 
 a window which opened out on to the veranda. 
 
 ' This will do,' he said at once, and flinging his 
 swag on one of the beds near the window, he 
 motioned Scarlett to take the other, so Anderson 
 had perforce to take what was left, and conse- 
 quently would be kept at a safe distance.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 IN WHICH JOHN SCARLETT ARGUES A KNOTTY 
 PROBLEM 
 
 SMITH turned in at once, and Anderson prepared 
 to follow his example, but Scarlett sat moodily 
 on the side of his bed in serious thought. He 
 had reached another cross-road, and was trying 
 his best to find reasons why he should not take 
 the way which seemed for the moment the only 
 right way. 
 
 When he came into the bedroom he was thank- 
 ing God that the ordeal, for that day at least, was 
 over, and was about to undress himself, when a 
 voice (whether of heaven or hell he was unable 
 so far to determine) had said 
 
 ' Go back and mingle with the men. Go into 
 the bar-parlour, and the bar, and the billiard-room, 
 and chum up with them.' 
 
 It is not over-stating the truth to say that 
 Scarlett's soul recoiled in horror at the bare sug- 
 gestion. The wild, rough character of the men 
 he had seen, together with the surroundings of the 
 place, positively frightened him, and he flinched 
 from the ordeal as a sufferer from the surgeon's 
 knife. How to approach them, suppose he did 
 go? That was the question. They were all so 
 foreign to him. What could he say? What 
 could he do? Nevertheless, he told himself, he 
 
 44
 
 A KNOTTY PROBLEM 45 
 
 would go if he were sure it was the right thing to 
 do. But was it right? Was it not, after all, 
 merely a temptation from the devil to make him- 
 self ridiculous? Satan has a way of appearing as 
 an angel of light that was Scripture, and possibly 
 now. . . . Anyhow, one needed to try the spirits 
 whether they be of God ; he had read that some- 
 where lately in the Bible, too. One should not 
 do a thing merely because the devil said, ' You are 
 not game to do it.' 
 
 He remembered a good, sincere soul who made 
 herself the gazing-block of the city for weeks by 
 wearing on her breast a great placard, on which 
 was written, ' The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth 
 us from all sin.' Scarlett recalled the sequel with 
 approval. A well-known minister, whose righteous 
 soul, as Lot's in Sodom, had been vexed from day 
 to day by this unseemly spectacle, planted himself 
 before her in the block and begged to know why 
 she wore ' that plaster ' on her breast? 
 
 ' Because the devil told me I was not game,' 
 she replied with unction. 
 
 ' Oh ! ' the preacher rejoined, also with unction, 
 ' is that the reason? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' .Well,' he demanded, ' if the devil told you you 
 were not game to stand on your head here in the 
 street, would you do that too? ' 
 
 Whereupon the lady fled in wrath and indigna- 
 tion ; but evidently the shaft went home, for when 
 she next appeared in public the objectionable 
 placard had gone. 
 
 No, Scarlett reasoned, there was no sense 
 in doing heroic things simply because the devil 
 said one was not game. The Lord was a God 
 of order and sense, and had given us reason in 
 order that we might use it, and there would be
 
 46 IN WHICH JOHN SCARLETT 
 
 neither sense nor reason in going into a bear- 
 garden such as the bar or the billiard-room. He 
 would be far more likely to fling his influence away 
 for ever than do an atom of good. Obviously the 
 sensible thing to do was to go to bed and have 
 a good sleep ; he would probably need all he 
 could get before the next day was over. Yes, he 
 would dismiss the thought from his mind and go 
 to bed. 
 
 Scarlett's decision was reached amid an increas- 
 ing pandemonium in the other end of the house. 
 For some time, too, his thoughts had been dis- 
 tracted by sounds of quarrelling in the room across 
 the passage, where a number of men were 
 gambling over cards. Their voices now rose to 
 a shout. Evidently one was accused of cheating. 
 
 ' You did ! ' 
 
 ' I didn't 1 ' 
 
 ' I tell you you did ! ' 
 
 ' And I tell you you're a ... liar I ' 
 
 Mr. Dickens has a remark somewhere concern- 
 ing the singular persistency with which the expres- 
 sion ' never mind ' obtrudes itself into quarrels 
 between men. 
 
 ' Who are you? ' 
 
 ' Never mind.' 
 
 ' What has it got to do with you? ' 
 
 ' Never mind.' 
 
 ' Are you the lady's husband, sir? ' 
 
 ' Never mind, sir.' 
 
 And so on. 
 
 Had Dickens lived to-day he would probably 
 have noted another expression which has a singular 
 way of not only obtruding itself into quarrels, but 
 provoking combat. The expression in question 
 is that just recorded as having been uttered by 
 one of the parties to the dispute described above
 
 ARGUES A KNOTTY PROBLEM 47 
 
 ' You're a liar I ' You may call a man a waster, 
 a bounder, a rotter, a scallywag, drunkard, or 
 beast ; call him what you will, and he may reiriain 
 cool and unaffected, but call him a liar, and he is 
 bound by every code of honour known to man to 
 ram it down your throat, or else retire in confusion 
 and disgrace. 
 
 In this case the taunt had its usual effect. The 
 table went over with a crash, there was a wild 
 rush round the room, the sound of heavy blows, 
 and then a prolonged scuffle, while the combatants 
 swayed about, locked together in a deadly embrace. 
 Finally they crashed down together in a corner. 
 Then came a storm of oaths and threats, followed 
 by resounding bumps, which suggested that one 
 had the other by the throat and was knocking 
 his brains out on the floor. 
 
 ' Hear those wretches? ' Smith cried, raising 
 himself up in bed. ' They must be murdering 
 some one.' 
 
 However, the scuffle ended, as it began, with 
 mutual recriminations, and both Smith and Scarlett 
 breathed more freely. Anderson was already snor- 
 ing, and Smith, who had been reading his cus- 
 tomary chapter, laid the Bible aside and yawned. 
 
 ' Just a drunken row,' he said ; ' no use going 
 out. But aren't you going to bed to-night, Scar- 
 lett? ' he added. 
 
 ' Yes,' Scarlett replied, standing on his feet, 
 his mind suddenly made up on the ruins of his 
 logic. ' Yes, I'm going to bed ; but, first, I'm 
 going outside a bit.' And before Smith had waked 
 sufficiently to express his surprise, his lieutenant 
 was through the door and halfway down the 
 passage. 
 
 But let it not be supposed that, because he 
 was in a hurry, he was any less fearful, or in the
 
 48 A KNOTTY PROBLEM 
 
 least eager to go. The plain truth is, now that 
 he had reached a decision, he was afraid to give 
 himself time to reflect upon it. He had shut his 
 eyes, so to speak, and jumped.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE BABYLONIANS 
 
 SCARLETT resolved to take the billiard-room first, 
 thinking that in all probability the most sober 
 of the men would be there. He would begin in 
 the easiest place, he told himself, and work 
 through the bar parlour to the bar, where the 
 worst of the men would probably be assembled. 
 If the whole business were, as his reason sug- 
 gested, a piece of madness, there would at least 
 be method in his madness. ' 
 
 Scarlett had some idea of entering the billiard- 
 room quietly and unnoticed, but he was so eager 
 to keep ahead of his fickle resolution that he burst 
 through the door, and precipitated himself into 
 the midst of the men about it so violently that 
 the whole crowd rose in alarm, and every possible 
 eye was turned upon him. To make matters 
 worse, not noticing that the floor of the billiard- 
 room was raised some inches higher than that 
 of the passage, he tripped! over it, and, shooting 
 suddenly forward, charged violently into the rear 
 of one of the players, a tall, dark man who was 
 labouring with the long " rest " to negotiate a 
 to him rather difficult shot. Scarlett struck him 
 squarely and with such force that the man was 
 flung forward on the table. The " rest " and 
 
 John Scarlett, Ganger. C 49
 
 50 THE BABYLONIANS 
 
 cue went flying half across the room, while the 
 balls were scattered in all directions. 
 
 ' 'Ere I Wot the . * , is this? ' the tall man 
 demanded furiously as he scrambled to his feet, 
 amid shouts of laughter, and wheeled round to 
 confront his assailant. ' Wot the ... do you 
 mean by it, aigh? ' he repeated in challenging 
 tones, towering over the innocent cause of his 
 confusion. 
 
 ' I'm very sorry; I beg your pardon,' the miser- 
 able Scarlett began ; ' I didn't know about the 
 doorstep, and tripped over it. I 
 
 ' Well, why the . . . couldn't you look where 
 you were going? You darn near made me smash 
 the lamps, and, any'ow, you spoilt my shot just 
 as I was gettin' me eye in, too I ' he added in 
 aggrieved tones. ' I was makin' a break.' 
 
 ' 'Ow many did you 'ave, Bill? ' a curly-headed 
 half-caste inquired in bantering tones. 
 
 ' Seven 1 ' Bill replied proudly, turning to con- 
 front his questioner. 
 
 ' No fear I ' 
 
 ' I tell you I did| 5 I made a cannon and potted 
 Mick and got in off the red. Didn't I, Mick? ' 
 
 Mick, who was leaning on his cue, removed his 
 pipe from his mouth to make way for speech and 
 replied 
 
 ' 'S right.' 
 
 The dark man, whom Scarlett presently heard 
 the others addressing by the name of George, 
 seemed filled with admiration. 
 
 ' Seven I ' he repeated with surprise. ' My word, 
 Bill ! you're gettin' on. You'll be goin' after 
 George Grey directly.' 
 
 Bill made no reply to this compliment, but 
 Scarlett gathered from his looks that he considered 
 it not unlikely that he would, and when he did
 
 THE BABYLONIANS 51 
 
 George Grey would have to look out for himself. 
 Then followed an argument as to the positions 
 of the balls on the table before the interruption 
 came, and by the time it was finished and play 
 resumed Scarlett's share in the occurrence was, 
 if not forgiven, at all events forgotten by the 
 chief sufferer in it. 
 
 However, when the tension wrought up by Bill's 
 endeavour to continue his break came to an end 
 by his missing the ball altogether, the onlookers 
 turned to Scarlett to see what they could make 
 of him, and a fair-haired, affable German, a run- 
 away fireman from one of the Norddeutscher 
 Lloyds, was the first to address him. 
 
 ' Dot scharge dot you make agross der deeck 
 into Bill's stern yoost safe him from vinning a 
 gannon,* he observed weightily. 
 
 Again Scarlett professed his profound regret, 
 but said no more. The German looked to him 
 to continue the conversation, and Scarlett would 
 have given much to oblige him, but try as he 
 would he could think of nothing to say. He tried 
 to make up for his silence by smiling knowingly. 
 But the smile, being unreal, was a failure, and only 
 made him look foolish. 
 
 ' Come far to-day? ' This from another of the 
 crowd. 
 
 ' Melbourne,' Scarlett replied. The others 
 waited expectantly for further information ; but 
 it was no use, his powers of speech were bogged, 
 and could neither be led nor driven any farther. 
 The atmosphere was so abruptly different to that 
 he was used to that his brain froze, and thinking 
 was an impossibility. 
 
 There are people who act upon our spirits as 
 the sun acts upon the snow in the springtime : 
 they warm us through and through, they sound
 
 52 THE BABYLONIANS 
 
 the great deeps of our mind, wake the currents 
 of our imagination, and set our thoughts running 
 like a mountain stream in the sunlight, until we, 
 who seem so commonplace, unimaginative, and 
 dull, presently find ourselves talking freely, 
 authoritatively, and, possibly, brilliantly, Apt 
 stories, long forgotten, come to us unsought ; 
 wise thoughts and principles that we have long 
 felt after but could never quite define, flash 
 through our speech as perfectly conceived and 
 expressed as though written down and learnt by 
 heart. Light, playful humour, of which we 
 scarcely hoped ourselves capable, sparkles warmly 
 in the glowing tide. A certain largeness of vision, 
 a wealth and variety of expression, is suddenly at 
 our complete command, and we feel that for once 
 we are able to manifest our true selves to the 
 world. 
 
 But, alas ! it is only a step from this enchanted 
 land of free speech to another where all is 
 changed. This is the land of the Babylonians, 
 where we sit perforce by the river of conversation, 
 and hang our harps upon the willows in the midst 
 thereof, so to speak, for sheer inability to use 
 them in present company. Hearts frozen, brains 
 numb, the fires of imagination cold, and speech of 
 any worthy kind utterly impossible. Silence is 
 dross and verdigris ; speech, like Solomon's 
 virtuous woman, is far above rubies, and we are 
 ready to sell our souls almost to command it ; 
 but though a man give all that he hath for speech, 
 yet is it utterly condemned. It is the old story : 
 ' How shall we sing the Lord's song ' or any 
 song, for that matter ' in a strange land? ' 
 
 And it was into this land of the tongue-tied 
 that John Scarlett had entered so promiscuously, 
 yet withal so ingloriously, through the door of the
 
 THE BABYLONIANS 53 
 
 billiard-room, and a strange land he found it to 
 be. Strange men, for all the bulk of them were 
 his fellow-countrymen, and sprang from the same 
 stock as himself. Strange speech, though its roots 
 were down in Alfred's English, like his own. 
 Strange atmosphere, though common as man him- 
 self wherever civilisation stands face to face with 
 the wilderness and solitary way. So it was small 
 wonder that Scarlett felt strange and out of place. 
 And no man can either sing or preach or talk, 
 nor be his best in any direction whatever, when 
 feeling strange and out of place. So no one will 
 be surprised to learn that, under these circum- 
 stances, Scarlett felt like a fool, acted as he felt, 
 and looked as he acted ; and the Babylonians, 
 presently seeing what manner of man he appeared 
 to be, took him at his own valuation and treated 
 him accordingly. 
 
 ' Rather dismal sort of bloke, ain't 'e? ' one 
 remarked, turning to the crowd and indicating 
 Scarlett with the stem of his pipe. 
 
 ' Well, no/ a fat, red-faced man replied, speak- 
 ing for the rest. ' To my mind, 'e's not wot you 
 would call dismal so much as lively.' 
 
 Scarlett burned all over, and inwardly cursed 
 himself for ever venturing into the room, and 
 would have fled from it had he been able to make 
 up his mind ; but his was one of those minds 
 which take a lot of making up, and while he hesi- 
 tated further humiliation came upon him. The 
 number of the Babylonians was added to by, the 
 entrance of one who, by his appearance of over- 
 bearing arrogance and truculency, seemed a very 
 Haman amongst them. He was very big, three 
 parts drunk, and out for argument or fight as 
 the case might be. Seeing Scarlett the centre of 
 a knot of men, his gorge rose as that of Haman
 
 54 THE BABYLONIANS 
 
 at sight of old Mordecai sitting meekly by the 
 palace gate. 
 
 ' 'Low me to inter joice myself,' he said with 
 polite sarcasm, lowering his head and lurching 
 heavily forward by way of a bow. ' I I wish 
 you know me in my profesh nal capacity as 
 navvy blacksmith/ with great emphasis on the 
 ' navvy.' 
 
 Scarlett bowed in turn, and expressed himself 
 as being very happy to meet him, which expres- 
 sion must needs be taken as a piece of polite 
 formality rather than actual truth ; for, as a 
 matter of fact, he was horrified to meet him. 
 Haman, however, took him graciously at his word, 
 and bowed in such regal fashion that the weight 
 of it carried him forward into Scarlett's arms, 
 and Scarlett, for the second time, into the rear 
 of the tall billiardist, who happened at the moment 
 to be chalking his cue. 
 
 ' 'Ere 1 I say ! ' he shouted wrathfully, ' wot 
 the Hanover are you up to? You again 1 ' he 
 roared as he caught sight of Scarlett. ' Look 
 'ere, me noble, if you're lookin' for bash, say so, 
 an' put 'em up, an' I'm your Moses ; but no 
 more of this 'ere chargin' a man w'en 'is back's 
 turned.' 
 
 ' It wasn't his fault, Bill,' one of the others 
 considerately explained. ' Admiral Togo 'ad 'im 
 on the run, an' 'e couldn't 'elp 'imself.' 
 
 Bill muttered something about it being a 
 ' darned rummy thing it should 'appen twice in 
 one night.' But seeing Scarlett in the embrace of 
 the other, he could not but believe it, and turned 
 again to the table. 
 
 Scarlett, freeing himself with some difficulty, 
 crossed the floor and sat down by the wall, hoping 
 to be left alone ; but, alas 1 it was not to be.
 
 THE BABYLONIANS 55 
 
 Haman followed and stood swaying before him 
 in a way which poor Scarlett found particularly 
 trying. The Babylonians gathered about expec- 
 tantly, for the navvy blacksmith was well known, 
 and was not nicknamed Togo for nothing. 
 
 4 You're a man of the world,' he remarked 
 sagely, eyeing his victim with a kind of lack- 
 lustre intentness. ' I can tell that by your 
 whiskers.' 
 
 A shout of laughter followed, and Scarlett's bare 
 cheeks flamed till they resembled his name. 
 
 4 I know you, too now I come to think of it,' 
 the navvy blacksmith went on with assurance. 
 ' You're an embezzler.' Then, confidently : 4 Are 
 you up 'ere dodgin* 'em? ' 
 
 Scarlett would have given worlds to have been 
 able to make a cutting reply, but the words were 
 not forthcoming ; and Haman, assuming an air 
 of great gravity and solicitude, went on solemnly 
 
 4 My brother I'm afraid you're on the down 
 ward path which leadeth to the bottom. Tell 
 me,' he added, steadying himself with difficulty, 
 ' do you ever think of the 'ereafter? ' 
 
 He waited for a reply, and Scarlett answered 
 woodenly 
 
 4 I'm always thinking about it.' 
 
 4 Then 'ow is it,' the other demanded severely, 
 ' that I find you in sich company, an' drunk in a 
 public-'ouse? ' 
 
 Scarlett began a denial of the soft impeachment, 
 but it would not do. 
 
 4 My brother/ the other said, as one who spoke 
 more in sorrow than in anger, * 'ow can you say 
 so in the presence of theshe 'ere witnesses? ' 
 
 There was no reply to this ; and, after waiting 
 a little, he went on, with the air of a 4 penitent 
 form ' sergeant in a Salvation Army meeting 
 
 4 'Ow is it with your internal soul? '
 
 56 THE BABYLONIANS 
 
 It is probable Scarlett's reply to this facer would 
 have been as wooden as that given to the former 
 question, had he not been saved the necessity of 
 replying at all by the entrance at that juncture of 
 the landlord, shouting 
 
 ' Show's over, chaps ! Shut-up time ! ' 
 
 Haman laid his hand restrainingly on Scarlett's 
 shoulder. 
 
 4 So-long, young man,' he said, ' so-long an',' 
 pointing to the ceiling, ' if we never meet again 
 below I'll meet you tipper-bove.' 
 
 And then, when it was altogether too late, did 
 Scarlett's blood thaw, and his tongue became un- 
 loosed, and restraint and nervousness break from 
 him. Like the prodigal in the other far country, 
 he suddenly came to himself, and looking his 
 tormentor squarely in the eyes and lifting up his 
 voice like a trumpet, he shouted, ' God forbid ! ' 
 And, rising up in his wrath, he gave the chief of 
 the Babylonians a push which sent him sprawling 
 on his back on the floor, and the reign of the Son 
 of Hammedatha was at an end as completely as 
 though he had been hanged upon a gallows sixty 
 cubits high. 
 
 Then was poor Mordecai's mouth filled with 
 laughter, in which the Babylonians joined ; and 
 with a perfectly careless ' Good-night, chaps,' he 
 strode out of the room, with his head high in the 
 air and his chest sticking out like that of a High- 
 land piper. 
 
 Haman recovered his feet with the assistance of 
 Bill and the landlord, and expressed the feelings 
 of more than himself when he said slowly and 
 deliberately 
 
 ' Well I'll be d d ! ' 
 
 And the German fireman, suddenly inspired, 
 responded
 
 THE BABYLONIANS 57 
 
 ' Id vosh quide likely dot you vill.' 
 
 Unquestionably, Scarlett had cut a poor figure 
 amongst the navvies up to the last moment of his 
 stay in the room, and no one realised it half so 
 well as himself. Yet somehow in that last instant 
 he had contrived to get back all he had lost and 
 something more, and being fully conscious of the 
 fact, he returned to his room, as in other days his 
 antitypes to Canaan, his mouth filled with laughter 
 and his tongue with singing. The Lord had done 
 great things for him, whereof he was glad. 
 
 Smith and Anderson were both in the land of 
 dreams. Outside groups of men made their up- 
 roarious way to their different camps, while 
 drunken Harry sat by the wayside in the pure 
 moonlight, singing about the old apple-tree. But 
 John Scarlett knelt by his bed and gave thanks 
 to God, and then, having divested himself of his 
 clothes, he laid him down in peace and slept, and 
 his sleep was sweet unto him. For, after all, 
 there is no such incentive to good, honest sleep 
 as the sense of disagreeable duty done.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 AT THE SEVENTEEN MILE 
 
 IT was evening in the Seventeen Mile Camp. 
 
 Henderson's engine, followed by a long rake 
 of trucks with O'Brien's gang of ' gallopers out ' 
 aboard, had just rattled in to the points where the 
 branch line runs off to the ballast pits. Old 
 Kennedy's asthmatic engine stood panting almost 
 head to head with the other, having brought back 
 Rook's gang of platelayers from somewhere out 
 towards the Twenty Mile. Andy Callander's gang 
 from the ballast-pits hard by were pushing their 
 way in through the scrub and undergrowth, shout- 
 ing as they came, and all was life and animation. 
 
 All day long the camp had slumbered in the 
 hot sunlight, silent and empty save for the rattle 
 of dishes in the boarding-houses, where the pro- 
 prietors were washing up after breakfast or busy 
 preparing for tea, save also to-day for the ring of 
 hammers, where the uprights of a (mysterious jbuild- 
 ing were rising on the one bit of clear land in the 
 whole locality. 
 
 'Hello I What the Hanover's this? ' Fat Jack 
 of the ' gallopers out,' who was in the first truck 
 after the engine, had cried, as he caught sight of 
 the framework and the three figures feverishly 
 working on it, and 
 
 58
 
 AT THE SEVENTEEN MILE 59 
 
 ' Hello 1 What in thunder is this?' old Bob 
 Howitt of the platelayers gang had cried, as he 
 stood up in the leading truck as they swung into 
 the Seventeen Mile on their return, and 
 
 ' Hello I What in this, that, or the other thing is 
 this? ' scores of others of the various gangs had 
 severally cried, as their eyes were greeted by the 
 unusual sight. 
 
 That also was the problem which confronted 
 old Lanigan, the one-armed shanty-keeper, and 
 Big Marsh, who ran the other shanty, which was 
 known felicitously as the ' Blue Pig,' because of 
 the colour of its door. Old Lanigan's was simply 
 the Shanty. 
 
 As a rule the men lost no time in getting from 
 the trucks to their tents upon their return from 
 work, for there was plenty to do in the short half- 
 hour which elapsed between now and the ringing 
 of the bullock-bell at the different ' boarding- 
 houses,' which would summon those who boarded 
 to tea. 
 
 Those who ' batched ' had still more to do. 
 But ' boarders ' and ' batchers ' alike had water 
 to get for drinking and washing purposes from 
 the square iron tanks which stood by the line ; 
 and it was well to get it early, for it had chanced 
 more times than one that the train that was sup- 
 posed to replenish the supply each day had failed 
 to put in an appearance, and late-comers at the 
 tanks went unwashed of their grime, and were 
 thankful if they could get sufficient to drink. For 
 these reasons the men usually leaped from the 
 trucks as soon as they came to a standstill, and 
 with billies and shovels held aloft, ran with what 
 speed they could to their tents, to come thence a 
 minute later, bucket in hand,, to the tanks for water. 
 
 But this evening there was none of that. Some
 
 60 AT THE SEVENTEEN MILE 
 
 stood up in their trucks, others alighted and joined 
 in various groups, but all alike with eyes fixed 
 on the mysterious building. 
 
 What could it be? 
 
 Some of the men were of opinion it was a shop 
 starting in opposition to O'Leary, whereof they 
 were glad, for did not O'Leary fleece them most 
 scandalously? Other some, as an old writer would 
 say, wondered if it might be a picture show, or 
 another shanty, but no one was prepared to credit 
 the assertion of one of the boarding-house keepers 
 that it was the Young Men's Christian Association. 
 In any case, what was the Young Men's Christian 
 Association? And who was running it? And what 
 were they going to do? 
 
 Upon one point everybody agreed. Whether 
 it was a store, or a boarding-house, or a shanty, 
 or a picture show, or an association, whether 
 Christian or infidel, they were there on ' the make.' 
 It was only ' another blinded scheme for bleedin' 
 the workin' man.' There could be no doubt about 
 that. 
 
 The banging of McGinty's bullock-bell, immedi- 
 ately followed by the others in chorus, put an end 
 to these speculations. They would see after tea. 
 The knots dispersed, the buckets presently began 
 to rattle, the sweet, pungent scent of burning gum- 
 leaves rose up. The camp resumed its normal 
 state. 
 
 In the meantime the modest triumvirate of new- 
 comers toiled and slaved. Ever since early morn- 
 ing, when the crew of the construction train had 
 tumbled them and their belongings on to the 
 ground beside the track, they had been working 
 against time. It was the General's object to get 
 the tent erected and ready for opening the first 
 night, thinking that if he were on the spot to
 
 AT THE SEVENTEEN MILE 61 
 
 take charge and give the work a ' shove off,' so 
 to speak, it might go of itself in Scarlett's hands 
 until he could get some one better fitted to manage 
 it. Hence the speed with which he pushed the 
 work forward. The framework had all been pre- 
 pared and marked, so that it might easily be 
 identified and fitted into place, and when this was 
 done, it was only a matter of drawing the canvas 
 over and lashing it down, and the building was 
 complete. It seemed exceedingly simple, and only 
 a few hours' work at most, but in the end it proved 
 a long, exacting job. Odd bits of timber had 
 got astray, the markings were frequently mislead- 
 ing, and after toiling incessantly all day long, it 
 was late in the evening before the end came in 
 sight. 
 
 By that time the boarding-houses were emptied, 
 and the building was surrounded by a curious, 
 speculative crowd, somewhat inclined to sarcasm 
 at the expense of the amateur carpenters. The 
 remarks made and the suggestions offered were 
 not complimentary, and the General felt that they 
 were rapidly losing prestige, though how to save 
 the situation he could not think. However, 
 chancing to look down from the roof where he 
 was working, he noticed Scarlett rummaging in 
 one of the cases, off which he had torn the lid, and 
 presently fish out some dark object from among 
 the packages. 
 
 A minute later the General was startled by a 
 thud beneath him, and ducked his head barely in 
 time to escape the upward rush of a football, 
 which, narrowly missing him, soared aloft through 
 the open space in the roof. Simultaneously there 
 was a roar of delight from a hundred throats, and 
 the crowd, with delighted calls of ' Footer 1 ' 
 ' Footer ! ' rushed together to take the mark.
 
 62 AT THE SEVENTEEN MILE 
 
 Thenceforward there was no more trouble, for 
 every Australian is a footballer, or thinks he is, 
 which in one respect amounts to the same thing. 
 The General nodded approval to his lieutenant. 
 
 * Good idea, Scarlett,' he called down to him. 
 To himself he said : ' Well, thank God for a 
 football 1 ' Then as he drew the last bit of canvas 
 to its place, and knotted the last cord, he paused 
 thoughtfully. ' Perhaps, after all,' he muttered, 
 4 Scarlett is not such a fool as he looks.' 
 
 Then the boarding-house ' boss ' stood beneath 
 him. 
 
 ' If you want any tea, mister, you better come 
 now ; we can't keep it any longer,' he said. 
 
 ' Just coming,' the General shouted, sliding 
 wearily down. ' I never felt more like tea in 
 my life.' 
 
 All was practically ready ; the lamps were hung, 
 the long tables were resting on their trestles, the 
 organ was on a little raised platform, and the 
 phonograph unpacked and ready. The books and 
 literature would do to-morrow, 
 
 The great bulk of the men were chasing the 
 football with unabated zeal, while the remainder 
 stood about watching them and smoking the pipe 
 of contentment. So the General and his men went 
 to their tea with peace of mind and heart. 
 
 The boarding- house was a long, low tent, con- 
 structed chiefly of tarpaulins, one end of which was 
 divided off into a kitchen, where the cooking was 
 done. The tables ran the length of the interior, 
 one on either side, and the seats were each con- 
 structed of a couple of green, springy saplings, 
 fastened on to stakes driven into the earthen floor. 
 When you sat down they gave and expanded, 
 when you rose up they contracted, and as often 
 as not held you like a man-trap. It took a little
 
 AT THE SEVENTEEN MILE 63 
 
 practice to be able to rise without accident, but one 
 soon got into the way of it. 
 
 The guests were ; waited upon by the ' boss ' 
 personally, a tall man of ferocious aspect, whose 
 apprenticeship to waiting had seemingly been 
 served in a stable, feeding horses ; for each time 
 he wished to attract his customer's attention he 
 emitted the kind of click of the tongue which a 
 horse recognises as the signal to get up or stand 
 over. However, the meal was none the less enjoy- 
 able for these little adjuncts. It consisted of three 
 courses soup, meat and vegetables, and pudding 
 and the marvel to the visitors was how it could 
 be done so well, so far from a town, and with such 
 facilities as were at hand. Scarlett was the first 
 to leave. 
 
 'Don't hurry,' he said to the others s * I'll slip 
 along and see after things. I'm afraid some one 
 may get fiddling with that phonograph, and make 
 a mess of it.' 
 
 The others were nothing loath to sit a little 
 longer, ,and Scarlett disappeared behind the 
 curtain.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 JOHN DRAWS FIRST BLOOD 
 
 IT was dusk when Scarlett got outside. The sun 
 had gone down beyond the islands of beautiful 
 Westernport Bay, but the western sky was still 
 aflame, and vivid bolts iof colour flashed across 
 the world to smite the white faces of the clouds 
 in the east. At another time Scarlett would have 
 strolled away to watch the miracle of splendour, 
 but to-night there was more important work afoot. 
 The signs, at least, were ominous. The football 
 was over, and the only men visible were peering 
 in the door of the tent. Scarlett hurried across 
 who could tell what devilment they might be up to? 
 The necessity for haste appeared to him so great 
 that he had not time even to become nervous. 
 As he approached he noticed that the lamps were 
 lit, and presently the strains of the organ accom- 
 panying a strenuous singer smote upon his ear. 
 The words came to him distinctly 
 
 ' " Cheer up, Olga," said the sailor, 
 " I'll return to you some day ; 
 By the flowing river Volga, 
 
 Hand in hand again we'll stray." ' 
 
 Then a stentorian voice broke in, ' Now then,
 
 JOHN DRAWS FIRST BLOOD 65 
 
 boys, all together/ and all together they responded, 
 in a deep roar 
 
 '"Good-bye, Olga, my beautiful Olga, 
 Good-bye, Olga, now don't you cry. 
 
 My love, Olga, will last like the Volga, 
 
 So dry those pretty eyes of yours, 
 And kiss me goodbye." ' 
 
 Scarlett's spirits rose. ' They are all inside, 
 and they are in a good -humour/ he said exultingly, 
 ' and that ought to be half the battle.' 
 
 The men about the door were too intent upon 
 what was taking place within to notice Scarlett's 
 approach, so instead of pushing his way in to the 
 front, he went along to the side, and drawing apart 
 the flap of canvas that served as a window, 
 peeped in. 
 
 The sight that met his eyes partly cheered and 
 partly terrified him. The place was full of men ; 
 all the seats and even the tables were occupied. 
 The gangways were crowded, and the men stood 
 packed like palings round the walls. All were 
 smoking, and such a haze filled the place that 
 Scarlett had to strain his eyes to see to the farther 
 end. But everybody seemed quite at home, and 
 in the best of humours, and when Scarlett saw it he 
 gave God thanks on the spot. 
 
 Seated at the little organ in the corner was a 
 fair, slim man, with a drooping moustache. He 
 had a pipe in his mouth, his sleeves were rolled up 
 above "his .elbows, ^nd a slouch hat was pushed back 
 from his forehead, but one needed only a glance 
 to see the dregs of culture and refinement all 
 about him. It was evident he was a gentleman, but 
 one of those characters of whom, alas ! we have 
 
 John Scarlett, Ganger. 6
 
 66 JOHN DRAWS FIRST BLOOD 
 
 all too many, who, starting out with every advan- 
 tage that culture can give, yet, by reason of some 
 mental twist or disproportion in their make-up, 
 immediately begin to make their way down, and, 
 having got to the bottom, seem content to remain 
 there, enjoying a kind of notoriety amongst their 
 more ignorant fellows. 
 
 The Bishop, as he was called, for the reason that 
 his father was said to be an occupant of the 
 English episcopal bench, spoke several languages, 
 sang a song with remarkable taste, and was said 
 to be able to play also, but, hitherto, for lack of 
 opportunity, his powers in that direction were not 
 known. However, had any doubt existed, it would 
 have been dispelled the moment his fingers touched 
 the keys. Whatever his qualifications as a navvy 
 may have been, he had the soul of a musician, 
 and ability to interpret it to others. 
 
 But Scarlett had no time to speculate concern- 
 ing this gentleman before the singer claimed his 
 attention. 
 
 He was a tall, awkward man, of serious aspect, 
 who stood upon the platform, posing in the attitude 
 of studied grace favoured by the last generation 
 of bushmen when making a public appearance. 
 He stood with his legs crossed, the left foot 
 bearing his weight, and the toe of thie right rest- 
 ing easily and gracefully beside it. His hands 
 were placed in a devil-may-care fashion on either 
 hip, with the elbows stuck out aggressively, while 
 his hat rode rakishly far back on his head. His 
 eyes, into which he had worked an expression 
 intended to be sentimental, were firmly fixed upon 
 the roof, and apparently about to start out of his 
 head. A figure so grotesque Scarlett had never 
 before seen upon a platform, and he looked upon 
 the singer in astonishment. Then the organist
 
 JOHN DRAWS FIRST BLOOD 67 
 
 struck the note afresh, and the singer began again 
 in his high-pitched, staggering voice 
 
 ' Volga river had been frozen o'er, 
 
 Lads and maids on the ice were skating ; 
 No more vessels could come into shore, 
 
 Until the summer came. 
 Olga by her door was standing 
 
 When her sailor reached her side ; 
 Overland from sea he'd travelled, 
 
 With his savings for his bride.' 
 
 He finished with a spasmodic ' Chorus ! ' 
 whereat the organist bent over the instrument and 
 fairly pumped the music out, while every man 
 removed his pipe and yelled 
 
 ' " Good-bye, Olga, my beautiful Olga, 
 
 Good-bye, Olga, now don't you cry-i. 
 
 My love, Olga, will last like the Volga, 
 So dry those pretty little eyes of yours, 
 
 And kiss me good-bye."' 
 
 ' Hen-core I Hen-core 1 Beef it out again, 
 Jerry ! ' the men shouted enthusiastically, though 
 more in sarcasm than earnestness, for Jerry was 
 one of the jokes of the camp. But it was in vain. 
 The strain of standing; so long on one leg was too 
 great, and the artist declined. 
 
 ' I can't sing any more to-night, blokes,' he said 
 pathetically ; 'I'm blown out.' And he stepped 
 down from the platform at the same moment that 
 Scarlett, screwing his courage to the sticking-point, 
 raised the flap of the tent which served as a door 
 at the back, and stepped on it. There was a 
 momentary hush at the sight of him, and the 
 organist, glancing round, started visibly when he
 
 68 JOHN DRAWS FIRST BLOOD 
 
 saw who it was, and then, concentrating his atten- 
 tion suddenly on the keys of the organ, he stroked 
 his silky moustache and awaited developments. 
 
 There was silence, but with nothing of awkward- 
 ness about it. The men were simply amused, 
 expectant, while with pipes all going they waited 
 curiously for Scarlett to speak. Scarlett had 
 scarcely realised that he was to speak. Seized 
 outside with a sudden spasm of fear, he had burst 
 into the tent thus precipitately to prevent himself 
 running away altogether, but without giving a 
 moment's thought to what he might have to say ; 
 and once inside, and the necessity paramount, the 
 obvious thing happened : his tongue clave to the 
 roof of his mouth, his eyes started out of his 
 head, and thought and speech were alike im- 
 possible. He had strayed once more, it would 
 seem, into the land of the Babylonians. 
 
 But speak he must, and at length in a strange, 
 far-away kind of voice, he began 
 
 1 Ladies and gentlemen ' 
 
 But got no farther. The men, for the most 
 p.art, removed their pipes, looked at each other with 
 eyebrows raised inquiringly, as who said, ' Fancy 
 him pulling our legs ! ' Finally they broke into 
 a roar of laughter. Scarlett was too bewildered 
 to know what he .had said, and too much upset 
 at its reception to think back and find out, and 
 his pale face turned from pale to red ; for 
 what to do, or what to say next, he could 
 not conceive. 
 
 However, the necessity for taking the initiative 
 was saved him by a wild, bushrangerish type of 
 man with whiskers white as mistletoe, who got 
 down from the table on which he had been seated, 
 and with his hand upon his heart, bowed to Scarlett 
 profoundly .
 
 JOHN DRAWS FIRST BLOOD 69 
 
 ' Meanin' me, of course? ' he said unctuously. 
 
 ' You look out, Sam, you can't take no rises 
 out of him ! ' the warning 1 voice of a newcomer 
 called out from the crowd. But the warning passed 
 unheeded, and the man with the mistletoe beard 
 went on bowing and smirking. As for Scarlett, 
 he stood staring at the bowing figure before him, 
 and compassed heaven and earth to understand 
 what it meant. 
 
 ' Meaning you? What? How do you mean? ' 
 he demanded presently. 
 
 Sam began to explain, when the warning voice 
 broke in again 
 
 ' Don't you 'ave no truck with f im, Sam. 
 'E'll take you down, same as *e did Admiral 
 Togo.' 
 
 But again the warning passed unheeded. Sam 
 looked at Scarlett's frightened face and saw 
 nothing to alarm him. 
 
 ' Was it my general appearance, or jist on 
 account of my blushes? ' he asked in a simpering 
 fashion. 
 
 Scarlett was mystified. What could the man 
 mean? His very density was his salvation, for the 
 joke was going flat, and the navvy tried again, 
 though with less confidence. 
 
 ' Didn't you say I was a perfect lady? ' he 
 ventured. 
 
 Even then no glimmering of his meaning broke 
 upon Scarlett's mind, and he answered the question 
 literally, baldly 
 
 ' I'm sure I didn't. You are no lady. ? 
 
 Charles Dickens in the inimitable ' Pickwick ' 
 tells how Mr. Tracy Tupman, that stout and im- 
 possible gentleman, going out shooting for the 
 first time in his life, raised his gun when he saw 
 the others raising theirs, and firmly shutting his
 
 70 JOHN DRAWS FIRST BLOOD 
 
 eyes, fired at random into the air, and an un- 
 fortunate bird, getting in the line of fire, fell 
 wounded at his feet. The admiring sportsmen who 
 had witnessed this achievement at once gathered 
 round Mr. Tupman with their congratulations, and, 
 notwithstanding his protests, hailed him as an old 
 hand at the game and a deadly marksman. ' It 
 is not,' says Dickens, ' the only reputation that 
 has been acquired so easily, nor are such 
 fortunate circumstances confined to partridge - 
 shooting.' 
 
 Nor are they ; for that reputation for being a 
 dry kind of humorist which John Scarlett enjoyed 
 to the last day of his stay at the Seventeen Mile was 
 gained in like manner, and was due entirely to 
 his wooden failure to see his own joke. But, 
 possibly, like Barrie's humorist, he held that a 
 man cannot be expected to make a joke and see 
 it too. 
 
 He had not the remotest idea why the men 
 cheered him so lustily, and when Ned Kelly retired 
 abashed he was dumbfounded. Had he been able 
 to hear the man who created the disturbance 
 in the back of the tent, he might have been 
 enlightened ; certainly he would have been 
 encouraged . 
 
 4 What did I tell you? ' that gentleman yelled 
 excitedly to those around. ' That's 'im I That's 
 wot 'e done last night. 'E come bummin' into 
 the billiard-room in a terrible hurry, just like *e 
 come in 'ere now, an' 'e bumped Bill McGrar clean 
 over the table, an' Bill got up an' froze on to 'im 
 somethink awful, an' 'e looked such a darn fool 
 then that they all began pullin' 'ees leg even 
 German Charlie 'ad a go at 'im, an' 'e sat there 
 all night, with them soakin' it into 'im like that, 
 an' at last 'e just got up, cool as a waterbag,
 
 JOHN DRAWS FIRST BLOOD 71 
 
 knocked Admiral Togo kickin', says " Good-night, 
 chaps," an' out 'e goes. Oh, 'e's a take-down 
 all right.' 
 
 And all things considered, the camp allowed 
 generally that he must be.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 ' BATING THE DIVIL ' 
 
 MEANWHILE the laughter and cheering had given 
 Scarlett a breathing space, and had put him more 
 at his ease. For some reason which he could not 
 understand popular feeling seemed to be running 
 strongly in his favour, and he determined to take 
 advantage of it. He beckoned for silence, and 
 when the man at the back had delivered his soul 
 he got it. 
 
 ' Men,' he began, ' I suppose you are all wonder- 
 ing what this little show of ours means and what 
 we're doing in this camp. Well, we're the Young 
 Men's Christian Association, and we've come out 
 to try and brighten things up a bit. People are 
 always talking about the gulf between the Church 
 and labour, and making out that Churches care 
 only for the rich, and not for the working people.' 
 (A voice, ' So they do I ') Scarlett, hotly : ' They 
 don't ! Most of the Churches are made up of 
 working people, and for one rich man in the Church 
 there are a thousand poor ones. I wish to God 
 we had a few more of the rich ones I If we had, 
 we could do a lot more for the poor, Anyway, 
 you never hear of a Church making a special effort 
 to reach the rich, but we're always starting a new 
 campaign to help the poor. The trouble is to 
 know how.
 
 ' BATING THE DIVIL ' 73 
 
 ' Well, this is another effort to solve the problem, 
 and it's sincere. We are not on the make. We 
 don't want money. There are a few Christian 
 men in Melbourne who have a bit of money, and 
 they are standing behind the Association and 
 paying for this, so we don't want your money, 
 but we do want you. We've got about everything 
 we could think of to make this place bright and 
 comfortable, and we're going to try and make it 
 a social centre for the camp, and I hope you'll 
 come and use it. That's about all, I think,' he 
 concluded reflectively, ' except one thing. The 
 Y.M.C.A. is not a denominational business, and 
 we're not here on behalf of any denomination in 
 particular, but we are here in the name of Jesus 
 Christ to do all the good we can. .We believe 
 in having a bit of fun and a good time, but first 
 and last, top and bottom, this thing is religious. 1 
 
 Scarlett finished, amazed at his own fluency. 
 Smith had arrived outside the tent at the beginning 
 of the speech, and, peering through the window, 
 had listened at first with fear and trembling, but 
 presently with undisguised amazement as the 
 speaker went on. He was never more surprised 
 in his life, for, practised speaker though he was, 
 he knew he could not have stated the position better 
 himself. Indeed, there was a certain directness 
 and bluntness according well with the character 
 of the audience which he felt he could not have 
 equalled, and, pushing through the crowd, he made 
 his way to Scarlett's side and clapped him on the 
 back. 
 
 ' Splendid, old man ! ' he said heartily. ' God 
 helped you. You've got 'em on a line. Now 
 hold on to them.' 
 
 The gratified Scarlett, feeling capable now of 
 tackling anything under the sun, turned to the
 
 74 ' BATING THE DIVIL ' 
 
 phonograph, and presently that useful instrument 
 was delighting everybody with the story of the 
 attainments of ' Mary, the housemaid.' 
 
 ' What it was that Mary did, Mary didn't know, 
 
 But everywhere that Mary went the men were sure to go ; 
 
 If she sent them all away, back they came again 
 Mary was a magnet for the men, men, men.' 
 
 From that time there was no more trouble. 
 When ' Mary ' was finished a repetition was de- 
 manded, and when it was given there were calls 
 from all parts to know whether he had this record 
 or that ; and when one of those asked for happened 
 to be amongst the hundred or so Scarlett had 
 with him, the pride of the man who had called 
 for it was very great, and several were in this 
 way won over to the side of the Association for 
 ever. Later on, however, there was a call for 
 a change in the programme. They would have 
 a song, and a demand arose for ' Paddy Roberts.' 
 
 In response a ruddy-faced mixture of an Irish- 
 Welshman presently ascended the platform, and, 
 the Bishop playing the accompaniment on the 
 organ, sang the old-time bush favourite, ' Kitty 
 Wells.' The chorus, as all the world knows, has 
 a great swing in it, and all present sang with the 
 full strength of their lusty lungs. Thenceforward 
 song and phonograph alternated for the rest of 
 the evening, and all seemed to enjoy themselves 
 thoroughly. At length Scarlett called for silence. 
 
 ' It's ten o'clock, men,' he said, ' and ordinarily 
 this place will close at ten, but I'm going to give 
 you something good to go home with.' 
 
 He pressed the lever, and in response came the 
 sweetest and most human of all our hymns, ' Abide 
 with me.' The record was especially good, and
 
 'BATING THE DIVIL ' 75 
 
 the effect was striking 1 . Every trace of frivolity 
 vanished at once. Some removed their hats, and, 
 without exception, they listened reverently. 
 
 tWhen the second verse began many commenced 
 to hum the tune, softly and shyly at first, but 
 presently with greater confidence as the words, 
 long forgotten, came back to them. It was 
 evident the hymn had struck a tender chord. 
 There was no clapping when it finished, but the 
 memories awakened and the deep impression 
 made were apparent on many a rugged face. 
 
 All was over then for the night, but the men 
 seemed loath to leave and nobody moved. Scarlett 
 waited, undecided how to act, and Smith watched 
 with keen interest to see how he would act in the 
 novel situation that had arisen. Just what Scarlett 
 would have done it is difficult to say, but the 
 necessity for doing anything was saved him by 
 the least promising-looking man in the place. He 
 had the aspect of a pirate. This gentleman broke 
 the silence by asking 
 
 ' I say, Ganger, suppose we 'ave that last verse 
 over again? It went to the spot like a like a 
 pint of beer ; not meanin' that exactly,' he added 
 hastily, apparently seeing a slight incongruity in 
 the figure, ' but it's a long time since some of 
 us 'ave heard it, and we've pretty near forgot 
 the words/ 
 
 There was a murmur of approval, and Scarlett 
 gladly complied. He went farther, and recited 
 the verse for them ; but before he could do any- 
 thing more the man at the organ suddenly bent 
 forward and played the air over with the practised 
 hand of one long familiar with it, then, striking 
 the note, he led them in the grand old words, 
 and every man who had the remotest idea of the 
 tune lifted up his voice and did his best. The
 
 76 * BATING THE DIVIL ' 
 
 result was a mighty volume of song such as the 
 camp had never before known. Scarlett was lifted 
 to the seventh heaven and saw the battle already 
 won, and even the General felt that, after all, 
 the men were far removed from the ' beasts ' that 
 they were said to be, and might easily be touched 
 to finer issues. 
 
 But in another quarter the effect was different. 
 On the farther side of the railway line Old Lan- 
 nigan and Big Marsh, for want of other occupa- 
 tion, the shanties being empty, stood in the roadway 
 discussing the situation. J Whatever the nature of 
 the opposition, unquestionably it was formidable. 
 The shanties had never been so utterly deserted 
 since the beginning. The position looked serious, 
 and both men were depressed. 
 
 ' Oi don't know what the . . . has come over 
 thim,' old Lannigan was saying. ' Last noight 
 they'd hev sould their shirts for a pot of beer, 
 an' now they seem to be havin' a prayer-meetin' 
 or some other divilry. Listen to that ! ' he added, 
 as a great burst of song pealed from the tent out 
 into the night ; ' did ye ever hear the loike of 
 it? ' 
 
 They listened, and borne upon the sea breeze 
 there came the sublime words of the evening hymn. 
 Both men grew uneasy as they listened, and Big 
 Marsh flung back to the ' Blue Pig ' impatiently. 
 ' It beats the devil I ' he cried as he went. 
 
 ' It bates the divil ! ' old Lannigan repeated 
 after him critically, as though trying the words 
 in his teeth. Then as their significance became 
 clear to him he laughed aloud : ' You're right, 
 Marsh 1 ' he shouted, ' an' be gob, when you come 
 to think av it, that's what it's mint for ! ' 
 
 The song ended, the men filed out of the tent 
 with friendly shouts of ' Good-night 1 ' and the
 
 ' BATING THE DIVIL ' 77 
 
 General and Scarlett, having turned out the lights, 
 tied the flaps securely and followed them. On 
 their way to the farmhouse, where they had 
 arranged to sleep that night, Smith expressed his 
 satisfaction. 
 
 ' My word, Scarlett/ he said, ' you've made a 
 good start. If you can only manage to keep it 
 up, you'll win hands down.' 
 
 Scarlett was about to reply when their thoughts 
 were diverted by the sound of singing far up the 
 hill amongst the trees. They stopped to listen, 
 and the hearts of both warmed to the familiar 
 words : 
 
 ' Hold Thou Thy Cross before my closing eyes ; 
 
 Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies; 
 Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee ; 
 In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.' 
 
 The voice ceased and the two men walked on. 
 
 4 I shouldn't be surprised, Scarlett,' Smith re- 
 marked, ' if the morning of a new day were to 
 break for some of those chaps through this little 
 move of ours. I only hope it may.' 
 
 And Scarlett said ' Amen ! '
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE LADY OF THE CAMP 
 
 JOHN SCARLETT was moving about the tent, 
 arranging the papers and magazines on the various 
 tables and making the place shipshape, and John 
 Scarlett was feeling as depressed and miserable 
 as ever he had felt in his life. The General, 
 taking old Anderson with him, had departed on 
 a ballast-train that morning. The last Scarlett 
 saw of them they were seated on their swags 
 on the floor of an o/pen truck, doing their best 
 to hold on as they rattled round the curve in 
 the line. The General's last words were, ' Cheer 
 up, old man, and God bless you. We'll all be 
 praying for you down there.' Then they were 
 gone, and Scarlett returned to the tent. 
 
 The place of the high mountains is also the 
 place of the deep abyss, and after the sunlit heights 
 of confidence on which he had trod so airily the 
 night before, Scarlett woke up to find himself 
 in the depths of an apparently bottomless pit 
 of uncertainty and despair. The first excitement 
 was over and the reaction had set in. Pilgrim 
 in the Valley of the Shadow was not more sore 
 beset. 
 
 They had had some kind of success the previous 
 
 night, it was true, but then, he argued, the General 
 
 78
 
 THE LADY OF THE CAMP 79 
 
 was there, and the whole thing was new, and a 
 new broom sweeps clean. iWho could tell what 
 it would be to-night? Suppose the men came in 
 drunk and began to smash things up. sWhat would 
 he do? .What could he do? Filled with these 
 dreadful forebodings, it is not to be wondered at 
 that he sprang round in alarm at the sound of a 
 slight cough at the door. He was more startled still 
 when he saw who his visitor was. It was not, 
 as Scarlett surmised, some wild navvy, drunk and 
 fightable, with the mistaken idea that the only 
 way to do his duty was to smash the whole place 
 to atoms and bury the proprietor thereof beneath 
 the ruins. Yet it is questionable if even a drunkard 
 would have thrown Scarlett into a more violent 
 state of agitation than did the person actually 
 before him. 
 
 The visitor was a woman, and such a woman ! 
 Young probably still in her teens tall for a 
 woman, full and finely formed. Her face what 
 Scarlett saw of it in that first bashful glance 
 was a pure oval. The mouth may have been a 
 trifle large, but its lines were all formed for 
 laughter, and, anyway, one could not have too 
 much of those rich red lips and milk-white teeth. 
 The eyes that peeped shyly out at him from 
 beneath the long lashes were very beautifully 
 shaped though what their colour was he could 
 not tell. 
 
 Disregarding his all too evident perturbation, 
 the visitor said meekly, ' I hope I am not 
 intruding? ' 
 
 The tones of her voice fell upon his ear as 
 musically as a shower of notes from little silver 
 bells, and he was conscious in a dim fashion that 
 she spoke with the sweetest accent he had ever 
 heard. And, indeed, in all the world there is
 
 82 THE LADY OF THE CAMP 
 
 strength he clouted a fly into eternity with one 
 smack of the duster, just to show that his powers 
 were not overstated ; but the tremor in her voice 
 undid him, and brought him down from his lofty 
 estate. 
 
 ' I'm sorry we can't have women at our 
 meetings,' he faltered humbly. ' There's nothing 
 I should like more, and it's all tomfoolery about 
 the men being frightened away. I'm sure if you 
 came they would all want to come.' 
 
 The lady tossed her head. ' But I don't want 
 to come I ' she answered with spirit. ' I never 
 go where I'm tolerated. I only go where I'm 
 wanted badly. ' 
 
 Scarlett would have spoken nothing but the truth 
 had he told her that already at least one man 
 in the camp wanted her badly, but his good angel 
 was very near just then. So he answered instead, 
 ' Would you care to come in and have a look 
 round? ' 
 
 This was a kind of compromise, and the lady, 
 having a purpose in view, kindly consented, but 
 suddenly remembering something, hesitated, and 
 became serious. Scarlett looked at her inquiringly. 
 
 ' Are you not wondering who I am,' she asked, 
 ' invading your camp in this outrageous fashion? ' 
 
 Scarlett laughed. ' To tell you the truth,' he 
 replied, ' it never occurred to me. I suppose I 
 just felt that you belonged here.' 
 
 ' So I do,' she said, nodding, ' or very nearly 
 so. My father is Mr. MacDonald, the manager 
 of the Bent Tree Mine up there in the hills, and 
 we are camped with him for a holiday. But we've 
 run out of books, and father said if I came down 
 and were nice to you, possibly you would lend 
 me some, and now ' despairingly ' I have 
 offended you.'
 
 THE LADY OF THE CAMP 83 
 
 But it takes more than that to offend the magna- 
 nimous Scarlett, and to prove it he conducts her 
 at once to the corner where the books are stored. 
 It is true that a philanthropic public had provided 
 them for the use of the navvies, and by no stretch 
 of the imagination could Miss MacDonald be in- 
 cluded in that category. Nevertheless, Scarlett, 
 usually hag-ridden by his conscience, opened up 
 his treasures without a pang, and bade her help 
 herself. Thus it is that fair women lead brave 
 men astray from the paths of strict rectitude. 
 
 The books were only sixpenny paper covers, but 
 at sight of them the lady of the camp was in 
 ecstasies. She bent down and sniffed them 
 delightedly. 
 
 ' I love even the smell of books,' she said. 
 'Don't you, Mr. Scarlett?' 
 
 ' Ye-es,' Scarlett replied cautiously, ' new 
 books . ' 
 
 ' Yes, of course,' the lady added hastily, and 
 then, ' Who is your favourite writer, Mr. Scarlett? ' 
 
 There was no hesitation now. ' Stevenson,' he 
 replied at once. 
 
 ' Is he? ' with great surprise. ' I have never 
 read a book of his in my life. Isn't he the the 
 pirate writer? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' Scarlett replied with enthusiasm. ' Pirates 
 and other things. You should read the Prologue 
 to " The Wreckers." 
 
 ' Is it very dreadful? ' 
 
 It's dreadful nice.' Scarlett, like Thackeray, 
 was not over particular sometimes as regards 
 grammar. 
 
 ' What is it about? ' 
 
 The admirer of Stevenson took a deep breath 
 and his eyes kindled. 
 
 ' Well,' he began, ' he just lifts you, body and
 
 84 THE LADY OF THE CAMP 
 
 soul, clean out of yourself, and carries you off 
 to a kind of Lotus Island, with loud shores and 
 white beaches, and palm-trees, and warm nights 
 like heaven, and winds fragrant with perfume, and 
 velvet skies littered with stars, and women beautiful 
 as Eve, and ' 
 
 But at that juncture he became conscious that 
 the lady of the camp was regarding him with 
 parted lips and eyes wide open with amazement, 
 and his eloquence was cut short in mid-career. 
 
 ' Is all that in " The Wrecker," Mr. Scarlett? ' 
 
 ' All that is in the Prologue, and there are a 
 thousand things more in the book itself.' 
 
 ' You make me feel that I want to read it. I 
 wonder if it is in this pile? ' 
 
 ' I don't know,' Scarlett replied ; ' I hardly think 
 so. But it's in my bag, if you would care to 
 have it.' 
 
 The lady expressed herself as most anxious to 
 have it now, and Scarlett departed to find it for 
 her. When he returned she was looking over a 
 copy of Connor's ' Black Rock.' 
 
 ' That's a writer I like,' she said, holding the 
 book up for Scarlett to see. 
 
 ' And so do I,' Scarlett replied, ' and it's 
 odd that you should come across that book just 
 now.' 
 
 ' Why? ' 
 
 1 Well, I've been thinking a good deal about it 
 lately, because it seems to me that the work he 
 describes there is pretty much what we'll have to 
 attempt here. The only thing 
 
 But here Scarlett came to a sudden stop, and 
 his eyes opened wide as some new and startling 
 thought laid hold of him. The lady looked at 
 him inquiringly. ' Do you sing? ' he asked 
 presently.
 
 THE LADY OE THE CAMP 85 
 
 She smiled as the drift of his thoughts became 
 clear to her. ' A little/ she replied. 
 
 ' I was wondering ' he began. 
 
 1 If I would come down and sing to the men 
 like the lady in the book ! ' she cried, anticipating 
 him. 
 
 ' You've just struck it,' he replied brightly, and 
 then suddenly an unpleasant thought seemed to 
 strike him, and for the second time he suddenly 
 became silent and thoughtful. The lady of the 
 camp waited for him to speak. 
 
 4 That woman was a Christian,' he remarked 
 at length, glancing at her in an odd way. 
 
 A startled look came across the girl's beautiful 
 face. Then she flushed hotly. 
 
 4 I scarcely understand,' she said presently. 
 4 Am I to infer that you think me a heathen? ' 
 
 Scarlett protested with great vigour that he had 
 not meant that, but it was of no avail the damsel 
 was not convinced. 
 
 4 It's no use, Mr. Scarlett,' she said. ' That's 
 exactly what you did mean. Oh I I'm afraid,' 
 she wailed hopelessly (or apparently so), 4 I'm 
 not solemn enough. But it can't be helped,' she 
 added ; 4 I was born happy, and now it has become 
 a habit. I can't be blue and long-nosed [prob- 
 ably she meant long-faced] to save myself. But 
 all the same, I'll come down some night and "sing 
 for your old navvies, and if you don't appreciate 
 me, perhaps they will, even if I am not so lu-lu- 
 lugubrious as some.' And with this parting shot 
 the victim of happiness bowed coldly, and with 
 an amazing appearance of dignity gathered up 
 her books and swept out into the sunlight, and 
 John Scarlett, with his thoughts in a whirl, stood 
 at the door and watched her as one hypnotised 
 until she disappeared amongst the trees.
 
 86 THE LADY OF THE CAMP 
 
 Then when that spectre of his morning thoughts, 
 a drunken navvy, dispatched across the road by 
 Big Marsh for the purpose of annoying the enemy, 
 reeled into the tent and begged to know what 
 the . . . Scarlett meant by comin' there, keepin* 
 people from makin' an honest livin', Scarlett Was 
 utterly unmoved. The man seemed so insigni- 
 ficant compared with the Minerva he had just 
 encountered that John laughed aloud. He who has 
 faced a whole park of artillery and braved death 
 each second of a long battle is not perturbed by 
 a street fight ; and John Scarlett, having encoun- 
 tered the most beautiful woman in the world, was 
 not to be bullied by any mere man who breathed, 
 least of all by a specimen such as this, and, utterly 
 oblivious to the threatening aspect of the newcomer, 
 he pointed sternly to the notice 
 
 'SMOKING ALLOWED, 
 BUT NO SWEARING/ 
 
 and commanded the astounded navvy to read, 
 mark, learn, and inwardly digest it in tones of 
 such tremendous authority that the drunk was 
 overawed. 
 
 Then, following up his advantage, he ordered 
 him to sit down and have a look at a book, and 
 the man in a dazed fashion obeyed and sat meekly 
 gazing at the marvels of the earth as recorded 
 pictorially in the Christian Herald. 
 
 But Scarlett having occasion to leave the tent 
 for a little time, he made his escape, and returned, 
 much shaken up, to the ' Blue Pig,' where he 
 gave to the expectant proprietor a thrilling if not 
 very truthful account of his experiences, and 
 although his statement that ' the bloke in the tent 
 roused and swore ' at him worse than any of
 
 THE LADY OF THE CAMP 87 
 
 the gangers could have done was received with 
 a certain amount of scepticism, nevertheless the 
 belief that Scarlett was the worst kind of a ' take- 
 down ' received a tremendous impetus, and the 
 feeling gathered weight that he was not to be 
 trifled with.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 PROS AND CONS 
 
 SCARLETT'S second night at the Seventeen Mile 
 was pretty much a repetition of the first. The 
 football was a great attraction until it was too dark 
 to see, then the crowd filled the tent. To-night, 
 however, the tables were spread with literature and 
 games, while one was set apart for writing, and 
 many wrote letters that night who seldom wrote 
 a letter, not for lack of will but of facilities for 
 doing so. To write a letter in a navvies' tent is 
 an undertaking. If the man has been thoughtful 
 enough to provide himself with ink before leaving 
 home, he probably finds when he goes to use it 
 that the bottle has dried up, the nib of the pen is 
 either broken or kicks like a circus mule, and the 
 paper, such as it is, is covered with dirt and grease, 
 and to crown all, there is no place where the work 
 may be done. With the best intentions in the 
 world, men utterly fail to keep up a correspondence 
 with home. 
 
 But to come into a place brilliantly lit, and to sit 
 down at a long table covered with blotting-pads 
 and bright, gleaming pens, with boxes of beautiful 
 paper and envelopes at every man's elbow, a 
 separate ink-pot for each, and the only thing to be 
 done to sit down and set to work, an excuse no 
 longer exists indeed, the temptation to write
 
 PROS AND CONS 89 
 
 becomes irresistible. And so it came to pass that 
 from the first night many men, particularly young 
 men, wrote letters home to their people who had 
 not written for months ; and all over the country, 
 and indeed here and there in a home beyond the 
 sea, parents and friends took heart of grace, and 
 looked again for the return of the prodigal when 
 a letter arrived written upon the official paper of 
 the Y.M.C.A., for it did not need the tongue of a 
 prophet to tell that the wanderer was at least within 
 touch of an influence for good. 
 
 Scarlett sat behind a table on the little platform 
 at the far end of the tent. Now and again he fitted 
 a cylinder to the phonograph by his side and set 
 it going, but for the most part he was content to 
 watch the scene before him, and in all respects it 
 was sufficiently cheerful. The night had fallen 
 cold, with a boisterous wind from the south. Out- 
 side it was bleak and miserable, but within all was 
 light and animation. At the farthest table a group 
 of men sat laboriously writing to sweethearts or 
 wives. Near them a Scotchman, who had helped 
 to storm the heights of Dargai, was now fighting 
 a more peaceful battle on the field of a draught- 
 board, against Louis, an excitable little Belgian, 
 a number of others looking on. 
 
 At the other tables the bulk of the men were 
 reading the papers or turning over the pages of the 
 dozens of Southern Spheres, Graphics, Sketches, 
 and other illustrated papers that littered the 
 boards. 
 
 In one corner Bland Holt, the clown of the camp, 
 swapped stories with old Paddy Barren, who ran 
 him a good second, and every now and again a roar 
 of laughter broke from the group who hemmed 
 them in. Across the tent from these a cluster more 
 seriously disposed talked politics, and anxiously
 
 90 PROS AND CONS 
 
 discussed the chances of ' Labour ' at the Federal 
 elections, now near at hand. But the largest and 
 noisiest of all sections was the quoit-players. 
 They had taken sides, picked out teams, and were 
 playing a match in which they were keenly 
 interested. Every decent throw was greeted with 
 a roar of delight by the thrower's side and a 
 corresponding roar of disapproval from the others. 
 
 At the end of the platform from Scarlett the 
 Bishop sat, apparently oblivious to his sur- 
 roundings, softly improvising on the organ. 
 Everywhere pipes were going freely, and comfort 
 and contentment overshadowed all. 
 
 Scarlett, whose morning spirit of elation had 
 not yet gone from him, looked upon it, and 
 declared that it was good. ' It only needs guid- 
 ing,' he muttered, ' and the thing will run itself.' 
 
 Nor was he the only one who surveyed the 
 scene with calculating glance. Andy Callander, 
 the big Irish foreman of the pitmen, a man with 
 a complexion like a girl, and with modesty to 
 match, had been sitting at the corner of a table 
 studying the scene for some time. Presently he 
 crossed over to where Eddy Flynn, one of his 
 cronies, sat on the end of a seat, engaged appar- 
 ently in the same task. 
 
 ' What do you make of it, Eddy ? ' he asked 
 
 4 Hard to say,' the other replied laconically. 
 ' Looks like a bit of all right, but you never can 
 tell.' 
 
 ' Do you think they're on the make ? ' 
 
 ' The Ganger says " No." ' 
 
 4 What ganger ? ' 
 
 ' Him that's running it. Scarlett.' 
 
 4 Yes but ?' 
 
 4 That's what I'm sayin' to myself, Andy,' the 
 other responded, rousing himself. ' The thing's
 
 PROS AND CONS 91 
 
 unnatural, and if they're not on the make, they're 
 the first of the kind I ever struck in my life. All 
 this for nothin' ! It's hard to believe/ 
 
 ' That's my trouble. It looks too good to be 
 true. If they'd studied the thing out for years, 
 they couldn't have fitted the need better, and God 
 knows it wanted doin' bad enough. Do you think 
 the Government is behind them, Eddy ? ' 
 
 ' Government be d d ! ' Eddy replied, re- 
 moving his pipe and spitting on the floor. ' A 
 Government is a machine, and machines don't feel. 
 All the Government cares for is to get the work 
 done. No, it's not the Government, though it 
 ought to be. It's either what he says, or else it's 
 some bloomin' fake. But I'm satisfied about this,' 
 he went on. ' If that chap is the genuine article, 
 and he hasn't got some trick up his sleeve to beat 
 us when he gets us on the end of his line, this is 
 the greatest thing that ever came our way.' 
 
 ' You're right there, Eddy. The thing that beats 
 me is how the devil they ever managed to think it 
 all out.' 
 
 There was silence then for a time, both men 
 smoking thoughtfully, but at length Eddy knocked 
 the ashes out of his pipe and leaned over the 
 table. 
 
 ' Old Danny,' he whispered, ' was sayin' to-day 
 that maybe it's a Protestant thrick to get hold of 
 us all. What do you think of it ? ' 
 
 Andy shrugged his shoulders impatiently. 
 
 ' I think old Danny's mad,' he said irritably. 
 ' It's the same with all the men from the Old 
 Country, Orange and Green alike. They've been 
 up against it so long there that they can't shake 
 it off when they get here, and I sometimes wish 
 the Irish, north and south, with their accursed 
 quarrels about religion, had never set foot in
 
 92 PROS AND CONS 
 
 Australia only where would I have been then? 
 Between them they're drivin' a wedge into the 
 heart of this young nation that may some day 
 split it in two in a civil war. With them it 
 is not " Is a thing right, or is it wrong ? or is it 
 for the good or 'bad of Australia ? " but the question 
 always is, " Is it Catholic? Is it Protestant? " and 
 it's good or bad accordingly. They look at every- 
 thing through the dust of the old quarrels, and 
 between them nothing gets a chance on its merits. 
 It's nothing but suspicion from beginning to end.' 
 
 4 Well, maybe you're right, Andy,' the other 
 replied, ' an' the only thing we have to do is 
 to see that this thing gets a fair run for its money, 
 take all that's goin' and keep our eyes peeled, 
 and if Scarlett does try to bate us ' 
 
 ' We'll know what to do with him.' 
 
 'That's it. Well, I'm off to bunk. Good- 
 night ! ' 
 
 ' Good-night ! ' 
 
 Eddy rose up and went out into the night, but 
 Andy had not yet satisfied himself. Presently he 
 left his seat and strolled up to Scarlett. 
 
 ' This is a popular place, Mr. Scarlett,' he began. 
 
 ' Yes,' Scarlett replied, looking round. ' It 
 seems so, but will they keep it up? That's the 
 question I keep asking myself.' 
 
 ' They'll keep it up all right so long as you 
 keep it down at the same price.' 
 
 ' Well, then, there's no need to worry.' 
 
 4 You mean you're going to give us all this 
 free of charge ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, so long as it's of practical benefit to the 
 men, and they make use of it.' 
 
 4 They'll make use of it, you can bet your life. 
 A navvy is a fool in some things, but not in all. 
 But how did you come to think of all this ? '
 
 PROS AND CONS 93 
 
 ' Well/ Scarlett replied, ' we were told what 
 the state of the camps was, and when it was 
 decided to do something we simply planned out 
 what we thought would be most likely to attract 
 and help the men. There wasn't much planning 
 needed either, but as we go on and get to know 
 the work, we'll improve our arrangements that 
 is, if the men appreciate them \ but that, in many 
 minds, is the doubtful part. We've been told, 
 for instance, that we might as well fling our money 
 in the sea, that the bulk of these men are beasts 
 and can only be treated as beasts.' 
 
 Andy Callander was a railway-man to his 
 finger-tips, and with all the strength of his 
 Celtic soul he resented this reflection upon his 
 class. 
 
 ' I don't know who told you that, Mr. Scarlett,' 
 he said savagely, ' but I'd like to meet the man 
 and hear him say it. You hear a great deal about 
 navvies,' he went on, ' and some of it's true. 
 There's drinking and fighting and the devil to pay 
 generally, and many a man's family starves while 
 he's earning good money. But why is it? Because 
 he wants it that way ? Make no mistake, it's 
 because the two-up schools and the shanties are 
 too strong for him. They meet him everywhere 
 he turns, and often it's a case of go to the shanty 
 or go mad. Just you think what it means,' he 
 continued. ' A man comes back to camp after 
 a hard day's work it may be wet or it may be 
 fine, cold or hot. He gets his tea, and what 
 then ? He can sit in his tent and shiver or stew 
 if he likes, or he can turn in to his bunk and try 
 to sleep ; and if a man had the soul of a dingo 
 he might do it, but a man is built different from a 
 dingo. He craves for company and the society of 
 his fellows, and in a navvies' camp the only place
 
 94 PROS AND CONS 
 
 where he can get it is in a shanty. If there's 
 music, it's there, and if there's singin' it's there, 
 and if there's a bit of dancin' or life or fun of any 
 kind it's in the shanty, and to the shanty he goes, 
 and who can blame him? The shanties are the 
 curse of every camp. But it's no use tryin' to blot 
 them out unless you're prepared to put something 
 else in their place, because to a certain extent 
 they meet a great need. They supply the only 
 bit of social life the camps afford. Now, the 
 thing that's wanted is the kind of thing you've got 
 here ; the only question is ' 
 
 4 Well ? ' 
 
 ' Well, is it strictly undenominational, and is it 
 what it seems on the surface ? Don't get angry,' 
 he added hastily, as Scarlett moved impatiently. 
 4 If you'd had my experience, you'd believe nothing 
 until you proved it. I've had twenty-five years 
 at railway work, and in all that time nearly every 
 fish that has come to my net in this way has been 
 a shark.' 
 
 Scarlett was silent a little space, thinking, then 
 he said 
 
 ' I don't blame you, though every decent 
 man likes to be taken at his surface value, and 
 after all I may be a failure, and disappoint you ; 
 but I tell you, once again and for all, we're not 
 here on behalf of any denomination, and we're not 
 here to make money ; bi\t we're here in the name 
 of Jesus Christ to try and help the men to better 
 things, and what you've said about the matter 
 encourages me to believe we'll succeed. Appar- 
 ently we've struck the right thing.' 
 
 4 The right thing 1 ' Andy echoed. ' You 
 couldn't have struck it better if you'd tried for 
 twenty years. Well, I take your word for it, Mr. 
 Scarlett, that the thing is on clean lines, and I tell
 
 PROS AND CONS 95 
 
 you I'm glad you've come. This is the greatest 
 godsend that ever came to a navvy camp.' 
 
 Obeying a common impulse, the two men 
 extended their hands, and Andy grasped Scarlett's 
 in a grip that made the bones crack and the 
 muscles of his face twitch ; but it was worth while 
 suffering, for from that hour, although he knew it 
 not, Scarlett had gained to his side the friendship 
 and powerful influence of the most popular boss 
 on the line. But as Andy turned away a thought 
 struck Scarlett, and he called him back. 
 
 ' One thing is puzzling me/ he said. ' I've kept 
 my eyes open, but there isn't half the drinking 
 going on I expected to find.' 
 
 Andy laughed. ' There's no need to feel dis- 
 appointed,' he said. ' You'll see enough of it if 
 you stay a little longer. The reason that there's 
 so little of it now is that nearly everybody is 
 stony-broke over the last bout, but you wait until 
 pay-day, and then you'll see.' 
 
 ' I understand,' Scarlett replied. ' And when is 
 pay-day ? ' 
 
 ' Saturday week.'
 
 98 FATHER CHRISTMAS COMES DOWN 
 
 twinkling the while like twin stars and his very 
 whiskers seeming to crackle with delight. 
 
 4 And you've come down here, I'm told, to 
 to transform this place and make the ah 
 " wilderness to blossom like the rose." 
 
 Scarlett shook his head deprecatingly. ' I'll 
 be well content,' he said, ' if we can open a refuge 
 for any poor soul trying to escape from the curse 
 of the drink, and brighten things up a bit for 
 the others.' 
 
 * You'll do all that, never fear, 1 the other 
 returned cheerily, ' and a good deal more and 
 not before it's time, Mr. Scarlett, not before it's 
 time. Do you know what happened to me the 
 last time I came down into this camp? ' 
 
 Scarlett had no idea, and Mr. Dingley went on 
 with great impressiveness 
 
 1 I was coming down with a load of butter and 
 eggs for the boarding-houses, and had got as 
 far as the road up there in the bush, when I saw 
 a spring cart turn round and drive hurriedly away. 
 I thought it strange, so I pulled .Wilhelmina up 
 and got down, and went a few paces into the 
 scrub to see what it could mean. I hadn't gone 
 half a dozen yards before I saw two barrels under 
 a bush, and I knew what that meant. Shanties, 
 sir, shanties ! And I was standing looking at 
 them, wondering what to do, when all of a sudden 
 four men rose up out of the scrub, and one of 
 them Big Marsh, as he is called here asked me 
 what the the something, Mr. Scarlett, I was 
 doing there. I said it was Government property, 
 and I had as much right there as the next man. 
 " Well," he says, " the sooner you're out of this 
 the better, right or no right." I was thinking 
 that way myself, Mr. Scarlett, so I turned to go ; 
 but Big Marsh, who was playing with a gun he
 
 FATHER CHRISTMAS COMES DOWN 99 
 
 had in his hand, said, " Wait a minute," and 
 then, when I was wondering what they meant 
 to do, he said, " You're a useful man to the camp, 
 Mr. Dingley, with your eggs and butter, and we're 
 good customers to you with our money, and people 
 in business shouldn't quarrel. If you're a wise 
 man, Mr. Dingley, you've seen nothing here, and 
 you'll never see anything in the camp you shouldn't 
 see, and then you can come and go and no harm 
 to you. . But," he says, " if you see things you 
 
 shouldn't see and begin to talk about them " 
 
 That was all he said, Mr. Scarlett, but his mean- 
 ing was unmistakable.' 
 
 ' And if he thinks you are seeing too much, 
 Mr. Dingley, what then? ' Scarlett asked eagerly. 
 
 ' Well, I suppose I shall get knocked on the 
 head some night when I'm on my way home ; 
 that's what I gathered from his looks, anyway. But 
 all the same, Mr. Scarlett, the first thing I did 
 when I got home was to write a letter to the 
 Premier, stating the facts and demanding that 
 something be done at once. And it shall be done, 
 sir. Our Premier may be ah deliberate all 
 really great men are but when the necessity arises 
 no man can move faster, and when he does move, 
 things happen, and I've every confidence he will 
 move in this matter. It's an outrage, sir, an outrage, 
 that I, who have lived twenty years in this district, 
 should have to order my conduct at the bidding of 
 a scoundrel like that. But all the same,' the old 
 gentleman added softly, and with a look of 
 .wonderful acuteness, ' I don't tell everybody I've 
 written to the Premier, and I shall not be wander- 
 ing about after dark any more than is necessary.' 
 
 Having said this, Father Christmas threw back 
 his head and laughed uproariously. It was a 
 great joke.
 
 ioo FATHER CHRISTMAS COMES DOWN 
 
 ' And that's one reason why I'm so glad to see 
 you, Mr. Scarlett,' he went on presently. ' Two 
 heads, Mr. Scarlett, you know two heads 1 And 
 between us we'll get a rod in pickle for the ' Blue 
 Pig ' and the rest of them. Eh? ' And with that 
 the old gentleman went off again into renewed 
 shouts of laughter. 
 
 After a time he simmered down a little, and, 
 steadfastly regarding Scarlett, went on to say : 
 ' But the chief reason I had in coming to-day, 
 was to ask you to come up and pay us a visit 
 at Mount Pleasant. Come up Sunday morning 
 early, and I'll yoke up Wilhelmina and we'll drive 
 across to the little church in the hills and then 
 back to dinner. Now, don't say you can't.' 
 
 4 I certainly shall not say I can't,' Scarlett 
 replied, 4 for there's nothing I should enjoy more, 
 though I'll have to be back again fairly early for 
 an evening service.' 
 
 4 Good 1 Very good 1 ' the enthusiastic old 
 gentleman cried, extending his hand again. 4 Come 
 up early. Mother will be delighted to see you, 
 and we'll have a day of it. Get up, Wdlhelmina. 
 Sunday next, Mr, Scarlett. God bless you I Good- 
 bye 1 ! Goodbye 1 ' and with a flourish of his whip, 
 he was gone.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE RAID 
 
 As for Scarlett, he returned to his work greatly 
 cheered and encouraged. It was true that so 
 far he had been successful beyond his dreams, 
 but the responsibility was very great. His troubles 
 were all to come, of that he felt sure, nor could 
 they be long delayed, and the prospect of a break 
 in the routine and a day's fellowship with kindred 
 minds was pleasant to contemplate. 
 
 Besides and his pulse quickened at the thought 
 possibly Miss MacDonald would be at the service 
 at the church, and he would see her, and and 
 but the bare possibility of again beholding that 
 entrancing maiden sent such a thrill of fearful 
 ecstasy through his blood that for the rest of the 
 morning he gave himself up to vain imaginings as 
 he went about his work. 
 
 That evening Scarlett, returning from tea to 
 the Social Hall, was surprised to find the football 
 paddock deserted. Not a man was to be seen. 
 Arrived at the hall, he found it empty. An engine 
 stood deserted on the line. There was no sign 
 of life about the coal-dump. It was quite evident 
 that something unusual was afoot, and Scarlett 
 hastened across the line to see what it might be. 
 He was inclined to suspect a fight, and when he
 
 102 THE RAID 
 
 had reached the farther side he was sure. It 
 seemed to him that everybody in camp was round 
 about the Shanty, and Scarlett trembled and felt 
 sick. Of all things he dreaded a fight, and his 
 first impulse was to go to his tent and wait until 
 it was over. But his determination to do if he 
 died for it proved stronger than his fears, and 
 he made his way timidly through the undergrowth 
 to the edge of the crowd. 
 
 But it was not a fight after all. Two buggies 
 were drawn close up to the Shanty, and both 
 were driven by men in uniform. A strikingly tall 
 and erect man with dark, piercing eyes stood at the 
 door, giving orders in sharp, imperative tones. 
 Scarlett drew near, wondering what it could mean. 
 As he did so he was amazed to see old Lanigan 
 being unceremoniously bundled out of the Shanty 
 by a little man in the garb of a navvy, whom 
 Scarlett remembered to have seen playing quoits, 
 slightly the worse for drink, the day after he 
 arrived. The man's new role filled him with sur- 
 prise. Nor was he the only surprised one. It 
 was soon clearly manifest to everybody that the 
 camp had been raided by revenue officers, and also 
 that their erstwhile comrade was a detective in 
 disguise, and at sight of him a thrill passed 
 through the crowd, and they turned to one another 
 in amazement. 
 
 But although their sympathies were strongly 
 with the Shanty men, they were for the present 
 too surprised to do more than speculate concern- 
 ing him. As for the man in question, he had no 
 sooner bundled old Lanigan into the buggy than 
 he dived again into the Shanty and returned with 
 another of Lanigan 's gang, who had acted as a 
 spotter. Something like a snarl ran through the 
 crowd when the ex-navvy appeared the second
 
 THE RAID 103 
 
 time, but the tall man swung round and faced 
 them instantly. 
 
 ' What ! ' he cried, but nobody answered, and 
 the crisis passed, for there was that in his face 
 that even a crowd of navvies did not care to 
 provoke. 
 
 .When next the little man appeared he was roll- 
 ing a barrel, and, having got it to the nearest 
 buggy, he tilted it aboard with great dexterity, 
 and disappeared again. A moment later he 
 emerged carrying a smaller barrel in his arms, 
 and having got that aboard, he ran without a word 
 to the leading buggy and leaped up beside the 
 driver, and they were off. Simultaneously the tall 
 man sprang up in the second trap and it, too, 
 began to move. 
 
 All was done with such perfect method and 
 understanding, and with such amazing speed, that 
 the camp had scarcely realised that the Shanty 
 was being raided before the thing was over and 
 the culprits going to their deserts. But as the 
 second trap cleared the crowd, Big Marsh found 
 his voice. 
 
 ' A groan for the informer ! ' he roared. The 
 second trap stopped dead, and with incredible 
 swiftness the tall man flashed round, a gleaming 
 revolver in his hand, covering the astonished 
 Marsh. 
 
 ' Have you anything more to say? ' he asked 
 quietly, but every word, by some curious quality 
 of speech, stinging as though edged with steel. 
 
 Marsh was silent. After waiting a moment the 
 tall man added, ' If there's any more of that, 
 you'll come along too, my lad.' 
 
 There was no more. The tall man smiled in a 
 way not good to look at, the trap moved off again 
 and disappeared in the gloom. The crowd stood
 
 104 THE RAID 
 
 for a space of thirty seconds, looking after them 
 as though hypnotised. Then the spell passed away 
 and all began to speak and gesticulate at once, 
 and for the rest of the night nothing was talked 
 of but the raid. 
 
 Rejoicing greatly, though secretly and with 
 trembling, that the law had reached the shanties 
 at last, Scarlett returned to the hall ; but if he 
 imagined that the arrest of the shantymen would 
 have meant increased numbers and easier work 
 he was mistaken. Very few men came that night, 
 and such as did were in no mood for phonographs, 
 singing, or games. They sat in knots and dis- 
 cussed the raid. 
 
 The next day turned out wet so wet that work 
 was impossible and the hall was full from early 
 morning, and the thud of the rings about the 
 quoit-peg went on unceasingly. But not all the 
 men were there, for a rumour had gone abroad 
 that old Lanigan had concealed two casks of beer 
 somewhere in the scrub, and parties were out 
 eagerly searching for them all day. Late in the 
 afternoon Scarlett had occasion to leave the hall 
 for his living tent for a time, and when he returned 
 the place was nearly empty. 
 
 ' Where are the boys? ' he asked of Garfield, 
 an ex-Salvation Army man and a decent fellow, 
 whom he had lately got to know. 
 
 ' I guess they've found that beer,' Garfield 
 replied. ' Some one came running just now and 
 whispered to Duckfoot Clarke, and he made off 
 and the rest after him. But we'll soon know,' he 
 added grimly. And he was right. 
 
 As night came on any hopes Scarlett may have 
 had were speedily dashed. The Shanty was lit 
 up brilliantly. After a time a huge bonfire was 
 kindled in front of it, and then, as time went on
 
 THE RAID 105 
 
 and the beer began to take effect, the fun grew 
 fast and furious. Shouts of wild laughter and 
 stentorian singing drowned every other sound, and 
 after a time, looking out, Scarlett could plainly 
 see a crowd of men dancing like devils round about 
 the fire. Later on, as is invariably the case, the 
 fun changed to fury. Snatches of argument 
 mingled with horrid oaths filled the air. Quarrel 
 after quarrel arose, and, regardless of the rain, 
 the men dragged off their rags to fight and after- 
 wards many lay down and slept where they had 
 fought, to awake with shattered nerves and 
 desperate colds bordering on pneumonia. 
 
 Comparatively early in the evening Scarlett 
 decided to put out the lights in the hall lest they 
 should attract the toughs across to wreck it, for 
 he well knew that with men in such a condition 
 nothing would be sacred or safe. Then he went 
 to his tent, but fearing a visit from the crowd, 
 refrained from showing a light, and, after secur- 
 ing the entrance as well as could be, he piled 
 up what tins and pans he could find, that no one 
 might effect an entrance without noise. Then, 
 after a final peep outside, he crept fully dressed 
 into his bunk, where he lay broad awake, shivering 
 and fearful, till the grey light of day. 
 
 In the morning the rain had gone, and the 
 gangers mustered their men, but every gang went 
 out short-handed. Of the revellers of the night 
 before scarcely a dozen were able to go, but 
 coming forth later on with bloodshot eyes and 
 palsied limbs, spent the day blundering about the 
 camp and reeling and cursing their way from tent 
 to tent and place to place. One in particular, 
 apparently driven mad by the drink he had taken, 
 lay in his bunk and shrieked and yelled like a 
 devil, until the whole camp was by the ears, and
 
 io6 THE RAID 
 
 then, rushing out, divested of every rag of clothes 
 except his shirt, raged up and down the road 
 before the hall, calling upon the name of his God, 
 and cursing all creation and the Y.M.C.A. in par- 
 ticular, as Shimei cursed David. 
 
 Poor Scarlett, with every nerve tingling, went 
 in fear of his life all the day, and thanked God 
 from his heart when the trains came back in the 
 evening, bringing the sober men from their work. 
 But the picture of this Shimei marching up and 
 down the road, up and down, was painted on his 
 brain, and presently he went inside and fell upon 
 his knees. 
 
 ' God in heaven ! * he cried. ' If his mother could 
 see her boy now I ' And then, ' Give me courage 
 and sense, that I may do something to save them I '
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 MR. CHIRNSIDE TURNS UP 
 
 IT was Scarlett's custom to breakfast with the 
 men at seven o'clock. The rest of his mornings, 
 almost till lunch-time, was taken up with the clean- 
 ing of the tent and lamps and the rearranging of 
 the papers and magazines upon the tables. What 
 remained he devoted to reading. 
 
 One day, having finished a little earlier than 
 usual, he had thrown himself upon his bunk to 
 read, when a man's head was suddenly thrust in 
 the opening of the tent ; then the curtain was 
 drawn back and a figure stood revealed that 
 brought Scarlett to his feet in astonishment. The 
 face of the newcomer was the embodiment of 
 gentle enthusiasm, and, at the moment, was lit 
 up by a smile of great friendliness. His eyes 
 were mild as the eyes of oxen, and into the right 
 one was stuck after the manner of Mr. George 
 Reid a gold-rimmeid monocle. His lips were as 
 geranium red as the lips of a girl, and from the 
 upper one a little moustache curled away as 
 daintily as the tendrils of a vine. 
 
 Something of all this Scarlett took in before a 
 word was spoken, and it was sufficiently arresting, 
 yet it was not that so much as the get-up of the 
 man that held Scarlett spellbound. To begin with, 
 
 he wore a fashionable silk hat. The nap was 
 
 107
 
 zoS MR. CHIRNSIDE TURNS UP 
 
 slightly roughened, it is true still, there it was, 
 and the quality undeniable. His collar, though 
 somewhat travel-stained, was of such prodigious 
 height that the boarding-house boss, in describing 
 him to the denizens of the ' Blue Pig,' said he 
 reminded him of a horse with his head over a white 
 fence. He wore a full frock-coat, hot socks, and 
 patent-leather shoes. In one hand he carried a 
 suit-case and in the other a gold-headed cane. 
 Taking him altogether, he would have made an 
 admirable walking advertisement for a fashionable 
 tailor. 
 
 Scarlett, as we have seen, was something of 
 a fashion-plate himself, and in the city and under 
 ordinary circumstances would have hailed the new- 
 comer with satisfaction as a kindred spirit and 
 a man of taste, but under present conditions the 
 man's appearance was so incongruous that he could 
 have laughed aloud. Nor was his amazement 
 lessened when his visitor spoke, for his first 
 sentence betrayed a slight stammer, and that 
 oddest and most affected of all our little tricks of 
 speech, the turning of the r's into w's. 
 
 ' M-M-Mr. Scarlett, I pwesume? ' he said 
 hopefully. 
 
 ' That's me,' Scarlett replied, with more force 
 than dignity, for already the speech of the camp 
 had begun to work its will upon him. 
 
 The gentleman, with a look of relief, set down 
 his suit-case and fumbled in a breast-pocket. 
 Presently he brought forth a letter, and after 
 giving his monocle an additional screw into his 
 eye, made sure of the address, and then handed 
 it to Scarlett. 
 
 4 That letter contains my quedentials,' he 
 explained. 
 
 Inside the envelope Scarlett found a brief note 
 in the General's handwriting.
 
 MR. CHIRNSIDE TURNS UP 109 
 
 ' The bearer/ it ran, ' is Mr. Albert Edward 
 Chirnside. He is a member of the Association, 
 and eager to see the kind of work you are doing. 
 He is a good fellow, notwithstanding appearances. 
 Treat him well.' 
 
 Scarlett pocketed the letter and extended his 
 hand. ' I'm very glad to see you, Mr. Chirnside,' 
 he said, ' but I'm afraid you'll find things a bit 
 rougher here than you're used to.' 
 
 Mr. Chirnside beamed. ' D-d-don't mention it, 
 Mr. Scarlett, I beg,' he returned. ' They t-t-told 
 me at the office it would be wough, so I dwessed 
 myself suitably and came pwepared to wough it, 
 and it was j-j-just as well,' he added ; ' for, by 
 Jove, I've been w- ! w-woughing it ever since I got 
 out at the junction.' 
 
 It struck Scarlett that if this was the way in 
 which Mr. Chirnside dressed himself when pre- 
 pared to rough it, his appearance when dressed for 
 church or the block must be something to 
 remember. However, he kept his thoughts to 
 himself, and courteously inviting his visitor in, 
 gave him a seat on his bunk. 
 
 ' Let me take your hat,' he said ; and there being 
 no place inside where such a hat could rest, he 
 stuck it on the end of the ridge-pole just out- 
 side, where it hung conspicuously, and speedily 
 became the centre of observation and a source 
 of temptation to such of the ' boys ' as were about 
 the camp. 
 
 Mr. Chirnside, meanwhile, with a sigh of great 
 relief, lay back on the bunk luxuriously. 
 
 ' T-t-this has been a time of twial,' he remarked 
 presently. 
 
 ' Yes? ' Scarlett replied expectantly. ' Have you 
 come from Melbourne to-day? ' 
 
 ' No,' the other returned. ' I left Melbourne
 
 no MR. CHIRNSIDE TURNS UP 
 
 yesterday, but so much has happened since, t-t-that 
 it s-s-seems an eternity. It was all wight till I 
 got to Nyowa, and then my twibulations began. 
 It was w-w- warning hard when I stepped out of 
 the t-t-twain, and the first sight I saw was a 
 couple of policemen dwagging a woman along in 
 a b-b-bag. They had the bag over her head, and 
 t-t-tied down about her arms with a wope. The 
 w-w- woman was kicking and squealing and cwying 
 for help, so I stepped up to the men just as they 
 were getting her in, and caught one of them by 
 the arm, and said, " C-c-constable, w-w-what do 
 you mean by tweating a 1-1-lady like this? " He 
 said. " What? " I wepeated what I said at first, 
 and then he actually had the effwontowy to tell 
 me to go to that p-p-place where there's 
 n-n-neither fwost nor snow, and the crowd there, 
 instead of taking the part of that helpless female, 
 simply woared with laughter. I felt angwy enough 
 to have scwewed the man's neck, b-b-but just then 
 the lady saved me the necessity by kicking him 
 in the abdomen, and then the twain started, so 
 I 1-1-left him to his weflections. I learned fwom 
 the cwowd that the lady's name was " Bluebell." 
 Wather a womantic n-n-name, 'I thought, Mr. 
 Scarlett? ' he added interrogatively. 
 
 Scarlett laughed. 
 
 ' Bluebell is a romantic character,' he replied. 
 ' Everybody knows her here. 'But where did you 
 sleep? At the pub? ' 
 
 ' I p-p-put up at the " Old Bull and Bush," but 
 it would be a sewious departure fwom the twuth 
 to say I slept. I t-t-twied to hard enough, but 
 it was no use. The place was cwowded out, and 
 instead of a woom to myself, I had to share one 
 with two vewy wough chawacters. I was in b-b-bed 
 v/hen they came in, and one of them insisted that
 
 MR. CHIRNSIDE TURNS UP in 
 
 I was in his bed, and all my w-w-wemonstwations 
 were in vain. At first I wefused to wise, but he 
 said if I didn't he would fight me for it. So, to 
 pwevent a disturbance, I vacated it, and t-t-took the 
 other. When that matter was settled, one of them 
 wanted to have the door and the window open, and 
 the other man wanted them both shut, and they 
 w-w- wangled about that for ever so long. Eventu- 
 ally, when they were about to fight over it, I 
 suggested as a oompwomise that they shut the door 
 and leave the window open, and after a while 
 they agweed, w-w-with this diffewence, that they 
 shut the window and kept the door open. 
 
 4 After that I thought things would settle down, 
 so I c-c-composed myself for sleep, but it pwoved 
 to be pwemature. It seems my fellows were non- 
 unionists, and just as I was getting to sleep a 
 d-deputation of two men came from the union to 
 persuade them to j-j-join. But my fellows 
 d-d-didn't want to join. They said that before 
 they gave their hard-earned money to make fat 
 billets for a lazy loafer of a union official, they 
 would see them in H-H-Hanover, and then the 
 t-t-trouble began afwesh. 
 
 ' The union fellows said my fellows were scabs, 
 weaping all the b-b-benefits of unionism and not 
 contributing a ha'penny to its support, and 
 m-m-my fellows wetorted that the union men were 
 w-w- wire -haired idiots, taxing themselves to give 
 fat b-b-billets to a handful of officials who never 
 did a day's m-m-manual labour in their lives. 
 Then both parties got warm and b-b-began to 
 shout at one another, and fwom shouting had just 
 about come to blows, when a cwowd came down 
 the p-p-passage and into the woom to see what was 
 the matter, and they sat on the b-b-beds to listen, 
 and incidentally they s-s-sat on me, who was in
 
 ri2 MR. CHIRNSIDE TURNS UP 
 
 bed ; and when it came to that, I felt the occasion 
 called for stwong measures, and that it would be 
 only twirling with the situation to permit such a 
 liberty. I ordered them to leave" the woom at 
 once, and in the event of their wefusing thweatened 
 to call the landlord. I imagined that would have 
 settled them, but weally it seemed to have vewy 
 little effect, for they only 1-1-laughed upwoawiously ; 
 and one of them clapped my hat on his head and 
 m-m-mounted a chair and began to sing a song 
 about " Where did you get that hat? " I had 
 nearly begun to despair, when fortunately the 
 c-c-candle blew out, and the cwowd went out then, 
 and when they got out, our fellows were careful 
 to 1-1-lock the door on them. I was afwaid my 
 hat had gone with them, but when we stwuck a 
 m-m-match, I found it on the foot of my bed. 
 
 4 After that I thought, " Possibly now I shall 
 have some wepose." But it was not to be. First of 
 all, my woom mates quawwelled about which bed 
 each should have, and when on my suggestion they 
 t-t-tossed up for it, and got into bed, a dwunken 
 man t-t-took up his quarters outside the window, 
 and sang that song about " Pwetty Wed Wing." 
 I wouldn't have minded his unpleasant voice so 
 much, though it was one of the worst I ever heard. 
 It was the wepetition of the thing I objected to. 
 He sang it over and over and over again, and 
 eventually I awose and went to the window and 
 asked him to desist, but he said he'd see me 
 c-c-condemned first, and went on singing, and then 
 I lost my temper and under the circumstances, 
 Scarlett, I think it was excusable and I said : 
 " D-d-dash it all, man, I've had just about enough 
 of ' Pwetty Wed Wing.' ' So I dwessed myself 
 and went down to the station and passed the 
 wemainder of the night on a seat.
 
 MR. CHIRNSIDE TURNS UP 113 
 
 ' It was most niisewably cold sitting there, but 
 I consoled myself with the weflection that I would 
 be in good time for the twain ; and after all I 
 hadn't so long to wait, for about four o'clock they 
 began to move about and get up steam in the 
 engines. So I looked wound until I found a 
 twuck loaded up, and then I climbed aboard and 
 sat there all weady to start. 
 
 ' After a while a man came along. He seemed 
 vewy much surpwised to see me sitting there, and 
 he said 
 
 ' " ,W-w-what are you d-d-doing in that 
 twuck? " 
 
 ' I said, "I'm going to Woolamai." 
 
 " Are you? " he said, and I weplied that such 
 was my intention. 
 
 ' " Well," he said, " if you sit on that twuck 
 till you get to Woolamai you'll pwobably take 
 woot I " 
 
 ' I asked him what he meant by that, and he 
 said 
 
 ' That twuck is not going I " 
 
 ' I was vewy much disappointed to hear it, but 
 I thanked him for the information, and got down 
 and had another look wound. After a while I 
 found a long stwing of twucks with t-t-timber 
 aboard and an engine attached, and I concluded 
 that they must be going. So I c-c-cawwied my 
 suit-case up on the top of one of these and waited. 
 After a while it began to move, and I said : 
 " Well, thank goodness, we're off at last .! " 
 
 ' But my wejoicing was pwemature, for they 
 merely shunted us off into a siding, and the engine 
 was detached, and we were left there. I was 
 beginning to feel wather perplexed then, but I had 
 the pwesence of mind to board another twuck 
 that stood by weady loaded, and I was just think - 
 
 John Scarlett, Ganger. Q
 
 ii4 MR. CHIRNSIDE TURNS UP 
 
 ing that, after all, things might have been worse, 
 when a man came along and said 
 
 " W-w-what are you doing in that twuck? " 
 
 ' I weplied at once, "I'm going to Woolamai." 
 
 4 " But," he said, " that twuck doesn't go to 
 Woolamai I " 
 
 4 Then I gwew despewate, and so wesolved to 
 take the bull by the forelock, and I said, " .Well, 
 can you tell me which twuck does go to 
 Woolamai? " 
 
 4 " Oh, yes," he said, " that one does," pointing 
 to one acwoss the yard. 
 
 4 So I thanked him, and after some little twouble 
 got aboard that twuck. It had a load of steel 
 wails, and I made myself as comfortable as I 
 could, and waited with gweat confidence. But 
 after a while a porter, who was going by, put the 
 question to me again 
 
 ' " W-w-what are you doing in that twuck? " 
 
 4 I was gwowing vewy impatient of that question, 
 and I weplied wather shortly 
 
 1 " I'm going to Woolamai." 
 
 4 Then he gwinned in a most aggwavating way, 
 and said 
 
 4 4 * You'll be pwetty hungwy by the time you 
 get there." 
 
 4 " Why? " I asked. 44 Doesn't this twuck go 
 to Woolamai? " 
 
 4 " Oh, it goes there all wight," he weplied, 
 4< but not until to-morrow." 
 
 4 Well, by that time I was weawy of the whole 
 business, but I wesolved upon a last despewate 
 twy, so I asked 
 
 4 " Are there any twucks going to Woolamai 
 to-day? " 
 
 4 4 * Yes," he said, pointing out a long twain that 
 was backing in to the platform ; " those twucks are
 
 MR. CHIRNSIDE TURNS UP 115 
 
 going to Woolamai in a few minutes' time, and if 
 you want to go there you had better get aboard." 
 
 ' I was thankful beyond words to hear that, so 
 I scwambled down as b-b-best I could and got 
 aboard one of those twucks, and felt vewy 
 welieved. But my twoubles were not over. I 
 was no sooner seated comfortably upon the floor 
 than the guard of the twain came along and 
 said 
 
 4 " W-w-what are you doing in that twuck? " 
 
 ' My patience was nearly exhausted, but I 
 answered him civilly, and said I was going to 
 Woolamai. 
 
 44 Oh," he said, " and have you got a pass? " 
 
 4 " No," I said, 4I I haven't. I didn't know it 
 was necessawy." 
 
 " Well," he said, " you can't twavel on that 
 twuck without a pass." 
 
 ' I t-t-told him I thought he was labouwing 
 under a misappwehension, b-b-but it was of no 
 avail. He said they had got stwict orders about 
 it, and he couldn't allow me to twavel, and I would 
 have to g-g-get down off that twuck. Then I 
 began to despair, and concluded that I had 
 better weturn to the c-c-city ; but "just then, most 
 pwovidentially, a tall, fair gentleman came along. 
 He pwoved to be the supewintending engineer, 
 and when he learned what the twouble was, he 
 not only gave me permission to wide, but came 
 and sat beside me, and so we came along both 
 of us sitting on the the "flat of our seats on the 
 floor of the t-t-twuck.' 
 
 Probably Mr. Chirnside had not quite finished 
 his story ; nevertheless, at that point he came 
 to an abrupt conclusion, for a large potato, hurled 
 at the bell-topper on the ridge-pole by an unseen 
 hand, and missin'g it by an ace, whistled through
 
 n6 MR. CHIRNSIDE TURNS UP 
 
 the opening of the tent and smote the side just 
 above his head with a resounding thud. 
 
 Mr. Chirnside looked at Scarlett for an explana- 
 tion. Scarlett was careful first to withdraw the 
 object of temptation from the ridge-pole, then he 
 said 
 
 4 That's a hint that it'3 getting near dinner- 
 time.' ; 
 
 4 Indeed 1 ' Mr. Chirnside exclaimed ; and then, 
 4 Is that their usual method of announcing dinner? * 
 
 4 No,' Scarlett replied ambiguously, 4 they 
 generally ring a bullock-bell ; but there are no 
 very hard-and-fast rules in this camp. Still, we 
 had better take the hint. Now, how about a wash 
 and brush-up? ? 
 
 ' The vewy thing/ Mr. Chirnside responded 
 eagerly, pulling off his coat, and by the time 
 his toilet was completed the lunch-hour was fully 
 come and the bullock-bell pealing. So they 
 strolled across to the "boarding-house, and 
 Chirnside spread out his tails and sat himself down 
 cheek-by-jowl with the thunder-stricken pitmen.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE COMBAT 
 
 LUNCH over, Scarlett and his guest made their 
 way to the marquee, where Scarlett showed him 
 over the place, explained to him its workings, 
 and introduced him to such stragglers as were 
 about. 
 
 Chirnside beamed upon them all, and expressed 
 himself delighted with everything, from the phono- 
 graph to the letter-rack. This done, they crossed 
 the line to the paymaster's quarters, and there 
 they found, not only the paymaster but the store- 
 keeper, big Tom Johnson, the bridge foreman, 
 and several of the timekeepers. 
 
 It was a kind of off -time, and after introductions 
 and the spell which Mr. Chirnside's appearance 
 had cast upon them had worn off a little, the 
 conversation became general. Presently, however, 
 they were disturbed by, the sound of voices that 
 rose higher and higher as they listened. The 
 voices came from the railway-track, where an 
 engine stood panting after a long run up the hill. 
 The sounds were ominous, and, after a moment's 
 silence to make sure, everybody rushed outside. 
 
 On the footplate of the engine stood the senior 
 engine-driver on the works, Mr. Terence O'Brien, 
 a tall, lath-like man, and on the ground before 
 
 him stood Mr. Jerry Ryan, the ganger of the 
 
 117
 
 n8 THE COMBAT 
 
 ' gallopers out,' who was as short and stout as the 
 other was tall and thin. Both men were evidently 
 highly excited. Terry was leaning down from 
 his engine, shaking his fist in the face of Mr. 
 Ryan, who stood on his toes on the ground, 
 reciprocating the compliment with interest, while 
 each shouted in the face of the other at the top of 
 his voice. Just how the quarrel originated it would 
 be difficult to say. Neither man was a drinker ; 
 both were experts in their own particular line, 
 and, as a general rule, firm friends. But they 
 were of Irish extraction, and, like most of that 
 highly-strung race, quick to take offence, and not 
 much averse to settling their differences with their 
 fists. 
 
 ' And would ye dare to shtand there on that 
 engine and tell me that to me face? ' Jerry was 
 demanding. 
 
 ' Yis ; an* I'd shtand on the ground and tell 
 ye it to yer teeth ! ' Terry retorted hotly. 
 
 ' Is it foight ye want, Terry O'Brien? ' 
 
 4 If it was foight Oi wanted, Oi'd hev to go 
 somewhere else. Ye haven't a foight in ye.' 
 
 ' It's ye that hasn't a foight in ye, Terry 
 O'Brien. Ye couldn't foight yer way out of a 
 paper bag, an' if ye come down off that engine 
 Oi'll woipe the dust off Australia wid ye.' 
 
 ' Oi'll come down quick enough, Jerry Ryan.' 
 
 ' Come on, thin, ye wooden-headed goanner, and 
 see what Oi'll do wid ye ! ' 
 
 * Oi'm comin', ye bald-headed ould Platypus ! 
 Hould me hat, Mick.' This to the fireman, and 
 Terry swung himself off his engine. 
 
 Mr. Ryan, for his part, flung his hat on the 
 ground ; his vest followed it, and then his shirt, 
 and finally his undershirt, revealing a mighty chest 
 and arms. It was seen at once that anything he
 
 THE COMBAT 119 
 
 may have lacked in height he more than made 
 up in breadth, and, after spitting on his hand and 
 giving a hitch to his trousers, he squared up and 
 stood waiting the onslaught of the foe. Nor had 
 he long to wait. Terry was more than willing, 
 and the ill-assorted pair, the one six feet and the 
 other five -feet -six, confronted each other with eyes 
 glaring and arms sawingi the air, sparring round 
 for an opening. 
 
 And all this time John Scarlett suffered the 
 pangs of purgatory. From his point of view a 
 fight was a scandalous and dreadful thing, and 
 should be stopped at any cost. But how to 
 stop it? 
 
 4 Tom I ' he cried, turning in desperation to the 
 big bridge foreman, 4 can't something be done 
 to stop this? ' 
 
 4 No ! ' Tom answered shortly. 4 It's no use, 
 Ganger ; let 'em have a bit of each other and 
 they'll be satisfied, and you'll see them swapping 
 spits before night-time. If you don't, they'll go 
 on rowing and finish up this way in the end. Let 
 'em have it, Ganger. Let 'em have it.' 
 
 By this time every man about the camp was on 
 the scene, filled with delight at the prospect of 
 two of the bosses having a go ; but, unlike most 
 fights, in this no sides were taken. No doubt all 
 had their personal predilections, but they were 
 careful not to show them. To-morrow might find 
 them working under the man they had opposed, 
 and then there would be trouble. So every navvy 
 present preserved a discreet silence, though their 
 eyes danced for joy. 
 
 Scarlett looked all round in the hope of finding 
 one to help him, but he saw that everywhere 
 public opinion was dead against him. Chirnside, 
 with consternation written all over his face,
 
 120 THE COMBAT 
 
 adjusted and readjusted his eyeglass in a vain 
 endeavour to take in the full facts of the situation. 
 
 ' I say, Scarlett ! ' he cried presently, ' are they 
 about to wesort to v-v -violence? ' 
 
 The very absurdity of the question steadied 
 Scarlett's nerves somewhat, and he became calmer. 
 
 ' I'm afraid they are,' he replied. 
 
 * But is there no way to pwevent it? ' the other 
 inquired anxiously. 
 
 4 I can't see any 1 ' despairingly. 
 
 ' But d-d-don't you think, Scarlett, if I were to 
 addwess them and point out that it's a b-b-bweach 
 of the peace they might be fwightened into giving 
 it up? ' 
 
 At another time Scarlett would have laughed 
 at this innocent suggestion, but just now he was 
 too worried. Chirnside's anxiety had the effect of 
 firing him up afresh, and, taking his courage in 
 both hands, he pushed through the ring and 
 grasped the militant Mr. Ryan by the shoulder. 
 
 ' Mr. Ryan,' he gasped, ' this is unworthy of 
 you 1 ' 
 
 Ryan swung round angrily, but when he saw 
 who it was he looked slightly ashamed and seemed 
 disposed to think better of it. But it was decreed 
 otherwise. Terry was determined to fight, and his 
 nose curled up with scorn. 
 
 ' It's no use tryin' to save him, Ganger I ' he 
 yelled. ' Oi'm goin' to give him a batin' if Oi 
 hev to catch him in the scrub.' 
 
 That was enough, and more than enough. Jerry 
 flung Scarlett aside and fairly rolled in to his 
 opponent, and for the next few minutes the com- 
 batants were an indistinguishable mass of whirling 
 limbs, and the excitement was intense. 
 
 The bulk of the spectators enjoyed it immensely, 
 and, unable to take sides, solved the difficulty by
 
 THE COMBAT 121 
 
 encouraging both to do their best. The men 
 responded magnificently that is, if magnificence 
 there can be in a thing of this kind. Scarlett 
 certainly did not think so. He stood back, 
 trembling and half sick, while Mr. Chirnside, if 
 one might judge from his expression, regarded 
 the whole business as not only in wretchedly bad 
 taste, but as something very terrifying indeed. 
 His face was white, his monocle fell neglected 
 from his eye, his hands clenched, and his breath 
 came in quick pants, synchronising with every 
 blow that was struck. 
 
 The first round ended disastrously for Mr. Ryan ; 
 for in one of his onslaughts he fairly carried his 
 enemy off his feet, and the pair of them falling 
 backwards against the engine, Mr. Ryan's fore- 
 head came into contact with the footplate, and, as 3. 
 result, he received a gash from which a stream 
 of blood issued and flowed down his face through 
 his bushy eyebrows and moustache, giving him 
 an appearance quite frightful to behold. Nor was 
 he improved by the measures adopted for his relief 
 by the boarding-house boss. 
 
 This gentleman immediately after the accident 
 hurried away, and returning with a billy of water 
 just as the combatants were about to resume hos- 
 tilities, took a huge gulp of water in his mouth, 
 and putting his face right in that of the other, blew 
 it all over him, and before Mr. Ryan could realise 
 what had happened had repeated the dose. Later 
 on he explained that this was the method laid down 
 in the Marquis of Queensberry rules for contin- 
 gencies such as this, but none of those present 
 ever having seen it in operation before, it created 
 a sensation. 
 
 To Chirnside this was the climax of the whole 
 of the ' ungentlemanly pwoceedings,' and turning
 
 122 THE COMBAT 
 
 his back on the field of battle, he marched off 
 (like Achilles) disgustedly to the tent. Scarlett, 
 who by this time had recovered his nerve, stood 
 gloomily and scornfully by. To his mind the 
 whole thing was of a piece, and this not worse than 
 the rest. It was all beneath contempt ; for what- 
 ever the result of Mr. Cornfoot's device may have 
 meant to Jerry Ryan in the way of refreshment, it 
 certainly did not add to the attractiveness of his 
 appearance ; for, what with his bare skin, the 
 water, and the blood, he looked a spectacle that 
 one even less sensitive might have turned from in 
 disgust. 
 
 However, neither man was satisfied, and went 
 at it again and yet again ; and then, having 
 pretty well exhausted themselves, they yielded to 
 the solicitude of big Tom Johnson and one or two 
 others of a more responsible type who were in 
 the crowd and consented to shake hands. 
 Honours were easy, each man was able to retire 
 feeling himself a victor, and, as big Tom had 
 prophesied, a couple of hours later they were the 
 best of friends. 
 
 As for Scarlett, by the time the fight was over 
 he was so disgusted, particularly with the prin- 
 cipals, that his one desire was to see them go on 
 and pound and batter each other into pulp ; for 
 only thus, he felt, could they, be adequately 
 punished for what he regarded as their brutality. 
 
 However, their punishment came in another way. 
 Up till that time both men had enjoyed the reputa- 
 tion of being a ' bruiser.' How or why they 
 came by it were difficult to say, but for many a 
 day both Ryan and O'Brien had been looked upon 
 as ' good men with their hands,' and had gloried 
 in all the kudos that comes from such a reputa- 
 tion in a camp full of men. But from that day
 
 THE COMBAT 123 
 
 their glory departed for ever, for both, according 
 to the report of the onlookers, had given such 
 a poor and unscientific exhibition of the manly 
 art that the very nippers and Waterboys looked 
 down upon them, and to men of their stamp this 
 was punishment indeed. 
 
 When Scarlett returned to the tent he found 
 Mr. Chirnside sitting on the bunk with his bell- 
 topper pushed back from his forehead in a brown 
 study. He had little to say, but he was thinking 
 deeply, and it was clear that the conditions of life 
 were not exactly according to his taste. After 
 a time he raised his head and inquired when it 
 would be possible to get a train back to 
 Melbourne. 
 
 ' There's a farmer driving over to San Rerrio 
 this afternoon,' Scarlett replied, ' and you could 
 get a lift there with him. There's a good hotel 
 where you could stay to-night and get the boat 
 to Stony Point first thing in the morning. How 
 would that suit? ' 
 
 ' It would be the vewy thing,' Mr. Chirnside 
 replied fervently. ' You see, Scarlett, he went 
 on, ' t-t-they told me in the office it would be 
 wough, and I came pwepared to wough it ; but, 
 d-d-dash it all, there's a limit, and to my m-m-mind 
 your navvies exceed that limit. I was hoping I 
 might take up work of this chawacter myself, but 
 I've weached the conclusion that my t-t -talents 
 lie in another diwection.' 
 
 And so he gathered up his suit -case and went 
 home. To Scarlett his visit had been a very 
 welcome break, and indirectly it did him a great 
 deal of good, for, once in the city, Chirnside made 
 his way to headquarters, where he gave such an 
 account of the wildness and savagery of the camp, 
 and of Scarlett's sublime courage and fortitude,
 
 124 THE COMBAT 
 
 that the latter came to be regarded as a hero ; 
 and from that day many who had previously 
 looked askance at the whole thing began to look 
 upon him as a kind of beneficent Robinson Crusoe 
 in the midst of a colony of cannibals, hourly 
 risking his life for the sake of the cause.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE REAL AUSTRALIA 
 
 SUNDAY morning Scarlett was up with the birds, 
 and with the joy of expectancy in his heart pre- 
 pared the hall for the men. 
 
 He had an inexhaustible supply of literature, 
 and although he well knew that no man had got 
 properly through the half of what he had first set 
 out, at the same time everything had been handled 
 to a certain extent, and was more or less familiar, 
 and he resolved to change it. Also, after thinking the 
 matter out, he decided to change all the literature 
 once a week, and furthermore, to make the change 
 each Sunday morning. Sunday, being an off day, 
 was to a great extent the most dangerous of all days 
 for Satan still, as in the time of Isaac Watts, finds 
 mischief for idle hands to do and it was necessary 
 that each Sunday the hall should be at its 
 brightest and best. So Scarlett went to work, 
 and all the old literature was removed with 
 the exception of the Saturday newspapers. Scarlett 
 himself read too many newspapers during the week 
 to care for them on Sunday, but the men were 
 different. The papers did not arrive until late on 
 Saturday night, and they would be keen to see 
 them, and as he well knew, they might be worse 
 employed. For the rest he resolved that, in addi- 
 tion to the new stuff, the Sunday output should
 
 126 THE REAL AUSTRALIA 
 
 have as much of a Sunday flavour as he could 
 give it with the means at his disposal. 
 
 Unfortunately, there are comparatively few reli- 
 gious papers that deem it worth their while to 
 illustrate their columns, another proof of the say- 
 ing that the children of this world are wiser than 
 the children of light. But Scarlett did the best 
 he could, and felt something of gratitude towards 
 the editors of the Christian Herald, Sunday Com- 
 panion, and papers of that stamp. Writing-paper 
 and envelopes were set out in abundance, and with 
 a barrow-load of the best English and American 
 periodicals, and a pile of brand new sixpenny 
 reprints of standard books, the place presented an 
 irresistible attraction to every man whose mind 
 was above the level of the beasts. 
 
 His next care was to make a selection from his 
 stock for the women in the boarding-houses, whose 
 lot it was to toil and slave, cook, and wash dishes, 
 under heart-breaking circumstances, from early 
 morning until late at night. It was just possible 
 they might find time for a lie down on Sunday 
 afternoon, and then these would be welcome. Here 
 and there, too, a man was camped with his wife 
 and children, and they were not forgotten, and 
 when the various bundles were made up, including 
 one for Mrs. Dingley, he went forth on his rounds. 
 
 It was characteristic of him to approach each 
 place with as much diffidence and timidity as 
 though he came to beg a favour instead of to 
 confer a boon. Indeed, he felt more like a burglar 
 going to commit a robbery than a Good Samaritan 
 going to help his fellows. But, after all, his very 
 bashfulness opened the way for him, for it is a 
 quality not easily distinguished from gentleness, 
 and in a community where bluster and bounce are 
 often at a premium, gentleness of spirit in one in
 
 THE REAL AUSTRALIA 127 
 
 authority is a welcome change. So Scarlett found 
 open doors and smiles from the women and solitary 
 families, where a man of more confidence might 
 have been repulsed. 
 
 Having completed his rounds, he sought out 
 Garfield, who promised to keep an eye on the 
 hall, and then he was free to go, and went 
 accordingly. 
 
 Leaving the camp behind him, he set off up the 
 hill through the timber with a great elation in his 
 heart, tempered only by a shrinking uncertainty 
 and nervousness at the prospect of meeting Sheila 
 MacDonald, supposing she were at the church. 
 
 The road from Woolamai runs south-east, and 
 rises rapidly from the belt of timber which encircles 
 the low-lying parts like a kilt into a country of 
 clear grassy hills the foothills, as a matter of 
 fact, from which you rise, if going north, into the 
 most mountainous country in Australia ; and thfe 
 particular one up which Scarlett found his way 
 is the last lone straggler, following like a calf 
 in the wake of the mastodons that have gone up 
 from the sea, to herd together in the wilds farther 
 north . 
 
 When he had reached the summit he found that 
 on either side the country fell away on the right, 
 to the deep waters of Westernport Bay, the future 
 naval base and the finest port in Australia, lying 
 comfortably behind Philip Island ; while jutting 
 out from the south-east end of the island, and 
 looking for all the world like an enormous whale 
 making out to sea, was Cape Woolamai, the home 
 of the mysterious mutton-birds. Scarlett gazed 
 at the cape long and earnestly. The resemblance 
 was striking, and while he watched, to heighten 
 the illusion a column of smoke rose up from the 
 head and curved back towards the land with the
 
 128 THE REAL AUSTRALIA 
 
 wind. Almost involuntarily he shouted the cry 
 of the old whalers, ' There she spouts ! ' 
 
 Right before him lay the trackless ocean, 
 stretching clear away without a reef or land to 
 the bergs that guard the Southern Pole, and with 
 kindling eyes Scarlett watched the arrival of the 
 long billows, rolling up from that boundless deep 
 to wreck their pride on the iron rocks of Kilcunda. 
 Their ceaseless roaring came to him clearly on the 
 wind. 
 
 Far away to the left, Cape Patterson, running 
 out like a wall into the water, bounded the view, 
 but between Scarlett and the cape a long white 
 beach stretched, upon which the green rollers 
 rushed rank upon rank, like an army which no 
 man could number, to the everlasting catastrophe 
 of the shore. There their might and dominion 
 ended, brought to naught by grains of sand. Thus, 
 too, the rage and pride of man, careering over 
 all the world, beats itself at length to an inglorious 
 end on the shifting sands of Time. 
 
 It was such a day as is only to be had on the 
 long south coast of Australia Felix, the sun shining 
 in his might from a dome of blue ; vast titanic 
 masses of cumulus clouds whiter than snow were 
 piled up like Himalayan bergs of milk foam, and 
 idled about the horizon or drifted majestically over 
 the ocean of space. Out of the south and over 
 the sea came a gentle wind to temper the heat, 
 bringing with it the magic tang of ice and snow 
 and the good salt sea. On such a day in such a 
 place who could help quoting Stevenson? Not 
 John Scarlett anyway. 
 
 ' Far have you come, my lady from the town, 
 And far from all your sorrows, if you please, 
 To smell the good sea wind and hear the seas, 
 And in green meadows lay your body down.
 
 THE REAL AUSTRALIA 129 
 
 To see your pale face turn from pale to brown, 
 To see your eyes grow brighter by degrees. 
 Far have you come, my lady from the town, 
 And far from all your sorrows, if you please.' 
 
 He repeated the words with much mental smack- 
 ing of the lips. They suited his case exactly, only 
 the town from which he came was a rude camp, 
 and the green meadows about him great rolling 
 slopes of grass, not green nor brown, but of a 
 good clean biscuit colour well to look upon and 
 smelling like new-cut hay. The scent of them 
 rose up, tincturing the salt wind, and Scarlett drew 
 it into his lungs in great gulps. It was not 
 possible to have too much. 
 
 Scarlett looked long and with great appreciation 
 on the main features of this far-flung panorama, 
 and then with a deep breath turned curiously to 
 see the route taken by the railway. His eyes 
 followed the long, raw scar where it took its way. 
 along the base of the hills, and hugging the last 
 one closely, swept round due east and then along 
 the coast. So far as he could determine, the 
 platelayers had got to the engineer's camp near 
 the creek at Kilcunda, and there an engine stood 
 smoking, where a few days since there was nothing 
 but a sandy road. 
 
 He could see the bridge at the Burnt Creek 
 distinctly. Big Tom, he knew, was toiling terribly 
 with his gang to have this bridge ready for the 
 platelayers by the time they reached it. It was 
 a neck and neck race between the gangs, but 
 in the end Big Tom squeezed in a rivet or so 
 ahead. The navvies, too, were just beyond, but 
 holding their own and keeping their lead. Never 
 had a line been built at such a pace. The languid 
 Ferguson was working miracles, 
 
 John Scarlett, Ganger. IO
 
 130 THE REAL AUSTRALIA 
 
 Scarlett followed the line of the survey. It 
 was easy to do so, for the white tents of the 
 navvies were scattered, like bits of paper in the 
 track of a paperchase, all the way to where a 
 far-spreading splash of white marked the site of 
 the rapidly growing canvas town of Wouthaggi, 
 where the coalshafts were. 
 
 To-day a model city, electrically lit, and laid out 
 with infinite care and taste in streets, crescents, 
 esplanades, squares, and parks, stands where the 
 tents then stood. There, too, are churches, 
 theatres, and a complete water supply. 
 
 This city is humming with business, and echoes 
 day and night to the rattle of winches and the 
 roar of trains. Looking upon it in its complete- 
 ness and substantiality, one feels that it must be 
 many years since John Scarlett stood on the ridge 
 and saw for the first time the canvas beginnings 
 of it all. It is just a year. This is Australia. 
 
 To the peripatetic journalist, compassing earth 
 and sea to find copy for a paper, or out for the 
 good of his health, scurrying through Australia 
 in a railway car, and taking cinematographic 
 pictures from the window, or gathering up his 
 facts from the various leg-pullers who may chance 
 to share the compartment with him, it may seem 
 that here is a race of sunshine people, without 
 earnestness or purpose, working only when they 
 play, and fully deserving the rod of censure, which 
 he hastens of his charity to apply. But it were 
 as well to remember that a ride in a train along 
 a bit of the coastline of a country larger than the 
 United States no more qualifies a man to speak 
 with authority on that country, than a visit to 
 Westminster makes him an authority on the British 
 Constitution, or a stroll down Broadway upon the 
 tangled politics of the State of New York.
 
 THE REAL AUSTRALIA 131 
 
 Generally speaking, it is not upon knowledge 
 thus acquired that sane men base their views. 
 Nevertheless, it is mainly from authorities of this 
 description that the world at large, listening in an 
 idle moment, gathers such knowledge of Australia 
 as it has. And yet, sunshine or shadow people, 
 trifling or in earnest, the fact is that nowhere under 
 the widespread canopy of the blue sky is there 
 to be found a race who are more fully capable of 
 bringing things to pass 'and achieving the im- 
 possible, when it is necessary, than this, and if 
 proof were needed it is not far to seek. 
 
 Recent statistics show that, whether by work, 
 by juggling, or by sleight of hand, the despised 
 Australian produces more wealth per head of 
 population than any other man in the whole 
 world beside.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 GOSSIP 
 
 BUT of these things John Scarlett had never a 
 thought. It was his day of all days, and, like 
 Pippa in Browning's story, he had risen early to 
 get the most out of it that he could. This was 
 the day that the Lord had made. He had waited 
 for it ; and now that it had come in beauty, he 
 would rejoice and be glad in it. And so, with 
 the blue sky above, the flashing sea before, the 
 caller wind in his face, and the good clean earth 
 beneath him, he set off along the ridge to seek 
 his friends at Mount Pleasant. 
 
 And well and fitly was the place named, as he 
 found when at length he came there the house 
 cuddling down under the shoulder of the hill from 
 the winter winds, as a swallow's nest in the eaves 
 of a cottage, and looking out from its security over 
 all the world below. 
 
 Father Christmas was in the act of backing 
 Wilhelmina into the buggy when John arrived, 
 and, leaving that sedate animal half in and half 
 out, he greeted his visitor with enthusiasm. 
 
 ' Come in, sir, God bless you ! Come in ! ' 
 the cheery old gentleman cried, running to meet 
 him. ' This way, sir, this way. Now, mother 1 
 mother ! Where are you? Here's Mr. Scarlett, 
 half dead with the heat and his walk up the hill, 
 
 132
 
 GOSSIP 133 
 
 and just famish-ed for a cup of tea before we 
 start for church.' 
 
 As Scarlett reached the door ' mother ' came 
 out to meet him. She was quiet and self-con- 
 tained, in every way, a contrast to her voluble 
 spouse, but not less kind or pleased to see him. 
 A cup of tea most refreshing of drinks in hot 
 weather ! was all ready, and after doing justice 
 to it Wilhelmina was yoked to the trap, and the 
 oddly assorted pair set out. ' Mother ' was, for some 
 reason, detained at home. The way for the most 
 part lay along the backbone of a chain of hills, 
 the slopes between dotted with farm-houses ; mag- 
 nificent views were to be had on either side, and 
 with every mile of the way the enthusiasm of the 
 old gentleman waxed stronger. He was irrepres- 
 sible and, in a sense, irresistible. 
 
 By the time the church was reached Scarlett 
 knew the name, denomination, and history of every 
 farmer whose homestead was in sight. Evidently 
 Mr. Dingley, like poor Weary World in Barrie's 
 story, was the most sociable of men, with but few 
 opportunities for a crack, and when one came he 
 made the most of it. 
 
 Coming down the slope of the last hill towards 
 the church, Scarlett ventured to ask him the ques- 
 tion which had been uppermost in his mind and 
 trembling on his lips ever since they left Mount 
 Pleasant : Did Mr. Dingley know anything of 
 the Bent Tree Mine, and, incidentally of course, 
 of its manager? Of the manager's daughter he 
 said nothing. For one reason, he could not trust 
 himself to speak about her, and for another, he 
 had wisdom enough to know that once the talk 
 flowed in the direction of the MacDonalds it would 
 be bound, sooner or later, to take her in. 
 
 ' Know the Bent Tree Mine? God bless you,
 
 134 GOSSIP 
 
 sir ! Yes, I should think I did/ Mr. Dingley 
 replied, removing his hat, and mopping his face 
 with a great red-and-white handkerchief. ' I 
 should think I did, sir/ he went on brightly. 
 ' I don't mind telling you in confidence, Mr. 
 Scarlett, that I've an interest in the Bent Tree 
 Mine, and I make it my business to know about it.' 
 And having said so much, Mr. Dingley laughed 
 cheerfully. 
 
 Evidently the prospects of the Bent Tree Mine 
 were of the best. As for the manager, it appeared 
 that, if they were not exactly, bosom friends, they 
 were considerably more than acquaintances. 
 
 ' And such a man, sir 1 Talk about a manager 
 and organiser one to get things done I If that 
 man had gone into the British Army, he would 
 have made one of the greatest generals it ever 
 possessed, he would 1 Why but bless my heart 1 
 when I come to think of it/ the old gentleman 
 said, looking round, ' his daughter is to sing at 
 the anniversary this afternoon. And I will say 
 this, Mr. Scarlett/ he went on, ' that although 
 you may have in Melbourne more ah highly 
 trained singers, I ah wiggle-me-dead, sir I '- 
 with great emphasis ' if you've got more ah 
 effective singers, or a sweeter singer. I She doesn't 
 fix her eyes on the book ; she just stands there 
 and looks right at you with those ah eyes of 
 hers, and she she sings it right into you, sir, as 
 though she were ah pinning a rose in your coat ; 
 and you can't take your eyes off her. And some- 
 times/ the good old gentleman continued, ' just 
 towards the finish there'll be well just the ghost 
 of a smile about her mouth, and no man, young 
 or old, can withstand that smile. If I were a 
 young man, Mr. Scarlett, and not married, and 
 Mrs. Dingley had ah well, never been born, I'd
 
 GOSSIP 135 
 
 have married that girl or died in the attempt. 
 I would, sir 1 But God bless me, Mr. Scarlett I 
 Are you ill? ' 
 
 John Scarlett was not ill, but as he descended 
 from the trap he was shaking with nervousness 
 and almost incapable of joining the crowd of 
 farming people who were thronging the door ; for 
 ' that girl/ dressed in some filmy stuff that seemed 
 a miracle of good taste, and carrying herself like 
 a Queen of Sheba, had just gone up the steps, 
 and, chancing to glance over her shoulder, had 
 caught sight of Scarlett sitting in the buggy. 
 There was a swift, surprised uplifting of the eye- 
 brows, but whether in recognition, surprise, or 
 disdain, Scarlett was too far away to tell ; but 
 being the man he was, he concluded at once it 
 was the last. Just why she should have disdained 
 him he could not for the world have told but 
 self -consciousness takes no account of reason, nor 
 seeks to justify itself. 
 
 And so it came to pass that, after Wilhelmina 
 had been hitched to the fence, John made his way 
 into the church in some respects not unlike 
 another humble-minded sinner of long ago. At 
 all events, declining the chief seats, notwithstand- 
 ing the remonstrances of his friend, he sat afar 
 off in the back, and for some time afterwards dared 
 not so much as lift his eyes to heaven that is, to 
 the beautiful face of Sheila MacDonald but smote 
 upon his breast (in a figurative sense) and cried 
 in his heart of hearts, though not to God, ' Be 
 merciful to me, a sinner I ' 
 
 Presently, however, he did raise his eyes, though 
 timidly, and surveyed the scene. The place was 
 decorated for the anniversary, and the choir seated 
 upon the platform. A fair girl, with dreamy eyes, 
 sat at the organ. The minister, clean-shaven,
 
 J36 GOSSIP. 
 
 young, eager, and good to look at, sat behind 
 a low pulpit. But it was not for choir or minister 
 that Scarlett looked it was for Sheila MacDonald ; 
 and presently, moving his head slightly to one 
 side, he discerned her where she sat, a little apart 
 from the others and by the organ. She was 
 looking demurely down at her book, and in that 
 attitude John thought her more beautiful than ever. 
 But it is to be feared that this was only a phase 
 of the malady from which he had begun to suffer, 
 for had he been capable of taking so much note 
 which he was not he would have observed that 
 each time he cast his eyes upon her she seemed 
 lovelier than before.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 CONCERNING LOVE 
 
 BUT it is high time now to announce the fact 
 which presently came home to Scarlett himself 
 with a wild, delirious pasan of thanksgiving that 
 by way of a navvy camp he had stumbled acci- 
 dentally into heaven in other words, he was 
 helplessly in love. 
 
 Now, John Scarlett had been in love before, 
 but there are degrees in love, and the love he had 
 previously experienced was of that mild order 
 known as calf love. Calf love, like measles, is 
 incidental to youth, and, notwithstanding one or 
 two drawbacks, is neither altogether disagreeable 
 nor harmful. The one most concerned loses his 
 sense of taste, it is true, and is more or less of 
 a laughing-stock to his friends. Nevertheless, in 
 both cases certain luxuries come his way which 
 would otherwise be denied him ; and if reasonable 
 care is taken by his parents or guardians, nothing 
 of a deleterious nature is left behind, and he is 
 rather better than worse foe having had either 
 one or the other or both. 
 
 Scarlett, then, had been the way of his kind. 
 He began by loving a woman twenty years older 
 than himself, and a little later twenty women, 
 sometimes two at a time, of all ages. Then, the 
 
 137
 
 138 CONCERNING LOVE 
 
 mild distemper having run its course, he settled 
 down to the next phase, wherein he talked much 
 and loudly against women. 
 
 The trouble now is that the eye of the boy 
 develops out of all proportion to the rest of him, 
 attaining its zenith, so to speak, while the other 
 senses are only stirring into dawn. The result 
 is that the eye, untempered by other and 
 more kindly faculties, is compassing heaven and 
 earth (so far as women are concerned) in search 
 of physical perfection, and, it goes without saying, 
 failing in the search. All women have their 
 defects, disguise them how they will ; but, dis- 
 guise them how they may, there is no disguising 
 them from the eye of a boy at this stage of his 
 life. 
 
 But the eye, having attained its meridian, de- 
 clines in power, and the dominant place is taken 
 by the affections. .Well is it then for the youth 
 if, when affection comes to lead him forth, seeking 
 her own with open arms, the eye has not grown 
 altogether dim, nor its natural force too far abated, 
 for affection is ever purblind and apt to land him 
 in a ditch. 
 
 John Scarlett had come without serious damage 
 through the measly or calf stage of love, and, 
 after his kind, had straightway plunged into the 
 mild scepticism and diffidence which was as natural 
 to his age as formerly the other had been. A 
 perfect woman, who can find? John had looked 
 long and critically, and certainly had not found 
 her. Therefore, he concluded, she is not to be 
 found, ' and I must go single and lonely all my 
 days, for with less than perfection I could never 
 be content. 1 
 
 But being fond of reading, he read a great deal 
 about love, for it is not possible to read far in
 
 CONCERNING LOVE 139 
 
 any direction without doing so, and such descrip- 
 tions as he came across filled him with an intense 
 longing to realise it for himself. But the kind 
 of thing of which he read never came his way, 
 and in the course of time he resigned himself 
 to his fate. Such luxuries, he concluded, were not 
 for him. And behold ! while he yet spake, all 
 unrealised and unmarked, his eye grew dim, so 
 to speak, and his heart (to use that term) awaked, 
 and took supreme control of his life ; and while 
 the eyes had sought only something to admire, his 
 heart sought only some one to love. 
 
 This, then, was the condition of his mind when 
 John Scarlett, quite unconscious of the mighty 
 change that had taken place within himself, 
 arrived at the Seventeen Mile. The guardian of 
 his citadel, in whom he trusted, had fallen asleep, 
 and his place had been taken by another, who was 
 not so much a guardian as a host, flinging wide the 
 door and calling softly upon all and sundry to come 
 in and abide ; and or ever John was aware, the 
 invitation was accepted, the citadel was taken, the 
 castle sacked, and himself a prisoner. And he 
 awoke to this amazing fact while sitting by the 
 side of Father Christmas, looking shyly up at 
 Sheila MacDonald upon the platform of the little 
 church in the hills. 
 
 Many volumes have been written about love. 
 Poets have made it their song, and about nothing 
 have they sung so eloquently. Probably every- 
 thing has now been said about it that can be 
 said, and those of us who come after can only 
 repeat the tale with variations. But whether 
 Scarlett's experience was a variation must be left 
 to the reader to judge. The possibility, however, 
 is admitted. It may be that, because Scarlett was 
 sitting in a church, and therefore more in touch
 
 140 CONCERNING LOVE 
 
 with a remote and more truthful past, love took 
 him how and where it did. 
 
 It is a polite fiction of our time that the heart is 
 the seat of the affections ; the ancients, with more 
 regard for truth, located it somewhat lower down, 
 and they were right. And however much one 
 may regret the shattering of a cherished fancy, yet 
 loyalty to truth compels this writer to set forth 
 the prosaic fact that love took John Scarlett, not 
 in the heart but in the pit of the stomach, with the 
 result that, not only was his breath considerably 
 shortened, but what little was left him went out in 
 gusts and sighs. 
 
 His appetite, as he presently found, went from 
 him another proof of the location of the grand 
 passion, for appetite is not a thing of the heart. 
 And as for his feelings, he experienced a strange, 
 indescribable churning, a flinching and shrinking, 
 together with a largeness and expansion and a 
 kind of tossing in the region of the solar plexus, 
 which he remembered to have felt once before in 
 the days of his youth, when at a Sunday-school 
 picnic he had ventured his life on a high swing. 
 There was a moment, as he remembered, when, 
 having reached the utmost height to which the 
 swing would go, he hovered uncertainly before the 
 downward sweep, and the feeling almost of nausea 
 that he experienced when hanging upon nothing 
 in the air came upon him now. However, it must 
 be remembered that this, after all, was but the 
 physical manifestation and not the thing itself.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE LITTLE CHURCPI IN THE HILLS 
 
 BUT now the organ is stirring in the voluntary and 
 the minister is upon his feet giving out a hymn. 
 Anon the hush of prayer falls upon them. And 
 Scarlett can pray to-day as he has not prayed since 
 the sweet beginnings of his faith in Christ ; for 
 somehow, with this new glad experience he had 
 come into closer touch and sympathy with God. 
 It may be that hitherto he had been too introspec- 
 tive, and occupied with himself, but now 
 
 ' Love took up the harp of life 
 And smote on all its chords with might, 
 Smote the chord of self, which, trembling, 
 Passed in music out of sight.' 
 
 And as a result he came closer to God and com- 
 muned with Him. 
 
 After the prayer they settled back in their seats, 
 while the minister read the lesson. It was the 
 io3rd Psalm: 'Bless the Lord, O my soul, 
 and forget not all His benefits.' Then Miss 
 MacDonald was announced to sing. As she came 
 forward Scarlett shrank back in the corner, nor 
 
 dared to look at her till her voice, full, round, 
 
 141
 
 M2 THE LITTLE CHURCH IN THE HILLS 
 
 low, and sweet, broke upon his ear. It was an 
 old, old hymn 
 
 'When I survey the wondrous cross,' 
 
 sung to the tune of ' He wipes the tear from every 
 eye.' The words fitted the music exactly, and both 
 words and melody might have been written for 
 that voice. 
 
 John became conscious of a strained attention, 
 and presently, greatly daring, ventured to look 
 at her. It was as Mr. Dingley said. She sang 
 as though she were speaking with each one face 
 to face, and her manner probably accounted for 
 her power as much as the purity of her voice. 
 But, after all, with great singers as with great 
 speakers and leaders of men, there is this and that 
 and the other thing about them that may be set 
 down in so many words ; but above and beyond 
 all these, there is that which no man can define, 
 and it is this indefinable birthright of the great 
 that makes them what they are. 
 
 There was a great hush while she sang, so great 
 that it seemed as though the fall of an eyelash 
 might disturb it, and Scarlett sat, afraid almost 
 to blink until it was over. Then he drew a deep 
 breath and speculated as to the effect in the camp 
 if ever she made good her word and came down 
 there to sing. 
 
 The rest of the service Scarlett went through 
 in a kind of dream. What the minister preached 
 about he could not have told if his life depended 
 upon it, though he was good enough to thank that 
 gentleman cordially when the service was over. 
 
 But in the meantime he was tossed from side to 
 side with hope and fear hope that in some way 
 they might be brought within speaking distance,
 
 THE LITTLE CHURCH IN THE HILLS 143 
 
 and fear of the consequences if they were. His 
 fertile imagination conceived a thousand different 
 situations in which they might conceivably be 
 placed, and he constructed graceful and elaborate 
 speeches to suit them all ; but a sinking sensation 
 which made itself felt in the Mediterranean part 
 of his anatomy (geographically speaking) as the 
 service drew to a close, flung his fine thoughts into 
 chaos and reduced him to misery. At one moment 
 he hoped to escape meeting her altogether ; the 
 next he feared that Mr. Dingley, in his eagerness 
 to be off, might unhitch Wilhelmina and drive 
 away before the others were out of the building. 
 
 So far, however, as Mr. Dingley was concerned 
 there was no need for fear. Nothing was farther 
 from the sociable old soul's intentions. A man 
 who longs for the society of his fellows, and whose 
 lot it is to be cut off from them for six days in the 
 week, does not usually run away when the oppor- 
 tunity comes for a chat. Indeed, apart altogether 
 from spiritual things, this was Mr. Dingley 's feast- 
 day, and with his protege" by his side, he quickly 
 had a group of farmers, with their stalwart sons 
 and comely daughters round about him, holding 
 a kind of levee, in which John Scarlett was the 
 great figure. Everybody who was anybody was 
 introduced, and if there chanced to be somebody 
 who was nobody, that one had a special intro- 
 duction. Scarlett stood bareheaded, mechanically 
 repeating, ' Glad to meet you,' * How do you 
 do, sir ? ' and such other variations of a formal 
 greeting as in the confusion of the moment he 
 could call to mind. 
 
 Presently the MacDonald family, who for some 
 reason were the last to leave the church, came 
 towards them. Mr. MacDonald, a spare man of 
 medium height, with an unmistakable look of alert-
 
 M4 THE LITTLE CHURCH IN THE HILLS 
 
 ness and capability about him, led the way, while 
 his wife, a kindly, gracious-looking lady with 
 enough of her youth left to show whence Sheila's 
 beauty came, followed with her daughter. 
 
 Scarlett, directly he saw them, was filled with an 
 almost irresistible desire to turn round and run 
 for his life, but was prevented from doing anything 
 so foolish by Mr. Dingley, who seized him by the 
 arm and dragged him forward. 
 
 ' Mr.MacDonald,' he began, ' allow me to intro- 
 duce to you Mr. Scarlett, the ah gentleman who 
 has taken up his quarters in the ah camp at 
 Woolamai. Mr. Scarlett Mr. MacDonald, 
 manager of the mine.' 
 
 The manager shook hands cordially. 
 
 ' I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Scarlett,' he 
 said. ' I heard of your coming through Mr. 
 Ferguson, and some of my fellows have been down 
 at your camp of a night, and have told me of the 
 good you're doing. But bless me ! ' he added, 
 standing back and looking Scarlett up and down, 
 ' you're not the holy terror you are said to be. 
 I thought you were about six feet three and sixteen 
 stone weight. You don't look at all terrible. 
 Does he, Alison ? ' 
 
 Mrs. MacDonald smiled graciously as she in 
 turn extended her hand. 
 
 ' It's not always bulk that counts, is it, Mr. 
 Scarlett ? ' she said. ' There's such a thing as the 
 terror of the Lord.' 
 
 Now, Scarlett was not aware that he had any 
 reputation in the camp or outside it, save possibly 
 that of an amiable lunatic, and all this was just 
 so much Greek to him ; and consequently, not 
 knowing what to say, he said nothing, but bowed, 
 and tried to look unmoved, which of course was 
 set down at once as reserve, another proof of the
 
 THE LITTLE CHURCH IN THE HILLS 145 
 
 strength of his character. A weaker man would 
 have denied the soft impeachment, explained 
 it, waved it aside. Scarlett, or so it seemed, 
 accepted it as his due, and increased his reputation 
 accordingly. ' Even a fool,' says the Good Book, 
 ' is counted wise if he holdeth his peace ' and, 
 it may be added, even if he hold it for lack of sense 
 to express himself. 
 
 But at this stage Mr. MacDonald suddenly 
 bethought himself. 
 
 ' Why, I had forgotten to introduce Sheila. My 
 little girl, Mr. Scarlett.' (She was as tall as 
 himself.) ' Sheila, this is Mr. Scarlett, from the 
 camp " the Ganger " as I understand the men 
 call him.' 
 
 Scarlett, speechless with the intensity of his 
 feelings, bowed as stiffly as a major-general, but 
 Sheila broke into a peal of merriment and extended 
 her hand freely. 
 
 ' Why, father,' she cried, ' whatever are you 
 thinking about ? Didn't you send me down to 
 borrow books of Mr. Scarlett, and haven't I been 
 telling you about the way he sorted me ever since ? ' 
 
 ' What ? Of course 1 \To be sure ! ' the manager 
 cried in some confusion. ' Bless my soul ! what- 
 ever have I been thinking about ? Of course I 
 did. You must excuse me, Mr. Scarlett,' he added. 
 ' My memory is playing me tricks. But you'll join 
 us for lunch on the beach. It's a good custom the 
 folk hereabout have to bring their lunch to church 
 and eat it on the beach afterwards. Mother, can 
 you give Mr. Scarlett and Mr. Dingley a bite of 
 something if they come down ? ' 
 
 But before Mrs. MacDonald could reply, Mr. 
 Dingley broke in: 'We've our own basket in 
 the trap, sir, and knowing Mrs. Dingley as I 
 do. I guess there'll be more than enough. But 
 
 John Scarlett, Ganger. 1 1
 
 146 THE LITTLE CHURCH IN THE HILLS 
 
 we'll be happy to join your party if you'll have 
 us.' 
 
 ' I'll agree/ Mrs. MacDonald responded, ' pro- 
 vided we club our lunches together. It's no way 
 for friends to be eating separate lunches in the 
 same group.' 
 
 Mr. Dingley was only too happy. Scarlett had 
 committed himself to the stream, and was content 
 to go whither it carried him. So the whole party, 
 numbering a score or two, set off eagerly for the 
 beach. At the foot of the high cliffs above the 
 water-line they built a fire, and several billies 
 were boiled ; and, some on the sand, some on the 
 rocks, and some on seats of driftwood, all sat down 
 together, grace was sung, and the meal began. 
 
 ' I'll put you between father and Mr. Dingley,' 
 Sheila had said to Scarlett when they began to take 
 their places. ' You'll enjoy that better because 
 they are men, and you'll be safe from us women ! 
 Mr. Scarlett doesn't like women,' she added for 
 the benefit of the others, who turned with expres- 
 sions of astonishment at her remark. ' He told 
 me so himself. You can't deny it,' she went on, as 
 Scarlett, red as a lobster, began some sort of 
 explanation. * You know you did.' 
 
 ' Yes,' Scarlett began, ' but ' 
 
 ' It's no use, Mr. Scarlett. When I asked you 
 why you disliked women you said you couldn't help 
 it now, didn't you ? * 
 
 ' Yes, but ' 
 
 ' No " buts " please. Just sit there, and you'll 
 be safe.' 
 
 For the rest of the meal John sat trying to invent 
 a plausible explanation, but by the time it was ready 
 lunch was over and the party had broken up.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 JOHN'S ONE TALENT GETS A CHANCE 
 
 IT may be assumed with confidence that the reader 
 whose patience has enabled him to so far follow 
 the fortunes of this Knight of the Twentieth 
 Century will by now have reached the conclusion 
 that John was a young man of very ordinary clay, 
 and that any success he had achieved or was likely 
 to achieve was due rather to that Providence which 
 is said to keep a particular eye upon drunkards, 
 children, and fools than to any outstanding quality 
 of his own. 
 
 Nevertheless, there was one thing that John did 
 supremely well and, so far as the present writer 
 is aware, only one he could swim like a seal. 
 Nor was this singular when one remembers that 
 the old West Victorian town where he spent his 
 early days lay right on the banks of a river, the 
 Glenelg, and in John's time the boys of the 
 town could swim almost as soon as they could 
 walk. John was a natural swimmer, and his 
 powers, cultivated in the river since childhood, 
 had been perfected in the wide reaches of the 
 Swan and the lazy, fickle, beautiful waters of the 
 Indian sea at Fremantle, until, among a race that 
 produces most of the champions, he had few equals. 
 
 Lunch over, the party broke up into little 
 
 groups and scattered here and there about the 
 
 147
 
 148 JOHN'S ONE TALENT 
 
 shore. Sheila went off alone. John followed her 
 every step with his eyes, and would gladly have 
 followed on his feet, for he was madly in love 
 with her and eager to put himself right. Perhaps 
 she went off alone to give him the opportunity 
 he desired ; but he was too nervous, and not yet 
 sure of his ground, and besides, Mr. Dingley and 
 her father insisted that he come with them to a 
 bluff whence they could see all around, and held 
 him talking there. Right before them, offering a 
 bulwark to the fury of the waves, was a level but 
 broken plateau of rock some acres in extent. The 
 tide was coming in, and ever and again a wave, 
 gathering momentum from afar, would outdo all 
 the others, and, surmounting the height, pour tons 
 of flashing water over the edge. At high tide 
 the whole would be covered. 
 
 At the extreme end of this plateau, and on the 
 western edge, there stood a point some three feet 
 higher than the remainder, and to this point Sheila 
 had bent her steps and was now seated upon it 
 watching the wild flurry of water below. 
 
 4 It's a magnificent coast,' Mr. Dingley began, 
 though with less vivacity than usual, when they 
 were seated, ' but somehow I never feel too safe 
 about it. It's what you might call ah 
 treacherous. The waves will come in for hours 
 and break with almost monotonous ah regu- 
 larity, and then when you have settled down in 
 what you think is a perfectly safe place, quite 
 beyond their reach, suddenly for no ah con- 
 ceivable reason one will rise up feet higher than 
 any of its fellows and swamp you, and you're lucky 
 if you're not carried out to sea and drowned, as 
 many a good man has been, I remember- 
 But the old gentleman's story was never told, 
 for at that moment the very thing of which he
 
 GETS A CHANCE 149 
 
 spoke came to pass. The two visitors listening 
 to him had instinctively begun to search the water 
 for indications of the thing he was describing:, 
 and at that juncture both rose suddenly to their 
 feet, Mr. MacDonald with his pipe half-way to 
 his mouth. Simultaneously shrieks and cries arose 
 from the people scattered about as they fled incon- 
 tinently towards the shore. 
 
 What Scarlett and the manager saw was a dark 
 level line upon the sea, like a wide strip of ribbon 
 drawn over the surface, and rushing shorewards 
 with incredible swiftness and stealth. As the 
 meaning of it became clear they stood appalled 
 with horror, then from the father's lips there burst 
 a groan of agony. 
 
 ' My God ! ' he cried in despair, ' Sheila is 
 lost ! ' 
 
 Sheila had been watching the water about her, 
 thinking dreamily the long, pleasant thoughts of 
 youth, when the screams and shouts of warning 
 aroused her, and, looking out to sea, all too late 
 realised her danger. Even then she might have 
 escaped with a drenching if she had sat where 
 she was and clung to the rock, for only the crest 
 of the wave passed over it, but in her terror she 
 leaped down and began to run to shore, but scarce 
 had gone a dozen yards when, with a roar of 
 fury, the great green monster leaped upon her. 
 There came to the watchers a cry of terror. Mr. 
 Dingley shut his eyes. The father watched like 
 a man transfixed, and drew a breath through his 
 teeth with a loud sibilant s-s-s as of one in 
 agony. John Scarlett darted down the hill, 
 flinging off his clothes as he went. 
 
 Had the wave come straight to shore, Sheila 
 might have escaped even then with a few cuts 
 and bruises, or at worst a broken limb ; for its
 
 ISO JOHN'S ONE TALENT 
 
 fury was broken by the wall of rock, and the 
 backwash would not have been sufficient to have 
 taken her out to deep water. But, as it hap- 
 pened, the wave did not come straight. It swirled 
 across the rock, and, lifting up its victim, whirled 
 her over the side in a frightful welter of foam 
 into the terrible depths below. 
 
 Scarlett reached the spot in less than twenty 
 seconds, yet even then the last of the wave was 
 going down the side in a thousand delicate trans- 
 parent cascades of foam, as though the whole long 
 edge of rock had been hung with a network of 
 curtains of the daintiest lace. But Sheila was 
 nowhere to be seen. The father was at his side 
 instantly, peering frantically into the riot of water 
 below for some sign of his loved one. In his 
 agony he would gladly have plunged in to seek 
 her, but, alas 1 it were worse than useless, for 
 he could not swim a stroke. The crowd, rilling 
 the air with their lamentations, straggled across 
 the intervening space towards them, and in their 
 midst the distracted mother. 
 
 John was not less eager in his search than 
 Sheila's father, but all the same he lost no time 
 in getting rid of his boots and shirt. 
 
 ' It's death to venture in there,' some prudent 
 soul advised. But John's reply was : 'If she 
 comes up, I'll take her round to that bit of beach. 
 Be ready there to pull us ashore.' 
 
 Then a shout of ' There she is 1 ' rose from a 
 dozen throats, and there she was indeed, about 
 forty yards away, lifted a moment on the crest 
 of a boiling wave, her beautiful hair washing like 
 seaweed about her face. A second later Scarlett's 
 slim figure flashed down from the rock like a 
 streak of light, hit the water at a perfect angle, 
 and when he arose was far on his way to where
 
 GETS A CHANCE 151 
 
 the girl was feebly beating with her hands. She 
 could swim a little, but was weighted down by 
 her clothes, and it was only a matter of seconds 
 till she sank. 
 
 To most of the onlookers the powerful trudgeon 
 stroke was a thing unknown, and the torpedo - 
 like fashion in which Scarlett drove himself through 
 the water was to them something in the nature 
 of a miracle. But, quick as he was, she sank 
 ere he could reach her. He dived the same instant, 
 and, rightly gauging the direction, they came 
 together under the water, and grasping her by 
 her clothes, he brought her to the surface. But 
 Sheila was now in the grip of water fear, and, 
 flinging her arms about his neck, half-choked him, 
 and they disappeared again, overwhelmed by a 
 great wave. Scarlett struggled under water like 
 a madman to release himself, and, there being 
 nothing but his bare skin to which she could cling, 
 contrived to manage it as they rose again. 
 
 ' Let go ! Let go'! ' he roared. ' You'll drown 
 the pair of us I I'll save you if you don't catch 
 hold ! ' 
 
 He might as well have begged the sea to stop 
 its striving ; she clutched him again, but this time 
 Scarlett had his wits about him, and, lifting him- 
 self up in the water, struck her a blow across 
 the cheek with his open hand that, even in the 
 wild, white fury of that terrible sea, brought her 
 to some degree of sense, and she subsided. The 
 next instant she was being dragged through the 
 water by the hair of the head like a little boat 
 in the wake of a powerful tug.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 ASTOUNDING BEHAVIOUR OF JOHN 
 
 MEANWHILE the crowd upon the rock, watching 
 the drama in the water, had grovelled in an agony 
 of despair and mounted on wings of hope as eagles, 
 as the rescuer seemed to fail or succeed. Wlien 
 Sheila sank ere Scarlett reached her, there was a 
 cry of despair, and women covered their faces with 
 their hands. When half a minute later both heads 
 reappeared, there was an exulting shout of ' He's 
 got her 1 ' 
 
 tWhen it was seen that the girl was struggling 
 with her rescuer despair prevailed, and when they 
 went down, men gave up hope, and said, ' She's 
 drowned them both.' Later on their grief turned 
 into frantic joy when they both again appeared. 
 But when Scarlett was seen to strike the girl in 
 the face, few knew what to make of it. Was he 
 beating her off to save himself? It seemed so. 
 ' Oh I the monster 1 ' However, when at last they 
 saw him making shorewards, dragging the girl 
 after him, there arose above the roar of the sea 
 a cry of admiration and of thankfulness to God. 
 
 The majority, the father amongst the first, then 
 turned and ran for the little strip of beach, far 
 to their right, where Scarlett had told them he 
 would land. But the mother, standing with some 
 
 of the elder women and a group of navvies, who, 
 
 153
 
 ASTOUNDING BEHAVIOUR OF JOHN. 153 
 
 unaware of what had happened, had just joined 
 them, strained her eyes in an agony to watch. 
 
 The navvies were all excitement to know 
 particulars. 
 
 4 iWho are they? ' they demanded. 
 
 ' Miss MacDonald and Mr. Scarlett,' some one 
 replied. 
 
 4 The Ganger? ' 
 
 4 Yes.' 
 
 4 Oh 1 He'll never be able to do it,' the mother, 
 whose eyes were on the swimmers, broke in. 
 ' He'll never do it ! They'll both be drowned 1 ' 
 
 ' Don't you make any mistake about that little 
 man, missus,' one of the navvies assured her in 
 great excitement. 4 'E's the greatest take-down 
 you ever seen in your life. I wisht I was as sure 
 of a pension as I am that 'e'll get ashore all right. 
 W'y, 'e come into the billiard-room at the pub at 
 Nyora one night an' knocked Bill McGrar 'ead 
 over tip on to the table, and ' 
 
 But the watchers were too intent upon what 
 was taking place before them to listen to any 
 story, however interesting, and presently, when 
 Scarlett was seen to drag his charge up on what 
 appeared to be a little flat, weed -covered islet, 
 almost level with the water, that lay half-way to 
 shore, and sink beside her on it apparently 
 exhausted, the mother's fears broke out afresh. 
 4 He'll never do it I ' she cried in despair. ' He'll 
 never do it ! ' 
 
 Again it was the navvy who restored her 
 confidence. 
 
 4 Don't you worry, mum. He'll do it alright. 
 It's too far away to make out wot 'e's doin' of 
 wot 'e looks like, but I'm game to bet my shirt 
 'e's only gettin' 'ees wind.' 
 
 And as it happened he was right. It was well
 
 154 ASTOUNDING BEHAVIOUR OK JOHN 
 
 that the islet lay where it did, otherwise it is ques- 
 tionable if they had ever come ashore alive. 
 Scarlett, swimming on his back, had not noticed it, 
 until a huge wave lifted them in a tangle of cling- 
 ing seaweed almost on top of it. Instantly he 
 grasped a long piece of kelp, and then, waiting for 
 the lift of the water, dragged his charge across 
 the rock, and for a moment they lay there 
 gasping. 
 
 And then a strange thing happened, and in some 
 respects an incredible thing. Apparently some- 
 thing of what John Scarlett felt in his heart 
 towards her passed into Sheila's mind, and as 
 they lay amid the thunder of the sea, looking into 
 each other's eyes, heart answered to heart as face 
 to face in a glass, and each was aware of the 
 thoughts of the other. Deep called unto deep 
 amid the noise of waterspouts ; but although all 
 the waves and billows were going over them, yet 
 the grand passion of life proved stronger than 
 the fear of death, and even in that tempest of water 
 they could think of love. But there was no time 
 to dwell upon it. 
 
 Scarlett, nervous and shrinking when all was 
 well, now, confronted by a situation that would 
 have appalled Achilles, was calm and calculating, 
 and had an eye to everything. 
 
 ' In five minutes, dear/ he cried, with his mouth 
 at her ear, ' the sea will be over this rock ; we 
 must go, but I'll take your boots off first.' 
 
 The girl made no demur. For one thing she 
 was half unconscious with the shock and buffeting 
 she had received and the bellowing of the water 
 round about her, for their islet seemed the centre 
 of a storm. But apart from that, John was just 
 then a very masterful man. He knew what was 
 best, and would do it no matter what she might
 
 ASTOUNDING BEHAVIOUR OF JOHN 155 
 
 say. He was a Goliath, after all. So her boots 
 came off and went into the sea. But John had 
 not yet done. 
 
 ' You must get rid of that jacket and skirt/ he 
 shouted. She looked at him helplessly, but with 
 consent in her eyes, and he somehow dragged them 
 off, and they went the way of the boots. 
 
 Then he stood up and measured the distance 
 to the shore with his eye, and the chances of get- 
 ting there. It would be a bigger fight than he had 
 thought when he set out, and possibly . t . he 
 had to stoop then to shield the girl as a great 
 wave slopped across the rock and almost swept 
 them away. There was no time to lose, for the 
 higher the tide the rougher the sea ; but he had 
 got a second wind now, and was ready. Sheila, 
 too, was ready. But always on these coasts the 
 sea rises by fits and starts, and between the tops 
 of the highest waves there is a lull, and in it 
 Scarlett, his soul aflame, knelt beside her. 
 
 ' Sheila,' he cried, ' we must go, and God only 
 knows if we shall reach the shore, and in case we 
 do not I want to say what I would not have said 
 for many a day Sheila, I love you with all my 
 heart, and if I can't save you, I will die with you. 
 I could die gladly,' he added, * if I knew my 
 love might ever be returned.' 
 
 Without hesitation a dripping hand went out to 
 him. ' I could love you very dearly ' and after 
 a pause, with a ghost of her old smile * John.' 
 
 It was enough. He bent his head, and their 
 lips met in a kiss that thrilled them through and 
 through and set the warm blood flowing in spite 
 of the drenching spindrift and the cold salt sea. 
 Then John rose up in the might of his great 
 possession, and something he had from his High- 
 land mother woke within him like a second sight.
 
 156 ASTOUNDING BEHAVIOUR OF. JOHN 
 
 ' Many waters cannot quench love, neither can 
 the floods drown it,' he cried. ' So come, dear, 
 trust yourself to me, and we shall not die, but 
 live to declare the works of the Lord. I could 
 take you ashore in safety,' he shouted in his might, 
 ' though it were twice as far, and every wave a 
 Niagara.' 
 
 And the girl believed him and committed her- 
 self wholly to him, and so he was her saviour. 
 It was a desperate battle, and had not strong hands 
 dragged them from among the breakers and the 
 fearful backwash on the steep beach, they had 
 never come ashore alive. But there they were 
 at length, safe on the warm sand, the girl 
 unconscious and the man too exhausted to 
 speak. 
 
 But Scarlett's work was not yet finished. Sheila 
 was half drowned and might yet die ; for no one 
 in the crowd knew what to do, not even her father ; 
 and there the Y.M.C.A., with its ambulance classes 
 and first-aid training, came in, and the half- 
 drowned Scarlett, because of the Association and 
 what it had taught him, was worth more than 
 the twenty stalwart men who stood around. 
 Stimulated by some brandy, which (and such is 
 the irony of things) one of the navvies had 
 purchased surreptitiously at a shanty and had 
 been taking to his tent when he was drawn 
 to the beach by seeing the crowd, Scarlett gave 
 directions. The others carried them out, and 
 presently the girl sighed and opened her eyes. 
 They made her more comfortable, and for a time 
 she lay content, her head in her mother's lap 
 and her father just by on hands and knees look- 
 ing anxiously into her face, with the crowd in 
 the background melting with tenderness. 
 
 But presently she started, and shuddering vio-
 
 ASTOUNDING BEHAVIOUR OF JOHN 157 
 
 lently, lifted herself up and gazed wildly from 
 side to side. Her mother bent over her. 
 
 ' What is it, dear? ' she asked. 
 
 ' Where's John? ' the girl asked faintly. 
 
 ' John? What John? ' the mother asked, look- 
 ing inquiringly at her husband. 
 
 The father bent down. ' Is it Mr. Scarlett, 
 lassie? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' she whispered ; ' is he safe? ' 
 
 ' Yes, he's right as houses has just gone away 
 to change.' 
 
 Her head sank back again peacefully on her 
 mother's breast and her eyes closed. Then, when 
 she had rested a little, the women of the party 
 carried her away to the little cave under the cliff. 
 There a kind of collection was made of such gar- 
 ments as could be spared amongst them, and then 
 they stripped her and dried her, and dressed her 
 amid great laughter (but it was not far removed 
 from tears) in a medley of garments contributed 
 to by old and young, and when this was done they 
 brought her out again. The men carried her to 
 the top of the cliff, where a buggy was waiting, 
 and there they safely placed her. 
 
 There, too, on the cliff was Mr. Dingley, with 
 the gay W.ilhelmina, all ready waiting for John 
 Scarlett ; and there, also, was John, with white 
 face and bloodshot eyes, dressed ridiculously in a 
 pair of blue 'dungaree trousers designed for a navvy 
 of twenty stone weight, so that at sight of him 
 Sheila had to smile in spite of her weakness ; and, 
 John's eyes alighting a moment on the odds and 
 ends in which she was dressed, he was fain to 
 smile back. But he was terribly exhausted, and 
 it was all he could do to walk to the buggy where 
 she sat. People noticed, too, that although no 
 word was spoken their hands lingered together
 
 158 ASTOUNDING BEHAVIOUR OF JOHN 
 
 and their eyes grew dim as they parted. But not 
 thus silently could the father and mother let him 
 go. Mr. MacDonald placed his hands on John's 
 shoulders and looked into his eyes. 
 
 * I don't know what to say to you, Mr. Scarlett 
 in Gaelic I could say it fery well ; but you're a 
 man a a great man, and you can do things. We 
 lost our boy. He wass a man like you, and he 
 
 would be your age, and if But Sheila iss all 
 
 we haf, and if we had lost her ' 
 
 The manager could say no more. His eyes 
 were dim and his throat full, but he grasped 
 Scarlett by the hand and wrung it, and then turned 
 aside to hide the tears that came to his unaccus- 
 tomed eyes. 
 
 Then the mother came, and taking his hand 
 fervently in both hers, ' God bless you, my boy 1 ' 
 she said, looking steadily into his eyes. ' God 
 always bless you 1 Your mother will be a happy 
 woman to have such a son. I should like to know 
 her.' 
 
 It was John's turn to melt now. 
 
 ' I have no mother,' he said with a break in 
 his voice. 
 
 ' Poor boy I Well, if ever there's anything that 
 only a mother can do for her boy and you require 
 it done, come to me. You've brought me back 
 my child from the dead, and what one woman can 
 do for another woman's son I'll do for you.' 
 
 ' It was nothing,' John replied unsteadily. ' I 
 I like swimming.' 
 
 The mother shook her head at him, but fondly, 
 and then turned away and entered the trap beside 
 her daughter. A slim white hand waved a feeble 
 farewell, and they were gone. 
 
 Strong hands helped John into the trap. 
 Wilhelmina put her best foot foremost, and soon
 
 ASTOUNDING BEHAVIOUR OF. JOHN. 159 
 
 he, too, was away, very weary, very quiet, but 
 supremely happy. He had had a great day the 
 greatest day of his life. He had only to shut his 
 eyes, and he was again on the rock with the 
 spindrift flying the one woman in the world in 
 his arms, and she was saying : ' I could love 
 you very dearly John.' 
 
 But amongst the group who watched him drive 
 away, a stout navvy was going about to establish 
 his own righteousness. 
 
 * Wot did I tell you? ' he was saying. ' Isn't 
 'e a take-down? Wot about the way 'e brung 'er 
 in through that sea? ' 
 
 ' That's nothin',' one of the farmer's boys 
 responded. ' You should 'a seen the clout 'e give 
 'er over the jaw ! '
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 HOME FROM THE PLAY 
 
 SCARLETT had looked forward with great expect- 
 ancy to the first Sunday evening service. He 
 had advertised it night by night, and emphasised 
 the fact that it would be strictly undenominational ; 
 but notwithstanding all, the men proved shy. The 
 great majority of them were Roman Catholic, and 
 Scarlett was a Protestant. That was sufficient. 
 Only a handful came, and probably under the cir- 
 cumstances, it was as well. Scarlett himself, by 
 reason of his gruelling in the sea, was totally 
 unfit to do the service justice. Indeed, had it 
 not been for the kindness of the genial Mr. 
 Dingley, no service would have been possible at 
 all. He, however, with cheerful generosity, had 
 insisted upon driving Scarlett right to the camp, 
 and, when there, was nothing loath to remain and 
 take the meeting. 
 
 The manner of service to be held had caused 
 Scarlett a great deal of thought, but in the end 
 he decided that, for the most part, it should con- 
 sist of singing, the hymns used being those made 
 popular by that prince of song-leaders, Mr. Charles 
 Alexander. Mr. Dingley was well qualified to 
 lead a meeting of this character, and conducted 
 it in a manner all his own. The Bishop was at 
 the organ, and what men came thoroughly enjoyed
 
 HOME FROM THE PLAY 161 
 
 themselves, and returned to their tents when it 
 was over to tell their mates. Scarlett was not 
 disappointed at the attendance. As a matter of 
 fact, he was too weary to care a great deal about 
 anything, save one thing only. He was longing 
 for the quiet of his sleeping -tent that he might 
 give himself up to thoughts of Sheila. 
 
 As a general thing he read himself to sleep ; 
 but to-night no book, not even his beloved 
 Stevenson, could hold his attention for three 
 minutes, and after prayer he turned his light out 
 and lay with a great rapture in his soul, living 
 over and over those priceless moments on the 
 rocks, thrilling to the ravishing touch of Sheila's 
 lips, and hearing again with an ecstasy approach- 
 ing delirium the accents of that sweet voice, say- 
 ing, ' I could love you very dearly John.' 
 
 He slept at last, but his sleep was far from 
 refreshing. All night long he was fighting the 
 waves, and every now and again would awake in 
 an agony of fear that he would never bring his 
 loved one to the shore. 
 
 ' We are always going in the play or coming 
 home from it,' says Dickens somewhere, in his 
 subtle fashion, and John Scarlett had been to the 
 play with a vengeance : he had seen drama of a 
 thrilling character, almost high tragedy, and then 
 had come prosaically home, and awoke the follow- 
 ing morning flat-spirited and ill at ease. It is 
 odd, too, how the devil of misgiving will turn the 
 things that made most for our happiness when 
 at the play into the chief causes of our gloom 
 when the play is over and done. So it came to 
 pass that Sheila's soul-thrilling words, ' I could 
 love you very dearly John,' that last night had 
 been the Open Sesame to his house of sweet 
 dreams, were to-day the chief cause o"f his despair. 
 
 John Scarlett, Ganger. 1 3
 
 1 62 HOME FROM THE PLAY, 
 
 1 For after all,' the black imp whispered to his 
 jaded spirit, ' after all, what did she say? What 
 was there to build upon? ' What indeed? 
 
 Last night they had seemed to mean ' I love 
 you, John, and will love you for ever,' but that 
 was plainly a delusion. She had not committed 
 herself in the least. Any one in similar circum- 
 stances might say the same. His rejoicing had 
 been without foundation, and, lacking foundation, 
 fell headlong in dreadful ruin at the first 
 breath of calm reflection. It was as much a thing 
 of his highly-strung body as of his soul, of course, 
 and due mainly to his superhuman battle with the 
 sea. But who that is young ever took account of 
 these things 1 
 
 By and by another and far more serious 
 reflection came. Had he not taken advantage of 
 her helplessness out on the rock to force his atten- 
 tions upon her? What must be her thoughts con- 
 cerning him this morning? This reflection stung 
 him like the bite of a whip. What would her 
 parents think when they learned that he had spoken 
 to her, whom he had scarcely spoken to at all, 
 of love, and under such circumstances? 
 
 Scarlett was all alone when this thought took 
 shape ; nevertheless, his eyes fell abashed and he 
 flushed crimson with shame. Poor John 1 That 
 morbid conscience of thine doubtless serves a 
 useful purpose in keeping thee humble, but one 
 cannot but feel that some more agreeable method 
 might have been devised ; for a morbid conscience 
 is a very Gideon in its use of thorns for purposes 
 of flagellation, and the time-serving men of 
 Succoth, smarting with pain after the scourging 
 that rough patriot gave them, pro"bably felt easy 
 and comfortable compared with John. The more 
 he thought of it, the more unpardonable his con-
 
 HOME FROM THE PLAY 163 
 
 duct seemed to be, until at length he became 
 divided in opinion as to whether he should clear 
 out of the district at once and never be seen in it 
 again, or go up to the camp, sue for pardon on 
 his knees, and plead in extenuation that the buffet- 
 ing of the water had temporarily deranged him, 
 and he was not accountable for his actions. In the 
 midst of these deliberations Mr. MacDonald 
 appeared at the door. 
 
 John's first impulse was to bolt out at the 
 back, but a second upon which he acted was to 
 go forward and make the best of a poor business. 
 He did so, and one thing at once became clear 
 Sheila's father was still disposed to be friendly. 
 If he knew of John's extraordinary behaviour he 
 said nothing about it. His greeting was warmly 
 affectionate, and no father could have been more 
 solicitous for Scarlett's health. 
 
 ' You're sure there's no ill result? ' he inquired 
 anxiously. 
 
 John was quite sure, as witness his going about 
 his work as usual. Mr. MacDonald was much 
 relieved to hear it. They had all been very anxious 
 about him, it seems (John began to feel better), 
 and there was no peace until he came personally 
 to inquire. 
 
 ' You see, you're such a handful, Mr. Scarlett. 
 You're a fair height, but there's so little of you 
 other ways. What do you weigh now? ' 
 
 ' Nine stone eight.' 
 
 ' Exactly ; and you look as though any exertion 
 would kill you, and yesterday the strain must have 
 been terrible.' 
 
 Scarlett affirmed, with an air that said the thing 
 was to him very ordinary indeed, that it was 
 nothing at all to a fairly good swimmer, and he 
 was fairly good.
 
 1 64 HOME FROM THE PLAY 
 
 ' You are that,' the mine manager answered 
 admiringly. ' I never saw such a swimmer.' 
 
 John glowed delightedly. Mr, MacDonald was 
 evidently a man of discernment. But still he was 
 not at ease, for he was trying to bring himself 
 to ask after Sheila, but could not trust his voice 
 to pronounce her name. At length, however, he 
 blurted out some form of inquiry, and learned, to 
 his unspeakable relief, that Sheila, though very 
 shaky as regards her legs, and white as regards 
 her face, and rather quiet as regards her manner, 
 was doing remarkably well. 
 
 ' And we've had rare fun with her this morning, 
 Mr. Scarlett, about that smack in the face you gave 
 her.' (John shuddered.) ' My leddie usually has 
 her own way with everybody, and we've been tell- 
 ing her she had met her master at last. Ay,' the 
 wise father went on, ' and it's an odd thing, but 
 I've noticed that men of your stamp, who don't 
 care a bodkin about them, always have the greatest 
 power over women.' 
 
 The subduer of women made no reply, and the 
 father concluded 
 
 ' But I must not forget my business. I'm 
 ordered to invite you up to the camp to-morrow night 
 for tea. We know you'll have to be away back to 
 your meeting at night, so come early say four 
 o'clock. We have tea about half-past five. You'll 
 manage that? ' 
 
 Scarlett would be only too happy. 
 
 ' Well, that's good/ the manager said cordially. 
 ' I'll tell them how you are, but they won't be 
 satisfied till they see you for themselves. But 
 this iss a wonderful place you haf here. 1 
 
 And then Scarlett must needs show him what 
 there was to be seen, and this done, Mr. 
 MacDonald, much impresse'd, took his departure,
 
 HOME FROM THE PLAY 165 
 
 When he had gone much of John's gloom had 
 gone, too. For some time he sat on the end of a 
 form deeply engrossed in thought, and when 
 eventually he rose to his feet, it was with an 
 exclamation. 
 
 ' It seems to me,' he muttered, ' that I've been 
 taking everything, myself included, a bit too seri- 
 ously, and that most of my troubles are imaginary 
 troubles.' 
 
 He was not yet out of the wood, but the trees 
 were thinning out, and his spirits rose to Alpine 
 heights as he contemplated the visit to the 
 MacDonald camp. 
 
 He stood a moment thinking, then he crossed 
 to the writing-table and Cashed off a letter. 
 There was nobody in camp to whom he might 
 tell his great joy, and some one he must tell or 
 burst, so he began a letter to a friend in the 
 Central State. This friend, for the reason probably 
 that he had cultivated an appearance of unsmiling 
 grimness to hide the womanly tenderness of his 
 heart, of which he was somewhat ashamed, was 
 known to his intimates as ' Sunshine,' and it was 
 thus Scarlett addressed him. 
 
 1 SEVENTEEN MILE CAMP, 
 
 'Feb. 4th. 
 
 ' MY DEAR SUNSHINE, I want your biggest and 
 heartiest congratulations 1 I am not in need of 
 anybody's good wishes, but I covet those of my 
 friend. The fact the great, impossible, actual fact 
 is, that I have found my ideal at last, and if there 
 is a happier man out of heaven, then he ought 
 to be kept under lock and key, lest he do some- 
 thing not permitted by sane people. 
 
 ' Oh, Sunshine, my friend ! I am just hope- 
 lessly, absurdly happy. God only knows what
 
 1 66 HOME FROM THE PLAY 
 
 this joy is to me after so many years of mere 
 dull anticipation of lonely bachelorhood. It is 
 simply unthinkable joy. I go along the road like 
 any other sane creature, but the very trees and 
 fences seem to laugh at me. But she is real and 
 beyond my wildest dreams of goodness and beauty, 
 and God will give grace as He has given glory, and 
 will keep us us, Sunshine I by His own power. 
 Pray for us, my brother, that we may not forget 
 Him in this joy of His own bestowing. And 
 oh I pray for me that I may, by God's grace, be 
 made less unworthy of my love. 
 ' God bless you. 
 
 ' Yours, in Heaven's own atmosphere, 
 ' JOHN SCARLETT.' 
 
 John was going to another play, and his 
 expectations, notwithstanding past experience, ran 
 as high as ever. Human nature, it would seem, 
 is incorrigibly optimistic, and whoso is wise and 
 will observe these things will thank God that it is.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE PROBLEM OF THE ' PILGRIM ' 
 
 IT was a different man who went about the tent 
 now. Gloom had given place to good spirits, 
 and listlessness to energy. He was polishing away 
 at a lamp -glass, and at intervals holding it up 
 to the light and seeing Sheila's face in it. He 
 was singing, too, after his fashion, one of the 
 popular songs of the camp : 
 
 ' Good-night, my Starlight ! heart of my heart ! 
 You'll be my star bright, though we're far apart ; 
 And when I'm lonely, my heart's delight 1 
 Dream of your true love. Good-night, Starlight ! ' 
 
 * Starlight ' in this case was ? of course, Sheila, 
 and Scarlett was making up in intensity what he 
 lacked in voice as he sang, when a stranger came 
 along. 
 
 It was Scarlett's business to entertain strangers' ; 
 that is to say, when a man came along looking 
 for a job Scarlett made it his business to look after 
 him and see that he lacked nothing until the job 
 was secured and the man able to look after him- 
 self, and in some respects this was one of the 
 best features of his work* 
 
 It may be that a man is out of work in the 
 
 167
 
 1 68 THE PROBLEM OF. THE 'PILGRIM' 
 
 city, when he hears that men are wanted in a 
 certain camp. The Labour Bureau will furnish 
 him with a ticket to convey him as far as the 
 railway runs, but nothing besides. The man 
 arrives in the camp, perhaps at midday. The 
 bosses are all away until night -time, and he must 
 wait till they return. He has, in the majority 
 of cases, no money, no food, no shelter. What 
 can he do? What would you do, clever reader? 
 
 Bill sits down by the track and chews stems of 
 grass to stay his stomach, and waits, and waits. 
 There is nothing else to do, and it is a weary 
 business. 
 
 But that is not all. The bosses return. Poor 
 Bill waits deferentially until they have had tea, 
 then he approaches them. If he has luck, he 
 is told he may go to work next day. His name 
 is entered up and he receives a ticket, which 
 entitles him to a shovel and a tent at a pried, 
 to be deducted from his first pay ; for these things 
 Bill must buy. 
 
 But he is badly needing food. Surely he may 
 get a shilling or two to buy a ' feed,' as he calls 
 it, or at least get an order on a storekeeper for 
 such food as he requires. Not at all. After he 
 has done a day's work he may apply for a ' sub.' 
 and get it, but not before. So poor Bill, who 
 has had no food for a day, is faced with the 
 prospect of another day's fast, in which he must 
 swing a shovel and keep up with the pace of 
 the well-fed men beside him. There is a way 
 of getting over the difficulty, of course, and with 
 average luck he may do it. This is the method. 
 He makes his way to some tent where a man is 
 having tea, and boldly proposes that he shall join 
 in. It is a miracle if he is refused, and so he 
 makes good, after his kind.
 
 THE PROBLEM OF. THE ' PILGRIM ' 169 
 
 But is this worthy a sane, humane, to say nothing 
 of a wealthy Christian community? Is it not rather 
 culpable negligence of a paramount duty on the 
 part of the employer, the Government in this case, 
 and crass stupidity at that? 
 
 Bill himself, lying by the track in the sun, wait- 
 ing with hunger gnawing at his vitals, or gingerly 
 approaching the fire of a perfect stranger to 
 ' cadge ' (his word) enough food to keep body and 
 soul together until his day's work entitles him to 
 a ' sub.,' feels it to be unjust. 
 
 ' Something wants altering,' he says to the man 
 whose bread he is eating. The man agrees with 
 him, and adds that it's a damn shame that human 
 beings should be treated so. Comes to them 
 presently some revolutionary candidate for Parlia- 
 ment, and says, ' Put me in Parliament, and I'll see 
 that this is altered, and such a thing impossible in 
 the future.' And if Bill and his mate promise their 
 vote, and when the time comes give it, who can 
 blame them? 
 
 He who writes these words has but little faith 
 in Socialism as a panacea for our economic ills, but 
 in Bill's position he would reason as Bill does, and 
 vote his ticket. ' The God that answers by fire,' 
 said Elijah, ' let Him be God.' ' The God that 
 answers by orphanages,' said Spurgeon, ' let Him 
 be God.' And, similarly, ' the political party that 
 answers by humanity to all the toilers,' says Bill, 
 ' let that be the power in this fair land.' 
 
 That party has yet to appear. But in the mean- 
 time Bill takes this or that at its word and on its 
 own valuation, and slaves and votes to give it pride 
 of place. 
 
 Here, then, was where Scarlett's usefulness 
 began to be manifest. He was not brilliant, but 
 he loved his fellows, even when he found them
 
 1 70 THE PROBLEM OF THE 'PILGRIM' 
 
 in the rough. Love has ever an eye in her head 
 for the sufferings of others, and it was not long 
 before the sufferings of the ' pilgrims f became 
 plain to Scarlett ; and, once plain, he soon found 
 a way to relieve them. So the old order changed, 
 giving place to a new and better. 
 
 And now it comes to pass that when the ' pilgrim ' 
 arrives in camp, half a dozen of him a day (or a 
 dozen, may be), and, flinging his swag by the 
 track, sits down to his weary wait, there comes to 
 him presently one whom he takes for a budding 
 engineer or a clerk in the office of the paymaster. 
 
 ' Waiting for the boss? ' this individual asks in 
 the laconic fashion of the camp. 
 
 ' Yes,' says Bill. ' Wot time'll 'e be back? ' 
 
 ' Sundown.' 
 
 Bill groans aloud as the prospect of the weary 
 hours opens up before him. 
 
 ' Going to wait? ' the other asks presently. 
 
 ' Wot can I 'do? ' Bill would know. 
 
 ' Well, then,' says Scarlett, ' you'd better come 
 over to the tent and wait there. It's cool, anyhow, 
 and you'll find papers and things to read.' 
 
 Bill needs no second invitation. He gathers up 
 his swag, and together they make for the tent. 
 Presently 
 
 * Had dinner? ' Scarlett asks. 
 
 Now, Bill doesn't care to admit his indigence 
 right away, and 
 
 ' That's all right,' he says, and adds, ' by cripes I 
 but it's a scorcher to-day, isn't it? ' 
 
 ' No, but have you? ' Scarlett persists. 
 
 ' Well, to tell you the truth, mate,' Bill admits, 
 looking slowly all round the horizon and wiping the 
 sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, 
 ' I'm fair on me uppers, I haven't 'ad a bite 
 since last night,'
 
 THE PROBLEM OF THE 'PILGRIM' 171 
 
 ' Well,' says Scarlett, ' there's some tea in my 
 billy and some tucker in the box ; you'd better 
 come and have some/ 
 
 Bill comes, and for the rest of the afternoon, 
 what with a lovely sleep in the shade on a full 
 stomach, reading the papers in the tent, and play- 
 ing quoits with the others who are there on the 
 same quest as himself, the afternoon goes so 
 quickly that the boss is back long before Bill 
 expects him, and the rest is easy. Bill returns 
 radiant. 
 
 4 It's all right,' he says. 'I'm to go on in the 
 mornin'.' 
 
 Scarlett seems just as pleased as Bill. 
 
 There is still, however, the difficulty about food 
 for to-night and to-morrow. It's no use going 
 to the store. The storekeeper has been ' scaled ' 
 so often that he will trust nobody. 
 
 1 Well,' says Scarlett, ' how much would it cost 
 to set you up? ' 
 
 Bill reckons it up, and ' About four or five 
 bob,' he replies. 
 
 ' Well,' Scarlett says, ' if you give me an order 
 on the paymaster for five shillings, I'll give you 
 an order on the storekeeper for goods to that 
 amount.' 
 
 Bill is amazed at such generosity, but closes 
 with the offer on the spot. Whereupon Scarlett 
 writes out two orders. The first reads 
 
 ' PAYMASTER, Seventeen Mile Camp. 
 ' Please pay John Scarlett 5/- ' 
 
 It is very brief, but the paymaster understands 
 it perfectly, and will honour it so soon as Bill's 
 signature is attached. Bill signs it with as much 
 ceremony as if he were signing a will.
 
 172 THE PROBLEM OF THE 'PILGRIM' 
 
 The second order reads 
 
 ' Mr. O'LEARY, Storekeeper. 
 
 ' Please give bearer goods up to the value 
 of Si- 
 
 1 And oblige, 
 
 JOHN SCARLETT.' 
 
 This Bill takes to the store, and his troubles 
 are over. 
 
 But this is not all. It is one thing to earn 
 money and another with shanties and two -up 
 schools about to keep it. This was brought home 
 forcibly to Scarlett the day preceding the first 
 pay-night. 
 
 Just before close-up time a man known felici- 
 tously as ' Fat Jack,' probably for the reason that 
 he was as thin as a cab -horse, approached Scarlett 
 rather shamefacedly, and, after much preliminary 
 humming and ha-ing, delivered himself thus 
 
 4 Look 'ere, Ganger. To-morrow's our pay-day, 
 an* there's no use tryin' to 'ide it, I'm foolish with 
 money. If I try to keep mine over Sunday, every 
 scuttacher will be blewed in the shanties, an* 
 there'll be nothin* to send home. So, if you 
 wouldn't mind, I'd like to come over 'ere as soon 
 as I get paid, an' hand the money over to you 
 for my wife, an' then it'll be right. Do you 
 mind? ' 
 
 Scarlett did not mind. He was there to help 
 the men and save their money from the shanties, 
 and would as soon do it that way as any other. 
 Thus began the banking business, and in a little 
 time he began to be so loaded up with money 
 that he feared to sleep in the tent by himself ; 
 and, after thinking it over, put in a second bunk, 
 and persuaded Garfield, ' the ex-Salvation Army 
 man, to come and occupy it.
 
 THE PROBLEM OF THE 'PILGRIM' 173 
 
 Later on Bill finds other benefits. It is pay- 
 day, and he wants to send some money to the 
 wife. How is it to be done? Hitherto he has 
 had to trust to luck, or the butcher, or the store- 
 keeper, or one of the pay-clerks, or somebody 
 going down the line, and all the time with the 
 feeling that they may not be trustworthy and the 
 whole thing a lottery. 
 
 But one of Scarlett's first moves was to set up 
 a post-office, and all Bill has now to do is to 
 sit down at Scarlett's table, scratch his poor letter, 
 enclose his postal notes, and drop it in a box at 
 his elbow. The rest is done by Scarlett. Simi- 
 larly, when a letter comes for him where formerly 
 a butcher or timekeeper might carry it about for 
 a fortnight and then forget to give it to him, 
 Scarlett's mailbag arrives regularly every day, and 
 the letters are displayed on a huge letter-rack 
 in the tent, and Bill can see in two minutes if 
 there is one for him. Bill is not blessed with 
 an overstock of the finer sensibilities, but his grati- 
 tude is very real. Henceforth he swears by the 
 Ganger of the Y.M.C.A.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 THE MAN OF RIGHTS 
 
 BUT not all who came to his net were genuine 
 fish. One of the queerest and most exasperating 
 men developed by the present labour unrest is the 
 man with a distorted and magnified view of his 
 4 rights.' There are so many, and so jealously 
 does he watch them that it is scarcely possible 
 to touch him at all without trespassing. 
 
 The one who interrupted Scarlett now in his 
 lamp-cleaning was of that order. He was a city 
 man, of course, and his face was a picture of 
 outraged innocence, and in three minutes he had 
 swamped Scarlett in a wordy torrent of eloquence, 
 setting forth his rights and wrongs. He had left 
 Melbourne at six o'clock that morning left with- 
 out breakfast, for the simple reason that there 
 was none to be got. His wife and children were 
 starving. Was that right? He had been sent 
 up by the Labour Bureau to work at Kilcunda, 
 and instead of taking him to Kilcunda the train 
 had stopped here. His ticket entitled him to ride 
 to Kilcunda, and he was set down here, six miles 
 this side of Kilcunda. Was that right? It was 
 a scandal, a shame, and it shqwed what they were. 
 
 Scarlett's heart was touched. He endeavoured 
 to reason. The Bureau's ticket was good only 
 on the regular line, he explained ; with lines in 
 
 174
 
 THE MAN OF RIGHTS 175 
 
 course of construction they had nothing to do, 
 and after Nyora he was only carried by the grace 
 of the engineers, and construction-trains were run 
 to given points to carry material for the railway, 
 not to suit passengers. 
 
 He might have saved his breath. The only 
 point the man could see was that he was landed 
 here, six miles away from his destination, and it 
 wasn't right. Moreover another iniquity there 
 was no train till six o'clock the following morning. 
 He would have to wait here all day and all night 
 before going on to his destination. Was that 
 right? 
 
 Scarlett suggested that as it was only four miles 
 across the hills to Kilcunda, one of the loveliest 
 walks a man ever took, and he had all the after- 
 noon before him (it was just noon), he might 
 stroll along on foot. The man of rights stood 
 aghast. 
 
 ' Wot I Walk it, w'en they're supposed to carry 
 me there? Not me I ' 
 
 ' But,' Scarlett persisted, ' it would really be 
 much pleasanter walking along than sitting here 
 and camping in the scrub to-night.' 
 
 But Mr. Rights turned a deaf ear. For one 
 thing, he did not know the way, and would be 
 certain to be lost in the bush, and ' wot then? ' 
 
 Scarlett assured him that he had only to walk 
 to the top of an adjacent hill and he would see the 
 engineers' camp at Kilcunda lying before his eyes. 
 It was not possible for him to lose himself. 
 
 The Man of Rights was in a difficulty, but not 
 for long. ' That's all very well,' he returned 
 presently in dogged tones, ' but wot right 'ave 
 they got to turn a man out 'ere and compel 'im 
 to walk w'en 'e 'as a right to ride to Kilcunda? ' 
 
 Scarlett has already combated that point and
 
 1 76 THE MAN OF RIGHTS 
 
 will not argue it again. He tries him on another. 
 Did he not say his wife and children were 
 starving ? 
 
 ' Yes, an' so they are, an' they call this a 
 Christian country I ' 
 
 ' Well,' says John, ' you must think of your 
 family first. If you stroll along to Kilcunda this 
 afternoon, you'll be able to see the boss to-night 
 and arrange to start first thing in the morning ; but 
 if you wait here until morning, you'll be too late 
 to see him. There's really no train at six it 
 doesn't leave here until eight and the boss will 
 be miles away by the time you get there. The 
 consequence will be you'll not get a start to- 
 morrow, you'll have to sit round there waiting all 
 day, you'll lose your day's wages, and if your 
 family is starving you've no right to do it.' 
 
 There is no escaping this logic, but the man 
 with many rights is not easily cornered. 
 
 ' That's orl right, mister,' he admits, ' but 'ow 
 can a human being be expected to walk four miles 
 an' carry a 'eavy swag, w'en 'e's 'ad nothin' to 
 eat since last night, an' is weak an' sinkin' for 
 want of proper food. Is that right? ' 
 
 Scarlett frankly admits the hardness of his case, 
 and invites him in. 
 
 4 I'll see that you get a good feed,' he says, 
 ' if that's the only trouble.' 
 
 Under these circumstances the Man of Rights 
 thought he'd tackle the journey, and Scarlett set 
 about preparing the food. iWihen all was ready 
 he took it to him with a light heart, for who 
 does not feel the better for having won an argu- 
 ment? But, alas I his triumph was short-lived. 
 The Man of Rights, given time to think, had 
 found other reasons, and had determined not to 
 go. He would insist upon getting his due and
 
 THE MAN OF RIGHTS 177 
 
 make them carry him. Even if he had to camp 
 in the scrub all night (which he did) he would 
 have his rights . 
 
 4 But what about the starving children and loss 
 of pay? ' Scarlett asked with indignation. 
 
 ' That's the 'ardship of it/ the other replied ; 
 ' but it's a matter of principle, an' if I let them 
 beat me now it will be 'arder to fight them next 
 time.' 
 
 Scarlett gave him the food and then went off 
 in despair. And well he might, for this was one 
 of those of whom, alas ! there are thousands, who 
 will cheerfully ruin their prospects, wreck their 
 homes, and bring untold misery upon their families 
 rather than yield an inch for the sake of some 
 trivial fancied right, distorted out of shape and 
 nicknamed a ' principle.' Such men are the despair 
 of civilisation. 
 
 As it happened, the first train was unusually 
 late the following morning, and about ten o'clock, 
 when Scarlett chanced to look out, his wrath was 
 kindled to see the Man of Rights perched upon 
 his swag on a truck, being shunted about the 
 yard. He would lose his pay, his wife and little 
 ones would suffer dire misery because the money 
 he might easily have sent failed to come. But 
 what did it matter? He had vindicated his prin- 
 ciple ! He was getting his rights 1 
 
 JohnScarlett, Ganger.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 JOHN GOES OUT TO TEA 
 
 JOHN MACDONALD had selected his camp with 
 judgment and an eye to beauty. The tents were 
 pitched far up the hills on the gentlest of slopes, 
 just enough to ensure that the water would get 
 away in wet weather. Behind the camp there 
 stood a thick clump of blackwoods, their beau- 
 tiful dark foliage affording a fine background for 
 the white of the tents. Of these there were five, 
 pitched in a line, while another, arranged as a 
 kitchen, stood at the rear of the big living tent, 
 the centre of the group. 
 
 The ground before the tents formed a kind of 
 terrace, and from it there was at all times an 
 uninterrupted view of the wide valley of the Bass 
 River, the river itself, and away to the left, 
 Westernport, with its islands and gorgeous sunsets. 
 
 John Scarlett's heart was thumping his ribs like 
 a trip-hammer as he marched up the little clearing 
 to the camp. He was very much out of breath 
 too, and it was not all due to hurry though he 
 had hurried ; for owing to a number of men 
 coming along at the last momen,t, he had been 
 unable to leave so soon as he had hoped, and he 
 was almost an hour late. But they were looking 
 
 out for him, and as he came up to the camp Mrs. 
 
 178
 
 JOHN GOES OUT TO TEA 179 
 
 MacDonald ran to meet him with outstretched 
 hands. 
 
 ' Here you are at last, Mr. Scarlett/ she cried 
 in tones of relief. * We had almost given you 
 up.' 
 
 Scarlett, with many apologies, explained the 
 circumstances which detained him. 
 
 ' We just thought as much,' she said, when he 
 had finished ; ' but we would have been terribly 
 disappointed if you had not come. Now you are 
 here, though,' she added, ' we'll not waste time 
 talking about it. We are glad to see you. Mr. 
 MacDonald is not home, unfortunately that will 
 be a great disappointment to you. He can never 
 be quite sure of his time, you know. But Sheila 
 is here, almost as well as ever, and you'll just 
 have to put up with two women.' 
 
 But Sheila was not there that is, in the big 
 living tent which they now entered. 
 
 ' Strange,' the mother said, looking round ; ' I 
 left her here just a minute ago. Excuse me a 
 moment, Mr. Scarlett ; I'll just find out where she 
 is and send her in, while I see about the tea.' 
 
 Had not the mother been so excited about his 
 coming she could hardly have failed to notice 
 Scarlett's deep emotion. When she left him, he 
 found it necessary to steady himself by holding on 
 to one of the tent poles. And little wonder ! 
 Was he not about to meet the girl who was all 
 in all to him ! To look again in the dear face 
 and hear again the music of her voice ! Would 
 there be that look in her eyes he had seen when 
 out on the rock? It is only sober truth to say 
 that John was shaking from head to foot, while 
 his mind was in a tumult. One thing only seemed 
 clear, and that was that for such as he, with his 
 poor physique, and looks, and fortune, to dream
 
 i8o JOHN GOES OUT TO TEA 
 
 of winning the love of a woman such as this 
 was sheer madness and yet 
 
 ' John ! ' 
 
 He spun round as if shot with an arrow, and 
 there, standing in the doorway, with the curtain 
 partly drawn aside, stood Sheila herself. Her 
 face was pale, her eyes preternaturally large, but 
 they were full of tenderness, and on her lips was 
 the shadow of her old smile. 
 
 The curtain fell behind her and she came un- 
 steadily towards him with both hands outstretched, 
 and Scarlett sprang to meet her. 
 
 ' I've been longing for you, John,' she said, 
 4 more than all, but when I saw you coming over 
 the clearing, I felt I could not meet you before 
 mother, so I ran away.' 
 
 John's only reply was to pat her shoulders 
 caressingly, and draw her to him and kiss her, 
 and they stood together heart to heart, and rejoiced 
 as those that have ' loved long since and lost a 
 while.' 
 
 And after that first wild rush of emotion there 
 came to both of them a great peace, with a joy 
 unspeakable and full of glory, and when the 
 mother returned, preceding the maid who came 
 to set the tea, she found them standing quietly side 
 by side in the front door of the tent, with Sheila 
 pointing out the course of the river and the islands 
 in the bay. 
 
 Quaint, discerning old Samuel Pepys (well 
 named if, as some say, ' Peeps ' be the right pro- 
 nunciation of it) was tremendously interested, in 
 his mild fashion, to notice that a man was far 
 more eloquent when addressing his inferiors than 
 at other times. There is no doubt as to the truth 
 of this, but it is equally true that a man is at his 
 best, not before his inferiors, nor yet before those
 
 JOHN GOES OUT TO TEA 181 
 
 whom he knows to be superior, but when in the 
 presence of his equals, provided only they believe 
 in him and admire him sufficiently. So it came to 
 pass that when John sat down to a kind of picnic 
 tea with the two people who believed in him, and 
 admired him, and loved him more than all else 
 in the world beside (since his mother fell asleep) 
 with his spirit afire with the rich, red, old wine of 
 love, he could not but come out of his shell. 
 
 Never was a party met together so at one. 
 Mrs. MacDonald's heart had gone out most 
 strangely, even when all is considered, to this 
 quiet young man. She had thought long and 
 earnestly about him, and once, coming suddenly out 
 of a reverie concerning him, had startled Sheila 
 considerably by remarking 
 
 ' I could say of John Scarlett as Barrie's mother 
 said of Gladstone, " I would like fine to be his 
 mother." ' 
 
 It was probably as well that Sheila's back was 
 turned just then, for an odd, amused look came 
 into her eyes and her face flushed crimson. But 
 with such feelings towards him, it is small wonder 
 the mother made him feel at home. 
 
 Sheila, too, whose bloom had suddenly returned, 
 and with it the quiet sparkle to her eye and the 
 smile to her lips, seemed wonderfully elated, and 
 when grace was said, opened proceedings by 
 saying 
 
 ' The weather is fine. We are all very well. 
 Now, what shall we talk about? ' 
 
 ' What you please,' said John gaily, quoting Mr. 
 Talkative in Bunyan's amazing allegory. ' I will 
 talk of things heavenly or things earthly ; things 
 moral or things evangelical ; things sacred or 
 things profane ; things past or things to come,.; 
 things foreign or things at home ; things more
 
 1 82 JOHN GOES OUT TO TEA 
 
 essential or things circumstantial provided that 
 all be done to our profit.' 
 
 Mother and daughter looked at him with eyes 
 and brows uplifted. ' Preserve us ! ' the mother 
 cried, and ' Hear him, mother I ' the daughter 
 exclaimed. ' Who could have imagined Jo Mr. 
 Scarlett going on like that? But one can never 
 fathom a man/ she added despairingly. 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' the mother replied, taking John's 
 part. ' I think it is just natural for Mr. Scarlett 
 to talk in that way. One has just to look at him 
 to know he could talk about anything, only he 
 naturally wouldn't want to talk about them to two 
 women.' 
 
 John waved his hand to signify that he 
 renounced all claim to superiority ; and it was as 
 well he did, for Sheila was evidently not prepared 
 to admit it. 
 
 ' Indeed 1 ' she cried in answer to her mother, 
 ' I think Mr. Scarlett should feel very highly 
 honoured by being allowed to speak in our presence 
 at all.' 
 
 ' Sheila ! ' 
 
 ' I do.' 
 
 4 You would look foolish if he rose up from 
 this table and went off straight and left us.' 
 
 ' Ah ! But he won't ; will you, Mr. Scarlett? ' 
 John signified that nothing was farther from his 
 thoughts, and Sheila went on : ' He is going to 
 tell us about his work down there at the camp, and 
 about the men. I'm sure there must be some 
 characters amongst them,' 
 
 So John began to talk of one and another 
 the Bishop, the four Paddys, the Man of Rights, 
 and lastly of Mr. Albert Edward Chirnside. Never 
 had he been so eloquent in his life or talked so 
 freely, and mother and daughter listened and
 
 JOHN GOES OUT TO TEA 183 
 
 laughed till their sides ached. Phemie, the maid, 
 stood demurely by for a time, attending to this 
 and that with a set face, but suddenly broke up, 
 and with a screech of laughter fled out through 
 the curtains, and went unreproved. And it was 
 thus hilariously Mr. MacDonald found them all 
 when he returned, and John had to go through it 
 all again for his benefit, and when he would have 
 skipped some detail, mother and daughter brought 
 him back to it ; and so the story was told, and 
 Mr. MacDonald laughed and smote his leg. 
 
 ' I would like fine to have been there and seen 
 that Chirnside,' he cried. 
 
 But John's time was now up and he must be 
 stepping. So his hat was brought, and they stood 
 outside to bid him goodbye. There were warm, 
 lingering handshakes and cordial invitations to 
 come back again and quickly, and John promised 
 without reservation. Then he turned to Sheila, but 
 she put her pretty hands behind her back and 
 said, ' I'm going to see you off our domains. 
 If I don't you may steal something.' 
 
 It was a very old and timeworn joke, but it 
 served the purpose, and they set out together. 
 And the father and mother stood in the door of 
 the tent and watched them as they went. 
 
 ' He's a fine man that, Alison.' 
 
 ' He is, Colin,' the mother replied. ' Indeed, 
 they're a fine pair.' 
 
 ' What are you thinking of, mother? ' he asked 
 quickly. 
 
 4 Oh, nothing at all,' she answered. 
 
 ' Well,' he said musingly, ' I had a thought that 
 way myself.' 
 
 As long as they were within sight of the tents 
 Scarlett and Sheila walked apart, but when they 
 were beneath the brow of the hill they drew
 
 1 84 JOHN GOES OUT TO TEA 
 
 together. Presently their hands touched, then 
 linked together, and when the bush had hidden 
 them and their love in its cool recesses, they halted 
 by mutual impulse beneath a great red gum, and 
 with clasped hands stood looking into each other's 
 eyes, and ' Oh, John ! ' Sheila whispered presently 
 as she came to his arms. And ' Oh, Sheila ! ' he 
 said fondly, and their lips met, and for a time 
 that was all. But after a time he added : ' This 
 happiness seems too great to be true ; I'm 
 afraid each moment I'll wake up and find I've 
 dreamt it all.' 
 
 For answer she wound her arms more closely 
 around him. 
 
 ' Sheila, dear,' he went on presently, ' it came to 
 me this morning that I had been unmanly and had 
 taken an unfair advantage of you out on that rock. 
 The thought filled me with misery, for it was not 
 only that it was unmanly, but I felt that you 
 would despise me when you had time to think. 
 I came up to-day to beg your pardon, if nee>d be 
 on my knees, and to ask you to put it put of 
 your thoughts for ever, and now ' 
 
 ' Beloved,' she said gently, pressing back his 
 head and looking into his eyes, ' I expected that 
 when you came to yourself you would begin to 
 think that way. If you had not, I should have 
 been disappointed in you. It is right you should 
 feel like that, and yet, dear I have thanked God 
 on my knees that you did forget a little for 
 otherwise we might never have known our love 
 
 for one another, and then ' She paused a 
 
 moment, as though that were a contingency too 
 awful to contemplate, then resumed : ' But it was 
 not unmanly, dear. You are very sensitive and 
 shy, but you could not be unmanly. And don't 
 think it was unfair, John, for indeed there was
 
 JOHN GOES OUT TO TEA 185 
 
 little hope of escape, and if you had not spoken 
 then ' 
 
 John in turn had to put back her head a little 
 between his hands that he might look in her eyes. 
 
 'It is a great happiness, Sheila,' he said 
 presently, ' that you see the wrong I did so clearly, 
 and yet can speak as you do. I have loved you 
 for your beauty, dear, and for something in you 
 that I cannot name, but if you had neither beauty 
 nor that other, I could love you for your your 
 mind, and your justice.' He paused a moment 
 as this thought developed within him, then added, 
 as if to himself, ' Surely God must be mistaking 
 me for some other man to bless me with your 
 love.' 
 
 Sheila placed her little hand on his mouth. 
 
 ' No more of that, dear,' she said quickly. ' If 
 God looked down from heaven to-night over all 
 the children of men, he could not find another so 
 brave and true and good.' 
 
 O woman ! Great is thy faith. Thou seest thy 
 John to-night, not as men see, and not as thou 
 shalt see him in many a poor day to come, when 
 in the sad hours that happen to the best of men 
 he shall fall below his level. But this thou hast 
 in him, and it is much, come high, or low, good 
 fortune or bad : thy John will be ever sincere, and 
 thus ever a gentleman, and what more could one 
 hope for in a man? So go thy way, lassie, thy 
 faith is not misplaced, and thy faith shall save 
 both John and thee. 
 
 But John is speaking now. And 
 
 ' Oh, Sheila ! ' he is saying, ' you don't know the 
 kind of man I am ; but if anything under heaven 
 could make me the man I would be, it is your 
 faith and love. But tell me, dear,' he added, 
 ' out on the rocks you only said you could love
 
 1 86 JOHN GOES OUT TO TEA 
 
 me, and that has troubled me. Can you, do you 
 really love me? ' 
 
 She drew back from him with flashing 1 eyes. 
 
 ' Do you think,' she demanded, almost fiercely, 
 ' that I would give myself to you like like this, 
 if my love had not gone before to to sanctify the 
 gift? ' 
 
 Poor John is overwhelmed. 
 
 ' Forgive me, dear,' he pleads ; ' I was a fool 
 not to see that. But I did so want to hear you 
 say you loved me, that I lost sight of the the 
 other ! ' 
 
 And Sheila in her turn is melted. 
 
 ' Poor John ! ' she says caressingly. ' I am 
 so quick, and it was natural you should want to 
 be sure. I should. So hear me, John.' 
 
 And with her hands upon his shoulders and her 
 head a little back, she looked into his eyes and 
 repeated Elizabeth Barrett Browning's burning 
 words 
 
 ' " I love thee to the depth and breadth, and height 
 My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight 
 For the ends of Being and Ideal grace. 
 I love thee to the level of everyday's 
 Most quiet need, by sun and candle light. 
 I love thee freely as men strive for right : 
 I love thee purely as they turn from praise. 
 I love thee with the passion put to use 
 In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. 
 I love thee with a love I seemed to lose 
 With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath, 
 Smiles, tears, of all my life ! And if God choose, 
 I shall but love thee better after death." 
 
 There, John Scarlett, ganger, does that satisfy 
 you? ' 
 
 For answer, John Scarlett, ganger, could only
 
 JOHN GOES OUT. TO TEA 187 
 
 look dimly in the dear face through the mist in 
 his eyes, and then strain her to his heart. 
 
 But their time has gone. John must hurry away 
 now to his post, and Sheila must go back to the 
 camp, or they will be fearing some harm has 
 befallen her. Before they separate she has 
 promised she will come down on Saturday night 
 and sing at the social, and bring a basket of scones 
 and cakes ; and with one fond kiss they part, he 
 to go down the hill and she to turn again home. 
 
 And as John came out into the clearing below 
 the belt of trees, and as Sheila stepped into the 
 one above it, each paused involuntarily to look 
 across the wide domain of earth and sky and 
 sea. The sun looking like nothing so much as 
 a great luminous bubble, brilliantly and yet softly 
 pink declined to the horizon through a haze of 
 smoke from the bush fires, that burn for ever 
 in one place or another throughout the summer, 
 and over the shimmering plain of the sea lay a 
 narrow strip of light like a pathway of gold to 
 the glorious gates of the west.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 PAY-NIGHT 
 
 WHEN Andy Callander warned Scarlett that there 
 would be a hot time in the camp pay-night, he 
 knew whereof he spoke. At all events, the signs 
 were ominous. After the raid the Shanty had 
 been carried on by one of old Lanigan's spotters, 
 a man known as Joe the Goose, just as though 
 nothing had happened, and was an infinitely worse 
 place than in the days of old Lanigan ; while the 
 ' Blue Pig,' that for some reason had been spared 
 by the officers, perhaps with the view to another 
 trip into the locality, had gone on as usual. 
 
 There had been a great falling off of business 
 since the coming of the Social Hall, it is true, but 
 both Big Marsh and the Spotter looked forward 
 to pay-night to recoup them for the trade they had 
 lost. 
 
 One of the difficulties in the way of stamping 
 out this shanty business was said by the police to 
 be the secrecy with which it was carried on, and 
 this Scarlett had firmly believed ; but as pay- 
 day drew near his opinions underwent a change. 
 Standing at the door of his tent one morning, he 
 watched a cart approaching from the direction of 
 Bass, and something about it having aroused his 
 suspicions, he strolled across the line and stood 
 aside as it came up. The cart halted in the middle 
 
 188
 
 PAY-NIGHT 189 
 
 of the road before the Shanty, and the driver, 
 with the help of the spotter and one or two others 
 who were in some way associated with him, took 
 three barrels from it and rolled them, inside. 
 Scarlett could scarcely believe his eyes. It was 
 clear that whatever other difficulties there may 
 have been in the way, of the police, secrecy was 
 not one of them. 
 
 In the afternoon of the same day he was stand- 
 ing in the door of the store, talking with O'Leary 
 the manager, when the cart came along again. 
 This time it halted at the ' Blue Pig,' where a 
 couple of barrels were discharged after the same 
 manner as at the Shanty. Hitherto Scarlett had 
 entertained a great reverence for the police. He 
 had been much impressed when, on their mag- 
 nificent horses, they had come galloping like bush- 
 rangers into the camp, looking fiercely round from 
 their saddles for evidence of disorder ; and he 
 had been at a loss to account for the uproarious 
 laughter with which these visits were received by 
 the men. But now he knew, or at least could 
 guess. Detectives they feared, but the police 1 
 they were the standing joke of the camp. 
 
 The trouble with the Victorian policeman, and 
 particularly the mounted policeman, is that the 
 Government requires him to be a kind of general 
 Pooh Bah, and when a special need arises, such as 
 the building of a railway and the coming of thou- 
 sands of men to his district, with the attendant 
 shanties and vice, he is already so full of electoral 
 census, and other outside duties, that, no matter 
 how zealous he may be, he is unable to cope with 
 the extraordinary demands made upon him. 
 
 This was the case in the huge Woolamai district. 
 So it came to pass that the shanties laid in their 
 stocks unhindered, and made ready for the harvest.
 
 190 PAY-NIGHT 
 
 But if Big Marsh and the spotter made their 
 preparations, Scarlett was not behindhand .in 
 making his. Early in the week he had asked the 
 men to appoint a committee to draw up a pro- 
 gramme for a concert and make arrangements for 
 the social which was to follow. The committee 
 took itself very seriously, and went to work with 
 a will. A meeting was held immediately in 
 Scarlett's sleeping-tent Scarlett in the chair, or, 
 to be as exact as the secretary's minutes, 
 ' in the bunk ' from whence he laid down 
 the rules. A programme was drawn up, and 
 different ones were appointed to interview likely 
 performers and canvass the boarding-houses and 
 cockies (farmers) in the neighbourhood for gifts 
 of provisions and the loan of cups or mugs. 
 
 Old Bill Hines, who had been a shearers' cook, 
 undertook to make the coffee, while the secretary 
 was instructed to draw up an announcement and 
 display it conspicuously on the front of the 
 store. This document, which Scarlett took 
 down from its place the morning after the 
 social and kept as a souvenir, lies before me 
 now, of which the notice on the page opposite 
 is a copy. 
 
 When the great night arrived, Scarlett was 
 forced to admit that the shanties scored the first 
 point. The men were all in camp by half -past 
 five, and by half -past seven, when Scarlett returned 
 from tea to open up, many were already half-seas 
 over. Old Bill, however, was ' straight ' (which 
 was more than could have been said for him the 
 previous pay-night), and already busy about the 
 fire and the coffee. Such provisions as had 
 already come were stored on the bunks in the 
 living-tent, and Hallum the secretary was in 
 charge, receiving others. The rest of the com-
 
 NOTICE THIS NOTICE 
 
 SEVENTEEN MILE ORCHESTRAL & PHILHARMONIC 
 SOCIETY 
 
 GREAT ANNUAL CONCERT AND BUN STRUGGLE, 
 
 Saturday Evening, i2th March, 
 Commencing at 8 o'clock. 
 
 The programme comprises many and varied items of an 
 Instrumental, Terpsichorical, 
 
 Vocal & Automatical Nature, and of 
 
 A Sentimental, Sensational, 
 Classical, Comical, 
 
 Philosophical and Statistical Character. 
 
 During the evening abundant refreshments will be served by 
 a corps of Skilled Waiters. 
 
 Doors open at 7.30 o'clock. 
 
 Carriages and Motors at 11.15 
 Ladies specially invited. 
 
 Old men in arms not admitted. 
 
 Front seats reserved for those who come first.
 
 192 PAY-NIGHT 
 
 mitteemen, dressed in their best, were busy about 
 the tent ; while Alf, a huge youth from some- 
 where in the Western District, stood by the door 
 with a stick in his hand beating a terrific fantasia 
 on a kerosene-tin and proclaiming to all, in a 
 voice like that of a bullock with a sore throat, 
 that the hour had fully come. 
 
 Half-past seven was the advertised time, and 
 when it arrived the hall was packed ; for, in 
 addition to the navvies, there came a crowd of 
 farmers, together with their wives and grown-up 
 sons and daughters, the latter blooming. Mr. 
 Dingley was there in high good-humour with a 
 sunflower in his coat ; and there, too, with her 
 father on one side and old Paddy Barron on the 
 other, a tremendously interested look upon her 
 beautiful face, sat Sheila, while a multitude, unable 
 to find room, stood round about the windows and 
 the doors. 
 
 By a previous arrangement the chair was taken 
 by old Bob Pearson, one of the ' gallopers out,' 
 a man universally liked ; and punctual to the 
 minute he mounted the platform. Bob was got 
 up for the occasion. His face shone with soap 
 and hard rubbing, while his hair was nearly 
 combed off his head. 
 
 ' Ladies and gentlemen,' he said, when the tre- 
 mendous cheers that greeted him had died down 
 a little, ' we're glad to see you all. We've got a 
 good programme, and we hope you'll enjoy it ; 
 an' if there's anybody 'ere ' fixing his eye on old 
 Paddy, who, having paid a visit to the Shanty, 
 was showing a tendency to interrupt ' that can't 
 behave themselves in the presence of ladies, I 
 'ope that they'll they'll darn well try, anyhow, 
 so as not to bring this camp into disgrace.' 
 
 This sentiment was applauded with great
 
 PAY-NIGHT 193 
 
 fervour, and by none more than old Paddy him- 
 self. 
 
 ' An* if they don't,' he roared, when the applause 
 had subsided, ' be gobs, Oi'm the bye that'll make 
 thirri I ' 
 
 Bob fixed him sternly with his eye. 
 ' Now, Paddy,' he said severely, ' we don't want 
 none of that, and we won't have it I An* now 
 I'm goin' to call on Mr. Scarlett to open the 
 performance by givin' us a chune on the phono- 
 graph.' 
 
 There was more applause then, during which 
 Scarlett released the lever and the machine broke 
 forth into Sousa's ' Yale March,' and with that 
 the performance began strenuously and in earnest. 
 Scarlett had scarcely finished his contribution 
 when old Bob was up to announce that Mr. Billy 
 Sandes would sing ' All that glitters is not gold ' ; 
 and the stalwart Billy ' tore into it,' to use a camp 
 expression, with all the might of his lusty lungs, 
 and emerged from the ordeal triumphantly. He 
 was encored, of course, as was everybody else, 
 ' just to show,' as one of the boys put it, that there 
 was ' no animosity '. ; and, returning, he sang the 
 song right through again. 
 
 Dick Whittington was then invited forward to 
 favour the company with ' If those lips could only 
 speak.' Dick's voice was almost too much for him, 
 so deep a bass was it, but by not opening his mouth 
 very wide he managed to keep it under control. 
 Had it been trained and brought into complete 
 subjection he would have made a star. The crowd 
 joined in the chorus. When Dick had rendered 
 his encore, a red-headed son of Erin, rather un- 
 steady on his feet who had made repeated 
 journeys up the aisle to the front in order to sing 
 the song he believed himself entitled to sing,, and 
 
 John Scarlett, Gaitgtr. 14
 
 194 PAY-NIGHT 
 
 had been as often seized and brought back by 
 the committee got beyond their control, and, 
 mounting the platform despite the efforts of the 
 chairman, announced his determination to ' favour ' 
 the audience, and old Bob, thinking that, if allowed 
 to do so, he might quieten down, graciously gave 
 permission. But then another difficulty arose. 
 Redhead could not remember what it was he 
 wanted to sing. Like Nebuchadnezzar's dream, 
 it had gone from him. 
 
 ' ,W'y doan' you 'nounce the n-name of my 
 song? ' he demanded imperatively of old Bob. 
 
 4 'Ow can I w'en I don't know wot it is? ' old 
 Bob replied, in pretty much the same tone as the 
 magicians, astrologers, and Chaldeans must have 
 used in reply to the unreasonable monarch already 
 quoted, when he preferred to them a similar 
 request. 
 
 'Well, w-w-wot sort of a chairman are you?" 
 he asked, with bitter scorn. From old Bob he 
 turned to the Bishop. ' W.'y doan' you play it 
 over? ' he asked sharply. 
 
 ' If you'll tell me what it is, I will,' the Bishop 
 replied mildly. 
 
 ' You you meanter say you donno wot it is 
 either? ' 
 
 < No. How should I?' 
 
 ' Well, strike me pink I ' the other exclaimed, 
 regarding him with disgust. ' W.ot the ' some- 
 thing or other ' good are you? What good are 
 any of you, 1 he added, looking round upon them 
 all, ' when you don't know music when you hear 
 it, and don't know one chune from another? ' 
 
 With a few eloquent touches, he then outlined 
 the character of the Bishop, and was proceeding 
 to fill in the details with a lurid brush when old 
 Bob gripped him and proceeded to put him out.
 
 PAY-NIGHT 195 
 
 But it was no easy matter. Redhead was strong 
 and active, despite the drink he had taken, and 
 in the rough and tumble contrived to land a 
 blow on the bridge of old Bob's nose that not 
 only took the skin off the outside, but set the 
 blood flowing from within. 
 
 Excitement by this time was running high, and 
 anything might have happened, for there were 
 plenty present who loved nothing so much as a 
 fight, and Redhead had many sympathisers, when 
 the tall form of Andy Callander pushed to the 
 front. 
 
 Andy and Scarlett, who to-night was everywhere, 
 had been standing together near the back when 
 the disturbance arose. Scarlett was loath to inter- 
 fere, and stood it as long as possible, hoping for 
 a peaceable solution ; but when it came to blows 
 he turned to the big Irishman beside him 
 
 ' You'd better take a hand, Andy,' he said. And 
 there was no need to say more. 
 
 Just how it was done no one could say, but in 
 less time than it takes to write it down the drunk 
 was shot out into the night and returned no more. 
 
 It seemed hard to Scarlett then that after all 
 this turmoil Sheila must needs be called upon to 
 sing. He trembled for her, but probably there 
 was little need. The Bishop shook off his non- 
 chalance, and straightened up visibly as she 
 handed him her music. Yes, he could play it. 
 What could he not play when he chose? Then 
 she turned to the men, and an exclamation of 
 wonder broke from many when the soft light of 
 the lam.p fell upon her face. 
 
 Hitherto Sheila had been unknown to the camp. 
 Only once before had she been in it, that being 
 the occasion of her visit to John in quest of 
 literature ; and on that day the men were all
 
 196 PAY-NIGHT 
 
 away at their work and had not seen her. And 
 now, when she stood before them in her radiant 
 beauty, with an expression of friendliness and 
 good-fellowship upon her face that told them she 
 was not a superior person, but felt perfectly at 
 home with them, there was not a man who would 
 not have died for her upon the spot. Old Bob, 
 letting his nose take care of itself for the moment, 
 led off in an encouraging clap, which proved the 
 signal for a demonstration, and it was some time 
 before Sheila could proceed. 
 
 When she did, it was to evoke a greater 
 triumph. Amongst many qualities possessed by 
 this young lady, not the least was a rare gift of 
 discernment, and learning from John that the men 
 were mostly Irish, she had chosen her opening song 
 accordingly. Singing without a book, leaning the 
 least bit forward, and searching their faces with 
 her eyes, she began 
 
 'What will you do, love, when I am going, 
 With white sails flowing, the seas beyond ? 
 What will you do, love, when waves divide us, 
 And friends may chide us for being fond ? 
 
 The waves divide us, and friends may chide us, 
 O heart of mine. I'll still be true, 
 And I'll pray for you on the stormy ocean, 
 With deep devotion that's what I'll do. 
 
 What would you do, love, if home returning 
 With hopes high burning and -wealth for you, 
 If my barque that bounded o'er foreign foam 
 Should sink near home, what would you do ? 
 
 So you were spared, I'd bless the morrow, 
 With want and sorrow that left me you. 
 I'd welcome you from the wasting billow 
 My heart thy pillow, that's what I'd do.'
 
 PAY-NIGHT 197 
 
 It may be that my love for Sheila is such that 
 to write impartially about her is beyond my power. 
 Nevertheless, it is true that from the moment 
 when her glorious voice fell upon their ears the 
 men listened spellbound. And although probably 
 it went deepest into the hearts of the Irish, those 
 of every nationality present were caught by the 
 spell and held captive. There was but one heart 
 among them all, and it was hers. She had to sing 
 again, of course ; otherwise the place had been 
 pulled down. Her second song was ' Doon the 
 Burn,' and then it was the turn of the Scotch, and 
 as many as were there expanded visibly with pride 
 and gratification. They would have had her sing 
 again, but she was not to be persuaded. 
 
 To John it seemed that both songs were chosen 
 specially for him, and that Sheila, with all the 
 passion of her life, was singing them into his 
 heart, and his feelings were in a tumult. But 
 that was precisely how everybody felt, and the 
 effect was indescribable. 
 
 It was well, then, that old Bob was able to 
 announce a hornpipe to follow, for any singing 
 must have been flat by comparison. The dancer, 
 a runaway sailor from one of the ships of the 
 American fleet, mounted the huge box which Alf 
 of the voice and kerosene -tin had brought in at 
 the last moment, ' so that we can see the bloke's 
 feet.' This box, by the way, involved Scarlett in 
 considerable difficulty later, for it proved to be 
 the storekeeper's bread-box, which Alf had in some 
 way contrived to filch for the occasion. However, 
 it served the present purpose well, and with Jimmy 
 Keen fiddling and the Bishop improvising on the 
 organ, the sailor managed to knock out a very 
 creditable hornpipe. 
 
 Next on the programme came Tommy Corrigan,
 
 198 PAY-NIGHT 
 
 one of the greatest comedians off the variety stage. 
 His name was anything but ' Corrigan,' but what, 
 nobody knew ; and he got no other. He sang a 
 classic melody, ' We're getting it by, degrees,' as 
 only he could sing, and by way of encore gave 
 * Johnny Brannigan.-' 
 
 The next performer was a newcomer. He was 
 a small, spare, clean-shaven man, probably 
 twenty-five years old. He was not of the navvy 
 stamp, though he was dressed in the typical navvy 
 costume, and excited no great hopes when he 
 stood up. The one striking feature about him 
 was the raw redness of his neck, owing to recent 
 exposure to the sun. He had no music, but the 
 Bishop undertook to keep time, and he stood forth. 
 He, too, was an American, possibly another break- 
 away from the fleet, and old Bob announced him 
 as Mr. Lovelock, but the name he bore as long as 
 he remained in the camp was ' The Yank.' 
 
 ' Ever of thee I'm fondly dreaming ' was his 
 song, and the first notes caused the Bishop to 
 turn in his seat to take another look at the singer, 
 and sent a hush all round the place. He was a 
 clear tenor without a flaw, and he sang as though 
 singing his heart out to some girl he had left 
 away in far New England. In other circum- 
 stances the singing would have provoked a 
 demonstration, but here it had a poor reception. 
 Nor is it greatly to be wondered at. It was too 
 good for a navvy, and in a flash the same thought 
 occurred to many. Men turned to one another 
 with a look of suspicion, and the whisper went 
 round at once that he was a ' D.' ; and from that 
 hour every man who wished the shanties well 
 eyed the Yank as King Saul is said to have eyed 
 David, when he fancied he had designs upon his 
 kingdom.
 
 PAY-NIGHT 199 
 
 After the Yank came .Willie James, one of the 
 greatest drunks in the camp, who, to Scarlett's 
 unqualified amazement, recited a blood-curdling 
 story about the evil effects of drink. 
 
 This done, Andy Callander, with a voice of 
 astonishing range and power, and to a tune of 
 his own composing, sang an old-time favourite, 
 4 After the Ball ' ; and Paddy Roberts brought 
 the concert to an end with his inevitable ' Kitty 
 Wells,' everybody joining in the chorus. The pro- 
 gramme was finished, but old Bob had a word to 
 say before they brought in the supper. 
 
 ' I've been asked by the men of this camp,' he 
 said, ' to submit the following resolution to this 
 meeting : 
 
 " That the best thanks of this meet- 
 ing be accorded to the Young Men's 
 Christian Association for their work 
 amongst the men at the Woolamai t 
 Camp, and for the use of the building 
 and conveniences." 
 
 And I might say,' he went on, ' that we feel so 
 pleased, that we've taken up a bit of a collection 
 amongst ourselves, and we want to hand it over 
 now and ask Mr. Scarlett to send it along to 
 headquarters with the resolution we've just 
 carried.' And coming over to Scarlett, Bob 
 handed him the sum' of 5 los. 
 
 Scarlett was tremendously surprised, as no 
 whisper of what was being done came to him. 
 However, he accepted it on behalf of the Associa- 
 tion with a good grace. 
 
 ' I told you when I first came,' he said ' that 
 we were not on " the make," and we'd no intention 
 of asking any man for money, but seeing you've
 
 200 PAY-NIGHT 
 
 been good enough to collect this, I accept it 
 gladly-; and I've no doubt when I send it along 
 to headquarters, with the resolution you have 
 passed, it will encourage them to keep on. On 
 behalf of the Association, I thank you from my, 
 heart. There's one other thing before I ask Mr. 
 Bill Hines to send the supper in,' he added : 
 * To-morrow night we're to have a service in this 
 building. It's a religious service, but not denomi- 
 national. I don't want any man to come to- 
 morrow simply because he has made use of the 
 hall through the week, but I'll be pleased to see 
 you all the same ; and I think you'll be glad to 
 know that Miss MacDonald has kindly agreed to 
 come down and help us in the Service of Song.' 
 (Great applause.) ' Now, boys the coffee.'
 
 CHAPTER XXXI \ 
 
 THE BUN STRUGGLE 
 
 THE boys needed no urging, least of all those on 
 the committee. They were anxious for the success 
 of the supper in any case, but the presence of 
 Sheila and the farmers' rosy daughters put them 
 on their mettle, and Scarlett had scarcely made the 
 announcement before the flap at the back entrance 
 was lashed up to the lintel, and the ' corps of 
 skilled waiters,' who proved to be a body of 
 stalwart navvies, appeared with loaded trays, and 
 plunged into the crowd. 
 
 Sheila, somewhat to her amusement, presently 
 found herself a centre of interest. Old Paddy 
 Barren had lost his hat and was turning the place 
 upside down in his endeavours to find it. From an 
 outsider's standpoint it was no great loss, being 
 old and misshapen and greasy beyond description, 
 but from Paddy's point of view it was a calamity. 
 Had it not been his constant companion for years ? 
 Had he not slept in it lived in it almost? It 
 would have been easier far to persuade him to 
 part with his pipe, wjiich is saying a great deal. 
 So he made frantic efforts to discover it, and soon 
 had everybody about him ! , Sheila included, engaged 
 in the search, but it was of no avail. The hat was 
 lost as completely as though a whirlwind had 
 caught it from his head and carried it off to sea.
 
 202 THE BUN STRUGGLE 
 
 ' Some of thiiri divils of byes been hevin' a 
 lar-r-k,' old Paddy exclaimed at length as he 
 gave up the search ; ' but mebbe they'll fetch it 
 back whin they've had their fun out uv ut.' 
 
 Meanwhile the ' skilled waiters ' had been 
 streaming in and out, and buns, scones, cakes, and 
 coffee were disappearing at a rapid rate. The 
 phonograph was enlivening proceedings with an 
 occasional march or song. The younger and 
 bolder of the navvies had long since got on con- 
 versational terms with farmers' daughters ' tarts,' 
 as they were pleased to call them and now seized 
 the opportunity given by the supper to ' line up ' 
 beside them, where they joked and laughed 
 uproariously. 
 
 The committee was happy, for things had gone 
 without a hitch the barking of the chairman's 
 nose being a thing of no consequence. The navvies 
 were happy to a man ; for the scones and butter, 
 cakes and fruit that came from the farms were a 
 treat they did not often get, and, besides, they 
 had enjoyed the concert, and their pay was still 
 in their pockets. 
 
 The farming people were happy, for the concert 
 was a break in the monotony of the farm life such 
 as they did not often have, and they were making 
 the most of it. Mr. Dingley was happy, for it 
 was very much to his mind, and he beamed more 
 like a benevolent Father Christmas than ever, and 
 laughed with tremendous good-humour. 
 
 Sheila was happy, for she could not but see that 
 her John was a very popular man, and she was proud 
 of her lover. John was happy for two reasons. 
 In the first place, Sheila was most blessedly near, 
 and where she was, was heaven. In the second, 
 he was satisfied that so far as the great majority 
 of the men were concerned he had beaten the
 
 THE BUN STRUGGLE 203 
 
 shanties out of sight, for after an enormous supper, 
 and whole pints of coffee, few even amongst the 
 hard drinkers would be likely to go to the shanties 
 to finish up. 
 
 Probably the only man not happy was old Bill 
 Hines, the shearers' cook, who had charge of the 
 coffee. Bill was a connoisseur, and had laid him- 
 self out to make the coffee a special treat. 
 
 ' I'll give you such a pannikin of corfee, 
 Ganger,' he said to Scarlett early in the evening, 
 ' as you never tasted in all your born days ! ' And 
 as the event proved he was right. 
 
 But the coffee was not up to his expectations, 
 the taste was not right, and although nobody 
 noticed it particularly for the coffee at socials of 
 all descriptions, even Church socials, is notoriously 
 vile yet Bill was bitterly disappointed. 
 
 ' I can't make it out,' he said for the twentieth 
 time, taking a sip with his head cocked on one 
 side and his forehead puckered into a frown of 
 disapproval. ' It ain't like wot I generally make 
 at all. Wotter you think of it, George? ' he asked 
 anxiously of the fiftieth latest comer to join the 
 group standing round about the fire. 
 
 ' Wai,' George returned, smacking his lips criti- 
 cally after a long pull at his pannikin, ' I rather 
 like it. I'm not a hog for corfee, as a rule, it's 
 too darned bitter an' dishwaterish ; but wot I 
 like about this corfee is,' he continued judicially, 
 that there's a bit of " body " in it, an' it goes to 
 the spot.' 
 
 George's opinion was greeted with approval. 
 The term ' body ' struck the .popular fancy, and 
 every man present drained his pannikin and held 
 it out for more. 
 
 ' You're too pertickler, Bill,' one of the others 
 remarked, wiping his mouth with the back of his
 
 204 THE BUN STRUGGLE 
 
 hand, ' or else you've got a bad taste in your 
 mouth.' 
 
 And in the face of so much testimony, Bill 
 was almost inclined to agree. So for the time 
 being it was left at that. 
 
 But at length every vestige of the supper was 
 eaten. ' Auld Lang Syne ' was sung, the Bishop 
 played the National Anthem, and hats and wraps 
 were adjusted by the girls. 
 
 Father Christmas shook hands with everybody 
 within reach, radiating cheerfulness everywhere. 
 He had no fear of Big Marsh & Co. to-night, for 
 he was going home with a company of neighbours. 
 The ' corps of skilled waiters,' who were busily 
 washing up, rearranging the seats, and bringing 
 back the tables, were doing all with a will, and 
 great good-humour prevailed. 
 
 Nor was it at all disturbed when two policemen 
 dismounted in the crowd at the door. Policemen 
 were not popular in the camp, not even with 
 Scarlett, who had come to realise how utterly 
 futile their efforts were. But whatever his defects 
 may have been, John was ever kindness itself, 
 and because the policemen were doing their best, 
 and had ridden many miles to be there, and would 
 ride many more before they got to bed, he invited 
 them to have a cup of coffee, and after ransacking 
 his tucker-box, discovered enough cake and biscuits 
 to give them a solid supper. The policemen gladly 
 accepted and fell to. 
 
 It was at this stage that the terrible discovery 
 was made. The policemen having drunk one cup 
 of coffee, were prevailed upon to have another, and 
 Scarlett sent Hallum to get it. 
 
 ' Getting near the bottom, Bill? ' Hallum re- 
 marked, as he held the pannikin out to be 
 filled.
 
 THE BUN STRUGGLE 205 
 
 ' There's a fair drop left in 'er yet,' Bill replied, 
 rasping the dipper on the bottom of the copper 
 to make sure, and then ' Hello ! Wot the dooce 
 is this ? ' he cried in perplexity as the dipper came 
 up laden with some foreign thing other than coffee. 
 ' One of the dishclothes tumbled in,' he muttered. 
 ' No, I'm hanged if it is I ' he added on closer 
 inspection. ' Stir up the fire, Sam, till we have 
 a look ! That's it! Oh, Chrissmusl Well, I'm 
 d d !' 
 
 He held the object up to the light between his 
 fingers, and a roar of laughter broke from the 
 bystanders. It was Paddy Barren's old hat ! 
 
 For about thirty seconds Bill was so wonder- 
 struck that he could do nothing but turn the hat 
 over and over and look at it. 
 
 ' Must have been one of Big Marsh's crowd put 
 it in w'en I wasn't lookin',' he remarked at length. 
 ' No wonder I couldn't get the taste right. Wot 
 was it you said, George, about the corfee 'avin' a 
 lot of "body" in it?' 
 
 George's reputation as a connoisseur was in 
 imminent danger of ruin. But he rose to the 
 occasion. 
 
 ' Strike me pink I ' he exclaimed, ' wasn't I 
 right? There was a lot of body in it old Paddy's 
 body. I guess he's sweated about a ton of himself 
 into that hat. It's a kind of Paddy soup. No 
 wonder we enjoyed it 1 ' 
 
 But upon a common impulse every man retired 
 into the shadows, and for a time there was nothing 
 but retching and scraping of throats. 
 
 ' Well, anyway,' Bill remarked with a weak voice 
 when they had returned, ' that settles the police- 
 men's supper. There'll be no more corfee for 
 them.' 
 
 ' 'Ow's that? ' Hallum asked at once.
 
 206 THE BUN STRUGGLE 
 
 ' Wy, they wouldn't drink stewed Paddy, would 
 they ? ' Bill asked innocently. 
 
 ' Not if they knowed it,' Hallum replied, ' but 
 who's to tell them it's stewed Paddy? You gimme 
 a couple of pannikins of it, Bill, an' then you come 
 an' watch them Johns scoffin' it orf an' smackin' 
 their lips.' 
 
 Bill did as he was bid, and the crowd followed 
 Hallum as he returned ; but not feeling sure of 
 themselves in the light, they stood back in the 
 shadow of the hall, where they annoyed the 
 constables considerably by bursting out into 
 thunderous laughter every time the pannikins were 
 raised to their lips. But there being no law against 
 laughter, and nothing else visible of an incriminat- 
 ing nature, the police were fain to cut their supper 
 short, and with rather a curt good-night, they 
 mounted their horses and rode away. 
 
 As for the navvies, they formed a procession and 
 marched across to old Paddy's tent, and to his 
 unspeakable joy restored to him his much-lamented 
 hat. 
 
 Scarlett's bit of heaven came when all was over. 
 Sheila and her father had remained behind the 
 others, and when everything had been satisfac- 
 torily arranged and the hall put in order for the 
 morrow, Scarlett strolled up the track with them, 
 ' to walk off the excitement of the concert,' he 
 said, but in reality to exchange one form of excite- 
 ment for another more congenial, for Sheila 
 walked between, and presently their hands stole 
 together, and hand in hand they walked beside the 
 unsuspecting father. 
 
 Mr. MacDonald was evidently much impressed. 
 
 * Man, Scarlett,' he said presently, ' this is a 
 great work you're doing. You've got those fellows 
 by the wool.'
 
 THE BUN STRUGGLE 207 
 
 At the top of a slope they paused and looked 
 back upon the camp. The shanties were easily 
 distinguishable, for not only were they very much 
 larger than the other tents, but far more brilliantly 
 lighted. However, Scarlett pointed out with satis- 
 faction that all round the camp the tents of the 
 men were lit up, their lights twinkling like far-off 
 stars on the surface of the sea a sure indication 
 that the great majority had gone from the social 
 centre to their bunks instead of to the shanties. 
 
 * Thank God ! ' Scarlett ejaculated fervently, as 
 this evidence of success became clear, ' we've 
 beaten the shanties to-night, and saved a few 
 pounds for their wives.' 
 
 It was a famous victory.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 THE STORY OF ACHAN 
 
 SCARLETT had but little fear as to the attendance 
 at the Sunday night service, for he felt assured 
 that, however the men might regard a religious 
 service, they would turn up in force to hear Sheila 
 sing. And he was right. Long before seven- 
 thirty, fhe hour appointed to begin the meeting, 
 the tent was packed, and many, unable to get in, 
 stood outside. It was not only the men of the 
 camp who came the farmers were there in force 
 again, while quite a contingent, with Mr. Dingley 
 at their head, came down from the little church in 
 the hills. 
 
 After prayer, the first half of the meeting was 
 devoted to singing, the hymns for the most part 
 being those used by Mr. Charles Alexander in 
 his ' Song Services.' Sheila, with great power 
 and feeling, sang a number of these, such as ' Tell 
 mother I'll be there,' ' Where is my wandering boy 
 to-night? ' and ' O mother, when I think of thee.' 
 The ' Wandering Boy ' proved the favourite. 
 Scarlett suggested they might like to learn it and 
 join in the chorus. The suggestion was received 
 with acclamation, and soon the camp was ringing 
 with the refrain 
 
 ' O where is my boy to-night ? 
 O where is my boy to-night? 
 My heart o'erflows, for I love him, he knows, 
 O where is my boy to-night ? ' 
 208
 
 THE STORY OF ACHAN; 209 
 
 Turn where you will, if you get beneath the 
 surface of a man's life, you find, him thinking 
 tenderly of his old home and his mother, and 
 through a mist of tears there came floating up 
 before the mind of many a rough man that night 
 visions of the home of his boyhood and the face 
 of the best friend he ever knew his mother. 
 
 Judged by certain laws, Alexander's hymns, and 
 many like them, I suppose, are not hymns at all ; 
 but judged by the impression they made upon the 
 hearts and minds of the men, they are hymns of the 
 highest character, and by their means that night 
 many a man who had for years been beyond the 
 reach of a religious influence was melted and 
 softened. Old-time vows and promises long for- 
 gotten were renewed, and not a few lives stirred 
 and touched to finer issues. 
 
 After the singing Scarlett set out to give a 
 running commentary on the story of Achan. He 
 had never attempted to preach before, and 
 although in the rough, bracing atmosphere of the 
 camp he was fast finding himself, and becoming 
 strong and self-reliant, the only explanation of 
 this address is to be found in the words ' The 
 Spirit of the Lord came upon him.' What follows 
 is a kind of sermon, which the fastidious rea'der 
 is hereby warned to skip. Nevertheless, it may 
 be said, it is not the usual kind of sermon, and 
 should you read a paragraph or two, the chances 
 are you will read to the end. 
 
 ' When the children of Israel crossed the river 
 into Canaan,' he began, ' the first city of any con- 
 sequence to which they came was the city of 
 Jericho. The people of Jericho had been watch- 
 ing their movements for a considerable time, and 
 when that extraordinary host had crossed the river, 
 they went inside, banged their gates, and pre- 
 
 John Scarlett, Ganger. 1 5
 
 210 THE STORY OF ACHAN 
 
 pared for a siege. And then began the strangest 
 siege that has ever been from the beginning of 
 time until now. 
 
 ' Day by day a great procession went the round 
 of that city, and day by day the people on the 
 walls stood up to watch it going by, and wondered 
 what it meant. Day by day that extraordinary 
 procession was continued until the people of 
 Jericho grew used to it and began to regard it 
 as a pantomime, but on the seventh day the panto- 
 mime came to an end. On that day, when they 
 had fairly girdled the city with their march, the 
 line suddenly halted, the trumpets pealed, and at 
 that blast the great walls of Jericho came tumbling 
 down in dreadful wreck and ruin. Every man of 
 Joshua's army went up straight before him with 
 his sword in his hand, and when night came not 
 a soul of all that city was left alive, with the 
 exception of one family. 
 
 ' One of Joshua's soldiers iought his way 
 gallantly into the city. Possibly there was in 
 the army no braver man than Achan, and when 
 the battle was over Achan went strolling round 
 to see what he could see. Achan had never been 
 in a city before, and all was new and strange 
 to him. Have you ever noticed the people from 
 the backblocks when they come to town at show- 
 time? You see a man standing in the street 
 staring up at the top of some tall building, and 
 wondering how ever they contrived to get the 
 bricks up. " My word," he says, " what a high 
 house ! " And with Achan in Jericho it was pretty 
 much the same. 
 
 ' But after a while Achan's curiosity carried him 
 farther. " Satan finds some mischief still for idle 
 hands to do," and Achan, having nothing to do, 
 went inside a house to see what it was like there.
 
 THE STORY OF ACHAN. 211 
 
 Now, Achan had never been in a house before. 
 All his life he had lived in a tent, and houses were 
 strange to him. Inside it was all very wonderful, 
 and presently he found something that astonished 
 him and pleased him very much indeed. 
 
 1 Hanging on the wall right before his eyes 
 was a garment of wonderful texture, all the way 
 from Babylon. Babylon was at that time begin- 
 ning to be a kind of Manchester, sending its 
 goods all throughout the world, and one of these 
 Babylonish garments, with its beautifully woven 
 texture, hung there in the house. 
 
 ' It was one of the amazing things of the sojourn 
 in the desert that these people did not wear their 
 clothes out, " their raiment waxed not old upon 
 them." The clothes Achan wore to-day he had 
 worn for years, and very ordinary and common- 
 place they appeared beside this. He had never 
 seen anything like it. It charmed him fascinated 
 him. 
 
 ' By and by I see him trying it on to see how 
 he looked in it, and he said to himself 
 
 ' " I wonder what the wife would say if I came 
 home in a thing like this? " Then he took it 
 off, hung it up again, and stood looking at it. 
 
 ' It's a bad business to look very long at some 
 things ; it gives the devil an opportunity. It did 
 now, and presently he came to Achan, and said, 
 " Take it, Achan." 
 
 ' " Oh, no," Achan said, " I couldn't do that ! " 
 
 4 "Why not? " 
 
 ' " Well, the Lord has forbidden us to touch 
 anything ! " 
 
 ' " Quite so ! Quite so ! And if it were silver 
 or gold or anything of value, you couldn't think 
 of it, but this is such a little thing." 
 
 ' How many people go wrong through little
 
 212 THE STORY OF ACHAN 
 
 things I You try them with some tremendous thing 
 and it will have no effect whatever. The tempta- 
 tion is nothing. But try them with a little thing 
 and see the difference. Here is a fellow in a 
 bank, and he goes to the races, perhaps, and goes 
 farther than he meant to go loses more money 
 than he possesses and next day hundreds of 
 sovereigns are flying through his fingers. The 
 tempter says 
 
 ' " Here's your opportunity. Borrow two or 
 three until to-morrow." 
 
 'And the boy flinches. "No," he says, "I 
 can't do that ! " 
 " Why not? " 
 
 ' " Well, it's too much like thieving." 
 
 4 " Nonsense ! If you were rea'lly taking it, it 
 would be different, but you are only borrowing it 
 until to-morrow. The horse is bound to get home 
 to-morrow. Take it, lad, take it." 
 
 1 Still he hesitates. He does not like the idea. 
 The tempter says : 
 
 ' " If it were a thousand pounds it would be 
 a different matter, but just a sovereign ! Such 
 a little thing I Take it, lad, take it ! " 
 
 ' And the poor fool does so, because it's a little 
 thing, and the next thing he knows he's in the 
 dock, and that's not a little thing. 
 
 ' There was once a boy at the top of an orchard 
 on the side of a hill. His father was working 
 half-way down the orchard and called him, and 
 the boy came running down the hill, as boys will, 
 and he shot by his father and went right down 
 to the palings at the foot. By and by, when he 
 came up again, his father said 
 
 ' " Why did you go down there? I told you to 
 come here 1 " 
 
 ' And the boy said : " Yes, but I began to
 
 THE STORY OF AC HAN 213 
 
 run and couldn't stop myself till I got to the 
 bottom." 
 
 ' And there are lots of people like that. They 
 begin going downhill in a little way, and the 
 devil gets them on the run, and they can't pull 
 up again till they come to the bitter end. Oh, 
 these little things ! Oh, these Babylonish gar- 
 ments ! There isn't a man in this camp to-night, 
 reeling and cursing his way to hell, who did not 
 begin to be what he is along the line of these 
 little things. 
 
 ' Achan was convinced. He said : " It's such a 
 little thing," and he wrapped the garment up in 
 the smallest possible compass and put it under 
 his cloak, so that no one could tell he was carrying 
 anything, and went on. 
 
 ' Achan should have gone home then, but he 
 didn't. He went strolling round again. And, 
 after all, I question if he could have gone, for 
 sin is a kind of endless chain, and one sin will 
 always lead to another. Now, see how this man 
 was led from one sin to another. 
 
 ' He had not gone far before he saw another 
 house, a more extraordinary house than the first. 
 So he must go inside and see what it is like there, 
 and inside he goes, and presently he comes across 
 something like the Ark of the Covenant, a kind 
 of box or chest. Achan lifts the lid and looks in. 
 An amazing sight greets his eyes silver, no end 
 of silver money, no end of money ; and Achan 
 was a Jew, and a Jew, like a Scotchman, has a 
 right appreciation of the value of money. Achan 
 looked at it, and while he did his conscience said 
 
 ' " Shut the lid, and get away as quickly as 
 possible." 
 
 4 But the tempter said : " Count it, and see 
 how much there is."
 
 214 THE STORY OF ACHAN 
 
 ' Achan began to count, and he ran the money 
 through his fingers, and there is a wonderful feel- 
 ing about money wonderful I 
 
 4 Ten, twenty, forty, fifty, one hundred, by and 
 by two hundred, shekels of silver, waiting for the 
 first man who came along to take it. The tempter 
 said 
 
 ' " You are that man, Achan. Take it." 
 
 4 Achan shrank back. 
 
 ' " No, I cannot do that." 
 " Why not? " 
 ' That would be thieving." 
 
 ' " Well, what of that? " 
 
 ' " What of that ! Why, if I took it I would 
 be a thief ! " 
 
 4 " What is that under your cloak, Achan? " 
 
 ' " But you said 
 
 ' " Oh, yes I I said But that doesn't alter 
 
 the fact that you stole it. You're a thief, 
 Achan thief 1 thief 1 thief ! And you might 
 just as well take this as the other. Take the 
 money ! " 
 
 ' The meanness of the devil is marvellous. See 
 that little child. Her mother puts a clean pina- 
 fore on her, and says 
 
 ' " Now, run out and play, but if I catch you 
 in a mud-puddle, look out I " 
 
 ' The child goes outside, and the devil takes 
 her to the first water, and says 
 
 ' " Now, in you go, and have a good time." 
 
 ' " But mother says I'm not to?' 
 
 ' " That's all right, but this won't hurt you." 
 
 4 "" But it would dirty my pinny, an'd mother 
 would be angry." 
 
 ' " Ah I but this is clean mud, and you needn't 
 go far just a little way." 
 
 ' And directly the child has a speck of dirt
 
 THE STORY OF ACHAN 215 
 
 oa her clothes the devil drags her up standing, and 
 says 
 
 " Now look at yourself. What will your 
 mother say? You might as well go right in now, 
 for you're bound to get a thrashing " and in she 
 goes. 
 
 ' And a man will stand here and say : " Shall 
 I go to the Shanty or shall I not'? " 
 
 ' And the devil says : " Certainly. Go by all 
 means, but not to drink, of course." 
 
 ' Well, you go ; and you're no sooner there 
 than the devil says : " How about a drink? " 
 
 ' " No ; I'm afraid if I began I might go too 
 far." 
 
 ' That's all nonsense. Have just one." 
 " If I have one, I may go too far." 
 " Not you. Besides, now you're here, you'll 
 get the credit of having one whether you do or 
 not ! " 
 
 ' Well, you have one, and it's no sooner down 
 than the devil says 
 
 ' " That's you guzzling again. You can't keep 
 away from it. Go on, tear it into you, and get it 
 over." 
 
 4 " Here's a young fellow in the way of tempta- 
 tion. Conscience says : " By all you hold dear, 
 keep away ! " 
 
 ' The devil says : " You go. There isn't a 
 bit of harm. It's just nature. All men do it. 
 This is your opportunity. You go ! " 
 
 ' The boy argues, but the devil persuades him, 
 and he goes, and the deed is no sooner done than 
 the devil says 
 
 ' " Now, look what you've done. Your life is 
 ruined. How can you ever look a pure woman 
 in the face again? This is your level ; now keep 
 to it 1 "
 
 2i 6 THE STORY OF ACHAN 
 
 ' And down he goes to the gutter. Oh, me 1 It's 
 a bad business arguing points with the devil. You 
 always fall in. The only way is to turn and run 
 for your life. 
 
 ' There's no harm, Achan. Take it, man, take 
 it ! " And now : " You're a thief, Achan 1 Thief ! 
 thief ! " 
 
 ' Poor Achan ! Still he hesitates, and the devil 
 tries him on another tack. 
 
 ' You're a married man, Achan," he says, 
 " and if you have no thought for yourself, what 
 about your wife and children? You are going 
 into a new country. It is all very well for Joshua 
 to say he will give every man land up there. 
 How does Joshua know? And even if you get 
 the land, and it's good land, you must have money 
 to work it. Here is the money. It's just provi- 
 dential. Take it, Achan 1 " 
 
 ' How often the devil gets at men in this way ! 
 A man will cheat and lie and oppress his fellow- 
 men and his employees, and justify himself in the 
 face of God and man by saying that it is for his 
 family. A man must provide for his family. And 
 another man will lie and cheat and rob his 
 employer, and justify himself by saying, "It is 
 for my family I am doing it ; not for my own 
 sake, but for my family." 
 
 ' Oh, men ! you can't help your family that 
 way. No man ever did his family a greater wrong 
 than to soil and blacken his own good name. 
 I had rather my father left me a beggar and a 
 stainless name than millions of money, if he had 
 to stain his hands to make it. 
 
 ' " Well," Achan said, " I wouldn't touch this for 
 myself, but a man must consider his family." 
 
 ' So he gathers up his two hundred shekels of 
 silver, rolls them up in the Babylonish garment
 
 THE STORY OF ACHAN 217 
 
 in as small a bundle as possible, puts the bundle 
 beneath his cloak, and goes strolling on again. 
 And Achan has not gone another fifty yards before 
 he finds a great wedge of gold a kind of gold 
 coin worth hundreds of pounds a little fortune 
 to Achan. 
 
 ' Just notice the sequence of this thing. He 
 began with a Babylonish garment, fairly valuable, 
 but nothing very much. Then he gets to silver 
 and then to gold. He began with a small thing, 
 and then got to a big thing and then to a huge 
 thing. See how subtle temptation is ! If the 
 devil had brought Achan face to face with the 
 gold first of all, Achan would have turned his 
 back on it and gone away without a second thought. 
 But he brought him to the Babylonish garment 
 first and then to the silver and then to the gold. 
 The little thing first, and by sure degrees to the 
 big thing. 
 
 ' And I tell you, no man is ever an outrageous 
 sinner to begin with. No man is an out-and-out 
 drunkard to begin with. In nine cases out of 
 ten it begins like this. There is a boy on the 
 street amongst friends older than himself who ask 
 him to come and have a drink. He doesn't want 
 to drink and doesn't want to go, but they keep 
 talking to him. 
 
 4 " Come on ! Come on ! " they say, " there's 
 no need to drink hard stuff. Take lemonade a 
 cigar anything you like only come ! " 
 
 ' By and by they persuade him. They get him 
 into the bar-parlour. They can't get him into 
 the bar. Oh no ! The bar -parlour is bad enough, 
 and he drinks something soft and it nearly chokes 
 him. He goes in last of all, and looks round 
 before he goes in for fear a policeman or some 
 one else may see him and tell ; and he rushes
 
 2i 8 THE STORY OF ACHAN 
 
 out at the first opportunity and swears he'll never 
 go into such a place again. 
 
 ' But you watch for a while. By and by you 
 will see him leading the whole crowd in to shout 
 for them. He's first in and last out, and the 
 strongest stuff in the place is not too strong, and 
 when he goes out he doesn't care now if God or 
 his mother sees him. The devil begins by break- 
 ing down your principles in little things, then he 
 gradually leads you up to the big things, and the 
 rest is easy. 
 
 ' The worst man in this camp to-night will tell 
 you he came to be what he is to-day by breaking 
 a little way through the principles he had been 
 taught in his youth. Shun the little things and 
 you will never have cause to repent the big things, 
 for the devil destroys all his victims by degrees, 
 
 ' Well, that was Achan's trouble. He went 
 wrong in a little thing, and now he's up against 
 a big thing. Here was the wedge of gold. But 
 there was no need to argue with Achan to take 
 that. He might as well be hung for a sheep as 
 a lamb now, he tells himself, and he took the 
 wedge of gold and put it with the silver and the 
 Babylonish garment beneath his cloak, and struck 
 out for his home. 
 
 ' And Achan's wife and family had an anxious 
 time that day while they waited their father's 
 return. Was it possible he had been killed in 
 battle? They guessed and feared. When other 
 men came tramping back they besieged them with 
 questions. Had they seen anything of him? Had 
 anybody seen Achan? 
 
 ' At last there is a great shout of joy. Here 
 he is at last, striding across the plain, and wife 
 and children go flying out to meet him. But what 
 can be wrong with father? They have never known
 
 THE STORY OF ACHAN 219 
 
 him like this. He has the face of a corpse and 
 eyes that fall and shift all over the place, and 
 he isn't glad to see them. What can the matter 
 be? Is it possible he has been wounded in the 
 battle? That's it 1 They fly to him, full of tender- 
 ness, but he puts them away roughly. There is 
 no wound. He waves them all back and goes 
 striding towards the door. Ah me ! When sin 
 gets hold of a man it makes a mighty difference 
 in him. 
 
 ' You see a man on pay-day coming back from 
 work. See the children looking out. See them 
 fly to meet him when he turns the corner, and 
 see the wife going to the gate in haste to welcome 
 him. But what's the matter? Why do the children 
 shrink back and fly for their lives in the other 
 direction? Why does the wife shrink inside with 
 her white, sad face? What's wrong with father? 
 Sin sin 1 Father has been drinking, and his sin 
 has transformed him into a beast. 
 
 ' And sin has transformed Achan, and his loved 
 ones stand back and wonder what has come over 
 father. They come to the door of the tent, but 
 there's no admission. Achan makes sure of that, 
 and he sets to work on the floor of the tent, and 
 digs and digs and digs, until there is a great 
 hole, and then down goes the gold and silver 
 and the Babylonish garment, and he stamps the 
 earth again on the top and spreads a skin over it. 
 " It is all there safe," he says, " and nobody 
 saw me." 
 
 ' " But stop a minute, Achan ; you were 
 watched." 
 
 ' What? " 
 
 ' " You were seen." 
 
 ' " Seen ! God forbid 1 Who saw me? 
 Joshua? "
 
 220 THE STORY OF ACHAN 
 
 14 No God saw you, Achan 1 " 
 
 4 " Oh yes, of course," he says, and he is greatly 
 relieved. ' Why, you gave me quite a turn. Of 
 course, God saw me ; God sees everything. But 
 
 so long as nobody else saw me " That's the 
 
 way a man will talk. 
 
 ' Here's a young fellow goes out and commits 
 the worst sin of his life the unpardonable sin, 
 in a sense and next morning he meets his pure 
 mother and sisters at breakfast and not so much 
 as a blush upon his face. 
 
 ' " It's all right," he says to himself ; " nobody 
 saw me." 
 
 4 " But you were watched." 
 'What? " 
 
 ' " I say you were watched." 
 
 1 " God forbid 1 Who saw me? Father? 
 Mother? " 
 
 ' " God saw you." 
 
 ' " Oh ! " and he's greatly relieved, " is that 
 all? Of course, God sees everything, but then ' 
 
 ' But let me say this : It were better a thousand 
 times that all the camp had seen if only God had 
 missed him. It were better a thousand times that 
 your mother, your betrothed, your best beloved 
 had watched your every move that night than that 
 God saw you. In the end it is God alone to whom 
 we give account. 
 
 4 And now Achan flings wide the tent. They may 
 come in now and welcome father home. 
 
 4 But he is not the same father. It never is 
 the same father when once he has gone down before 
 a temptation of that kind. And it is never the 
 same boy or girl when they have once flung down 
 the walls of the heart and done the devil's will. 
 Never again. 
 
 4 By and by they go to bed and the children
 
 THE STORY OF ACHAN 221 
 
 go to sleep, but there is no sleep for Achan or 
 his wife. Achan thinks she is asleep, and when 
 all is quiet he sits up and listens for her breathing. 
 He is sure she is asleep, and he rises stealthily 
 and goes to his hoard. But how can a woman 
 sleep when her husband is selling himself to the 
 devil? And she watches him burying his plunder 
 deeper and deeper, deeper arid deeper, trying to 
 cover up his sin. 
 
 4 Man, it's a desperate business trying to cover 
 up sin. It's the one thing you can never do. If 
 you buried it beneath the foundations of hell, 
 sooner or later it would come out. You can't 
 dig deep enough to bury sin. No place but the 
 grave of Christ is deep enough to cover it. 
 
 4 Well, the morning comes, and with it the sequel 1 
 There is terrible trouble in the camp the armies 
 of God flying before the enemy, and Joshua is 
 praying to God to know the meaning of it all. 
 In answer to his prayer the Lord says 
 
 ' " There is sin in the camp, Joshua, and I am 
 not going to lead the people forward if they give 
 themselves to sin. You must find it out and stamp 
 it out before I lead you farther." 
 
 4 So Joshua sets out to locate the sin. But what 
 a task ! One secret sinner among a million 
 people I But Joshua must try, and he takes his 
 stand on rising ground and orders the different 
 tribes to march by the point where he is. God 
 will whisper in his ear when the sinner comes, 
 the trumpet will sound, the tribe must halt at 
 the sound of the trumpet, and the end will be 
 worked out. Arid that great march-past began. 
 
 4 There has been many a great march-past in 
 days gone by, but never such another as that. 
 Never ! More than a million people were to 
 march by a given point.
 
 222 THE STORY OF ACHAN 
 
 ' Here they come. All the tribes under their 
 own standards. The tribe of Benjamin, the tribe 
 of Zebulun, and the rest of the tribes all march- 
 ing by the given point ; and as they come to that 
 point each one wonders, " Can the sinner be in 
 our tribe? " The tribe of Benjamin goes by, but 
 the trumpet is silent. There is no sinner there, 
 and the men of Benjamin are dismissed and go 
 away with a sigh of relief. Tribe after tribe goes 
 by. The sinner must escape 1 It is not possible 
 to detect him I 
 
 ' By and by comes the tribe of Judah, and a 
 proud tribe it is ! Are not they the royal tribe, 
 and is not the Messiah to come from their tribe? 
 And the men of Judah have no fear, and they 
 say, " There is no sinner in our tribe," and as 
 they do the trumpet peals and the tribe halts. 
 The traitor is here. All the other tribes are dis- 
 missed. 
 
 ' But the tribe of Judah must go by now in 
 their clans, and here they come, clan after clan, 
 each one hundreds strong, and they begin their 
 march by that point. Now comes a princely clan, 
 the Zarhites. There is no traitor here ! But, 
 alas 1 the trumpet peals, and the clan halts. All 
 others may go now, but this clan must march 
 by in its different families, and they begin again. 
 Family after family goes by and thank God when 
 they get by, for who can tell where the sin may 
 prove to be? 
 
 ' Now comes the family of Carmi, all good men 
 and true. But, hark I the trumpet peals and the 
 family of Carmi is taken. All others may go, but 
 this family must pass singly, man by man. The 
 end is drawing near. Man after man goes by. 
 Now comes a tall warrior marching firmly, but 
 it is the firmness of despair. The trumpet
 
 THE STORY OF ACHAN. 223 
 
 peals its note of doom. The traitor stands 
 revealed ! 
 
 ' You see, after all, God was the one to be 
 reckoned with. Achan couldn't hide his sin from 
 God. He buried it down and down, but it was 
 no use. And you may hide your sin from man, 
 but you cannot hide your sin from God. You 
 may bury your sin in the bottomless pit, or in 
 the loneliest spot on the loneliest star that wanders 
 lost in the space beyond, but you can't hide the 
 sin from God. That's the impossible thing. 
 Sooner or later the sin will out. 
 
 ' Well, discipline must be maintained amongst 
 the people. When a general takes a city in our 
 day, and he gives orders that any man found 
 looting will be shot, if a man is caught looting, 
 they shoot him without compunction. There is 
 nothing so demoralising to an army as thieving 
 and looting. It is stamped out mercilessly. If 
 that is done now, what were they likely to do 
 then? They determined to blot this thing out 
 in so terrible a way that the people would never 
 dream of doing anything like it again. 
 
 ' So they took Achan out to a valley, and behind 
 Achan marched his wife, whom he loved better 
 than life, and behind them came his children with 
 all he had and held dear. And his wife never 
 questioned him, never reproached him. She could 
 go out and die with him, but she wouldn't re- 
 proach him now. And behind Achan comes his 
 eldest son. He is on the threshold of life, and 
 has been looking forward to the splendours and 
 wonders of the new land that lay before them 
 and in his heart he cursed the father who had 
 cut him off in his youth. 
 
 ' And here by his side is his daughter, just on 
 the threshold of womanhood, and there in the
 
 224 THE STORY OF ACHAN, 
 
 crowd is the man to whom she is betrothed ; but 
 her bridal day will never come, for she must go 
 out and die for her father's sin. And the little 
 children follow on with their big, questioning eyes 
 uplifted, innocently wondering what it is all about, 
 and they all go out to die a terrible death because 
 of their father's sin. 
 
 ' Was there ever in all the world a sadder pro- 
 cession than that? I don't think so. Not even 
 when Jesus went out bearing His cross to Calvary. 
 And there is no sadder sight under God's heaven 
 to-day than to see a father or mother taking their 
 little children by the hands and leading them down 
 to destruction. 
 
 ' Oh, man, isn't it time you called a halt and 
 asked whither your ungodly example is leading 
 your little children? If you go down, you will 
 drag your children down, and hell will be ten 
 times hell if you waken there to find you have 
 dragged there those you love best in the world 
 and wish most of all to see in heaven. 
 
 ' Well, they put them all down in the valley 
 the miserable man, the dear wife and little children 
 he had led to their doom, and the people stood 
 above and rolled stones down upon them. And 
 that was the end. 
 
 ' Well, Achan sinned for the sake of his children, 
 sinned to enrich them and do them good, but he 
 learned that day that the wages of sin is not sun- 
 shine and prosperity and peace. The wages of 
 sin is death, and the man who sins must collect 
 his wages to the uttermost farthing. God help 
 us to learn by his experience ! ' 
 
 When Scarlett had finished they bowed their 
 heads, while he prayed that God would help every 
 man, for the sake of his loved ones, to be strong 
 in the hour of his trial. Then after they had
 
 THE STORY OF ACHAN. 225 
 
 sung the hymn, ' Yield not to temptation/ they 
 went out into the night. 
 
 The meeting was over, but not the work. That 
 had just begun. 
 
 John Scarlett, Ganger. 1 6
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE SNAG 
 
 THAT was the only name they knew him by, and 
 it was thoroughly descriptive, as most navvy nick- 
 names are. Had he taken ordinary care of him- 
 self, he would have been a fine-looking man. He 
 was well and strongly built, had a good com- 
 plexion, and eyes of such clear Irish blue as are 
 rarely to be seen. He must have been very beau- 
 tiful as a child, and Scarlett often caught himself 
 picturing his childhood and the pride of his mother 
 when friends and neighbours remarked his beauty 
 and prophesied his great career. 
 
 But, alas ! how different it all had turned out ! 
 It is well that mothers cannot see ahead. If they 
 could, possibly many a wee babe would be 
 strangled in its cradle. In many cases it had 
 been better so. 
 
 But who the Snag was, where he came from, or 
 his antecedents in any direction whatever, no man 
 knew. He lived in a tent with a dog, a poor 
 forlorn wretch that he kicked and thrashed con- 
 tinually. Its howlings and yelpings at such times 
 filled Scarlett with righteous indignation. The 
 Snag did no work, but was in some way associated 
 with the shanties, probably as ' a spotter.' Most 
 of his time was spent about them, and it was 
 his privilege to drink up the dregs of the mugs 
 
 2J6
 
 THE SNAG 227 
 
 that other men had done with. Probably there 
 were plenty of men in the camp who could have 
 killed him, if they had chosen, in a stand-up fight ; 
 but his tongue was so utterly vile, and his powers 
 of abuse so awful, that nobody cared to cross him. 
 
 The Social Hall the Snag regarded as a pesti- 
 lence. He it was who had raged up and down the 
 road cursing it and all its works the day after 
 the finding of the beer. He did not come to the 
 social. He rarely came to the tent, and Scarlett 
 was not altogether sorry ; for he was so cross- 
 grained that sooner or later everybody fell foul 
 of him, and Scarlett had no wish to be the target 
 of his abuse. 
 
 However, the afternoon before the social he sud- 
 denly appeared in the doorway. He was very 
 drunk, but not so morose as usual. Scarlett had 
 just made some tea, and asked him to have some. 
 The Snag consented, and they fell to. 
 
 ' I'm goin' to give thish shpotter business up,' 
 he said presently. ' I'm goin' to open a shop.' 
 
 ' iWhat kind of shop? ' Scarlett ventured. 
 
 ' What kin' a shop? ' 
 
 ' Yes? What kind of shop? ' 
 
 ' A fruit shop fruit an' confectionery an' an' 
 engagement rings.' 
 
 4 Oh ! ' 
 
 ' I I sposesh you think I'm a scoundrel to 
 be goin' about like thish? ' the Snag remarked 
 presently. 
 
 ' I think you're very foolish,' Scarlett replied 
 mildly. 
 
 ' I sposesh you t -think I go on the razzle 
 becos I like it? ' the other went on, looking at 
 Scarlett accusingly. 
 
 ' I don't know,' the latter answered. 
 
 ' W-w-well, let me tell you I doan' like it
 
 228 THE SNAG 
 
 attall. I'm on a bender to-day, not because I 
 like it, but because I gotter be on one." 
 
 Scarlett looked incredulous, and the other 
 noticed it, and became dictatorial. 
 
 ' Lis'n to me,' he said, waving his arm. ' Lis'n 
 to me. Do y'know wot day thish is? ' 
 
 Scarlett waited to be informed. 
 
 ' It's the anniversary of my mother's death,' 
 he said solemnly, ' an' I'm keepin' it up.' 
 
 Scarlett turned white and sick, and felt fit to 
 knock the wretch down with an axe that stood 
 conveniently near. But unheeding, the Snag 
 went on 
 
 ' It's the anni versary of my mother's death 
 an' I keep it up this way becos if I didn't I'd be 
 cryin' all day. I'd rather keep it up this way 
 than cry all day,' he continued. ' If my mother 
 'ad lived I wouldn't 'ave been 'ere.' 
 
 But Scarlett had had too much. To him it was 
 so much blasphemy, worse by far than anything 
 he had ever heard in, say, the roadway, and he 
 rose up in disgust and left him. 
 
 The Snag did not come to the social. He 
 finished his anniversary between the shanties, and 
 had a royal time, for pay-night was his harvest. 
 But the following day the camp was full of 
 Sheila's singing. Those who had heard her could 
 talk of little else, even when playing ' two up,' 
 and all were looking forward eagerly to hearing 
 her again at the service in the evening. The Snag 
 heard the talk in the ' Blue Pig ' and elsewhere, 
 and became interested. The services he despised 
 as heartily as he detested the Social Hall, but a 
 beautiful singer was another thing. 
 
 ' If there's a woman goin' to sing,' he said at 
 length, ' the Snag must be there,' and there he 
 was accordingly.
 
 THE SNAG 229 
 
 And so it came to pass that night that one of 
 those miracles which are the despair of science, 
 so called, but the triumph and glory of the Cross, 
 was wrought in the Snag's life. How it happened 
 no man can tell to this day for as thou knowest 
 not what is the way of the Spirit, nor how the 
 bones do grow in the womb of her that is with 
 child, even so thou knowest not the works of 
 God, who maketh all. The wind bloweth where 
 it listeth and thou hearest the sound thereof, but 
 canst not tell whence it cometh or whither it goeth, 
 ' so,' said the Saviour, ' is every one that is born 
 of the Spirit of God.' Somehow, some time during 
 the service, God breathed the breath of life into 
 the Snag's poor spirit, and he became a living soul. 
 
 When the service was over he went away 
 quietly. The way to his tent lay by the ' Blue 
 Pig,' and, impelled by some inward power, he 
 turned aside, lifted the flap of canvas that hung 
 at the door, and went in. Big Marsh was there 
 and several others ; a number of pannikin -glasses 
 stood upon a table, and at sight of him Marsh 
 leaned across and began to drain the dregs of all 
 the pannikins into one. But something strange 
 and altered about the man gave him pause, and 
 made him look at him intently, as did the others. 
 
 ' What the - 's come over you? ' he asked. 
 
 1 You needn't drain those pannikins out for me, 
 Marsh,' the Snag replied. ' God has spoken to 
 my soul to-night, and I'm never goin' to drink 
 that stuff again.' Then he turned and went out 
 of the tent. 
 
 Marsh and his friends looked in each other's 
 faces with amazement. 
 
 * What the . . . can have come over him? ' 
 Marsh said again, as he looked in astonishment at 
 the others.
 
 230 THE SNAG 
 
 From the ' Blue Pig ' the Snag walked acros3 
 to the Shanty, and the spotter, anticipating his 
 desires directly he made his appearance, began to 
 gather up what mugs and pannikins stood about, 
 preparatory to pouring them into one. But the 
 Snag, standing just within the threshold, stopped 
 him. 
 
 * You'll never need to do that any more for me,' 
 he said. ' God has spoken to my soul to-night, 
 an' I'm never goin' to drink that stuff again.' 
 
 Then he went out into the night, and the spotter 
 turned in wonderment to the others. 
 
 ' Strike me pink 1 ' he exclaimed. ' Wot can 
 'ave 'appened to the Snag? ' 
 
 Farther along the way one of the tents, the flap 
 of which was tied back, and from which a light 
 streamed out, stood by the way. The men within 
 were opening up a bottle of beer, and as the Snag 
 passed by they hailed him. 
 
 ' Come in and have a drop of decent stuff for 
 once in your life,' one cried generously. 
 
 The Snag halted in the doorway. * No, thanks, 
 Jim,' he said in tones so different to his usual 
 that the men stared at him. ' God has spoken to 
 my soul to-night, and I'll never drink that stuff 
 again. 1 
 
 He disappeared from the door, and the men 
 turned to look at each other. 
 
 ' 'E's got 'em again ! ' one of them remarked, 
 helping himself to the bottle. 
 
 ' Meanin' the blue devils? ' another queried. 
 
 ' Yes,' the first replied, an' a nice time we'll 
 'ave of it w'en 'e begins to sing out, Let's f oiler 
 'im and see wot 'e'll do.' 
 
 As the Snag approached his tent, the dog, which 
 was tied to a stake at the door, barked, and then 
 whined dismally as it recognised its master. Enter-
 
 THE SNAG 231 
 
 ing the tent, he struck a light, and lit a bit of 
 candle stuck in the neck of a bottle. Then he 
 turned to the dog. 
 
 ' Come here, boy,' he said gently. 
 
 The poor brute, trembling and whining with 
 fear, grovelled on its belly towards him, expecting 
 to be kicked across the place, but instead the 
 man took its two forepaws in his hands and looked 
 into its faithful eyes, while the tears streamed from 
 his own. 
 
 ' Poor old Grip,' he said brokenly ' poor old 
 Grip 1 I was supposed to be the higher animal, 
 but you were the higher animal all the time. You 
 never left me. You came to me, and licked my 
 face, and wanned me with your poor body, and 
 watched over me when every man's hand was 
 against me. You gave me nothing but love, and 
 in return I starved you and kicked you and beat 
 you. But never again, old Grip,' he went on, look- 
 ing earnestly into the good, kind eyes. ' Never 
 again the terrible past is gone for ever. God 
 has spoken to my soul to-night, and in the future 
 I'll try to make it up.' 
 
 The dog, gathering confidence, licked his face, 
 and the man, taking the fine old head between 
 his hands, rested his cheek upon it. .When he 
 released him the dog leaped upon him, and seemed 
 like to go frantic with joy. The men who had 
 come to see stole away. 
 
 4 It looks as though the Snag's took a tumble 
 orl -right,' the one who had offered the beer 
 remarked. * An' it'll be a darn good thing if 
 he has, for 'e's been the curse of this camp long 
 enough.' 
 
 So the man and the dog lay down together that 
 night, the dog almost as much transformed as the 
 man, and the man was transformed indeed ! A
 
 232 THE SNAG 
 
 great peace such as he had never known possessed 
 him, and he slept like a child. For unto him 
 his Bethlehem and Christmas-time had come. 
 Unto him a son was born ; unto him a child was 
 given, and judgment was upon his shoulder ; and 
 his name was called Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty 
 God, Everlasting Father, and the Prince of Peace. 
 
 But it was only after many days that Scarlett 
 came to know these things ; for, rising up a great 
 while before day, the Snag struck his tent and 
 rolled up his swag, and by the time the camp was 
 stirring was far away, old Grip going on before, 
 barking joyously and frightening the rabbits out 
 of their wits. 
 
 It would perhaps have been better had the Snag 
 remained in the camp to witness to God's power 
 to save men to the uttermost, but his one domin- 
 ating idea just then was to get right away from 
 the old life and its horror, and so he set out.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 'CUM GRANO SALIS' 
 
 AFTER the first week or two the men settled down 
 to the new state of affairs as though they had been 
 used to it all their days. But Scarlett soon 
 realised that to keep up the interest he would have 
 to provide a good deal of variety, and by strenuous 
 thinking and planning he contrived to do so. 
 Every week there was something new. 
 
 Mr. Chirnside left a donation of five shillings, 
 and Scarlett expended it on a gorgeous silk necker- 
 chief for a prize in a draught tournament. So 
 many players entered that the games lasted for 
 a week. Then came a travelling jeweller, who 
 donated a fine gun-metal watch for the champion 
 quoit-player. The result was another week's 
 strenuous excitement. The phonograph was a 
 never-failing source of entertainment, and there 
 was talent enough in the camp to provide an 
 impromptu concert at any time. Lectures, too, 
 were given continually. The General, amongst 
 others, came down and held forth on his adven- 
 tures in the long African war ; while a concert 
 and social, or bun struggle, as the men called 
 it, became the recognised thing for pay -nights. 
 
 But Scarlett liked best the quiet, ordinary 
 nights. The summer was gliding imperceptibly 
 into autumn and the nights becoming crisp and
 
 234 CUM GRANO SAL/S 
 
 sharp, and as the change became more perceptible, 
 the brightness and warmth of the hall proved an 
 irresistible attraction. Soon after tea the men 
 would drop in in twos and threes. There would be 
 a great demand for newspapers and letters, then 
 a comparison of notes of the day's happenings by 
 men of different gangs ; then some, particularly 
 amongst the younger men, would fall to quoit - 
 playing, others to draughts or dominoes. Always 
 a number would write letters, while others, again, 
 would read or look through the magazines. 
 
 But by far the most interesting group was that 
 which assembled night by night and sat together 
 to smoke and tell yarns. Scarlett, as often as he 
 could manage it, joined this group, and was always 
 rewarded. One night is typical of many. There 
 were together Ted Warden, Bill Hines, the 
 shearers' cook ; Paddy Barren, Bland Holt, Gar- 
 field, Andy Callander, Paddy Roberts, Paddy 
 Ryan, old Bob, Billy, Sandes, and a number of 
 others. 
 
 ' Did you ever come across a chap called 
 'Ankerchief Jones, Ted? ' old Bill was asking as 
 Scarlett joined them, 
 
 'Did I wot? I reckon everybody that ever 
 worked in New South Wales knows 'Ankerchief I ' 
 
 ' Well, if they don't they oughter. Did you ever 
 'ear about the time that 'Ankerchief an' ' 
 
 But here Scarlett broke in. 
 
 * Handkerchief Jones ! ' he exclaimed. ' That's 
 a queer name who is he? ' 
 
 ' 'Ave you never 'eard of 'Ankerchief Jones, 
 Mr. Scarlett? ' 
 
 ' Never.' 
 
 ' Well, you surprise me I 'Ankerchief is a New 
 South Wales navvy, an' the best man with a shovel 
 from the Grafton to the Murray. To see 'im shift
 
 CUM GRANO SALIS 235 
 
 a 'cap of mullick is a marvel ; it would make 
 your mouth water ! ' 
 
 ' My word ! ' Warden chimed in with admira- 
 tion. ' I mind the time w'en 'e 'ad a match on 
 with ' 
 
 But Scarlett, fearful of losing the main object 
 of his inquiries, intervened again. 
 
 ' But Handkerchief? ' he repeated, ' How did 
 he ever come to be called by that name? ' 
 
 ' Oh,' Ted answered readily, * it was simple 
 enough. 'Ankerchief was always very loud in 
 'ees dress loud as a brass band. 'Ees boots 'ad 
 plush sides in them blue on one side an' red on 
 the other an' the photo of 'ees girl done on a 
 medallion let in on the toecaps. 'E wears a watch- 
 guard a!s big as a bullock-chain right across 'ees 
 chest, with a medal or somethink hangin' on to 
 every link. 'E wears as many decorations as a 
 tram conductor. 'Ees fingers are covered with 
 rings Brummies most of 'em, though an' 'e 
 always wears a very gay silk 'ankerchief round 
 'ees neck, an' that's 'ow 'e come to be called 
 'Ankerchief Jones. 1 
 
 ' Larst time I see him,' George broke in ' 'e 
 'ad on a clean shave.' 
 
 ' Go on ! ' Ted replied. 4 Larst time / see 'im 
 'e 'ad a goatee beard ; but I ain't surprised that 
 'e took it orf, becos the chaps was always annoyin' 
 'im by arskin' for a swing on it. 'Ankerchief used 
 to knock about a lot with Mick O 'Byrne once,' he 
 added. ' Anybody seen Mick lately? ' 
 
 ' No,' old Paddy broke in, ' an' won't nayther.' 
 
 ' Why, Paddy? ' 
 
 ' Becos Mick has passed in his checks.' 
 
 ' No fear I ' 
 
 ' He has so. Wasn't Oi wid him whin it hap- 
 pened ! We were droivin' out of Junee wan noight
 
 236 CUM GRANO SALIS 
 
 after we'd been havin' a bit of a busht up, an' 
 Mick sez to me, " Paddy," he sez, " we'll do 
 somethin' to-night goin' home that'll make us 
 remimber this thrip." " All roight ye are, Mick," 
 I sez. So he took the whip an' wan of the reins 
 an' Oi took the other rein, an' away we wint. It 
 was great goin' till we collided wid a telegraph- 
 pole. I lit on me head on a tussock, an' was niver 
 a bit the worse, but poor Mick had his neck broke. 
 
 ' Well, thin I wint up and tould his father and 
 mother, an' there was terrible ongoin's. " It was 
 just loike Mick," his mother said, " to go an' break 
 his neck suddenly loike that. He niver had no 
 consideration for the feelin's uv his family." Thin 
 they began to talk about who was to break the 
 news to Mrs. Mick, because it was bound to be 
 a shock to her. So at last ould Mick said he'd 
 go down and break it gintly so as not to upset 
 her ; an' down he wint on horseback, whistlin' 
 " The wind that shakes the barley," so as she'd 
 niver dhrame what he was afther. 
 
 ' .Well, whin Mrs. Mick heard him comin', she 
 come out wid the baby in her arrums, an' the ould 
 man looked at her wid a shmoile so as she wouldn't 
 think anything was wrong, and thin he said 
 " Good-day, Widdy O'Byrne." 
 
 ' " Don't you be pullin' my leg, father," she sez. 
 " It'll be toime enough to call me Widdy O'Byrne 
 whin I am Widdy O'Byrne." 
 
 ' " Ah, thin," he said, " it's toime now ; for 
 Mick broke his neck roidin' home wid Paddy 
 Barren a couple of hours ago, an' you are Widdy, 
 O'Byrne sure enough." 
 
 Everybody appeared to enjoy this little classic 
 except Bland. 
 
 ' Whoi don't you tell thim the finish uv ut? ' he 
 said at length.
 
 CUM GRANO SAL/S 237 
 
 ' Wasn't that the finish? ' Paddy returned un- 
 easily. ' Mick's neck was broke.' 
 
 ' Yes, but what about the funeral? ' 
 
 ' What about ut? ' 
 
 ' Ah, well, thin, Oi'll tell thim mesilf . It's 
 gospel truth 1 ' Bland assured them as he sur- 
 veyed the group. ' Oi wint over to the funeral 
 because me an' ould Mick had come out in the 
 same ship, an' me an' Paddy here was walkin' 
 along two and two behoind the hearse, an' Paddy 
 here was exshplainin' how it all happened, an' 
 he wasn't very choice in his language. 
 
 ' " Whist there, Paddy 1 " ould Mick says to 
 him. " His riverence '11 hear ye." An' so he 
 would, the dear man, for he was walkin' along not 
 half a chain ahead at the front of the procession. 
 But Paddy here forgot himsilf entoirely. 
 
 ' The divil take his riverence ! " he says. 
 ' What do Oi care about him? " 
 
 ' Well, thin, sure enough somebody tould his 
 riverence about ut, an' next Sunday mornin' he 
 called Paddy up forninst the congregation. 
 
 " Paddy Barren," he sez severely, " it's been 
 reported to me that on the way to Mick O 'Byrne's 
 funeral you shpoke disrespectfully of me, an' said, 
 4 The divil take his riverence 1 ' Now, before the 
 whole church, I want to know whether you said 
 that or whether you didn't say it." 
 
 Bland paused there and looiked at Paddy doubt- 
 fully. Paddy returned the look, and then both 
 men laughed. The others waited expectantly. 
 Then, as Bland seemed indisposed to go farther, 
 Ted inquired 
 
 ' What happened then? ' 
 
 ' You moight as well finish it,' old Paddy 
 growled. ' Oi'll hev wan up agin you directly.' 
 
 ' Well,' Bland resumed, - Paddy screwed his hat
 
 238 CUM GRANO SAL/S 
 
 up in his hands and looked all round the roof, and 
 thin he said, " I wouldn't loike to shwear, your 
 riverence, that Oi said that just exactly, but it's 
 very loike a thing Oi would say." 
 
 Old Paddy could scarcely wait till the laughter 
 had subsided before he struck in 
 
 ' Hould on ! Hould on, now 1 Did ye know 
 Bland wint down to Milbourne to see the sports 
 last Sint Pathrick's Day? No? Well, thin, he 
 did, an' Oi wint wid him to take care of him. We 
 wint down two days beforehand so as to hev a 
 bit of a look round. An' round an' round we 
 wint lookin' at things, but the thing that shtruck 
 Eland's fancy most was that ivery man in the 
 strates seemed to be wearin' socks, an' it not 
 Sunday nayther ; an' whin he pointed it out, Oi 
 noticed it mesilf.' 
 
 ' " Shure it must be a new fashion that's come 
 in," he sez. So we folleyed the men round an' 
 round to make certain, an' iverywhere we wint ut 
 was the same. We shtood by the Post Office and 
 watched thim goin' up the shteps, an' niver a 
 wan but had socks. We shtood at the corners and 
 watched thim boardin' the cars, an' ivery mother's 
 son uv thim wore socks. We wint up to Parlia- 
 mint House an' watched thim climbin' up there, 
 an' it was all the same. Niver a wan but wore 
 socks. 
 
 ' " Ah, well, thin," Oi sez, " what do ye think 
 uv ut, Bland? " 
 
 ' " We moight as well be dead," he sez, " as 
 out of the fashion, so we'd better go an' get some 
 socks too." 
 
 ' " All roight ye are," Oi sez, an' away we wint. 
 After a whoile we found a place that the Post 
 Office is next to, an' we wint in there. No sooner 
 were we insoide than a fresh-lookin' ould gintle-
 
 CUM GRANO SALIS 239 
 
 man, wid a short billygoat beard an' a flogger 
 coat comes up. 
 
 ' What is ut, gintlemen? " he sez, quoite 
 friendly. 
 
 " Socks, sir," sez Bland, touchin* his hat an' 
 givin' a shcrape wid his fut. 
 
 ' This way, thin," the ould gintleman sez, as 
 polite as you loike, leadin' us up to a counther. 
 
 " Forward, Winkle ! " he yells ; an' Winkle, 
 who was another heavy shwell, tears out uv the 
 back somewhere an' bends over the counther. 
 
 ' What can Oi do for ye? " sez Winkle. 
 
 " Let's hev some socks," sez Bland. 
 
 " What koind of socks? " sez Winkle. 
 
 " Whoi, the koind ye put ye're fate in," sez 
 Bland. 
 
 4 Yis," he sez, " Oi know that ; nobody wears 
 socks for a necktie. But is ut hot socks ye're 
 wantin'? " 
 
 " Hot or cold," sez Bland, " it's all the same 
 to us ; but if ye've any that's hot in the winter 
 and could in the summer, that's the koind we'd 
 be wantin'." 
 
 * " Ah, well, thin," Wilkins sez, " Oi see it's 
 hot socks ye want. How would these suit you? " 
 he sez, untyin' a string and flingin' down about 
 twinty pair wid all the colours of the rainbow 
 green an' red an,' pink an' blue an* black an* 
 yaller. " Noinepence," he sez. Then he flings 
 down another bundle. " Eighteenpince," he sez. 
 Thin he shcatters another lot on top uv thim. * 
 ' Two bob," he sez. Thin, before you could wink, 
 he had another dose down on top uv that lot. 
 A shmart young man was Winkle. " Two an' six," 
 he sez, an' was reachin' for another lot whin Bland 
 shtopped him. 
 
 ' " Hould on, Winkle," sez Bland, in a voice as
 
 240 CUM GRANO SALIS 
 
 could as an ice-cream man's. " Hould on," he 
 sez. " It's evident ye're labourin' under a mis- 
 apprehension. We're wantin' socks for two min 
 wid the usual number of fate, Winkle," he sez, 
 " not for a colony of centipades ! " 
 
 ' Talkin' about socks and santypedes,' Andy, 
 Callander exclaimed when he had recovered his 
 breath, ' reminds me of old Bill's whale I ' 
 
 ' Wot wale was that? ' Ted asked with curiosity. 
 
 ' Bill's whale,' Andy replied. ' He was tellin' 
 me about it this mornin', while he was shovellin' 
 muck.' 
 
 ' I didn't know Bill 'ad a wale ! ' Ted exclaimed, 
 with a somewhat sceptical glance at that gentle- 
 man. 
 
 ' Neither I 'ave,' old Bill replied defiantly ; ' but 
 I darn near 'ad one.' 
 
 ' 'Ow did you manage it, Bill? Fishin'? ' 
 
 ' Fishin' be blowed ! ' Bill replied scornfully. 
 ' A lot you know about wales ! No,' he went on, 
 striking another match. ' It wos wen I wos 
 drivin' bullocks down at Curdie's River. One 
 Sunday mornin' early I was goin' for a stroll along 
 the beach, just where the river runs into the sea, 
 an' when I got by the sandhill I got a terrible 
 shock. There was a great black mass lyin' at the 
 water's edge, an' I thought there was a ship 
 ashore. 
 
 ' " 'Ere's another bloomin' shipwreck," I sez to 
 meself. But it wasn't it wos just a wale ! I 
 see that as soon as I come up to 'im. 'Ees tail wos 
 on the sand, an' 'ees 'ead out in the breakers, 
 just risin' an' fallin' with the lift an' fall of the 
 water. An' wen I 'ad a look at 'im I made up 
 my mind 'e'd passed in 'ees checks, an' wos washed 
 up by the tide. 
 
 ' Well, I seen wot to do at once. I knowed
 
 CUM GRANO SALIS 241 
 
 that wot with the meat an' fat an* skin, a wale 
 wos worth a little fortune. So I cleared back to 
 the farm as 'ard as I could lay me legs to the 
 ground an' yoked up the bullicks. They didn't 
 like it much, because it wos Sunday ; but I 
 lammed into them for all I wos worth, an' talked 
 to them like a gran'father, an' 'ad 'em down there 
 on the beach in no time. I'd been draggin' logs 
 to the sawmill at Timboon, so my outfit wos just 
 wot wos wanted. 
 
 ' First thing I did, I got a big log-chain round 
 the narrer part of the wale's tail an' fastened it 
 with a hook. The chain wos thirty feet long, an' 
 it just hooked together, so you can imagine the 
 size of 'im. Then when I'd got it fixed I hooked 
 the bullicks on to that an' stood 'em up, an' wen 
 I did it wos a sight worth seein'. I "ad eighteen 
 of a team, all good ones ; an' I tell you, boys, 
 wen they all moved together somethink 'ad to 
 shift an' they shifted that wale. The first tug 
 they got 'im up the beach about six foot, an' I 
 reckoned I wos a made man. But it don't do 
 to sing out too soon, I found out then, for that wale 
 was no more dead than wot I wos. 'E wos just 
 'avin' a snooze, an' no sooner did them bullicks dig 
 their toes into the sand ajn' tighten the chain than 'e 
 woke up, an' then you never seen such a corroboree 
 in all your born days. Talk about rear and buck I 
 'E just stood up on 'ees tail an' then flopped down 
 like ten thousand bricks. Talk about splash and 
 row I It wos somethink awful ! 
 
 4 They say a wale is a kind of a sea cow, an* 
 I believe it ; an' this one wos aperiently just 
 a big old sea bull. An' wen 'e found I wos on 
 to 'im, 'e bellered worse'n forty land bulls all put 
 together. But that didn't 'elp 'im, for the row 
 'e kicked up frightened the life out of the bullicks, 
 
 John Scarlett, Ganger. I J
 
 242 CUM GRANO SAL/S 
 
 an' they pulled harder than ever to git away 
 from 'im. 
 
 ' Just across the river, on the high ground, 
 there's a sort of village where the people come 
 for summer, 'an just then it was chock full of 
 visitors. It wos too early for them to be about, 
 but the row we kicked up roused 'em all out of 
 bed, an' they come runnin' out like bees, wrapped 
 up in sheets an' pillercases an' blankets an* 
 pyjammers, an' all sorts of things, thinkin' it was 
 a steamer on the rocks. An' they stood up there 
 on the cliffs watchin' the contest. An' it must 
 'a been a good one to watch, too. We wos pretty 
 near equal, an' sometimes me an' the bullicks 
 gained a bit, an' sometimes the wale did. An' 
 'e was bellerin' out an' thrashin' the sea, an,' I wos 
 bellerin' out an' thrashin' the bullicks ; an' wot 
 with the shoutin' an' yellin' an' splashin' an* 
 roarin', you couldn't 'ear yourself speak 1 We 
 wos doin* well. I believe at one time the bettin* 
 among the visitors wos forty to one on me an' the 
 bullicks, an' we would 'ave won 'ands down, only 
 just wen we wos gettin' our work in, an' the wale 
 wos about to chuck up the spunge, I broke me 
 whip 'andle over the near poler's ribs, an' that 
 settled it. The bullicks give up pullin* then, an' 
 the wale got them on the run down the beach, an' 
 the next thing you knew 'e 'ad them all in the 
 water ; an' then 'e laid 'ees ears back an' headed 
 out to sea, an' went off like an express train., 
 I stood on the shore an' watched 'em as far as 
 I could see, an 'then I went back to the farm for 
 a drink of milk ; an' that wos the larst I ever did 
 see of the wale or the bullicks either.' 
 
 ' But I thought you said they turned up later on 
 in Tasmania ! ' Andy exclaimed. 
 
 ' Yes, but I didn't see 'em/ old Bill replied.
 
 CUM GRANO SALIS 243 
 
 ' I only 'card about it from some one who wos 
 over there. Aperiently the wale went off 'ees 'ed 
 with fright, an' tore away orf an' never stopped 
 till 'e bashed into the rocks of Tasmania, a 
 hundred an' fifty mile away, an' settled 'imself. 
 An' wen the bullicks come ashore, wot with the 
 water they'd swallered an' the distance they'd been 
 dragged, they wos 'ardly able to stand up. Then, 
 wen nobody claimed 'em, they were yarded up 
 in the pound at Devonport an' sold for the benefit 
 of the Tasmanian Government.' 
 
 Amid the laughter which followed, Scarlett 
 rose up. 
 
 ' Well, Bill,' he said, ' I award you the belt 
 for to-night.'
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 EXIT THE ' BLUE PIG ' 
 
 SCARLETT'S star was in the ascendant, of that there 
 could be no question, and every day some practical 
 kindness or convenience helped to seat him and 
 his work more firmly in the saddle. A stronger, 
 more competent man might have presumed as this 
 became manifest, but Scarlett's bitter contempt for 
 himself would never allow him to go far in that 
 direction. He took nothing as his due, nor ever 
 in his most expansive moments dreamed of 
 patronising the men. To the last, when a way- 
 faring man, though a fool, deigned to step inside 
 and avail himself of the hospitality provided, 
 Scarlett felt flattered. If the deadest of dead- 
 beats spoke words of praise of the institution, 
 Scarlett treasured them up as a miser his money, 
 and if anything went wrong, the biggest tough in 
 the camp was as free of his medicine-chest as any 
 of the others. 
 
 He had, too, a right appreciation of the value of 
 the countenance and patronage of the chief officials, 
 but he never went out of his way to seek it, nor 
 made distinctions between them and the men. 
 Thus, when the chief engineer came to look round 
 the hall, and, after expressing his approval of what 
 he saw, presented Scarlett with the wherewithal 
 to purchase a flag to float over it, he received no 
 
 244
 
 EXIT THE ' BLUE PIG * 245 
 
 more and no less attention than the last dead- 
 broke ; and when the line was sufficiently 
 advanced, and the Commissioner's train came 
 through on a tour of inspection, and Sir Thomas, 
 who, from his American experience, knew the 
 value of such institutions as the Social Centre, and 
 desiring to encourage the man in charge, stood out 
 graciously on the platform of his car, waving his 
 hand, Scarlett waved in return, but his wave did 
 not vary a hair's-breadth from the one bestowed 
 upon the driver of a construction train that had 
 run through half an hour previously. 
 
 Then, too, notwithstanding his temperament, 
 he was not demonstrative, though morbid, excit- 
 able, spasmodic intense rather than strong yet 
 he began unconsciously to develop a characteristic 
 which Carlyle allows to be the mark of the strong. 
 In a degree he possessed the ' talent of silence.' 
 Though easily frightened he never cried out. If 
 he took convulsion fits, he was able to hold him- 
 self ; and if he created smoke he was able to 
 consume it, and so far was proving to be a right 
 man, and or ever he was aware the men swore 
 by him from one end of the section to the other. 
 
 Nor was it long before the effect of his work 
 began to be felt in the shanties, though it was 
 felt rather than seen. So far as Scarlett could 
 tell, they were as prosperous as ever. Drinking 
 went on continually, though, he was inclined to 
 believe, in diminished quantities had he been told 
 how greatly diminished, he would have scarcely 
 credited it. As a matter of fact, the shanties were 
 having an anxious time, the ' Blue Pig ' especially. 
 
 Big Marsh was not doing a third of his former 
 business, and, a morose, ill-tempered wretch at the 
 best of times, he now became positively savage 
 in his bearing towards those about him. To make
 
 246 EXIT THE ' BLUE PIG ' 
 
 matters worse, he had lately begun drinking heavily, 
 and after about a week of this debauchery seemed 
 more like a lunatic than a sane man, and his wife 
 and children were going in fear of their lives. 
 
 This, then, was the state of affairs when the 
 1 7th of March came round. Scarlett, in view 
 of the fact that about two-thirds of the men were 
 of Irish extraction, had organised an Irish concert. 
 Nothing was to be sung but Irish songs, and no 
 recitations given save Irish. The men entered 
 heartily into the spirit of the thing, and the concert, 
 proved a hilarious success. Sheila came down at 
 their special request to sing, ' Oh ! what would 
 you do ? ' and having sung it, must needs sing 
 half a dozen others, including the ' Irish Emigrant ' 
 and the ever popular ' Killarney.' 
 
 Scarlett himself was in great fettle, chiefly owing 
 to the fact that Sheila's father was not with her. 
 He had a very real regard for that gentleman, but 
 he was not sorry he had stayed away, because it 
 meant that he would have the privilege of seeing 
 Sheila home and would have her all to himself on 
 the way. The prospect so filled him with reckless- 
 ness that he actually sang ' McCarthy's Mare,' and 
 brought the house down. 
 
 The mine manager pleaded busy, and unques- 
 tionably he was busy ; but it was clear to both 
 father and mother how things were going, and 
 they were not ill-pleased. So Mr. MacDonald 
 remained home with his work, and John needs 
 must be Sheila's escort, and a blessed time this, 
 their first long walk alone together, proved to be. 
 
 On the way back to the camp after seeing Sheila 
 safely to her home, Scarlett had to pass by the 
 * Blue Pig/ and as he drew near he noticed that a 
 light was burning in the back part of the place, 
 where Big Marsh lived with his family. Presently
 
 EXIT THE ' BLUE PIG ' 247 
 
 he was brought up standing by screams of terror in 
 a woman's voice, followed by an agonising appeal 
 for mercy. This was broken by Big Marsh's 
 bull-like tones, shouting, ' I will 1 I will 1 So 
 help me . . . ! ' 
 
 Scarlett's blood ran cold as he listened, and the 
 woman's voice broke out afresh, pleading in 
 agony 
 
 ' No, no, for the love of Heaven, no ! ' 
 
 * I will, I tell you. I'm goin' to smash your 
 . . . head in ! I'll kill the kids, too, every one of 
 'em, an' set fire to the place, an' shoot mesilf, an' 
 have done with it. Come on ! ' he shouted 
 savagely, ' come on ! ' 
 
 There were sounds as of a struggle, and Scarlett 
 stood in the track hesitating and half -terrified. He 
 knew the folly of interfering between men and 
 their wives, but it almost seemed as though murder 
 was about to be done. What should he do ? While 
 he hesitated the couple in the tent came between 
 him and the light, and their figures were plainly 
 outlined on the canvas. The man had the woman 
 by the throat and was forcing her backwards. 
 This was too much. John's hesitation broke from 
 him as it had been cotton, and rushing across to the 
 place, he peered in through a rent in the side, 
 fearfully as Tarri O'Shanter when looking in the 
 window of the haunted kirk. It was a strange 
 sight that met his gaze. 
 
 On a rude bed at one side lay three chubby little 
 children, their fair, curling hair streaming out over 
 the pillows, the clothes kicked off and their pretty 
 naked limbs sprawled about in all directions ; but 
 notwithstanding all that was going forward, they 
 slept as peacefully as though guarded by angels. 
 Perhaps they were. In a rickety cradle made out 
 of a biscuit-box standing on four thin legs lay a
 
 248 EXIT THE ' BLUE PIG ' 
 
 baby, about eight weeks old, working feverishly 
 with its tiny hands, and crying its little heart out 
 unheeded. 
 
 Another bed stood over against the opposite 
 wall, and at the moment when Scarlett peered in, 
 Big Marsh, clothed only in a shirt, had his wife, 
 who was in her nightdress, by the throat, and was 
 forcing her down upon the edge of the bed and 
 apparently choking her. 
 
 ' I will I ' he hissed savagely. * I will, by ... 
 I will I So help me ... I will! I'll cut your 
 . . . throat first, then every one of the kids, then 
 I'll set fire to the place an' cut me own throat 
 to finish up. I will I I willl I swear by ... 
 I will 1 That'll be somethin' for the papers 1 
 That'll be somethin' for the Young Men's Christian 
 Association I Now come on I'm goin* to finish 
 it 1 !' 
 
 He flung her back on the bed, and turning 
 swiftly, grasped an ugly-looking butcher's knife 
 that lay on the table beside him. 
 
 The doomed woman shrieked and flung up her 
 hands, but instead of the downward flash of the 
 knife there came a sharp report. The blade flew 
 from the murderer's grasp, and with a howl of 
 pain he clapped his hand to his shirt-tails and 
 bolted into the outer apartment. 
 
 But that shot requires explanation. When first 
 the men began to make him their banker, John had 
 been greatly exercised in his mind for fear his 
 tent might be raided in the night and the money 
 stolen, and in order to protect himself and the 
 money left in his care, he decided at last to send 
 to Melbourne for a small revolver and cartridges. 
 
 Like most Victorians, John had served a term 
 in the cadets, and was a fairly good shot with a 
 rifle, and expected no difficulty with a revolver.
 
 EXIT THE ' BLUE PIG ' 249 
 
 But when he went to a lonely part of the hills in 
 order to test himself with his six-shooter, he found 
 it a totally different matter. An object he could 
 have hit three times out of four at a hundred 
 yards with a rifle, he could not hit at all with the 
 revolver at a dozen. However, after an hour's 
 practice he was satisfied he could hit a man two 
 or three yards away, if need be, and that was the 
 most he would ever be likely to require. So after 
 cleaning up his weapon, he loaded it afresh and 
 stuck it in his hip-pocket ready for use. For- 
 tunately, however, there wajs no occasion to use it, 
 and for some time past it had seemed like money 
 thrown away. 
 
 But the event proved it was not, for when it 
 seemed as though murder was to be committed 
 before his eyes, he drew it forth, and thrusting the 
 muzzle through the hole in the wall, took aim. His 
 first impulse was to fire at Marsh's uplifted hand, 
 but instinctively he knew he could not hit it. He 
 could have shot him in the body, but he had no 
 desire to kill him, so he directed his shot lower 
 down, and by good fortune succeeded so well that 
 Robin Hood or William Tell could not have done 
 better. 
 
 Big Marsh roared like a bull, the woman 
 shrieked afresh, and, the ordeal over, Scarlett's 
 nerves broke down beneath the strain, and turning 
 away, he darted into the scrub and ran like a hare 
 for the cover of his tent. Having reached it, he 
 ducked beneath the side at the imminent risk of 
 getting a blow on the head from Garfield, who, 
 waking suddenly, mistook him for a burglar. 
 Tearing off his clothes, he jumped into bed without 
 striking a light. A few whispered words explained 
 the position to his startled companion, who was 
 now fully awake.
 
 250 EXIT THE ' BLUE PIG ' 
 
 ' How if you've killed him? ' he asked anxiously. 
 
 1 Oh, I haven't killed him,' Scarlett replied, ' I've 
 only winged him ; but he made such an infernal 
 row, that the whole camp will be out in five 
 minutes, and they'll probably want the medicine- 
 chest.' 
 
 He was right. A few minutes later two half- 
 dressed navvies were clamouring at the door for 
 Scarlett to come with his ' tool '-chest. Scarlett, 
 feigning great drowsiness and ignorance, learned, 
 while slipping into his trousers and boots, that a 
 burglar had entered the ' Blue Pig,' and upon Big 
 Marsh waking up and going to see what was 
 wrong, he had been shot with a revolver. 
 
 Scarlett fairly gasped at this version of the 
 affair, but since it diverted suspicion from himself, 
 he was not sorry. So he made haste to dress and 
 go to the ' Blue Pig.' When he arrived upon the 
 scene it had changed considerably. The tent was 
 filled with an excited crowd. The three children 
 were still sleeping peacefully, but the baby was being 
 hushed in the arms of a woman from one of the 
 boarding-houses. Marsh's wife, full of tenderness 
 and anxiety (such is the way of women), was 
 hovering about her brutal lord, doing what she 
 could to relieve him, while Marsh himself, groan- 
 ing dismally, lay face downward on the bed. 
 
 A very brief examination revealed the extent of 
 the injury and set Scarlett's mind at rest. The little 
 bullet was imbedded in the flesh, but if removed 
 in time would do no more damage than if fired 
 into the hind-quarters of a bullock. There was 
 very little blood, and after Scarlett had dressed the 
 wound and applied some ointment of a soothing 
 character, Marsh appeared no less relieved in body 
 than in mind. 
 
 There was no danger, Scarlett assured the wife
 
 EXIT THE 'BLUE PIG* 251 
 
 in response to her anxious inquiries, but it would 
 be necessary for her husband to go to town to- 
 morrow to a hospital to have the bullet extracted 
 and it would be a good many days before he 
 would be able to sit down to his meals. 
 
 The navvies were clamouring for a description 
 of the burglar so that a hunt might be made, but 
 Marsh declared that, owing to the tent being in 
 darkness at the time, he would be unable to identify 
 him, and as to sending for the police, there were 
 reasons, as they all knew, why he did not want 
 the police humbugging about his place. Just what 
 Big Marsh did believe or think about the matter 
 it would be difficult to say. 
 
 The following morning everything was sold that 
 was sellable, with the exception of a mattress 
 and blankets, and late in the evening a number 
 of men carried Marsh upon the mattress to a 
 truck attached to an engine, and laid him on the 
 floor. His wife and children were made as com- 
 fortable as possible round about him, and presently 
 they went out of the life of the camp for ever. 
 
 Scarlett watched them go with mingled feelings. 
 He felt that he had done an awful thing, and at 
 one time was half inclined to go and surrender 
 to the police, but in the end he reflected that if he 
 had not fired when he did, Marsh would have 
 killed his wife and possibly his children, and this 
 was a small matter in comparison. Another 
 blessing was, the ' Blue Pig ' was now a thing of 
 the past, and its accursed influence gone for ever. 
 In the end Scarlett began to feel that his accidental 
 appearance at the critical moment, together with 
 his impulsive shot at the big shanty-keeper, had 
 been carefully arranged by Providence. 
 
 As for the navvies, Marsh had no sooner gone 
 his way than a rumour went abroad that the shot
 
 252 EXIT THE ' BLUE PIG ' 
 
 they heard was merely the popping of the cork 
 from a yeast-bottle, and that the wound had been 
 inflicted by his wife with a pair of scissors, and 
 this version of the affair many believe to this day.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 A DAY IN CANVAS-TOWN 
 
 So time wore on, and the line began to near com- 
 pletion, and the end of the camp was in sight. 
 Ferguson had made good. His rails were already 
 at the pit-mouth ; the first truck of coals had been 
 dispatched to Melbourne. Scarlett, eager to see 
 the progress that had been made, took a day off 
 and went down on a ballast-train to the fields, 
 where, soon after his arrival, he chanced to meet 
 the engineer in charge of the development work, 
 and was invited to lunch. 
 
 In the interval he strolled about the canvas town, 
 and marvelled at the prodigious progress that had 
 been made. Unquestionably the man at the head 
 of things was a genius. For twenty years this 
 engineer had knocked about in the bush with a 
 handful of men, making observations and writing 
 reports that were pigeonholed and forgotten, and 
 for twenty years he was just one of the staff. But 
 his opportunity came when the national safety was 
 at stake, and he took it with both hands. If the 
 department had forgotten his discoveries, he had 
 not, and when the crisis came, he, together with 
 a Scotch colleague, sat up all night working out 
 plans and estimates. In the morning he went the 
 round of a number of big firms in the city and 
 got options over all material required, and this 
 
 253
 
 254 A DAY IN CANVAS-TOWN 
 
 done, boldly pushed into the presence of the dis- 
 tracted Minister, and laid everything before him. 
 
 ' Give me a free hand/ he said, ' and I'll land 
 you all the coal you need here in the city in two 
 months' lime. 
 
 The Minister was sceptical, but what could he 
 do? 
 
 ' Any port in a storm 1 ' he muttered, as he 
 signed the papers. 
 
 Here was the result. The development effected 
 took Scarlett's breath away. 
 
 The lunch was served in a large tent, and served 
 well, but every minute men entered for directions 
 concerning different parts of the work, and the 
 engineer ate his dinner, talked to Scarlett and 
 settled questions offhand that at ordinary times a 
 committee of ways and means would have argued 
 over for weeks, and only settled after calling for 
 reports. And it seemed to Scarlett that what Mr. 
 Dingley had said concerning Mr. MacDonald was 
 even truer of this engineer ; for had the swift, 
 accurate decision and genius for organisation dis- 
 played by him been exercised in the British Army, 
 it would probably have placed him beside his 
 illustrious namesake in the foremost rank of the 
 generals. 
 
 After lunch the engineer hurried away, and 
 Scarlett strolled round to call on the different 
 ministers who were camped amongst the men, lay- 
 ing the foundations of the churches. The only 
 wooden building in the place as yet was the Baptist 
 church. In the shadow of it was a tent, and 
 sharing the tent were the Baptist and Church of 
 England ministers, the best chums in the world. 
 So soon do men forget their differences when faced 
 with a common difficulty. 
 
 From the ministers Scarlett learned that Mr.
 
 A DAY IN. CANVAS-TOWN 255 
 
 Judson, the foremost of Australia's temperance 
 orators, was to speak that night at a public meet- 
 ing held to protest against the granting of a hotel 
 licence, and lively times were expected. The liquor 
 party had been canvassing the place with tre- 
 mendous energy. Many of the miners and navvies 
 were in favour of a licence, and had promised 
 1 Juddy ' a warm time, and Scarlett resolved to 
 stay over for the meeting and go back on a late 
 coal-train. 
 
 The gathering was held in a tent which the 
 enterprising young Methodist minister had erected 
 pending the building of a church. It would hold 
 about two hundred people, but when Scarlett 
 arrived he found about eight hundred trying to 
 fight their way into it. A hostile crowd had arrived 
 early and taken possession of all the seats, so that 
 there was nothing for it but to roll up the sides of 
 the tent and let everybody squeeze up as closely 
 as they could. The result was a pushing, jostling, 
 writhing mass of men resembling nothing so much 
 as a tangle of fishworms in a tin. 
 
 Judson was late in coming, owing to a break- 
 down on the way, and the crowd beguiled the 
 time by singing, to the tune of ' John Brown's 
 Body ' 
 
 'We'll hang old Juddy to a sour apple-tree, 
 We'll hang old Juddy to a sour apple-tree, 
 We'll hang old Juddy to a sour apple-tree, 
 
 And sell his hide for boots. 
 
 Glory, glory, hallelujah ! 
 
 Glory, glory, hallelujah ! 
 We'll hang old Juddy to a sour apple-tree, 
 
 And sell his hide for boots.' 
 
 Judson arrived in the midst of the chorus, and 
 the reception he received, when wedged through the
 
 256 A DAY IN CANVAS-TOWN 
 
 crush and on to the platform by a squad of police- 
 men, would have been enough to appal a Life 
 Guardsman, for the crowd fairly rose and roared at 
 him. But there was no sign of fear upon the 
 thin, white face. ' Juddy ' had faced too many 
 hostile crowds in his day to fear this one, and, 
 besides, he knew what he could do with a crowd. 
 So he stood before them, a small, delicate, boyish 
 figure, quietly waiting for the opportunity that 
 sooner or later he knew must come* When it did, 
 he had no fear for the result. 
 
 For a long time, notwithstanding the appeals 
 of the mine manager, who was in the chair, speech 
 was impossible ; but at length the uproar subsided 
 to a certain extent, the silvery voice began, and 
 a hush fell upon the crowd as they craned their 
 necks forward to hear what he would say. 
 
 The trouble was not yet over, for many had 
 come determined not to let him speak, and when 
 they woke to the consciousness that they themselves 
 were straining forward listening with all their ears, 
 they renewed their shouts and cries. But it was 
 too late, the spell was cast, and no power there 
 could break it. ' Juddy ' said his say, and having 
 done so, there remained no more to be said. The 
 licence was refused, and his bitterest opponents 
 had to acknowledge his fairness and power. 
 
 ' There's no doubt 'e's a wonder. You fancy 
 'hn comin' it over that crowd like that ! ' a stout 
 miner exclaimed as the crowd surged out into the 
 night . 
 
 ' The thing that knocks me senseless,' a second 
 man began, ' is the size of 'im. W'y, 'e looks more 
 like a kid of fifteen than a full-grown man, 'e 
 
 But here a voice that sounded familiar to Scarlett 
 broke in 
 
 ' Size is nothink, an' you can't go by it. Wot
 
 A DAY IN CANVAS-TOWN 257 
 
 about the Ganger up at the Seventeen Mile? 'E's 
 only a 'andful, but look wot 'e does ! W'y, I was 
 up at Nyora one night, an* 'e come bummin' into 
 the billiard-room like as if 'e'd been shot out of 
 a boardin'-house, an' 'e bumped Bill McGrar clear 
 
 over the table, an' ' 
 
 Scarlett did not stay to hear the remainder. The 
 time for his train to leave drew near, so he made 
 his way along to the starting-point (station so far 
 there was none), and was soon cosily ensconced in 
 the cab of a big locomotive thundering out into the 
 night. 
 
 John ScarUtt, Ganger 1 8
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 BLUEBELL 
 
 As they ran into the Seventeen Mile, Scarlett was 
 surprised to see that the Shanty and several other 
 places were lit up, and when he alighted from 
 the engine was at once aware that high revelry 
 was in progress. His attempt to undo the flap 
 of his tent resulted in a prolonged and startling 
 ringing and rattling of pannikins and tin dishes. 
 Then a voice from within called out in tones of 
 deadly coldness 
 
 ' As sure as ever you set a foot inside of this 
 tent I'll split your skull, so 'elp me cat, I will 1 ' 
 
 4 Whatever are you talking about, Garfield? ' 
 Scarlett demanded in surprise. 
 
 ' Hello I ' the other responded quickly in a 
 relieved tone. ' It's you, Ganger? ' 
 
 ' Yes. Whatever have you got the place barri- 
 caded up like this for? ' 
 
 ' Come in,' Garfield answered quickly, removing 
 the barricade of tins and cans about the entrance, 
 and untying the network of rope with which it 
 was fastened. 
 
 ' No, don't strike a light I ' he added hastily ; 
 1 you might only bring them wretches down on 
 us again, an' then we would 'ave a time.' 
 
 ' What wretches? What's the trouble? ' Scarlett 
 asked again.
 
 BLUEBELL 259 
 
 ' Bluebell, an' 'er fancy men,' Garfield replied 
 sententiously. 
 
 John whistled. ' Is she in the camp? ' 
 
 ' You bet she is ! ' 
 
 ' I might have known as much when I saw 
 the lights and heard the racket,' Scarlett responded. 
 ' But why did you fortify yourself like this? Were 
 you afraid she'd come in? ' 
 
 ' She was here doin' her darndest to get in,' 
 Garfield responded ; ' an' she would 'ave got in, 
 only a row started up in the Shanty an' she went 
 over to see wot the matter was an' forgot to; 
 come back.' 
 
 ' What would you have done if she had got 
 in? ' Scarlett asked curiously. 
 
 ' I'd 'ave hit 'er clean out in one smack,' Gar- 
 field replied deliberately. ' I would. So 'elp me 
 cat 1 ' 
 
 ' You wouldn't hit a woman? ' 
 
 ' Woman ! She ain't no woman ! She's a kind 
 of a hy-eena ! That's what she is. Look what 
 she does with the men? No,' he added, with 
 conviction, ' I'd think no more of givin' 'er one, 
 if she come in 'ere, than what I would Joe the 
 Goose if 'ee was try in' it on.' 
 
 Bluebell was a kind of camp-follower who had 
 achieved notoriety on a dozen railway lines, and 
 was more dreaded than all the tugs and toughs 
 put together. Scarlett heard of her within an 
 hour of his arrival, and frequently wondered 
 what manner of woman she was. 'One night 
 his speculations were ended by her sudden 
 appearance in the camp on one of her periodical 
 visits. 
 
 The tent was full, the various games were in 
 progress, and everything going with a swing, when 
 suddenly a dead silence fell upon everybody, and
 
 260 BLUEBELL 
 
 each man listened with all his ears. To Scarlett 
 the voices told nothing, and he was about to inquire 
 what was wrong when, moved by a sudden 
 impulse, nearly every man in the place made a 
 bolt for the back entrance and disappeared. In 
 ten seconds, with the exception of Garfield, 
 Hallum, and one or two others, the place was 
 empty, and those who remained did so purely out 
 of sympathy for John. 
 
 ' What is it? What's the matter? ' he de- 
 manded, looking from one to another. 
 
 ' Bluebell ! ' one of the men replied significantly 
 in a whisper, and the next moment she came into 
 the tent. 
 
 John had often pictured her to himself, and 
 had imagined a big blonde virago, somewhere in 
 the twenties, coarse and vulgar to the finger-tips. 
 The woman who entered the doorway was little, 
 middle-aged, thin, spare, and almost refined in 
 her appearance. 
 
 Scarlett looked at her in astonishment. Was 
 it possible that this was the woman whose name 
 was a synonym for terror in all the camps? He 
 could scarcely credit it. He was prepared to be 
 afraid of her, but she was so below his expecta- 
 tions that when she stood before him he was not 
 a bit afraid, and Bluebell knew it in some way, 
 and as a consequence was somewhat afraid of 
 him. She was politeness and servility embodied 
 as she stood before him. Scarlett, on the other 
 hand, was calm and confident. 
 
 ' Anything I can do for you? ' he asked in 
 matter-of-fact tones. 
 
 What Bluebell's motive was in entering the tent 
 is hard to say. Quite possibly she intended wreck- 
 ing it, but something in the atmosphere of the 
 place or in Scarlett's appearance had overawed her,
 
 BLUEBELL 261 
 
 and in response to his inquiry she answered 
 meekly 
 
 ' Could you give me something to read? ' 
 
 1 Yes/ John replied promptly, ' I think I could. 
 What kind of reading would you like? ' 
 
 Rather to his amazement she said she would 
 prefer something religious. However, he set to 
 work at once and made her up a decent parcel of 
 good papers. She thanked him humbly and 
 retired. 
 
 4 Well, there isn't anything very terrible about 
 her,' Scarlett remarked, turning to the others. 
 
 4 You must 'ave mesmerised 'er, Ganger,' Hallum 
 replied. ' I've never seen 'er like that before. 
 But don't make any mistake about 'er ; there'll 
 be music in this camp before the mornin'. You 
 take it from me.' 
 
 Hallum's prediction was fulfilled. Soon after 
 midnight Scarlett was awakened by the noise of 
 battle in the direction of the Shanty, and as time 
 wore on the disturbance increased. After a while 
 came shouts of ' Murder ! ' and a little before day 
 John suffered agonies of fear when he became 
 aware that a section of the roysterers were ap- 
 proaching his tent. He sprang from his bunk, 
 and, clutching his revolver, determined to shoot 
 somebody if necessary to save himself from what 
 he conceived might be their purpose. But his 
 fears were vain : it was only a man with a broken 
 head borne by four of his comrades, seeking the 
 aid of Scarlett and his 4 tool '-chest. 
 
 John did what was possible for the man, and 
 he was taken to his tent, and in the morning 
 Bluebell went on her way ; but a number of her 
 victims lay about, and bore her marks for many 
 a day. 
 
 To-night it was quite certain something of the
 
 2"62 BLUEBELL 
 
 kind would happen again. The noise across the 
 way waxed louder and louder, and Scarlett sat 
 on the side of his bunk debating as to whether 
 he should turn in or not. The question was solved 
 for him by a fresh outbreak of shouts and yells, 
 cries of ' Murder ! ' and the frenzied shrieks of a 
 woman. John's mind was made up, and first 
 changing his revolver into the right-hand pocket 
 of his coat, where it would be handy of access, he 
 undid the flap of the tent and made his way across 
 the line to the scene of the disturbance. He had 
 several falls owing to the dark and the obstacles 
 in the way, but arrived at the Shanty in time to 
 see the climax. 
 
 The flap at the entrance was drawn aside, and 
 Scarlett was able at a glance to take in the whole 
 scene, and it was sordid and startling enough in 
 all conscience. The place was fairly full. A 
 keg of beer stood on a kind of rude table. Joe 
 the Goose, his evil face haggard with nervous- 
 ness, stood behind it. His eyes were intent upon 
 the scuffle taking place before him, and he was 
 calling nervously upon the others to ' 'ave a bit 
 of common,' or to ' go out inter the scrub ' if they 
 wanted to murder one another. 
 
 Duckfoot Brown lay prone on the ground, groan- 
 ing miserably, his face covered with blood, while 
 Bluebell, flourishing a beer-bottle in her hand, 
 her hair dishevelled, her face white and intense 
 and looking the incarnation of evil, stood in the 
 centre of a group of half -drunken men, who were 
 doing their best to quieten her. It was evident 
 that Duckfoot had in some way offended her, and 
 had paid the usual penalty, though how she was 
 able to bring about the downfall of a great man 
 such as he John could not divine. But he was 
 not long in learning her secret.
 
 BLUEBELL 263 
 
 Joe the Goose suddenly caught sight of Scarlett 
 in the doorway, and somehow gaining courage from 
 his presence, came "from behind the table and 
 shouted in the half-defiant, half -apologetic tone of 
 the true bully, uncertain of his ground 
 
 ' Look 'ere, Bluebell, I'm not goin' to 'ave my 
 place git a bad name. I ' 
 
 Bluebell heard him above the babel of voices 
 round her, and flung about at once in a frenzy. 
 
 ' What? ' she screamed, as she advanced upon 
 him. ' What did you say? ' 
 
 ' I only said I didn't want any trouble in my 
 place,' Joe replied meekly, retreating before her. 
 
 But this reply only enraged her the more. Her 
 livid face twitched as though she were in the grip 
 of a convulsion fit, rage choked her for a moment, 
 then she broke out into a stream of invective and 
 cursing that positively singed and burned. Then 
 suddenly with tigerish swiftness and strength she 
 brought the bottle she was holding crashing down 
 upon Joe the Goose's head, and he fell like a 
 log at her feet. Before any one had realised 
 what had happened she flung herself upon him 
 like a wild beast and struck another blow. 
 
 The others were so drunk that, had it depended 
 upon their efforts to save him, Joe the Goose would 
 then and there have gone to give an account of 
 his shanty-keeping to God. But just then Scarlett 
 intervened. He had stood at the door, unnoticed 
 of any save Joe, looking in wonder, not unmixed 
 with fear, at the sordid scene before him. The 
 first blow was struck so swiftly that Joe was 
 stretched out before Scarlett realised what was 
 taking place, but he sprang at once to the rescue, 
 and although too late to save the shantyman from 
 a second blow, he was able to prevent a third. 
 Seizing Bluebell by the shoulders just as she was
 
 264 BLUEBELL 
 
 about to deliver it, he swung her round and hurled 
 her right across the place, scattering the men like 
 skittles, while the bottle, flying from her hand, 
 struck a stout navvy on the side of the head, filling 
 his horizon with stars of the first magnitude. 
 
 Bluebell, fairly screaming with rage, flashed 
 round instantly to confront her new antagonist, 
 but at sight of him she shrank back. Just what 
 it was about Scarlett that overawed her it would 
 be difficult to say. Possibly the explanation may 
 be found in Tennyson's words 
 
 ' His strength was as the strength of ten, 
 Because his heart was pure.' 
 
 At all events, conscious guilt is shorn of much 
 of its strength when opposed to purity and inno- 
 cence. And possibly when Bluebell looked upon 
 John's innocence and thought of her own guilt, 
 when she saw what he was and what she was, 
 a kind of fear of him came upon her. 
 
 As for Scarlett, if Bluebell, fearing the face of 
 no man, yet feared him, he, timid and fearful 
 of most, had yet no fear of her, and he stood 
 over her now, blazing with wrath and indignation. 
 
 ' What do you mean, you you baggage? ' he 
 shouted. ' What do you call yourself? Oh, you're 
 a nice woman 1 * he went on with contempt. ' Why 
 don't you stay at home ' (she had a home) ' and 
 look after your home instead of plaguing and 
 cursing this camp? ' 
 
 He paused for breath, but Bluebell made no 
 reply, only her face twitched uneasily, and she 
 glanced longingly at the door. Then Scarlett went 
 on again. 
 
 4 Look here ! ' he cried, ' we've had enough of 
 you more than enough. There's the door, and out
 
 BLUEBELL 265 
 
 you get. I'll give you till daylight to get clear 
 away, and if you're still in the camp, or ever come 
 back to it while I'm here, you'll be ducked in 
 the water-tank you will, Bluebell, as sure as you 
 live. Now get 1 ' 
 
 There was no need to say more. Without raising 
 her eyes and without a word Bluebell went out 
 into the dark, and the camp knew her no more. 
 Then Scarlett turned to the men, who all the time 
 had looked on, silent and amazed. 
 
 ' I hope you're satisfied,' he said, looking scorn- 
 fully at them. ' Your people would be proud of 
 you. But this is no good/ he added, turning 
 away. ' We'll have to do something for these 
 beauties. You, Dan, and you, Jim,' he said, 
 addressing two of the most sober, ' go across to 
 my camp and ask Garfield for the medicine-chest, 
 and we'll see what we can do for them.' 
 
 Both the sufferers were by this time sitting up 
 in a dazed fashion, and after such attention as 
 Scarlett was able to give them, were helped away 
 to bed, sick and sorry, but, alas 1 with the great 
 lesson unlearned. 
 
 The light of a cold day was stealing over the 
 hills and the valley as Scarlett made his way 
 back to his tent, and, thoroughly exhausted, flung 
 himself on his bunk, pulled the 'possum-rug over 
 himself, and speedily fell asleep.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 THE YANK TAKES A HAND 
 
 THE first two months at the Seventeen Mile passed 
 rapidly away. So far as Scarlett was concerned 
 they were months wherein he drank sweet waters 
 and bitter in about equal parts. Human nature, 
 as old Martin Luther says in his bluff fashion, 
 is like a drunken peasant if you put him up on 
 one side of his horse he will fall off on the other ; 
 and whoever has to work with men for their 
 spiritual and temporal good will speedily find out 
 how true are the stout reformer's words. 
 
 To Scarlett the discovery came as a bitter dis- 
 appointment, and time and again when some man 
 whom he had laid hold of and carefully shepherded 
 for a fortnight would, after all, go down before 
 the first breath of temptation and repay all his 
 solicitude with abuse, he began to wonder if men 
 were worth the trouble he was taking with them. 
 The Bishop was the worst sinner in this respect. 
 His culture and talents naturally attracted Scarlett, 
 and for him he laboured more than all. Yet with 
 but little result, so far as he could see. However, 
 he did not despair, and on the whole he was 
 aware that much good was being done, though 
 more, perhaps, in the way of prevention than of 
 cure. 
 
 No attempt was made to hold revival meetings. 
 
 266
 
 THE YANK TAKES A HAND 267 
 
 In such a community that were impossible, but in 
 a quiet way John did a good deal of personal 
 work, and in the end personal work probably 
 counts for most. Then, too, notwithstanding all 
 his deficiencies of flesh and spirit, his influence 
 daily became greater. Prior to his coming, for 
 example, two-up had seized the men like a pestil- 
 ence, and was played openly in the camp, particu- 
 larly upon a Sunday. But soon after the gamblers 
 retired to a secluded spot away out of his sight. 
 Returning from the hills one afternoon, "he came 
 upon them in the midst of it, and stood by to watch 
 the play. It went on half-heartedly for a time, 
 then they gave it up, ashamed. 
 
 Later on Scarlett talked about the matter at 
 the Sunday night meeting, and part of his remon- 
 strance undoubtedly reached the spot. ' iWjhat sort 
 of man is he,' he asked, ' who will work side 
 by side with his mate for a fortnight, drink out of 
 the same billy, share his food, receive all kinds 
 of help from him, and then in the end take every 
 penny of his hard-earned money from him on the 
 chance spin of a coin? Call him a man? Call 
 him a mate? I call him the meanest kind of a 
 thief? ' 
 
 This speech roused various feelings resentment 
 in those who had been winning, a sense of injury 
 in those who had lost their money, and a measure 
 of reflection in all. Two-up still went on amongst 
 its devotees, but it had received a heavy blow, 
 and many (the younger men in particular) gave 
 it up altogether. 
 
 At this time, too, an interesting duel, or what 
 appeared to be one, was in progress between the 
 Yank and Joe the Goose. From his first appear- 
 ance on the platform the night of the bun 
 struggle, the majority of the men believed the
 
 268 THE YANK TAKES A HAND 
 
 Yank to be a revenue officer, and treated him 
 accordingly. The ' spotters ' reported at once to 
 the Shanty and the ' Blue Pig,' and from that 
 hour he was closely watched. Men were not slow 
 to tell him what they believed him to be, of 
 course, but the little American repelled the insinua- 
 tion with scorn, and endeavoured to settle down 
 in the camp like any other man. 
 
 It was in vain. They only suspected him the 
 more. Then one spotter after another came to 
 him in a ' friendly ' way and advised him to leave 
 the place and go elsewhere. There were some 
 rough men about, they hinted, and they hadn't 
 taken to him, and he might get a crack over the 
 head some night. 
 
 But the Yank was not to be bluffed. ' I'd like 
 to see 'em try it on,' he said coldly, swelling out 
 his diminutive chest. Then he carried the war 
 into the enemy's camp. 
 
 One hot night he deliberately pushed his way 
 into the ' Blue Pig,' and addressing the gigantic 
 Marsh in fatherly tones, said 
 
 ' Say, son, my inside's like a desert in a ten- 
 year drought. Car n't you gimme a drink? ' 
 
 ' Kola or tea? ' Marsh asked suavely when he 
 had recovered his breath. 
 
 'Kola be . . . !' the other replied. 'Fire- 
 water.' 
 
 ' Sorry,' Marsh replied, ' but I don't keep it.' 
 Nor could the Yank, for all his pleading, move 
 Big Marsh an inch. 
 
 He had no better success at the Shanty, either, 
 for notwithstanding the fact that a number of 
 half-drunken men were lounging about the place 
 when he went in, and the reek of spirits filled 
 the air, Joe the Goose persisted in denying that 
 he sold, or ever had sold, spirituous liquors.
 
 THE YANK TAKES A HAND 269 
 
 ' 'Ow could I w'en it's agen the lor? ' he 
 demanded with an air of limpid innocence. 
 
 And even when the Yank called him 'a ... 
 liar/ and invited him out to ' the place where the 
 bull feeds/ that he might prove it with his fists, 
 Joe held his peace. For the Yank, as the Yank, 
 he professed to his intimates, he did not care a 
 tinker's curse but the Yank as detective was a 
 different proposition. So the gentleman in ques- 
 tion went to his tent like a certain king of old 
 time, heavy and displeased. 
 
 Now, whether the Yank was really a revenue 
 officer sent down by the Premier in response to 
 Mr. Dingley's letter, or just what he professed to 
 be, an ordinary working-man, Scarlett never knew, 
 nor anybody else in the camp, for that matter ; but 
 ' give a dog a bad name and you might as well 
 hang him/ and let a certain thing be generally 
 believed concerning any man, and in some respects 
 he might as well be that at once. The Yank was 
 believed to be a detective, and consequently every- 
 thing he did was, in the eyes of the spotters, and 
 indeed of the camp generally, fraught with sinister 
 meaning. If he spent an evening in the Social 
 Hall, it was clear he was merely trying to allay 
 suspicion. If he failed to put in an appearance, 
 it was equally clear he was up to some trickery 
 elsewhere. If he lay reading in his tent, he was 
 plainly hatching some diabolical plot to entrap 
 them ; and if he were not in his tent, who could 
 doubt that he was spying round somewhere for 
 fresh evidence? If he failed to turn up to work, 
 it was because he expected his ' cobbers/ and a 
 raid was imminent. If he went to work, he was 
 just biding his time. If he wrote a letter, it 
 undoubtedly contained ' instructions.' If he ex- 
 pected a letter, it was the ' warrant.'
 
 270 THE YAN.K TAKES A HAND 
 
 The result of all this was to create a state of 
 tension such as the drink -weakened nerves of the 
 shantyites found very difficult to endure. F.ear 
 was on every side. Nor was the Yank slow to 
 understand the position. If, as they supposed, 
 he was a detective, it is probable that, despairing 
 of gaining their confidence, he had determined to 
 work upon their fears. But if, on the contrary, 
 he was what he professed to be, then it is evident 
 he had concluded it was as well to play the game 
 as get the name, and was determined to have 
 revenge for their shabby treatment of him. 
 
 Accordingly he began to be much engrossed in 
 a mysterious black notebook which he carried in 
 his shirt next his breast. A guileless spotter stroll- 
 ing round a clump of scrub would find him seated 
 on a secluded log, busily writing with a stump of 
 pencil. Directly, however, a step was heard, the 
 Yank would spring up with every appearance of 
 confusion, hurriedly stuff the book into his shirt, 
 and in an awkward way endeavour to pass the 
 matter off. 
 
 A few days later he began to inquire persistently 
 of Scarlett whether a letter in a ' long blue 
 envelope ' had come for him, this inquiry being 
 invariably made in a ' pig's whisper,' that just 
 contrived to reach the ears of the ubiquitous spotter 
 who was engrossed in a paper close by, who imme- 
 diately detailed it to headquarters. Then one even- 
 ing the camp was startled by a succession of 
 revolver shots, and rushing out, discovered the 
 Yank with a leaf of his notebook pinned on a 
 gum-tree, the which he was endeavouring, and not 
 without success, to transform into a five of clubs. 
 
 ' I was afraid my shootin' was goin' off,' he said 
 in response to an inquiry by Scarlett, who had 
 joined the crowd that quickly gathered to him.
 
 THE YANK TAKES A HAND 271 
 
 ' An' I don't want that. You never can tell what's 
 ahead.' 
 
 * Well, I guess you haven't gone off any,' 
 Scarlett replied admiringly as he examined the 
 paper,; and then, as a thought struck him: 'Do 
 you always carry your gun about with you? ' 
 
 ' Always,' the Yank replied ' an' sleep with 'er 
 at night, with my finger on the pull,' this with a 
 sidelong glance at Joe the Goose. 
 
 Nor was it lost upon him. Indeed, the whole 
 thing was done for Joe's especial benefit, and 
 was thoroughly effective, for whatever designs they 
 may have had against the Yank were now dis- 
 carded, it being agreed that a man who could 
 shoot like that would be a bad man to tackle. 
 
 Big Marsh's problem in regard to the Yank 
 was solved by Scarlett in the manner described 
 elsewhere, and in some respects that gentleman 
 was not sorry, for he was worried half out of 
 his wits. In all probability, too, the Yank would 
 have borne the odium of that mysterious outrage 
 had it not been that at the moment when the shot 
 rang out he was, for the fiftieth time, beseeching 
 Joe the Goose to sell him a drink, averring that 
 his tongue was ' hangin' out like the tongue of 
 a boot 1 ' 
 
 But with the ' Blue Pig ' out of the way, Joe the 
 Goose's troubles increased. Hitherto Big Marsh 
 had shared them ; now he was all alone. The 
 place was full of eyes, and each one glared at him. 
 Every buggy that rattled down the road contained 
 the detectives ; every newcomer was another spy. 
 The Yank had got on his nerves. 
 
 iWhen Friday came things reached a climax. 
 Joe had ordered beer from Bass, and arranged 
 for its delivery at an hour when the Yank would 
 be away with his gang. But the Yank did not
 
 272 THE YANK TAKES A HAND 
 
 go out that day, and when the cart approached and 
 Joe came out of the Shanty to take delivery, to his 
 horror the Yank was sitting by the roadside, turn- 
 ing over the leaves of that dreadful black book. 
 There was nothing for it but to signal the driver 
 to go right on, which he did. The Yank looked 
 up with disappointment on his face. 
 
 ' Say, Joe,' he cried, ' I am disappointed. I 
 thought that cart was sure enough bringin' you 
 some firewater in the bar'l, but it seems it don't 
 belong here.' 
 
 With an animal-like snarl and an expression 
 of hate, Joe the Goose made his way back to the 
 Shanty. But flesh and blood could endure no 
 more. Early next morning Scarlett learned the 
 great news that he had bolted some time during 
 the night, and, moreover, that he had ' scaled ' 
 the boarding-house and the storekeeper to the tune 
 of twenty pounds. Later on in the day the Yank 
 came across to inquire for a letter, but this time 
 he did not particularise the shape or colour of 
 the envelope. Scarlett regarded him steadfastly. 
 
 ' I don't know, Mr. Lovelock,' he said, ' whether 
 you are a detective in disguise, or just what you 
 make yourself out to be, but I want to tell you 
 this : I'm eternally grateful to you for coming to 
 this camp. 1 
 
 The Yank's leathery countenance broke into a 
 smile, but he vouchsafed no reply, and a few days 
 later he, too, mysteriously disappeared.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 JOHN RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 So, as has been said, Scarlett drank sweet waters 
 and bitter, but this last, the closing of the shanties, 
 was very sweet to his soul. And now, he told 
 himself, with the shanties out of the way and 
 Sheila close by to inspire and cheer him, he would 
 work to some purpose. It was well for him then, 
 seeing he was a man in earnest, that he had not 
 waited for a clear field in order to begin his work ; 
 in that case nothing had been done. For, as a 
 matter of fact, his opportunities, in this direction 
 at least, were now gone for ever. 
 
 The very night after Joe the Goose had ' scaled ' 
 Scarlett found a letter in the mail-bag from the 
 General, requiring him to hand over the work to 
 Mr. Robert Darby, who was being sent down to 
 take charge, and to report himself to headquarters. 
 The explanation given of this unexpected develop- 
 ment was that the General had learned that the 
 camp at the Seventeen Mile was shortly to be 
 broken up, the work being practically finished. 
 But his (Scarlett's) work had been so entirely 
 successful, and the Board had received so many 
 independent testimonies to his ability and great 
 personal influence, that they were desirous of re- 
 taining his services permanently. Doubtless other 
 railway work would be undertaken in the future, 
 
 John Scarlett, Ganger. Ity 273
 
 274 JOHN RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 but in the meantime there was a vacancy on the 
 staff at headquarters, which must be filled at once, 
 and they wished him to report himself as soon 
 as possible after Mr. Darby's arrival, which would 
 be in a few days at most. 
 
 To say that John was overwhelmed is but a 
 feeble way of indicating the state pf mind into 
 which this communication flung him. His first 
 impulse was to stay on and see the job through 
 in defiance of the Board, but on second thoughts 
 he decided it would be best to go ; for, after all, 
 the work would come to an end with the completion 
 of the ballasting, which was now only a matter 
 of little time, and obedience to orders would mean 
 an opportunity for similar work in the near future. 
 
 ' And anyhow,' he cried triumphantly, ' the 
 General admits I've made good it's here in black 
 and white I ' 
 
 But the summons precipitated the need for action 
 in a matter which lately had been haunting him 
 like a nightmare. This was nothing more nor 
 less than the necessity for speaking to Mr. 
 MacDonald about Sheila ; and after the first shock 
 of the General's letter had worn off he began to 
 face the inevitable. He could not leave the camp 
 without speaking, yet he feared that to speak 
 meant to lose Sheila out of his life for ever. 
 As has been seen, John was a pessimist as regards 
 Tiimself, and turn it how he would, he could not 
 see how an ambitious father could possibly be 
 content with a poor match for his daughter. 
 
 'If I had wealth,' he groaned, ' it would be 
 another matter ; but what are my few poor 
 hundreds? If I had a position worthy of her, or 
 great expectations, or were even anything to look 
 at myself, it might be different, but as it is . . ." 
 
 Nevertheless speak he must, but of all the
 
 JOHN RECEIVES A LETTER 275 
 
 ordeals John had ever contemplated in his life this 
 was certainly the hardest. Compared with it, the 
 bearding of the lions in the ' Old Bull and Bush ' 
 was a kindergarten. Nevertheless it must be done, 
 and he resolved to do it at once. He would go 
 up to the camp to-night, and for the time being 
 let the Social Centre look after itself. Fortu- 
 nately, now it could do that without difficulty. 
 
 In the meantime he informed such men as were 
 about that he had orders to quit, and would be 
 gone in a few days. The news was received with 
 consternation, which quickly spread through the 
 camp, and in the evening, when Scarlett had gone 
 up to the MacDonalds, the gathering in the tent 
 resolved itself into a meeting to see what was 
 to be done. 
 
 ' If the caonp wos goin* to last,' old Bob de- 
 clared, ' we'd keep 'im with us if we 'ad to pay 
 'ees screw ourselves ; but seein' it's just petered 
 out, the only thing for it is to give 'im a good 
 send-off an' let 'im go.' 
 
 As there seemed no appeal from this, the others 
 perforce had to agree, and the question then arose 
 as to the nature of the ' send-off.' 
 
 ' Whatever we do,' Andy Callander observed, 
 ' it will have to be somethin' worth while some- 
 thin' this camp won't be ashamed to ask him to 
 take.' 
 
 ' I think we berrer gib 'im a money -purse of 
 sobrens,' Black Rudolph interposed excitedly. 
 
 ' Not a bad idea neither, Snowdrop,' Billy 
 Sandes remarked approvingly ; ' the only thing 
 is, where are we goin' to git 'em? ' 
 
 ' I smack one down, ennyow,' Rudolph responded 
 in challenging tones. 
 
 ' Then, by cinnamon, if you do, I'll cover it ! ' 
 Duckfoot Brown roared at once. ' I ain't goin'
 
 276 JOHN RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 to play second shovel to no white Australian 
 HvinV 
 
 4 Seems to me,' Garfield said, 4 somebody had 
 better go round with the bell-topper.' 
 
 ' That's all right,' old Bill broke in impatiently ; 
 4 we can easy enough give 'im a bag full of quids, 
 if that's all we're goin' to do. But wot about a 
 farewell meetin' an' speeches? Somebody ought 
 to git up an' tell 'im wot we think of 'im, an' 
 somebody ought to second it. Couldn't we git up 
 a kind of shivoo? ' 
 
 ' Wot we want,' the gentleman who was intro- 
 duced earlier in the story as ' Sam ' declared, 
 4 is a syndicate ' Sam was an ex -miner ' a 
 syndicate to draw up rules an' regulashuns.' 
 
 ' Committee, you mean,' George corrected him. 
 
 4 Committee or any darn thing you like,' Sam 
 retorted impatiently, ' so long as they git a 
 promenade on an' do the thing.' 
 
 And so it was arranged at length. A committee 
 was appointed with power to collect money and 
 arrange a programme for a send-off, to be held 
 the following Friday night. 
 
 All unconscious of these procee'dings, Jolin was 
 anxiously drawing near to the MacDonald camp. 
 His nervousness was so great as almost to produce 
 nausea, and it was with a fevered brow and dry 
 lips that he approached the clearing. In a way 
 he felt that his life for good and all would be 
 made or marred in the next half-hour, and it 
 was impossible for him to view the ordeal with 
 any degree of equanimity. 
 
 In the last fringe of shadows he stood a moment, 
 and, lifting up his eyes to heaven, prayed that God 
 would give him grace for whatever came, good 
 or bad. Then he started out across the moonlit 
 space between the bush and the camp.
 
 JOHN RECEIVES A' LETTER 277 
 
 Not the least of the trial before him consisted 
 in going to the door and formally asking to see 
 the manager alone. That would be so unusual 
 that all would remark it, and he dreaded the 
 questioning looks. However, he learned again the 
 folly of crossing a stream before reaching it, for 
 he scarce had left the shadows before a figure, 
 which he knew at once to be that of the man he 
 was seeking, emerged from one of the tents and 
 came briskly towards him on the way downhill. 
 
 ' It's you, John ! ' the manager cried cheerily 
 as he drew near. ' Whatever brings you here 
 at this hour? Not but that I'm glad to see you,' 
 he added. 
 
 ' I came to see you,' John managed to gasp. 
 
 ' But don't you always come to see me? ' the 
 manager replied, with a measure of banter in his 
 tones that John was too worried to notice. ' I'm 
 the only man on the place, and everybody knows 
 you simply can't be bathered wiih womenfolks.' 
 
 ' That's all a mistake,' the unhappy John broke 
 in. 'I don't dislike women. I love them at 
 least, one of them. I love your 'daughter, Mr. 
 MacDonald,' he blurted out, ' and I've come up 
 to tell you so and ask if you have any objection 
 to us being married? ' 
 
 Whether the announcement had taken the 
 manager's breath away, or it is only that he was 
 considering his answer, is uncertain. What is 
 certain is that he stood still in the pathway for 
 a considerable length of time, staring at the young 
 man before him, ere he made any attempt to 
 answer the question, and in the end he answered 
 it by asking another. 
 
 ' What does Sheila think of the matter? ' he 
 inquired. 
 
 4 She thinks the same of me as I do of her,'
 
 278 JOHN RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 John replied, and added, ' though it's a mystery 
 to me why she does. I'm not half worthy of her.' 
 
 ' You're right there, John,' the father replied 
 frankly. ' You're not half worthy of her not 
 that I've anything against you, John, but I've 
 never seen the man yet that was half worthy of 
 her. But I've business at the mine to-night, arid 
 am due there shortly, and if you'll walk along we 
 can talk about your affairs and I'll see.' 
 
 They turned then and set off along the track 
 that led to the mine, and in response to leading 
 questions Scarlett told him the story of his life, 
 and it did not escape him that, although the 
 manager made full inquiries as to his financial 
 position and prospects, yet it was about his health 
 and former manner of life that he seemed most 
 anxious to be informed. 
 
 ' A good banking account is a fine asset, John,' 
 he said, ' I'll not deny that, but it's a poor thing 
 tacked on to a filthy disease and weakened man- 
 hood. Aye,' he added, as his manner was, ' I had 
 rather give Sheila to a man without a doit any 
 day, if he had a clean mind in a sound body, 
 than to a millionaire without them.' 
 
 Still, he had said neither yea nor nay, and John's 
 anxiety was intense. However, when they came in 
 sight of the mine, the manager halted in the middle 
 of the track and looked him squarely in the face. 
 
 ' It's not easy, John,' he said, ' for a father 
 to consent to part with such a child as Sheila, 
 especially when she's all we have ; but I knew 
 it must come from some quarter sooner or later, 
 and I don't know any man I'd rather give her to 
 than yourself, and besides, you haf a kind of 
 claim to her, for you safed her life. Well, you 
 haf my consent,' he said, extending his hand, ' so 
 you'd better be away now and tell her so. You'll
 
 JOHN RECEIVES A^ LETTER 279 
 
 haf no trouble with her mother. She has wanted 
 to adopt you ever since you dragged Sheila out 
 of the sea.' 
 
 John's thanks were fervent if brief and rather 
 lamely expressed, and the next moment he was 
 running back to the MacDonald camp as though 
 a band of bushrangers were at his heels while 
 the father, with bowed head and thoughtful steps, 
 made his way to the mine.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 SCARLETT'S SHIVOO 
 
 THE ' syndicate ' to which the task of arranging the 
 farewell to Scarlett had been entrusted went to 
 work as men of whom great things were expected. 
 The result was, that when Friday came they had 
 not only collected a purse of sovereigns, but 
 arranged a programme which for length and 
 variety excelled anything hitherto given in the 
 camp. In addition they had spread the news 
 throughout the hills amongst the Cockies, and as 
 a consequence a great crowd of old and young 
 came down the night of the farewell, in order to 
 take a last look at Scarlett and to say goodbye. 
 
 There were the Petersons from down the line, 
 the Baxters from their snug farm across the range, 
 the Halkeths from the Red Hill, the Dingleys 
 from Mount Pleasant, and many others whose 
 interest had been stirred in the unpretentious young 
 man who came to camp amongst the navvies and 
 fight the shanties. Nor did they fail to do their 
 share towards the purse of sovereigns. 
 
 It was well the syndicate had lost no time in 
 their preparations, for, as the event proved, Friday 
 was Scarlett's last day. Mr. Darby arrived that 
 morning to take over control, and John must needs 
 leave by the first train on Saturday. 
 
 And after all, he went about his preparations 
 
 280
 
 SCARLETT'S SHIVOO 281 
 
 for departure with a light heart. The work was 
 practically over, it had been undeniably successful, 
 and he was able now to look forward to the 
 future with a good deal more equanimity than he 
 had a week before. He had wondered many a 
 time what he should turn to when this work was 
 done, and now that matter was settled. His future 
 was assured, and in a sphere entirely to his liking. 
 
 Then the great uncertainty as to how the Mac- 
 Donalds would regard his relations with Sheila, 
 which had lain like a load upon his spirit and 
 filled his days and nights with apprehension, was 
 now gone for ever. Instead of the separation 
 his fears had prophesied, he had been adopted 
 into the heart of a family more desirable in his 
 eyes than royalty itself. 
 
 Mr. MacDonald's prediction that he would find 
 no difficulty with Sheila's mother proved correct, 
 for when, after leaving that gentleman, he had 
 come panting into their presence to tell them the 
 great news, he found that lady quite ready to take 
 him to her heart. Nor was it such news to her 
 as the young people imagined. They, ostrich- 
 like, had hidden their heads, and imagined that 
 none couljd see or suspect, whereas the thing was 
 the talk of the camp and the countryside, and the 
 parents had already been congratulated times with- 
 out number. But, like wise people, after talking 
 the matter over in all its bearings and approving 
 Sheila's choice, they had let things take their 
 course, confident that John would do the honest 
 thing when the right time came. So there was 
 nothing for the mother to do but to tell him with 
 tears of genuine joy how glad she was, and then, 
 drawing them both to her, pray that the grace 
 of God might be upon them and make them happy. 
 
 Surely it is an omen of good things to come
 
 282 SCARLETT'S SHIVOO 
 
 when a young couple begin their engagement amid 
 the tears and blessings of godly parents. 
 
 As for Sheila, while she rejoiced greatly that 
 ' daddy ' had given his consent, yet the thought 
 of the speedy parting diminished her joy consider- 
 ably. However, this in turn was tempered by her 
 father, who, returning before John had left for 
 home, assured her they would themselves be back 
 in town not later than the ist of June. 
 
 So, as has been said, it was with comparative 
 lightness of heart that John went about his pre- 
 parations for departure. He was to be farewelled 
 by the "men that night, he knew, but of the extensive 
 preparations he knew nothing 1 , neither was he aware 
 of the purse of sovereigns. He anticipated the 
 usual' crowd of men, a few kind words said by. 
 some one on their behalf, a song or two, selections 
 on the phonograph, his own brief response nothing 
 more. 
 
 His surprise was great on returning after tea 
 to find a gang of men clearing the tent as though 
 a crowd was expected. Then he learned that 
 some of the Cockies were likely to put in an 
 appearance, and shortly afterwards the prediction 
 was verified. First among the outsiders, Scarlett 
 was amazed to see his future father and mother- 
 in-law, together with Sheila, who darted at him a 
 look which said, ' Here's a surprise for you ! * 
 Then he knew that something more was afoot than 
 he had bargained for, and resigned himself to the 
 worst or the best. 
 
 So the crowd gathered and the performance 
 began, for it was a performance such as, for up- 
 roarious laughter and fun, could not be surpassed 
 anywhere ; and withal, acting as a balance and 
 set-off to it all, there was a deep note of sorrow and 
 regret, even of devotion, so that refinement was
 
 SCARLETT'S SHIVOO 283 
 
 never lacking nor tears far remote from the wildest 
 outbursts of hilarity. 
 
 Sheila's song, for instance, produced an extra- 
 ordinary effect, and might have been the prelude 
 to a revival meeting had such a purpose been 
 in view. It was only a kind of parody on the old 
 Spanish love-song ' Juanita,' and sung to that 
 tune ; but let any sing it over once or twice and 
 they will know its power. 
 
 ' O My Redeemer ! what a friend Thou art to me : 
 O what a refuge I have found in Thee ! 
 When the way was dreary 
 And my heart was sore oppressed, 
 'Twas Thy voice that lulled me 
 To a calm, sweet rest. 
 
 Nearer, draw nearer, 
 Till my soul is lost in Thee, 
 Nearer, draw nearer 
 Blessed Lord, to me. 
 
 When, in their beauty, stars unveil their silver light, 
 Then, O my Saviour, grant me songs at night, 
 Songs of yonder mansions, 
 Where the dear ones gone before, 
 Sing Thy praise for ever 
 On the peaceful shore. 
 
 O my Redeemer ! when the last deep shadows fall, 
 
 And in the silence I shall hear Thy call, 
 
 In Thine arms enfolding 
 
 Let me breathe my life away, 
 
 And awake triumphant 
 
 In eternal day.' 
 
 At the end of the programme old Bob, who was 
 in the chair, begged leave to make a few remarks. 
 Then in plain, manly words he told Scarlett of their
 
 284 SCARLETT'S SHIVOO 
 
 great regret that he was leaving them, their appre- 
 ciation of the work he had done, and their hope 
 he would be with them again in their next camp, 
 whether it were north at Ouyen, east at Orbost, 
 out on the western plains, or away on the great 
 trans-continental. In conclusion, he asked the 
 astounded Scarlett to accept a purse of sovereigns 
 as a slight token of their regard, and expressed the 
 wish of the men that a part of the money might 
 be expended in buying a medal and having it 
 inscribed with the words 
 
 ' To JOHN SCARLETT, " Ganger," 
 with the warm regards 
 of the men of the camp 
 at the Seventeen Mile.' 
 
 There was tremendous cheering as old Bob 
 finished, and the stalwart navvy and the slender 
 missionary stood, both of them visibly affected, 
 hand clasped in hand. 
 
 The ' seconder ' of Bob's address was the gentle- 
 man described previously in these pages as the 
 ' Pirate, 1 he who, the night of Scarlett's first 
 appearance, had asked for the words of ' Abide 
 with me.' Pushing his way to the platform now, 
 he mounted it with the air of a man tackling a 
 rather awkward job. 
 
 ' I'm 'ere, boys,' he began, ' to say " Right oh ! " 
 to everything Bob has said about the Ganger.' 
 (" Hear, hear ! ") ' You all know wot 'e is.' 
 (" Hear ! ") ' You all know wot 'e's done.' 
 (Applause.) ' You all know wot this camp was 
 before 'e come.' (Cries of " Don't we just ! ") 
 ' Wot with shanties, an' " Blue Pigs," an' pigs of 
 another colour, a man's life wos 'ardly safe to call 
 'is own.' (Great applause from Mr. Dingley.)
 
 SCARLETT'S SHIVOO 285 
 
 ' So far as I'm concerned myself I may say I 
 wasn't a model to bring jj.p children by.' (A voice : 
 " No, you wasn't I " Great laughter.) ' I wos a 
 wretch I wos a skunk in fact, I wos a damn rascal 
 altogether.' (Sensation and great uproar.) ' An* 
 
 now ' (A voice : "Now you're a angel ! " 
 
 Great laughter.) ' No, I'm blowed if I am, but 
 I keep clear of the shanties, an' two -up, an' manage 
 to send a bit of money home to the wife.' (Loud 
 applause.) 
 
 ' Now about the Ganger.' (Cheers.) ' I hardly 
 know 'ow to say what we think about 'im, but this 
 is the kind of man Mr. Scarlett is : If you wos in 
 Melbourne stony broke, an' with a fat head well, 
 I believe 'e'd stand you a pint.' (More cheers and 
 laughter.) 
 
 ' There's another thing. Wile Mr. Scarlett's 
 been down 'ere, it seems 'e's managed tx> cotton 
 on to a nice young tart.' (Prolonged applause 
 and cries of " 'Ow do you know? ") ' 'Ow do I 
 know? Well, if you'd seen 'em trackin' round as 
 orfen as wot I 'ave, you wouldn't trouble your 
 silly fat 'ead to arsk a question like that. But 
 wot I want to say is, that if ever they git switched 
 up together, an' we're within cooee, we'll all turn up 
 to dance at the weddin'. And anyway, we wish 
 them both a long life an' a happy one, any amount 
 of money, an' a family like Jerry Ryan's seven 
 girls and nine boys.' (Collapse of Scarlett and 
 Sheila. Terrific uproar, during which the Pirate, 
 feeling he had made a mess of things, escaped 
 through the back opening.) 
 
 But, after all, he had expressed in a way which 
 many understood best the feelings of the camp. 
 But it was natural that when Scarlett rose to reply 
 he could scarcely trust himself to speak. Under 
 the circumstances, he thought it best to omit all
 
 286 SCARLETT'S SHIVOO 
 
 reference to the remarks of the Pirate, and going 
 back to the beginning with deep feeling, he told 
 them the story of his coming how it was all 
 a mistake in the first place ; of the dreadful 
 accounts he had heard of them, and of his fears ; 
 then how their kindness had encouraged him to 
 go on. 
 
 * I heard it said you were beasts,' he cried. ' But 
 I didn't find beasts I found men the same as 
 their fellows, only more beset with temptation and 
 with fewer possibilities of escape.' 
 
 Then he told them, to their delight, that the 
 camp had worked wonders for him. It had 
 knocked out a lot of silly nonsense and gone a 
 long way towards making a man of him. As to 
 the purse of sovereigns, it touched him more than 
 they could realise, because he knew well it was 
 in many cases given out of their own deep need ; 
 for what with wet weather, broken time, and two 
 homes to keep, no m,an had much to spare out of 
 nine shillings a day. He had not looked for 
 money, as they knew, but he was proud to take it, 
 and the medal he would wear with pride to the 
 end of his days. 
 
 As Scarlett stepped down from the platform 
 the Bishop struck up, ' For he's a jolly good 
 fellow,' and everybody, springing to their feet, 
 sang it with tremendous enthusiasm. ' Auld Lang 
 Syne ' followed, and then, after a little preliminary 
 fingering of the keys, the Bishop glided into ' Abide 
 with me.' They sang it with evident emotion, and 
 at the conclusion Scarlett prayed that God would 
 abide with them all. ' " When other helpers fail " 
 and they do fail " and comforts flee " and they 
 do flee " Help of the helpless, O abide with us." 
 The benediction followed. 
 
 Afterwards he went down to the door, and shook
 
 "SCARLETT'S SHIVOO 287 
 
 hands with each as they passed out, and had he 
 doubted the sincerity of their affection up to that 
 moment, his doubts must then have been dispelled 
 by their strong handgrips, and fervent goodbyes, 
 and ' God bless you's.' 
 
 There were special friends, however, such as 
 Andy Callander, Mr. Dingley, and others, who 
 were not to be dismissed with a handshake at the 
 door. To these he returned, and for some time 
 gave himself up to them ; but at length they too 
 had gone, and as Scarlett was to stay that night 
 at the MacDonalds', he hurried out to where the 
 girl of his heart stood proudly awaiting him.
 
 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 
 
 LEAVING the camp behind, they bent their steps 
 for the last time up the hill road. The moon, 
 shining in her strength, filled the world with soft, 
 beautiful light, save in the bush, where, beneath 
 the trees, the dusty track was mottled with 
 shadows. Before them, far up the way, they could 
 hear the laughter and calling of those who had 
 gone before, while behind, the camp grew quiet 
 and settled down to sleep. The night was crisp, 
 and so still that the sound of a stick crackling 
 beneath their feet rang out like a pistol-shot. 
 
 They had much to say to each other, and but 
 little time now in which to say it. Nevertheless, 
 but few words were said by either of them, but 
 they held each other closely as they walked, and 
 the silence was eloquent. The old people had gone 
 on long before, and when John and Sheila reached 
 the camp, were sittirig in the kitchen, where Phemie 
 had left a fire burning when she went to bed. 
 
 ' You don't mind coming in here, John? ' the 
 mother cried, as they came to the door. 
 
 John did not mind in the least. In fact, he 
 preferred a kitchen to a drawing-room, if one 
 could judge by the fervour with which he dis- 
 claimed any objection to it. The mother was 
 evidently gratified. 
 
 288
 
 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 289 
 
 ' Well, after all,' she said, ' it's a compli- 
 ment to be invited into the kitchen, for in some 
 respects it's the most sacred place in the home. 
 Anyway, we never invite anybody there unless we 
 think a great deal of them.' 
 
 John trusted he would ever prove himself worthy 
 to be invited into the kitchen, and, Mrs. 
 MacDonald having expressed her confidence that 
 he would, he entered the sacred domain and a 
 comfortable place he found it. 
 
 Mr. MacDonald had seated himself beside the 
 fire in a deck-chair, and when John entered was 
 getting out of his boots into a pair of slippers. 
 Another chair stood on the opposite side, and he 
 motioned John to it. 
 
 ' Sit down, man ! ' he cried heartily, ' and have 
 a smell of the fire. It's sharp out to-night. Ay, 
 we'll soon be having it cold enough,' he added. 
 
 ' Well, I won't be sorry,' John replied. ' I 
 like the heat, but I can always work best in 
 winter, and I want to work now as I never worked 
 before.' 
 
 ' Ay, well, that's it. They say that everything 
 comes to the man who can wait. I say every- 
 thing waits for the man who can work. When I 
 wass twelve years old, John, I wass a bare- legged 
 laddie, minding a handful of sheep in Skye, and 
 if it hadn't been that I wass eager to work, I 
 might haf been minding a handful of sheep in 
 Skye to-day. Work is the key that unlocks all 
 the doors, John, and in this land any man may 
 be anything he will, if he hass fair judgment 
 and good health and a mind to work. The differ- 
 ence between the men who succeed here and the 
 men who fail is just this,' he continued : ' the 
 failures believe in an eight-hour day, and when 
 they get it in, they never do another hand's turn ; 
 
 John Scarlett, Ganger. 2O
 
 290 .QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 
 
 the others believe in an eight-hour day and work 
 sixteen like their wives/ he added, as an after- 
 thought. 
 
 ' You think, then/ John remarked, ' that the 
 man who limits himself to working eight hours a 
 day can never be anything but a workman? ' 
 
 4 I'm sure of it/ the other replied with con- 
 viction. ' A man gets what he goes after, if he 
 goes after it with sufficient determination ; and 
 if a man insists on working eight hours a day, well, 
 he'll work eight hours a day for the term of his 
 natural life ; but if he determines on making a 
 competency, if it means eighteen hours a day, 
 well, he'll get his competency, and please himself 
 then whether he'll work or not/* 
 
 Much of this was new to John, and required 
 thinking out, so he made no reply, but sat staring 
 into the fire, turning it over in his mind. After a 
 time Mr. MacDonald leaned across and tapped 
 him on the knee. 
 
 ' I wass inquiring into your affairs the other day, 
 John/ he said, in a confidential voice, glancing 
 round at the others, who were busily preparing 
 supper, ' and fair's fair. I want you to know that 
 if I work now, it's because I choose to work, 
 and not that there's any real necessity ; and 
 mother and I are thinking that after I get this 
 place in working order, we'll take a trip home. 
 We're both wearyin' for a sight of the heather, 
 and won't be satisfied until we get it. To-night, 
 when that soldier fellow sang a"bout " When the 
 hills are white with heather and the dew is on the 
 brae," it went to my heart, and when I looked at 
 mother the tears were in her eyes, too. We had 
 been planning to go next February, and take Sheila 
 with us. We'd have little heart for it without 
 her, and the home folk all want to see her.'
 
 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 291 
 
 Poor John ! At this announcement his heart 
 sank like a stone in a pool. If Sheila went away, 
 she would never come "back to him, he felt sure, 
 and he moved uneasily in his seat. 'But the father 
 went on 
 
 ' Mother and I have been talking the matter 
 over, and what we would like is this : that you 
 and Sheila fix things up by that time and come 
 with us. You could combine business with 
 pleasure. I'm sure it would widen your outlook 
 to study other methods and see how they're doing 
 this work of yours in the old land and in America. 
 What do you think? ' 
 
 What could he think? From the depths he was 
 suddenly lifted to the heights, and suspended 
 gasping. It had been the desire of his life to 
 visit the home of his fathers and to go to America, 
 and to realise it under such circumstances seemed 
 more in the nature of a dream than anything else. 
 His thoughts rose like a whirlwind, and before 
 he could calm them sufficiently to frame a suit- 
 able reply they were called to supper, and with a 
 radiant face and kindling eyes he sat down. 
 
 ' What's the matter with John? ' the mother 
 cried, as she caught sight of the flush on his face. 
 
 ' I've just been telling him about our little plan, 
 Alison, and he thinks he may consider it/ the 
 father answered. 
 
 ' Consider it I ' John cried excitedly. ' Consider 
 it ! Why ' 
 
 ' What plan is this? ' Sheila asked demurely, 
 though with a degree of apprehension in her voice 
 not usual with her. 
 
 ' Why,' the father answered, ' your mother wants 
 you to be married about Christmas-time and go 
 with us to Europe and America.' 
 
 Had a lyddite shell burst on the table, Sheila
 
 292 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 
 
 could not have been more startled. Then con- 
 fusion laid hold of her, and, blushing crimson, she 
 left John's side, and going round the table, seated 
 herself on her father's knee, and with her arms 
 about him sat for the rest of the supper-time 
 silent and thoughtful, while the others discussed 
 ways and means. At length, when all was settled, 
 Mr. MacDonald rose. 
 
 ' .Well, my lad,' he said, ' time is getting on and 
 we must get to bed. You will be away before 
 we're stirring, so goodbye till June. Take care 
 of yourself.' 
 
 ' Goodbye, my boy,' the mother said fondly. 
 ' I'm glad and proud to be able to call you that. 
 God give you all journeying mercies 1 ' 
 
 When the old people had gone, the lovers stood 
 a moment looking after them, then John seated 
 himself in one of the deck-chairs by the fire, and 
 Sheila drew a hassock from beneath the table 
 and sat at his feet ; and with his arms about 
 her and cheek to cheek, they sat staring into the 
 coals, with a rapture in their hearts that was 
 at first too great for words. But the prospect 
 opened up by the events of the past hour were 
 too wonderful to permit of a long silence, and 
 presently they were busily engrossed in that dearest 
 of all true lovers' tasks the anticipating and 
 planning out of the future. 
 
 But there were other things on John's mind, 
 and presently he broke a little thrilling silence 
 that had fallen on them. 
 
 ' Sheila, dear,' he said. She raised her eyes 
 to his inquiringly. 
 
 ' W T ell, John? ' 
 
 ' There is one thing I've always wished to ask 
 you.' 
 
 'Yes, John.'
 
 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 293 
 
 ' You remember the first day you came down to 
 the camp? ' 
 
 ' Yes. 1 
 
 ' Well, I never could quite understand the way, 
 you talked to me that day. You know you ' 
 
 ' Now, own up, John. You thought me just 
 full of brazen impudence.' I 
 
 ' No ! ' John replied hastily, ' I wouldn't go so 
 far as that.' 
 
 ' Bold, then? ' 
 
 ' Well, not quite bold,' John said cautiously, 'but 
 it didn't seem just like you.' 
 
 ' You are quite right, dear,' she answered, 
 putting her arms about his neck, ' and I would 
 tell you all about it, only you would be so 
 offended.' 
 
 But John declared that nothing Sheila could 
 possibly say could possibly offend him. 
 
 ' You're quite sure? ' 
 
 ' Quite.' 
 
 ' Well, then, John, I'll tell you. It was just 
 this. You looked so scared and woebegone, such 
 a forgive me, dear but such a goose, that I 
 couldn't help teasing you. I felt that you wanted 
 a shake-up, and I tried to give you one. It was 
 wrong of me, and when I got away I was dread- 
 fully ashamed, and would have gone back to 
 apologise, only somehow I couldn't women can't 
 apologise, you know, John.' 
 
 4 No,' John returned sagely, ' of course not. 
 Women have nothing to apologise about. They're 
 not like men.' 
 
 The representative of the sex perfect bowed 
 gravely in acknowledgment of his recognition of 
 this obvious truth, and John resumed 
 
 ' There was no need to apologise. It did me 
 a world of good. But, Sheila '
 
 294 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 
 
 'Well?' 
 
 ' If you thought me such a goose ' (the word 
 rather stuck in John's throat notwithstanding his 
 humility, for no man cares to be likened to a 
 goose), ' how did you come to think better of 
 me? ' 
 
 Sheila did not answer immediately it took con- 
 sideration. 
 
 ' When you began to speak about Stevenson,' 
 she said at length, ' you fairly amazed me and 
 frightened me, too, for I saw then that you were 
 very clever and eloquent ' (John's face took on a 
 look of genuine amazement), ' and I had been 
 wretchedly mistaken in you. That's why I was 
 ashamed. But you had interested me, too, and I 
 could not get you out of my thoughts, and later 
 on ' 
 
 'What, dear?' 
 
 ' Well, later, when I came to understand the 
 things you were doing to help those poor old 
 navvies, I began to admire you. You know, John, 
 we used to have lots of visitors men at home 
 (father is a great politician), and they were always 
 talking talking how to better the conditions of 
 life how to improve the lot of the worker ! And 
 there were all sorts of theories Socialism, co- 
 operation, this party in Parliament or that and some 
 of the younger men were very enthusiastic about 
 the new ideas, and were working night and day to 
 return candidates to Parliament. But the thing 
 I never could understand was, that all the time 
 the poor were all about them, and they never 
 seemed to give them a thought. They talked 
 about the " masses," but the term, as they used 
 it, seemed only to represent some abstract idea, 
 because, so far as I could see, the actual, indi- 
 vidual poor man had no interest for them what-
 
 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 295 
 
 ever beyond his vote, and it didn't seem to me 
 real. And when they got their men into power, 
 the poor were there just the same, and nobody a 
 penny the better, so far as I could see. Then I 
 came down here and I saw you just doing things 
 not talking, but doing. One could see you were 
 not used to roughing it, and that a great deal of 
 it must have meant a fearful ordeal to you, and 
 yet there you were ; and, John, when I saw you 
 fighting the men's battles and helping them to 
 save their money and live good lives, I couldn't 
 help admiring you ; for I do like a man in earnest 
 a doer. That was how I came to think better 
 of you, John, and when a girl begins by admiring 
 a man, it is not hard for her to love him.'
 
 CHAPTER XLII 
 
 ' GOODBYE, SHEILA ' 
 
 JOHN received this explanation in a kind of 
 wondering silence, and when it was finished he 
 drew her fondly to him, and was about to speak, 
 when a sound startled him. He raised his head 
 swiftly. 
 
 ' Listen, dear 1 ' he whispered. 
 
 ' What is it, John? ' she asked in alarm. 
 
 4 Was that the clock striking? ' 
 
 ' Yes, John,' she replied with a shiver of appre- 
 hension, ' but don't let us think about it yet.' 
 
 * But it is late. The clock struck two.' 
 
 ' But your train is not due till five.' 
 
 ' But, darling, what about your bed? ' 
 
 ' Oh, don't let us talk about bed, dear. You've 
 got me and I've got you to-night, John, but only 
 for a little. To-morrow you will be far away. 
 When there's such a little time to be together why 
 should we waste it sleeping? John, that would 
 be to murder time.' 
 
 Scarlett looked at her in wonder, then he rose 
 up and flung another log on the fire. Again there 
 was silence, and again it was John who broke it. 
 
 ' Sheila, dear,' he began, in the tone which she 
 had learnt to know denoted that he was puzzling 
 over something. 
 
 4 More questions, John? * 
 
 296
 
 1 GOODBYE, SHEILA ' 297 
 
 ' Only this one, dear.' 
 
 ' Well? ' 
 
 ' When you were in Melbourne, you were used 
 to going about and meeting people. You must 
 know lots of men.' 
 
 4 I do.' 
 
 ' And did they did you that is, did no one 
 ever admire you before I came along? ' 
 
 Sheila laughed low and musically. 
 
 4 Now, John,' she demanded, turning to him, 
 ' why ever do you ask that? ' 
 
 ' No, but did they? ' 
 
 ' Well, there were some who said they did.' 
 
 ' I was sure of that,' John replied, looking at 
 her with a kind of awe. ' You are so beautiful, 
 dear, so ' 
 
 But a slim white hand was placed firmly on his 
 lips and 
 
 4 No more of that, John dear, please,' she said. 
 4 It's not like you, and makes me think of some 
 of those other men.' 
 
 But John was not to be silenced. He kissed 
 away her hand, and then 
 
 ' Sheila I ' 
 
 4 Well? ' 
 
 4 Were any of the men you knew clever or 
 good-looking or or wealthy? ' 
 
 4 Whatever are you trying to get at, John? ' 
 
 4 No, but were they? ' 
 
 4 Clever, good-looking, wealthy? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 4 Some were all three.' 
 
 John was silent a while, thinking this over. 
 Then 
 
 ' Don't be angry, Sheila dear,' he said, 4 and 
 forgive me if I seem to trespass, but did you 
 never care did you never return any man's love? '
 
 298 ' GOODBYE, SHEILA ' 
 
 ' Never, darling/ she replied without hesitation, 
 looking into his eyes. ' But why do you ask? ' 
 
 ' Because I can't understand, dear, for the life 
 of me, how you could pass by other men and 
 love me.' 
 
 ' John ! ' 
 
 ' Truly, dear.' 
 
 ' Why, you old silly, it was because you were 
 ever so so infinitely above those men that I 
 couldn't help myself.' 
 
 ' But, Sheila ! ' 
 
 ' Well? ' 
 
 ' How can you say that? Physically there's 
 nothing of me. I'm just a a weed.' 
 
 ' You're not a weed, John, and I won't have it,' 
 she said indignantly. ' You are not massive 
 but you are perfectly symmetrical, and father says 
 you must have the strength of a giant to have 
 got through that sea. I detest big men/ she 
 added. ' They make me think of prize bullocks 
 at a show. All you think about them is how much 
 they weigh, and want to prod them with your 
 umbrella. There was one amongst those you 
 asked about, and people used to say what a mag- 
 nificent man he was, and really, John, he was 
 just six feet of putty.' 
 
 But John was not convinced. 
 
 ' Well, but/ he urged, ' apart from size 
 although for my part I admire big men but apart 
 from that, there are other things my looks, the 
 colour of my hair and ' 
 
 ' I like the colour of your hair/ Sheila inter- 
 rupted, regarding it with satisfaction. ' We 
 Australians have a dreadful tendency to lose all 
 distinction of colour and sink into a kind of cos- 
 mopolitan brown. I like red hair, it's distinctive ; 
 and besides/ she added illogically, smoothing it
 
 ' GOODBYE, SHEILA ' 299 
 
 back from his forehead, ' yours is not red, John, 
 it's auburn.' 
 
 John laughed in good earnest now. 
 
 * Sheila,' he said, ' you remember how, when 
 Puck squeezed a certain juice on the eyes of the 
 sleeping Titania, it made her see beauty even in 
 old Bottom with the ass's head on, and love him, 
 too. I think Puck must have been getting at 
 you. My hair is really ugly, and as for my 
 mouth ' 
 
 ' .What's wrong with your mouth? ' she queried 
 in surprise. ' I'm sure your teeth are lovely.' 
 
 ' My teeth are well enough, thank goodness/ he 
 replied, ' but my mouth is not half firm enough. 
 It has always been a grief to me.' 
 
 She looked at him with a great appearance of 
 criticism. 
 
 ' It's quite firm enough for me, John,' she re- 
 marked at length decisively. 'If it were any 
 firmer I should be afraid to live with you. iWhat 
 kind of mouth would you like? ' 
 
 ' I should like my jaws to " bite " together like 
 this,' he replied, suiting the action to the word. 
 
 Sheila drew back with a great appearance of 
 alarm. 
 
 ' John,' she cried, ' you frighten me. If you 
 had jaws like that, I wouldn't marry you for 
 worlds. You would look like a bulldog I No, 
 dear,' she went on, surveying him fondly and with 
 great approval, ' I wouldn't have you altered for 
 the world not a bit. If you were bigger you 
 would be too big, for you are just the right size ; 
 and if your hair, or your mouth, or anything about 
 you were different, you wouldn't be you, and then 
 I couldn't love you, for it's you I love. I love 
 you for what you are, and I couldn't love you 
 so well if you were something that you're not. So
 
 300 ' GOODBYE, SHEILA ' 
 
 no more nonsense, John, dear. I had rather have 
 you with all your faults than the most perfect man 
 in the whole wide world beside. Now, does that 
 satisfy you? ' 
 
 ' Beloved,' he replied, looking reverently into the 
 dear eyes, ' your love to me is wonderful passing 
 the love of woman. You never seem to see 
 me as I am, but always as I aspire to be 
 in my best times. You fill me with humility and 
 hope, too, and I will pray to God every day 
 to make me something of what you believe 
 me to be.' 
 
 Again the little white hand was pressed upon 
 his lips. 
 
 ' Enough, John,' she said tenderly. ' My heart 
 seems just to ache to-night with the fulness of 
 my love for you, and you seem no whit less beau- 
 tiful to me than I to you. But this I know, John, 
 that neither of us are really quite what we seem 
 to each other now. There are depths of weak- 
 ness and sin in both of us such as neither could 
 believe possible of the other, and there are heights 
 of good which even to-night we would not dare 
 to hope for. But we each know our own hearts, 
 and, believe me, John, if, knowing yourself, it 
 amazes you that I could pass by all others and 
 love you, knowing my heart as I do, it amazes me 
 no less that you could pass all others by and 
 love me.' 
 
 To John's sensitive, aching soul all this came 
 as the balm of Gilead, healing the hurts of years, 
 and he sat regarding her with eyes melting with 
 tenderness, admiration, and love. He leaned 
 towards her with outstretched arms, and then 
 suddenly sprang up in alarm. 
 
 ' What is it, dear? ' she whispered, startled, 
 clinging to him.
 
 'GOODBYE, SHEILA' 301 
 
 1 I heard a cock crow for the dawn. It must 
 be four o'clock.' 
 
 ' No, darling,' she urged, ' that could not be. 
 It is just a minute since the clock struck two.' 
 
 1 But listen, dear,' he interrupted. 
 
 She listened, though against her will, and 
 presently from some farm down the valley came 
 the strident, throaty sound of a cock crowing. She 
 only clung the closer to him. 
 
 ' John, dear,' she said, ' it can't be he's crow- 
 ing in his dreams.' 
 
 ' Listen again, Sheila ! ' he cried directly, raising 
 his head. ' There ! The clock is striking. One I 
 Two 1 Three I Four 1 Four o'clock, dear Sheila. 
 It's time for me to go.' 
 
 ' John, beloved,' she cried brokenly, holding him 
 fast. ' tWJhy do you wish to hurry away? tWhy 
 are you so eager to leave me? Is Melbourne so 
 precious to you? Is ' 
 
 ' God help me ! ' he interrupted brokenly as he 
 looked upon her, ' leave you? Eager to leave you? 
 Dearest, if you only knew what it costs to leave 
 you 1 How I would give my soul to stay with 
 you ! Leave you ! Darling, I'll not leave you,' he 
 said, sinking again into the chair. ' I'll sit by 
 the fire with you, and we'll wait till the day break 
 and the shadows flee away, and your father and 
 mother come. They will think it wrong of me, 
 but what does it matter if you have me and I 
 have you? ' 
 
 ' No, John,' she cried, suddenly rising up and 
 going for his hat and coat. ' I am mad, and 
 cruel, too, to tear your poor heart so. Father 
 and mother think the world of you, and you must 
 not sacrifice their good opinion for my weakness. 
 Come, John,' she cried bravely, helping him into 
 his things, ' you must go out and do a man's
 
 302 'GOODBYE, SHEILA' 
 
 work, and I must stay and pray and wait. And 
 after all, it's but a little while, and then ! ' 
 
 ' And then 1 ' he echoed, holding her to his 
 heart. 
 
 They went out and stood together at the door. 
 It was the chill before the dawning. The night 
 was slowly dying in the sky. In the west the 
 moon, pale and haggard as from a long night's 
 vigil, rolled heavily towards the horizon. The 
 morning star was fading over the hill. Down the 
 valley of the Bass a great fog lay, looking to the 
 watchers like an inland sea, and here and there 
 a clump of trees, thrusting their heads through 
 its filmy waves, suggested islands. While they 
 watched, the night fled farther west and in the 
 east a tinge of colour came. 
 
 ' See, darling,' he cried, ' the night is over and 
 gone. A new day has come. Surely it is a 
 prophecy that the night of our loneliness is pass- 
 ing and the long, glad day we are to spend together 
 is at hand.' 
 
 ' God grant it,' she cried fervently, ' and hasten 
 the dawn ! ' 
 
 But it was time to go. Already across the hills 
 could be heard the rumble of the fast approaching 
 train. She clung to him almost fiercely. 
 
 ' Oh, John I ' she moaned, and 
 
 * Oh, Sheila ! ' he cried, with agony in his voice. 
 
 ' How can I let you go, John? ' 
 
 ' It is hard, Sheila dear,' he said brokenly, ' but 
 it must be now. God bless you, my darling ! ' he 
 added fondly, kissing the tears from her eyes. 
 ' God bless you every day and all the day, and 
 watch between us while we are absent one from 
 another ! It will only be a little while, and then 
 we'll always be together.' 
 
 ' God bless you, John ! Be true to Him, and
 
 'GOODBYE, SHEILA' 303 
 
 you will not fail to be true to yourself and to me. 
 Goodbye, John ! ' 
 
 ' God help me,' he cried, ' I will ! Goodbye, 
 Sheila, goodbye I ' 
 
 Then he tore himself away and ran down the 
 hill. 
 
 Garfield and Hallum were waiting by the line 
 with his luggage all ready. And it was as well 
 they were, for, as John came to them the train 
 swung round the curve and pulled up. The cab of 
 the engine was full of men, so John must needs 
 ride on top of a truck of coal, but tliat he did 
 not mind. He shook hands warmly with the two 
 men who had so often stood by him, and tried 
 to speak his thanks. Then the train moved off, 
 and he was gone. 
 
 He went as he had come, without sound of a 
 trumpet. Nevertheless, he had done great things, 
 whereof many were glad. He had made the camp 
 fit for men to live in, and many of them, particu- 
 larly the younger ones, had reason to bless the day 
 he came. He had brightened and blessed scores 
 of lives. He had saved the men's money for their 
 wives and children, and kept the wolf from many 
 a door he had never seen. He had made good 
 more thoroughly than he knew. 
 
 * Well, there 'e goes,' Garfield remarked, as the 
 two men watched the figure on the truck fade in 
 the morning mist. ' There 'e goes, an' may the 
 blessing of God go with 'im ! 'E wasn't big in 
 the carcass, but wot there was of 'im was 
 all man.' 
 
 And so John Scarlett rode away from the Seven- 
 teen Mile, seated ingloriously on a load of coal 
 with his back to the wind, and wrapped up in an 
 old 'possum-skin rug. Presently, maybe, he would 
 begin to chide himself for the opportunities he had
 
 304 ' GOODBYE, SHEILA ' 
 
 failed to make use of, but for the present his 
 mind, upon that score, was easy. 
 
 ' At all events I've tried,' he muttered, ' and 
 I've done better than ever I could have hoped, 
 and, anyhow, if I've not done much good for the 
 men, they've done a world of good for me I ' 
 
 Then he dismissed the camp from his mind and 
 gave himself up to thoughts of Sheila MacDonald 
 and the great days yet to be. 
 
 THE END 
 
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