"I didn't see any gentleman," he answered, without even taking his pipe
from his mouth.

"Why, I mean the one who just spoke to us--the man with the white vest
and gold buttons."

"Him--he's a ticket-of-leave man, and has more money than half of the
merchants in Melbourne," replied the cartman.

"What, that man a convict?" I asked, with surprise.

"Just so--transported for fourteen years for house-breaking. Behaved
himself, and so got liberty to enter into business; and now he is at the
top of the heap. In two years his time will be out, and then he can stay
or go where he pleases."

After this piece of news the convict became an object of curiosity to
us, and we watched him until he entered his carriage and drove off, his
coachman treating him with as much respect as he would the governor
general.

"I say," asked Fred of our new acquaintance, "do all convicts get rich?
Because if they do I want to become one as soon as possible."

"Not all," replied the man; "but some blunder into luck, and others are
shrewd and look after the chances. I don't suppose I shall ever be rich,
although I am doing pretty well."

"And are you a--"