hole. Then, one had died of dysentery, contracted from working
constantly in water up to his middle; another had been nabbed in a
manhunt and clapped into the "logs." And finally, but a day or two back,
the three men who completed the nightshift had deserted for a new "rush"
to the Avoca. Now, his pal had gone, too. There was nothing left for
him, Long Jim, to do, but to take his dish and turn fossicker; or even
to aim no higher than washing over the tailings rejected by the
fossicker.

At the thought his tears flowed anew. He cursed the day on which he had
first set foot on Ballarat.

"It's 'ell for white men--'ell, that's what it is!"

"'Ere, 'ave another drink, matey, and fergit yer bloody troubles."

His re-filled pannikin drained, he grew warmer round the heart; and sang
the praises of his former life. He had been a lamplighter in the old
country, and for many years had known no more arduous task than that of
tramping round certain streets three times daily, ladder on shoulder,
bitch at heel, to attend the little flames that helped to dispel the
London dark. And he might have jogged on at this up to three score years
and ten, had he never lent an ear to the tales that were being told of a
wonderful country, where, for the mere act of stooping, and with your
naked hand, you could pick up a fortune from the ground. Might the
rogues who had spread these lies be damned to all eternity! Then, he had
swallowed them only too willingly; and, leaving the old woman wringing
her hands, had taken every farthing of his savings and set sail for
Australia. That was close on three years ago. For all he knew, his wife
might be dead and buried by this time; or sitting in the almshouse. She