The Gold Hunter's Adventures Or, Life In Australia Volume 2 ( Of 2 ) - William H. Thomes (large screen ebook reader txt) 📗

Brogue.

 

"If He Does, It's Cowld Lead Ye'll Get!" Cried Another.

 

"But, My Good Friends," Mr. Brown Said, Blandly.

 

"Away Wid Ye, At Once, And The Divil Take Care Of Ye. We Know Ye."

 

"If You Know Us, You Should Not Fear Us," My Friend Said, In The

Insinuating Argumentative Style So Peculiar To Him.

 

"O! Better Not Stand Then; Blarneying, But Go Away Wid Ye!" Yelled Out

One Of The Women, With Demonstrative Indications Of Throwing Hot Water

Or Potatoes At Us.

 

"Why, Who Do You Think We Are?" I Asked, Mr. Brown Having Retired From

The Conversational Portion Of His Duty In Deep Disgust At The Idea Of

Having His Gentlemanly Address Taken For Blarney.

 

"We Think Ye Are Thaves! May The Divil Confound Ye," Replied One Of The

Heathen.

 

"But We Are Not Thieves," I Continued.

 

"Thin Yer Looks Belies Ye Wonderfully. Go On Yer Ways, And Don't Stop

Here Thinking That We've Money, Or Any Stuff To Stale, For We Ain't."

 

"Why, You D----N Fools!" Yelled Mr. Brown, "We Have More Money In Our

Pockets Than The Carcasses Of Yourselves, Wives, And Horses Would

Bring."

 

This Announcement Produced A Sensation, And We Were Happy To See The

Fellows Whisper Together, As Though They Had Made A Mistake, And Were

Willing To Rectify It.

 

"Have Ye Whiskey?" At Length One Of Them Asked.

 

I Shook A Bottle In Their Faces, But Made No Reply.

 

"Is It The Rale Poteen?" He Demanded.

 

"Irish All Over," I Answered.

 

"Thin Glory To God, Come Along And Welcome."

 

The Muskets Were Lowered, The Hostile Attitude Ceased, And We Rode Into

The Camp Like Conquerors, And Were Received With Every Mark Of Respect,

Which I Attributed More To The Influence Of The Black Bottle That I Held

In My Hand, Than To Our Dignified Personal Appearance. Even The Women

Condescended To Welcome Us With Looks Of Encouragement, And One Of Them

Spanked Her Baby When It Cried, Because The Wee Thing Was Frightened At

Strangers.

 

 

Volume 2 Chapter 79 (Journey Back To Ballarat) Pg 228

"You Are, No Doubt, Strangers In The Country?" Said Mr. Brown, After We

Had Removed The Saddles From Our Horses' Backs, And Suffered The Animals

To Roam A Short Distance From The Camp For Food.

 

"Faith, Ye May Well Say That," Cried The Leading Hibernian, With A

Good-Natured Smile.

 

"Where Did You Come From?" My Friend Continued.

 

"Ireland, Sir," Was The Prompt Reply.

 

"I Know That Without Your Telling Me. I Mean What Part Of This Country.

Sydney Or Melbourne?"

 

"Faith, How Did Ye Know We Come From Ireland?" Queried Pat, With

Innocent Simplicity.

 

"By Your Brogue, To Be Sure," Was Mr. Brown's Prompt Answer.

 

"Bedad, I Never Thought Of That," Grunted The Celt.

 

"We Came From Melbourne, Sir," One Of The Men Said, Answering Mr.

Brown's Question, And Casting Wishful Eyes Towards The Black Bottle.

"We've Been Four Days On The Road, And It's Little Progress We Make At

All, Bad Luck To The Horses That Won't Draw When We Want 'Em To. It's

Out Of Whiskey We Got The First Day, Owing To The Swilling Of Ned

Mulloon, Who Was Drunk As A Baste When We Left Town."

 

"Faith, It's Little Chance I Had While Yer Mouth Was Doing Its Work,

Teddy," Cried Ned, With A Grin.

 

"We Will Make A Bargain With You," Mr. Brown Said To The Men. "Give Us A

Share Of Your Potatoes, And We'll Divide The Whiskey."

 

"Done," Cried All Hands, With Remarkable Unanimity; And The Pot

Containing The Esculents Was Jerked Off The Fire And Placed At Our Feet,

While We Treated All Hands, Not Even Excepting The Women.

 

"Well, What Is The News At Melbourne?" Asked Mr. Brown, While We Were

Satisfying Our Appetites.

 

Volume 2 Chapter 79 (Journey Back To Ballarat) Pg 229

"It's Loud Talk They Have About The Miners, And Their Dislike To Pay The

Tax, Glory To God; And The Artillerymen Were Getting Ready To March

Whenever The Governor Tells 'Em To, Bad Luck To 'Em."

 

"Did You Understand At What Mines The Soldiers Are To Be Stationed?" I

Asked.

 

"Yes, I Did," Replied Our Informant. "'Tis At Ballarat."

 

"Then There Must Have Been Trouble Since Our Absence," Remarked Mr.

Brown; "And The Sooner We Are Home The Safer Will Our Property Be. If We

But Had Fresh Horses We Could Start At Once."

 

"And Carry Off The Whiskey?" Demanded The Men, With Rueful Looks.

 

"No, We Would Leave It For Your Use."

 

"Then Long Life To Yez, And It's Prayers Ye Shall Have For Fresh Horses

Without Delay"

 

Pat's Prayers, If Indeed He Prayed At All, Were Of But Little Avail, For

The Fresh Horses Did Not Come Along, And We Were Compelled To Remain

Inactive Until Near Midnight, When We Again Saddled Our Animals, And

Bade Our Entertainers Farewell. When We Left, The Company Was Very

Patriotic, And Songs Of Ireland's Greatness And England's Outrages Were

Hooted Loud Enough To Awaken Every One Within A Radius Of Two Miles.

They Gave Us Three Cheers When We Left, And One Of The Party, In The

Excitement, Stumbled Over The Potato Pot, And Got A Dose Of Hot Water On

His Person That Caused Him To Utter The Most Frightful Cries, Which Were

Responded To By Shouts Of Laughter Instead Of Tears Of Condolement.

 

"We Have Accomplished One Humane Purpose In Giving The Men The Whiskey,"

Mr. Brown Said, As We Rode In The Direction Of Ballarat. "The Poor

Horses Will Get A Few Hours' Extra Rest."

 

"That Is More Than The Women And Children Can Do," I Remarked.

 

"The Women Can Take Care Of Themselves, I'll Warrant You, And If A Fight

Occurs, Look After Their Children At The Same Time. But Touch Up Your

Horse. We Must Reach Ballarat By Daylight, For I Have No Doubt That

Stirring Times Are Occurring There."

 

The Air Was Quite Cool, And The Moon Sufficiently Bright To Show Us The

Right Road, So That We Wasted No Time In Searching For It. Not A Single

Person Did We Meet Until Just Before Daylight, When Our Horses Suddenly

Shied, And An Examination Revealed The Cause. Under A Tree By The

Roadside Was A Team, And The Driver Fast Asleep, Snoring Most

Unmusically, While The Oxen Were Quietly Chewing Their Cuds, Chained To

A Wheel Of The Cart.

 

"Let Us Rouse Him, And Find Out The News From Ballarat," Mr. Brown Said.

 

I Made No Opposition. My Friend Approached The Sleeping Man, And

Touching Him Lightly On The Shoulder, Caused Him To Look Up. The Fellow

Volume 2 Chapter 79 (Journey Back To Ballarat) Pg 230

Rubbed His Eyes, And Stared Wildly At Us For A Moment, And Then Began To

Beg Most Piteously.

 

"I Haven't Got A Single Thing About Me That's Worth Stealing," He Cried.

"If You Want My Blanket You Can Have It, But It Ain't A Very Good One."

 

"I Suppose That You Take Us For Bushrangers?" Quietly Remarked Mr.

Brown.

 

"I Certainly Do--Ain't You?" Asked The Man, Between Hope And Fear.

 

"Not Quite So Far Gone As That. All That We Desire Of You Is News, And

That You Can Soon Give Us Without Much Sacrifice."

 

"O, Is That All? I Thought That Somebody Had Been Blowing On Me," Cried

The Teamster, Considerably Relieved.

 

"How Are Matters At Ballarat?" I Demanded. "Bad As Bad Can Be," Replied

The Stranger Promptly. "The Devil Has Taken Possession Of The Miners,

And They Refuse To Pay Gold Taxes To The Government. The Latter Don't

Want To Yield, And There Will Be A Fight Or I'm Much Mistaken. I Don't

Want To Hurry You, But If You Want To Be Counted In, You'd Better Be

Moving, Or The Whole Matter Will Be Decided Before You Arrive."

 

"I'll Bet A Wager That You Are A Yankee," Mr. Brown Remarked, And I

Thought I Detected The Man's Cuteness Before My Friend Spoke.

 

"I Take The Bet," Was The Prompt Reply. "Put The Money In My Hands."

 

Mr. Brown's Money Was Not Forthcoming, At Which The Stranger Sneered.

 

"I S'posed That I Had Picked Up A Man Who Wanted A Chance To Make A Few

Dimes, But You Don't Seem Inclined To Come To Time. Here's My Specie,

And There's More Where That Came From."

 

"Never Mind The Wager," I Said; "You Don't Belong To The New England

States, I'll Take My Oath, So You Can't Catch Us In That Trap."

 

"That's So," Replied The Teamster, With A Chuckle; "But What Makes You

Think So?"

 

"In The First Place, You Haven't The Accent Of A Genuine Yankee," I

Replied; "And In The Next Place, A Yankee Would Not Have Exposed A

Single Dollar Until He Was Certain Of The Company That He Was In. Am I

Right?"

 

"Hang Me If You Ain't, Stranger," Cried The Teamster, In A Burst Of

Generous Enthusiasm. "If You Ain't A Yankee, There Ain't One In The

Country."

 

I Pleaded Guilty To The Charge, And Got A Warm Shake Of The Hand For My

Nationality's Sake.

 

"I Ain't A Yankee, That's A Fact," My New Acquaintance Said; "But I

Volume 2 Chapter 79 (Journey Back To Ballarat) Pg 231

Belong To Yankee Land, And That's Honor Enough, By Thunder. I'm An Ohio

Boy, And Just Looking Round The World To See How It's Made Afore I

Settle On Dad's Farm, And Tie Up For Life. If I Can Pick Up A Few Dimes

Afore I Go Back So Much The Better, And If I Don't It Won't Break My

Heart."

 

We Talked With Our New Acquaintance For Near Half An Hour For The

Purpose Of Breathing Our Horses, And Picking Up All The News That Had

Transpired During Our Absence. I Gave Him Some Good Advice, And Informed

Him That Sleeping In His Cart While Travelling Was Not The Safest Plan

That He Could Adopt, And