It Is Never Too Late to Mend Part 123

"We are newly arrived and just going to pitch, and a digger told us we must not come within thirty yards of the captain's tent, so we are measuring the distance."

"Well, measure it--and keep it."

Robinson stayed by his tent till the man, whose face was strange to him, had measured and marked the ground. Soon after the tent in question was pitched, and it looked so large and new that the man of property's suspicions were lulled.

"It is all right," said he, "tent is worth twenty pounds at the lowest farthing."

While Black Will and his gang were scheming to get the friends' gold, Robinson, though conscious only of his general danger, grew more and more nervous as the bag grew heavier, and strengthened his defenses every day.

This very day one was added to the cause of order in a very characteristic way. I must first observe that Mr. McLaughlan had become George's bailiff, that is, on discovery of the gold he had agreed to incorporate George's flocks, to use his ground and to account to him, sharing the profits, and George running the risks. George had, however, enc.u.mbered the property with Abner as herdsman. That worthy had come whining to him lame of one leg from a blow on the head, which he convinced George Jacky had given him with his battle-ax.

"I'm spoiled for life and by your savage. I have lost my place; do something for me."

Good-hearted George did as related, and moreover promised to give Jacky a hiding if ever he caught him again. George's aversion to bloodshed is matter of history; it was also his creed that a good hiding did n.o.body any harm.

Now it was sheep-shearing time and McLaughlan was short of hands; he came into the mine to see whether out of so many thousands he could not find four or five who would shear instead of digging.

When he put the question to George, George shook his head doubtfully.

"However," said he, "look out for some unlucky ones, that is your best chance, leastways your only one."

So McLaughlan went cannily about listening here and there to the men who were now at their dinners, and he found Ede's gang grumbling and growling with their mouths full; in short, enjoying at the same time a good dinner and an Englishman's grace.

"This will do," thought the Scot, misled like continental nations by that little trait of ours; he opened the ball.

"I'm saying--my lads--will ye gie ower this _weary warrk a wee whilee_ and sheer a wheen sheep to me?"

The men looked in his face, then at one another, and the proposal struck them as singularly droll. They burst out laughing in his face.

McLaughlan (keeping his temper thoroughly, but not without a severe struggle). "Oh, fine I ken I'll ha'e to pay a maist deevelich price for your highnesses--aweel, I'se pay--aw thing has its price; jaast name your wage for shearing five hunder sheep."

The men whispered together. The Scot congratulated himself on his success; it would be a question of price, after all.

"We will do it for--the wool."

"Th' 'oo?--oo ay! but hoo muckle o' th' 'oo? for ye ken--"

"How muckle? why, all."

"A' the 'oo! ye blackguard, ye're no blate."

"Keep your temper, farmer, it is not worth our while to shear sheep for less than that."

"De'il go wi' ye then!" and he moved off in great dudgeon.

"Stop," cried the captain, "you and I are acquainted--you lived out Wellington way--me and another wandered to your hut one day and you gave us our supper."

"Ay, lad, I mind o' ye the noo!"

"The jolliest supper ever I had--a haggis you called it."

"Ay, did I, my fine lad. I cookit it till ye myssel. Ye meicht help me for ane."

"I will," said Captain Ede; and a conference took place in a whisper between him and his men.

"It is a' reicht the noo!" thought McLaughlan.

"We have an offer to make you," said Ede, respectfully.

"Let us hear't."

"Our party is large; we want a cook for it, and we offer you the place in return for past kindness."

"Me a cuik, y' impudent vagabond!" cried the Caledonian, red as a turkey-c.o.c.k; and, if a look could have crushed a party of eight, their hole had been their grave.

McLaughlan took seven ireful steps--wide ones--then his hot anger a.s.sumed a cold, sardonic form, he returned, and with blighting satire speered this question by way of gratifying an ironical curiosity.

"An' whaat would ye ha'e the cheek t'offer a McLanghlan to cuik till ye, you that kens sae fine the price o' wark?"

"Thirty shillings."

"Thretty shilling the week for a McLaughlan!"

"The week," cried Ede, "nonsense--thirty shillings a day of course. We sell work for gold, sir, and we give gold for it; look here!" and he suddenly bared a st.u.r.dy brown arm, and, smacking it, cried, "That is dirt where you come from, but it is gold here."

"Ye're a fine lad," said the Scot, smoothly, "and ye've a boeny aerm,"

added he, looking down at it. "I'se no deny that. I'm thinking--I'll just come--and cuik till ye a wee--for auld lang syne--thretty sch.e.l.ln the day--an' ye'll buy the flesh o' me. I'll sell it a hantle cheaper than thir warldly-minded fleshers."

Bref, he came to be shorn, and remained to fleece.

He went and told George what he had done.

"Hech! hech!" whined he, "thir's a maist awfu' come doon for the McLaughlans---but wha wadna' stuip to lift gowd?"

He left his head man, a countryman of his own, in charge of the flocks, and tarried in the mine. He gave great satisfaction, except that he used to make his masters wait for dinner while he p.r.o.nounced a thundering long benediction; but his cookery compensated the delay.

Robinson enrolled him in his police and it was the fashion openly to quiz, and secretly respect him.

Robinson also made friends with the women, in particular with one Mary McDogherty, wife of a very unsuccessful digger. Many a pound of potatoes Pat and she had from the captain, and this getting wind secured the good will of the Irish boys.

CHAPTER LXI.

GEORGE was very homesick.

"Haven't we got a thousand pounds apiece yet?"

"Hush! no! not quite; but too much to bawl about."