The Gold Hunters' Adventures Part 106

CHAPTER LV.

ADVENTURES AT DAN BRIAN'S DRINKING-HOUSE.

The next day, anxious to test the truth of Steel Spring's statements, I made an inquiry at the government reception office, and referring to the books a clerk informed me that on the very day before the attack was made upon Mr. Critchet he had deposited one thousand ounces of gold, and had received a stationary certificate, or note, acknowledging that the money had been received, but was to lay in the office, and not be forwarded to Melbourne--a method that was often adopted to prevent loss by miners.

This was good news to me, and I felt warranted in calling upon the commissioner to let him understand the fact, as it would in a measure relieve us of suspicion of being implicated in the robbery.

Mr. Sherwin received me with more kindness, or pretended friendship, than I thought him capable of, and invited me into his private room, an apartment about the size of a sugar box, and about as rough. It contained two chairs, a desk, and a pair of old boots, much the worse for wear.

Upon the rough wall of the office was a portrait of Queen Victoria in her coronation robes, done in yellow, and dear at any price. On the desk was a print of Hobart Town, and beneath it was a black profile of the commissioner; at least, he informed me that it was intended as a surprising likeness of him, but I thought it would astonish no one but his mother, in case the old lady ever saw it. It was cut from a piece of black paper by a man who was before him for being drunk, and had no funds to pay his fine, and so thought to conciliate his judge, which he succeeded in doing, if report was true.

After I had sufficiently admired the contour of the head, and the other striking features of the paper counterfeit, Mr. Sherwin invited me to be seated, and asked what I would "take," and appeared to be somewhat surprised when I told him that I didn't care about drinking.

Notwithstanding my refusal, the commissioner unlocked his desk and took out two very dirty wine gla.s.ses, and then displayed, with a solemn flourish, a black bottle partly filled with a dark liquid which he called wine; but I would have sworn, without tasting that it was bilge water.

"Now," said Mr. Sherwin, waving me to a seat opposite to the desk, "we can be comfortable and chatty. We have wine and good fellowship, and what more can we desire?

"And how is our friend Frederick?" the commissioner inquired, after filling the gla.s.ses and re-corking the bottle, as though he feared the strength of the black stuff would evaporate if left exposed to the air.

I replied that my friend and companion was as "well as could be expected" with such an accusation hanging over his head, and that he would have accompanied me had his presence not have been needed at the store to wait on customers, and to attend to the wants of the wounded man, Mr. Critchet.

"Don't give yourselves any uneasiness on that silly charge," the commissioner said, with a smile that was intended to be engaging, but I shuddered at it, it was so cold and fiendish. "I am perfectly satisfied that Follet lied to me, and any time you wish to proceed against him for perjury I will grant a warrant, and will also release you and your friend from bail."

"May I ask what has caused such a change in your sentiments?" I inquired, half suspecting that he was setting a trap for me.

"You know as well as I do," my companion answered, with a wink of his snaky eye.

I protested with some earnestness that I was ignorant on the subject, and while the commissioner turned his back to search amidst some papers which his desk contained, I slyly poured the contents of my wine gla.s.s through a crack of the floor, and watered the soil of Ballarat with a new species of liquor, such as was never known before.

"You see I have heard from Melbourne lately, and am satisfied how the land lays, and I am not going to weaken the cause of government by suspecting two of its greatest defenders." And while the plotting officer unfolded a letter his eye fell upon my empty gla.s.s, and, in defiance of my most strenuous denials, insisted that I should "not be afraid of the liquor, because there was plenty more where that came from," (which the Lord forbid!) and once more I had the inexpressible misery of sitting with a wine gla.s.s full of the strange compound under my nostrils, which I dared not throw away, fearful that he would see me, and which I dreaded to drink.

"I got a letter from Mr. Murden, who is an officer of some rank in the police force at Melbourne, a day or two since, and he tells me that I must be very careful of you gentlemen, as the governor esteems you highly, and that his excellency would be apt to resent an act of injustice done you while stopping at the mines."

I strongly suspected that the lieutenant had drawn on his imagination in that letter, for he thoroughly understood the character of the commissioner, and disliked him so much that while at Ballarat he had not even called upon him.

"When I obtain a position at Melbourne that I consider suitable for a fair display of my talents, I shall know how to be grateful for favors,"

the commissioner insinuated, with a bland smile that suggested whole volumes of bribery.

The subject was painful to me, and to avoid making promises which I could not perform, I turned the conversation to the theme which I had uppermost in my mind,--the discovery of Mr. Critchet's deposit at the government office. The commissioner was slightly astonished, and became more and more convinced that Fred and myself were innocent of any complicity in the plot.

"In fact," Mr. Sherwin said, "so convinced am I that Follet and an unknown companion attempted the murder, that I shall this day order a full discharge from our court records, and of course you will no longer be under bail. Nay, I don't desire thanks," the commissioner said, hastily, as I attempted to explain how grateful we should feel. "There are other ways besides words in which a man can certify his good will."

I understood his meaning, but instead of returning an answer I managed to empty his so-called wine upon the floor, and then took my leave, after first hinting that we were on the track of Follet's companion. I felt easier and breathed freer after reaching the open air, in defiance of the dust, which filled the heavens, and almost blinded me; and while I was picking my way through the street, with half-closed eyes, whom should I meet but Mr. Brown.

"Hullo," he shouted, "what is up?"

I briefly related the manner in which I had been received by the commissioner, and the discovery that Steel Spring had made.

"And when does that long-limbed wretch propose to identify Follet's companion, so that we can get hold of him?" Mr. Brown inquired.

"To-night," I answered; "I intended to find you in the course of the day, and get you to accompany us on the expedition."

"What time do you start?"

"About midnight. Steel Spring is to be at Dan's, and will introduce us to the company as men afraid to look upon the face of a 'Trap,' and 'on the square.'"

"I'll be with you before you start, and during the day I'll send two disguises to the store which will be hard to rival in point of ugliness.

Good by for the present, and don't forget to examine and clean your revolvers, for we may need them."

At about midnight we donned our disguises, and then surveyed each other with attention. Fred had a close-cropped wig of a fiery red color, which nearly covered his forehead, and made him look like a prize-fighter after a hard battle.

On his nose was stuck an immense piece of adhesive plaster, which rather detracted from his personal beauty; and to complete the adornment of his person, there were other strips of the same material on his face, which, by the way, was slightly smeared with dirt to give him a healthy color so that the company which we were about to seek should not accuse us of aristocracy in being too clean.

I also had on a wig, but it was one of the _fussy_ kind, and made my head look as though guiltless of a comb or brush for many months. To beautify my complexion I smeared it over with soot, and when I regaled myself with a glance at our six by nine gla.s.s, I was satisfied that no living man could tell whether I was a dirty white man or a dirty negro.

Our costumes consisted of blue flannel shirts, with coa.r.s.e canvas trousers, very much soiled and very stiff; but they were made loose, with very deep pockets, for the express purpose of carrying a brace of pistols or huge pocket knives.

A few minutes past twelve o'clock the inspector gave his peculiar knock, and we admitted him. He had on a suit of clothing that formerly belonged to a miner who had pa.s.sed two or three weeks under ground digging through a stratum of clay, and of course he had not spared his garments, for they were so besmeared that it would have puzzled a conjurer to have defined the original color of the cloth. His wig was black, and contrasted with his saturnine complexion, and as long as he held his tongue he would have pa.s.sed muster as a native of Italy.

"Well," inquired Mr. Brown, surveying our disguise with approval, "is every thing ready?"

We a.s.sured him that, as far as we were concerned, we were, and impatient to set out without delay.

"Where is Steel Spring?" Mr. Brown asked, while sipping his punch, with a gratified expression upon his face that showed how highly he enjoyed it.

"We are to meet him at Dan's at one o'clock."

"Then we had better be moving," the inspector said, emptying his gla.s.s, and rising. "I heard from one of my folks to-night, and he tells me that the gathering is unusually large at the 'Cricket,' and to prevent mistakes, I have stationed a small force of trusty men within sound of a call in case they are required."

We left Rover in charge of the store and the sick man, and locked up, and then picked our way towards Gravel Pit Hill, where the "Cricket" was located.

Mr. Brown was in high spirits, and once called down the wrath of a guardian of the night because Mr. B. insisted upon showing us the extent and volume of his voice.

At length we gained "Gravel Pit Hill," and had no difficulty in finding the celebrated "Cricket,"--a house that made some pretensions to size and boards, for it was two stories high, with a large hall, or bar-room, on the first floor, and three or four smaller rooms leading from it. The small rooms were for the _elite_ of the bushranging profession, and when there was too great a cry for a notorious robber, he was accommodated with private quarters where he could enjoy his _lush_ undisturbed by the thoughts of police officers. The "Cricket" appeared to be unusually light and brilliant, for the sharp squeaking of a violin was heard, and the trilling of a clarinet blended with the catgut in most discordant notes.

"Now, gentlemen," the inspector said, stopping short, and laying his hands upon our arms, "we have got to manage this matter with some skill, or we shall hardly escape without a blow from a knife, or a pistol shot, two very desirable things if we use the weapons with which they are inflicted, but bad if in other hands. Let me caution you to study each word that you utter, and to maintain perfect control over your muscles.

Now, then, are you ready?"

We answered in the affirmative, and once more strode on until we reached the stout door that separated the "cricketers" from the outer world. It was closed as we expected, for Steel Spring had informed us that after a certain hour at night all ingress had to be made by giving a pa.s.sword, and he had kindly provided us with the magic expression to be used.

Mr. Brown dealt a stout blow upon the door, and while we listened for a response the music ceased, and all was quiet as a churchyard within the house. We could hear whispering near the door as though debating our business, and who we were.

Again did the inspector deal the door heavy blows, and while he rested a hoa.r.s.e voice asked,--

"What's wanted out there?"

"We wish to come in--open the door, and don't keep us away from, the lush all night," responded the inspector.