The Tale of Timber Town Part 12

"Stand quiet, man," he expostulated. "There was no cheating."

"The fat bloke fudged a card. I was pickin' up a quid from the floor--he fudged a card. Le'go o' me, an' I'll fight you fair."

"Stand quiet, I tell you, or you'll be handed over to the police."

The digger turned his hairy visage round, and glanced angrily into Jack's eyes.

"You'll call in the traps?--you long-legged swine!" With a mighty back-kick, the Prospector lodged the heel of his heavy boot fairly on Scarlett's shin. In a moment he had struggled free, and faced round.

"Put up your fists!" he cried. "I fight fair, I fight fair."

There was a whirlwind of blows, and then a figure fell to the floor with a thud like that of a felled tree. It was the lucky digger, and he lay still and quiet amid the wreckage of the fight.

"Here," said Cathro, handing Mr. Crewe ten pounds. "Take your money--our friend the digger lost the game."

"This is most unfortunate, Cathro." But as he spoke, the Father of Timber Town pocketed the gold. "Did I not see Scarlett knock that man down? This is extremely unfortunate. I have just refused the offer of a man who avers--who avers, mind you--that he can put us on this new gold-field in a week, but I trusted to Scarlett's diplomacy with the digger: I come back, and what do I see? I see my friend Scarlett knock the man down! There he lies as insensible as a log."

"It looks," said Cathro, "as if our little plan had fallen through."

"Fallen through? We have made the unhappy error of interfering in a game of cards. We should have stood off, sir, and when a quarrel arose--I know these diggers; I have been one of them myself, and I understand them, Cathro--when a quarrel arose we should have interposed on behalf of the digger, and he would have been our friend for ever. Now all the gold in the country wouldn't bribe him to have dealings with us."

The noise of the fight had brought upon the scene all the occupants of the bar. They stood in a group, silent and expectant, just inside the room. The landlord, who was with them, came forward, and bent over the inanimate form of the Prospector. "I think this is likely to be a case for the police," said he, as he rose, and stood erect. "The man may be alive, or he may be dead--I'm not a doctor: I can't tell--but there's likely to be trouble in store for the gentlemen in the room at the time of the fight."

Suddenly an energetic figure pushed its way through the group of spectators, and Benjamin Tresco, wearing an air of supreme wisdom, and with a manner which would not have disgraced a medico celebrated for his "good bedside manner," commenced to examine the prostrate man. First, he unb.u.t.toned the insensible digger's waistcoat, and placed his hand over his heart; next, he felt his pulse. "This man," he said deliberately, like an oracle, "has been grossly manhandled; he is seriously injured, but with care we shall pull him round. My dear"--to Gentle Annie, who stood at his elbow, in her silks and jewels, the personification of Folly at a funeral--"a drop of your very best brandy--real cognac, mind you, and be as quick as you possibly can."

With the help of Scarlett, Tresco placed the digger upon the couch. In the midst of this operation the big card-player and his attenuated accomplice, whose unconsciousness had been more feigned than actual, were about to slip from the room, when Mr. Crewe's voice was heard loudly above the chatter, "Stop! stop those men, there!" The old gentleman's stick was pointed dramatically towards the retreating figures. "They know more about this affair than is good for them."

Four or five men immediately seized Ga.r.s.ett and Lichfield, led them back to the centre of the room, and stood guard over them.

At this moment, Gentle Annie re-entered with the _eau de vie_; and Tresco, who was bustling importantly about his patient, administrated the restorative dexterously to the unconscious digger, and then awaited results. He stood, with one hand on the man's forehead and the other he held free to gesticulate with, in emphasis of his speech:--

"This gentleman is going to recover--with proper care, and in skilled hands. He has received a severe contusion on the cranium, but apart from that he is not much the worse for his 'sc.r.a.p.' See, he opens his eyes.

Ah! they are closed again. There!--they open again. He is coming round.

In a few minutes he will be his old, breathing, pulsating self. The least that can be expected in the circ.u.mstances, is that the gentlemen implicated, who have thus been saved most disagreeable consequences by the timely interference of skilled hands, the least they can do is to shout drinks for the crowd."

He paused, and a seraphic smile lighted his broad face.

"Hear, hear!" cried a voice from behind the spectators by the door.

"Just what the doctor ordered," said another.

"There's enough money on the floor," remarked a third, "for the whole lot of us to swim in champagne."

"My eye's on it," said Tresco. "It's what gave me my inspiration. The lady will pick it up while you name your drinks to the landlord. Mine's this liqueur brandy, neat. Let the lady pick up those notes there: a lady has a soul above suspicion--let her collect the money, and we'll hold a court of enquiry when this gentleman here is able to give his evidence."

The digger was now gazing in a befogged manner at the faces around him; and Gentle Annie, having collected all the money of the gamblers in a tray, placed it on the small table which stood against the wall.

"Now, doctor," said a tall man with a tawny beard, "take your fee; it's you restored the gent. Take your fee: is it two guineas, or do you make it five?"

"'Doctor,' did you say? No, Moonlight, my respected friend, I scorn the t.i.tle. Doctors are a brood that batten on the ills of others. First day: 'A pain internally, madam? Very serious. I will send you some medicine.

Two guineas. Yes, the sum of two guineas.' Next day: 'Ah, the pain is no better, madam? Go on taking the medicine. Fee? Two guineas, _if_ you please.' And so on till the pain cures itself. If not, the patient grows worse, dies, is buried, and the doctor's fees accrue proportionately.

But we will suppose that the patient has some incurable tumour. The doctor comes, examines, looks wise, shakes his head, says the only chance is to operate; but it will be touch and go, just a toss up. He gets his knives, opens up the patient, and by good luck touches no vital part. Then the patient is saved, and it's 'My work, gentlemen, entirely my work. That's what skill will do. My fee is forty-five guineas.'

That's how he makes up for the folks that don't pay. Doctor, _me_? No, Moonlight, my friend, I am a pract.i.tioner who treats for love. No fee; no fee at all. But, Annie, my dear, I'll trouble you for that gla.s.s of brandy."

The digger was contemplating Tresco's face with a look of bewildered astonishment. "An' who the blanky blank are _you_?" he exclaimed, with all his native uncouthness. "What the blank do you want to take my clo'es off of me for? Who the blue infernal----" All eyes were fixed on his contused countenance and the enormous b.u.mp on his temple. "Ah!

there's the gent that shook me of five quid. I'll remember you, old party. An' as for you two spielers--you thought to fleece me. I'll give you what for! An' there's the other toff, 'im that biffed me. Fancy bein' flattened out by a toney remittance man! Wonderful. I call it British pluck, real bull-dog courage--three to one, an' me the littlest of the lot, bar one. Oh, it's grand. It pays a man to keep his mouth shut, when he comes to Timber Town with money in his pocket."

The eyes of the spectators began to turn angrily upon Lichfield and Ga.r.s.ett, who, looking guilty as thieves, stood uneasy and apart; but Scarlett stepped forward, and was about to speak in self-defence, when Mr. Crewe offered to explain the situation.

"I ask you to listen to me for one moment," he said; "I ask you to take my explanation as that of a disinterested party, a mere looker on. These three gentlemen"--he pointed to the three euchre players--"were having a game of cards, quite a friendly game of cards, in which a considerable sum of money was changing hands. My friend Scarlett, here, was looking on with me, when for some cause a quarrel arose. Next thing, the gentleman here on the sofa was attacking his opponents in the game with an empty bottle--you can see the pieces of broken gla.s.s amongst the cards upon the floor. Now, a bottle is a very dangerous weapon, a very dangerous weapon indeed; I might say a deadly weapon. Then it was that Mr. Scarlett interfered. He pulled off our friend, and was attacked--I saw this with my own eyes--attacked violently, and in self-defence he struck this gentleman, and inadvertently stunned him. That, I a.s.sure you, is exactly how the case stands. No great damage is done. The difference is settled, and, of course, the game is over."

"An' '_e_," said the digger, raising himself to a sitting posture, "'_e_ shook me for five quid. The wily ol'e serpint. 'E never done nothin'--'e only shook me for five quid."

"Count the money into three equal parts, landlord," said the Father of Timber Town. "It's perfectly true, I _did_ relieve the gentleman of five pounds; but it was the result of a bet, of a bet he himself insisted on.

He would have made it even heavier, had I allowed him. But here is the money--he can have it back. I return it. I bet with no man who begrudges to pay money he fairly loses; but I have no further dealings with such a man."

"Oh, you think I want the blanky money, do you?" cried the digger.

"You're the ol'e gen'leman as is said to own the crimson town, ain't you? Well, keep that five quid, an' 'elp to paint it crimsoner. _I_ don't want the money. _I_ can get plenty more where it came from, just for the pickin' of it up. You keep it, ol'e feller, an' by an' by I'll come and buy the town clean over your head."

"Give the patient some more brandy, my dear." Tresco's voice sounded as sonorous as a parson's. "Now he's talkin'. And what will you do with the town when you've bought it, my enterprising friend?"

"I'll turn the present crowd out--they're too mean to live. I'll sell it to a set of Chinamen, or n.i.g.g.e.rs. I'd prefer 'em."

"These are the ravings of delirium," said Tresco. "I ask you to pay no attention to such expressions. We frequently hear things of this sort in the profession, but we let them pa.s.s. He'll be better in the morning."

"Is the money divided?" asked Mr. Crewe.

"Yes," said the landlord. "One hundred and twenty-five pounds and sixpence in each lot."

"Mr. Ga.r.s.ett," said the Father of Timber Town, the tone of command in his voice, "come and take your money. Mr. Lichfield, take yours, sir."

Still agitated and confused, the two gamblers came forward, took their shares, and pocketed notes and gold with trembling hands.

"Give your friend his, Tresco," said the venerable arbitrator.

"Here's your winnings, or your losings," said the goldsmith to the digger. "It don't matter what name you call 'em by, but tuck it safely away agin your brisket. And when next you strike it rich, take my advice: put it in the bank, an' keep it there."

The digger took the money in his open hands, placed scoopwise together, and said, "All this mine, is it? You're too kind. What do _I_ want the blanky money for, eh? Didn't I tell you I could get money for the pickin' of it up? Well, you're all a pretty measly crowd, all as poor as church rats, by the manners of yer. Well, _you_ pick it up." And he flung the money among the crowd, lay back on the couch, and closed his eyes.

There was a scurry, and a scrambling on the floor, in the doorway, and in the pa.s.sage outside.

Amid the tumult, Ga.r.s.ett and the American slunk off unperceived, while Tresco and Mr. Crewe, the landlord, Gentle Annie and Scarlett remained spectators of the scene.

Soon all was hushed and still, and they were left alone with the eccentric digger; but presently the tall figure of Moonlight, the man with the tawny beard, reappeared.

"Here's fifty pound, anyway," he said, placing a quant.i.ty of notes and gold in the landlord's hands. "Some I picked up myself, some I took off a blackguard I knocked over in the pa.s.sage. Take the lot, and give it back to this semi-lunatic when he suffers his recovery in the morning.

Good-night, gentlemen; I wish you the pleasures of the evening." So saying, the man with the tawny beard disappeared, and it was not long before Tresco was left alone with his patient.