ATTEMPT TO BURN THE STORE.
As the heads of the incendiaries emerged from beneath the building, and
even before they had time to gain a footing, we threw ourselves upon
them, and pinned them to the earth in despite of the powerful struggles
which they made to escape; failing in which, their hands sought for
their knives, but we saw the movement, and succeeded in defeating it.
"Yield in peace," cried Fred, "or you will fare worse," addressing his
antagonist, the Irishman, who replied with an oath, and a fierce thrust
of a long knife.
"Is that your gratitude?" continued Fred, who easily avoided the
meditated blow. "Then I will begin in earnest."
He drew his revolver from his pocket, and struck his opponent a heavy
blow on his temple. The Irishman uttered a groan, and remained
motionless, and then Fred rushed towards me to see what assistance I
needed; but I fortunately required none, for the man I had taken charge
of, after being frustrated in his attempt to use his knife, remained
perfectly quiet, and appeared disposed to surrender on as good terms as
he could make.
"Never mind me," I cried, as Fred joined me; "I will take charge of this
fellow, and blow his brains out if he makes an attempt to escape.
Extinguish the fire before it gains headway, and don't, above all
things, raise an alarm."
Fred crawled under the building, and in a few seconds had scattered the
firebrands so that all danger was passed, and in the latter work Smith
and Murden rendered good service; for the lieutenant quickly had a
couple of buckets of water on hand, which he had brought from our "sink
hole," and in a very few minutes all traces of the fire were destroyed.
"Have you got the scamp?" asked Murden, crawling from his confined
quarters, where he had been nearly strangled with smoke.
"This fellow appears to be quiet enough," I answered, turning my
prisoner over on his back, so that I could see his face.
"Is he?" asked the fellow in a sarcastic tone; and quick as lightning he
started to his feet, and I saw a long knife flash in the starlight, and
before I could spring aside he aimed it full at my breast.
In another instant I should have been a dead man, but, fortunately,
Murden saw the move, and struck the ruffian's arm up, and the knife
passed over my shoulder harmless. The next instant my prisoner was
measuring his length on the hard ground, with blood spirting from his
nose and mouth, the effects of a tremendous blow, which the lieutenant
delivered full upon his unprotected face.
"Lie there, you d----d midnight incendiary," cried the officer,
indignant to think that he wished to add murder to his other crimes.
The wretch only groaned in reply; but Murden, thinking that he was
shamming, slipped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists, and then served the
Irishman, whom Fred had rendered tongue-tied by a blow from his
revolver, in the same manner.
"A neat pair of handcuffs is an ornament that disgraces no one, while
they add to a person's security eighty per cent. There is, to be sure, a
slight prejudice against having them on in unmixed company, but it is
astonishing how soon the feeling wears off. Next to a good revolver,
believe me, a pair of handcuffs is a policeman's best friend."
While the lieutenant was speaking, he gave the prostrate Irishman a kick
with his heavy boot, as an illustration of his argument perhaps, and the
blow was sufficient to restore the fellow to his senses.
"Holy St. Patrick, it's murdering me, ye are," he exclaimed.
"No, but we intend to, unless you inform us who hired you to set fire to
our store," rejoined Fred.
The fellow maintained a profound silence, and Murden was about to repeat
his blow when Fred checked him.
"No more kicks," he said; "they have been punished sufficiently already,
and we must now try what effect kindness will have on them."
"I'll try the effect of a stout halter," cried the angry officer; but
Fred was resolute, and refused to allow them to be punished.
Our prisoners listened to the words that passed between the lieutenant
and Fred, and I could see by the bright starlight that astonishment was
plainly visible upon their faces. It was evident that they expected
different treatment.
"Let us take them into the store, and there we can examine them at
leisure," Fred said; and as the idea met our approval, we helped them to
stand upon their feet, and then escorted them into the building, where
we lighted our candles, and after wiping some of the congealed blood
from their faces, we examined their countenances to see if we had ever
met them before in Ballarat.
"Where have we seen you before?" Fred asked, addressing the Irishman.
The man hung his head and refused to reply; and he even appeared to act
as though ashamed of his conduct.
"I can tell you where we have met him before," I remarked. "Don't you
remember the Irishman whose wounds you dressed on the second night of
your arrival, and who swore that he would yet live to reward you?"
Fred nodded, and his face grew dark with passion.
"Well, this is the person. He was destitute of money and credit, and to
save his life we spent many hours in cleansing his injuries, and
dressing them with care. He has already attempted to pay us his debt of
gratitude, and perhaps when he is again sick he will visit us."
"You miserable apology for a man," cried Murden, raising his arm, and
the fellow cowered at the threatened blow; but Fred interposed, and
stopped the impetuous officer from carrying his intention into effect.
"What excuse have you to offer for plotting against us?" demanded Fred,
addressing the Irishman.
"I was poor, and wanted food," he returned, with a face of shame.
"Why did you not come to me, and I would have supplied your wants? It is
but a poor return to attempt to burn us out for the attention that we
showed you. Is your heart made of stone?"
"I was told that you two was plotting agin the miners concerning the
tax, and that it would be a good thing to ruin ye, and make ye lave the
country," answered the Irishman, not daring to raise his downcast
glances from the floor.
"And the miners hired both of you to commence the war of burning, did
they?" asked Fred.
"No, not the miners," returned the man, "although they think that you is
agin 'um, and that you had better move. A man, whose name we don't know,
gave us five pounds to set the place on fire."
"You are lying, and we know it," retorted Fred. "Tell us who paid you
the money, or you will fare badly," he continued, in a stern tone of
voice.
The incendiary stammered, and looked towards his accomplice, as though
uncertain what to say, and while hesitating, the latter exclaimed:
"It is useless to mince matters, Pat--we are in a fix, and have got to
make the most of it. We belong to a secret league, whose object is to
resist paying the taxes imposed by government upon miners, and hearing
that you were with the government, we determined to clip your claws, and
prevent you from doing mischief. If your store had taken fire, we might
have made a few pounds by plunder, but as for receiving five pounds, or
any money for the work, it's all sham, and Pat knows it. We talked the
matter over with a dozen or so, and agreed to do the business. That's
all about it, and you may make the most of it, and hand us over to the
police as soon as you please."
The ruffian spoke in as free and easy a manner as though he had been
engaged in some meritorious work, instead of a piece of black villany.
"You did not know, then, that we were opposed to the government on the
tax question, and that while we determined to take no part in the
struggle, we sympathized with the miners?" inquired Fred.
"One of the men to whom we talked said as much," answered the fellow,
"but we did not pay any attention to him, and neither do I believe it
now."
"Then let this convince you," exclaimed Fred, taking the key of the
irons from Murden's hand, and unlocking the handcuffs. "There, you are
free. Go and tell the dissatisfied miners that we will never plot
against them, although it is probable that we shall not take up arms in
their defence. We are traders, and have done with fighting, and wish to
remain neutral."
The fellows stared in unfeigned astonishment at Fred, and then around
the store, as though hardly convinced that they had heard the welcome
intelligence.
"Is your honor serious?" asked the Irishman.
"Quite so--go; but if another attempt is made to burn us out, we have
weapons that we know how to use. Say so to those with whom you plotted."
"I won't say that I'm sorry for what I've done, 'cos no great harm has
happened any how," said the Englishman, who appeared to possess more of
an education than his companion; "but I'll say this--had we burned your
store down, and then learned that you was not agin us, I should have
felt bad, and would have tried to right it in some way. We are poor
devils at best, and ain't got much in common, but we are all liable to
make mistakes, and so we supposed that we were really doing something
for the cause."
"It's little I thought it was ye," said the Irishman, who seemed
determined also to offer an excuse. "Faith, had I known it was the two
rael gintlemen who healed me sores, it's little I'd thought of setting
ye on fire. Long lives to ye, and don't be afraid of bad luck after
this. It's Paddy O'Shea who will fight for ye to the longest day that he
lives."
We received the apologies with due dignity, and without placing too much
stress upon what was said by the men; and at last they concluded to take
their departure, but just as they got to the door, and while Fred was
unlocking it, O'Shea expressed a desire to whisper a few words to my
friend.
"If ye have such a thing as a thimble full of whiskey in the store,
perhaps ye will give us a drink?" he said.
Fred hesitated for a moment, but at last concluded that it would be a
cheap riddance by giving them a drink. He drew a couple of stiff glasses
from the barrel, and they swallowed the liquor with a relish that would
have delighted the heart of a manufacturer.
"Ah, how I should like to drink such stuff as that all day, and have
nothing to do!" cried Pat; and he glanced fondly towards the barrel, as
though anticipating another invitation, but he didn't get it.
They still hesitated about going, and the two villains looked first at
one and then at another, as though they still had a matter that they
wished to speak about.
"I also have a request," whispered the Englishman, evidently mistaking
his man, and thinking that Fred was a good-natured sort of person, who
would comply with every wish.
"Name it," replied Fred, with some little impatience.
"Could you lend me ten pounds for a few days, until I can collect a few
debts that are due me?" the scamp asked.
"No, I can't do that," rejoined Fred, opening wide the store door, "but
I can let you have a few of these if they will suit you."
He raised his foot as he spoke, and administered a few energetic kicks
to the fellow's posteriors, that almost took him off his feet.
"They fit well enough," cried the beggar, "but they don't suit;" and the
twain were speedily out of sight, and whenever we used to see them
afterwards, they would keep at a respectable distance, and look to see
what kind of boots we wore.
As we apprehended no further difficulty that night, we went to bed, and
got quite a comfortable nap before sunrise.
Murden, whose visit extended a day or two longer than he intended, got
ready to start in the afternoon, and although he had only brought a
valise with him, and a change of clothing, yet did he pretend, every
time that his departure was mentioned, that he had to pack his things,
and away he would go, and remain absent until he had recovered composure
sufficient to face us like a man, and without a display of weakness.
With a hearty shake of our hands, and a troubled brow, Murden left us;
and had he not undertaken the difficult task of driving or leading his
newly-caught bird, the cassiowary, which gave him trouble, and required
all of his attention, he would have broken down in his leave-taking, and
galloped off without daring to trust himself with words.
As for Steel Spring, he appeared delighted at the idea of leaving; for
he was fond of change, and required exciting scenes to keep him out of
mischief, which he was prone to, in defiance of the vigilant eye that
Murden kept on him; and I had but little doubt, as I stood and watched
their forms disappear amidst a labyrinth of tents and crazy huts, that
the long-limbed wretch would have murdered him, and rejoined a gang of
bushrangers, had it not been for a sort of moral fear that prevented him
from committing the crime.
We felt lonely for the balance of the day, although we were extremely
busy in arranging our goods, and in selling. Our store was crowded from
noon until long past sunset, and then we were compelled to close and
exclude the crowd, owing to our being completely exhausted, both
mentally and physically, for the adding up of figures was a new kind of
brain work, that had not tasked us since the days when we were
schoolboys.
How many "nigger heads" we sold that day, singly, for the purpose of
allowing the miners to taste our stock before they bought largely, I
have no means of knowing; but fortunately for our reputation, Smith had
displayed great prudence in his bargains, and his "cavendish" and "fine
cut" were at length pronounced the best that were ever brought to
Ballarat, and so we got up a great sale of tobacco, and our stock ran
low before we had been open a week.
Smith, and the man he had hired to freight goods, remained with us three
days, and then returned, in all haste, to Melbourne for more goods, for
our run of custom was so great that we found that a fresh supply of
articles was needed without delay. Our partner did not need urging to
return to the city, for the reader will recollect that he was recently
married, and that his wife was at Melbourne.
We found, when he got ready to start, that we had taken gold dust enough
to pay for our next cargo, even without drawing on our reserve fund,
which was held subject to our order in a Melbourne bank.
We were sitting in our store one evening, smoking our pipes, as usual,
and talking over the business of the day, when we heard a knock at the
door, light and timid, as though delivered by the hand of a woman.
It was long past the hour of our closing, and we had made preparations
for retiring for the night, for our hammocks were slung, and ready for
occupancy, and it was seldom that we had a visitor at so late an hour.
The knock started us, and even Rover, who had been sleeping soundly,
awoke with a growl, as though he scented danger, and was going to be
prepared to meet it.
"Who can that be?" asked Fred, involuntarily placing his hand upon his
revolver.
I was unable to answer the question, of course; but we waited in silence
for a repetition of the knocking with as much anxiety as though it had
been a summons of instant execution.
There was a secret gang of ruffians in Ballarat at that time, and in
defiance of the vigilance of the police, they had committed many bold
robberies, and even murders; and the stories told of their atrocities
had awakened a feeling in our hearts that perhaps some night the
villains might undertake an attack upon ourselves, knowing, as they
must, that our sales were large, and that we must have considerable
money on hand, which we did not deposit at the government office, for
the purpose of being sent to Melbourne under military escort.
Every night, since we had grown in importance and wealth, we had slept
with our revolvers under our heads, and beneath our pillows were small
bags of gold dust, and gold and silver coin; and when men begin to
collect riches, they will defend them and watch over them with more
tenderness than any thing else that they possess.
Again we heard the knock upon our door, and, we thought, a low groan;
but it might have been the wind. The hound was snuffing at the door, and
uttered a low wail, as though mourning for the dead. Two or three times
he trotted towards us, and then returned and scratched at the woodwork
with his claws, as though anxious to get into the street.
"I can stand this no longer!" cried Fred, cocking his revolver, and
starting up. "I will see who is at the door if a dozen robbers are
waiting outside."
He started towards the door as he spoke, and I followed him. Just as we
were about to draw the bolts, another knock, but much fainter, and a
low, death-like groan, fell upon our ears.
We started, and hesitated about proceeding; but Rover looked up into our
faces with such an expression, as though to encourage us to see what the
matter was, that we determined to investigate, and no longer suspect a
trick.
We withdrew the bolts and suddenly threw open the door, and as we did
so, the body of a man fell inward, and lay at our feet motionless,
although by our lights, dim as they were, we could see that our midnight
visitor was covered with blood.