The Gold Hunters' Adventures Part 86

"Lynch 'em! Lynch 'em!" were the cries, and the crowd pressed towards us to carry into effect the words.

Fred's hand involuntarily sought his revolver, but I restrained him.

"No firearms," I whispered; "if we shed a drop of their blood we are doomed men. Keep cool, and trust to chance."

"Miners of Ballarat, will you hear me?" I shouted, determined to make one more appeal to them, and then try the virtues of a revolver, for I did not wish to die unavenged.

"No, no; we've heard enough! Down with the bushrangers!" cried Tom, yelling with exultation, and the crowd took up the cry and reechoed it.

"I have a proposition to make," cried Fred, and his loud voice was heard above the tumult, and curiosity outweighed the thirst for vengeance.

"What's the proposition? spit it out!" shouted the crowd; "will you come down liberal with stolen property?"

There was a general roar of laughter at this sally, and when it had died away, Fred said,--

"This man [pointing to Tom] says that we are bushrangers, which we deny, and can prove that we are honest miners, like yourselves. [Sensation.]

We do not propose to bandy words with him, because he is a contemptible coward, and dare not impose upon any one but a little boy. That is not characteristic of the miners of Ballarat, for long before we reached this part of the country, we were told they were foes to tyranny. [Faint indications of applause.] We tell the man who called us bushrangers that he is a liar, and that we require satisfaction, or an abject apology from him for the insult."

There were cries and yells of--

"That's right--go in, old fellow--a ring, a ring--let 'em fight--he's a brick, ain't he?" &c.

Tom turned slightly pale, and seemed confused with the way that the affair was likely to work. The crowd saw it, and were the more strenuous for the acceptance of Fred's proposition.

"You see, gentlemen," my friend exclaimed, "the man who calls himself a miner of Ballarat is nothing but a coward. He never worked in a shaft, or dug an ounce of gold in his life. He is nothing but a 'packer,' and dare not face a man; but can beat boys and natives, because he knows they cannot resist him."

"Let him fight, or we'll lynch him," yelled the crowd; and thousands, who a few minutes before were ready to crush us beneath their feet, suddenly arrayed themselves on our side, and pressed towards the miner with scornful looks.

"I'll fight the feller," Tom said, after a few minutes' silence, "but it shall be in the old English style, stand up and knock down. I'll have no pistols, 'cos I never used 'em, and don't think I could hit a man, any how."

"A fight, a fight! form a ring!" and the proposition for a combat _a la fistiana_ was received with joy by every Englishman present.

"O, don't, sir," exclaimed the youth who had been the cause of the trouble; "don't expose yourself on my account."

"Don't be alarmed," returned Fred; "I'd fight a dozen men, sooner than one hair of your head should be touched."

"Remember," Fred continued, turning to the crowd, "that if I come off best in the fight, the boy goes with me."

"Yes, yes, we understand the conditions of the fight. Form a ring; stand back there;" and the crowd shouted, and swayed to and fro, and during the tumult we saw a st.u.r.dy fellow struggling towards us, as though to get a front view. The man, whose face I thought I had seen before, was not deterred by slight obstacles, and by dint of using his elbows vigorously, and treading on his neighbors' corns, he soon got within a few feet of us.

"And it's sitting him a-fighting, is it, ye spalpeens?" cried the fellow, with a Hibernian accent that was not to be mistaken; and he looked around the crowd, as though he wished some one would pick a quarrel with him, for the sake of variety.

"And it's bushrangers ye think they is, do ye?" the Irishman continued, scornfully; "do ye think ye would know a thafe if ye seed one? Can't ye tell a rale gintleman from a snaking blackguard?"

"What is the matter, Pat?" the miners asked, good-naturedly, most of those present appearing to know our new defender.

"Matter, is it?" he repeated, scornfully; "I tells ye that if a hair of these two gintlemen's is hurted, I'll lick the whole of ye, blackguards that ye is."

A roar of laughter followed this speech, which excited the Irishman's indignation to its fullest extent.

"Ye laugh, do ye? It's little ye would laugh if ye saw these two gintlemen dressing the cuts and sores of poor miners who had divil a ha'penny to pay the doctor with. It's little ye would laugh if ye had seed this gintleman standing up and having a crack at old Pete Burley, the bully of Ballarat; and by me faith, he brought him down in less time than ye can descend a shaft with the crank broken."

The allusion to the expeditious manner in which miners sometimes went down a shaft, much against their will, and at a great loss to their personal dignity, was received with rounds of laughter.

"You know those men, then?" cried a fellow who had been remarkably officious during the disturbance.

"Men, are they?" cried our indignant champion, and he raised one of his huge fists and dropped it with full force upon the head of the speaker, and down he went, as though shot.

"Call them gintlemen, hereafter, or by the powers, I _strike_ ye, the next time I _hit_ ye."

There was another good-natured laugh at the expense of the fallen man, and at the Irishman's wit.

"Are these the two Americans who have recently arrived, and who were concerned in that duel with Burley?"

"Of coorse they is; and haven't they been giving a number of us poor divils medicine and good advice? O, by the powers, let me say the man that wants to hurt 'em, that's all!"

This announcement completely changed the feelings of the crowd, and the miners pressed forward, shook our hands in the most friendly manner, and we supposed that our trouble was over: but Tom was not disposed to give up his prisoner in that manner, and perhaps he was the more strongly inclined for a battle, because Fred's weight was much less than his own, and therefore he imagined that he would have things his own way at a game of fisticuffs.

"I am glad that the stranger is not a bushranger," Tom said, "but he must not expect to make laws for us poor miners. When we have dust stolen from us, we have a right to deal with the thief, and I shall claim my privilege." "That is only just," murmured the miners.

"I have already offered to pay you for all that the boy has stolen,"

Fred said, "but if that does not suit you, deliver him up to the police, and let him have an examination."

"I shan't do any thing of the kind. I caught him in my tent stealing gold dust, and I shall deal with him in the regular way; I shall give him two dozen lashes across his back, and then let him run."

"Mercy! mercy!" screamed the lad, clasping his hands imploringly, and endeavoring to throw himself at the feet of his captors. "Do not beat me, for Heaven's sake, for I am a--"

The rest of the boy's remarks were lost in the confusion which his outburst of grief occasioned, yet no one seemed disposed to interfere with the regular course of things, as the miner had custom to sustain him in his conduct.

"I'll stand by my bargain," the brute said, with a grim smile; "if the gentleman wants you, he can have you on the terms that he offered--a regular Englishman's battle, and fair play to all."

"Your proposition is accepted," cried Fred, turning to Tom, who did not receive the notice with that alacrity which we expected.

Fred threw off his jacket, and that was the signal for the formation of a ring some thirty feet wide in the centre; but the desperate struggles which were made to get within sight and hearing prevented the s.p.a.ce from being very regular, and the ring from being very round.

The miner leisurely stripped off his superfluous clothing, and his form was large enough to strike terror into the hearts of those who had not made the art of self-defence a study for years, as I well knew that Fred had. The man's arms were brawny and muscular, and longer than Fred's, and when the two men took their positions, I confess that I had some fear for the safety of my friend. But if I looked fearful Fred did not, and no one could have traced upon his face the least emotion or sign of dismay.

But with all the ruffian's physical force, he looked far from confident, and I have no doubt that if he had possessed a sufficient excuse, he would have quitted the ring, and acknowledged the defeat without a struggle.

The Irishman and myself were Fred's seconds, and the miner who helped Tom hold the boy was obliged to relinquish his prize, and a.s.sist his friend, no one else volunteering.

For a few minutes after the men were placed, each stood upon the defensive, and waited for hostilities. It was no part of Fred's plan to begin the battle, as he wanted to discover whether Tom possessed science, as well as vast strength; and he was not in this respect kept long in suspense, for the miner advanced towards him, swinging his long arms and huge fists in the most ridiculous manner, and which caused the Irishman to shout,--

"Make way for the windmill, there."

A roar of laughter greeted the Irishman's sally, which caused Tom some confusion, and before he could recover from his bewilderment, Fred had sprang within his reach, and dealt him a blow that sent him reeling to the extremity of the ring, where he fell heavily upon the ground.

"The windmill goes stern fust, and no mistake. Holy St. Patrick! but isn't he groggy?"