Part 20 (1/2)

The dissipated digger ate half a chop and a morsel of bread and, when the tea was ready, he drank a cupful thirstily.

”Try another,” suggested Tresco, holding the teapot in his hand. ”You're a marvel at making a recovery.”

The digger complied readily.

”That's the style,” said the goldsmith. ”There's nothing like tea to counteract the effects of a little spree.”

”Spree!” The digger's face expressed indignation which he did not feel equal to uttering. ”The spree remained with the other parties, likewise the dollars.” He emptied his cup, and drew a long breath.

”I reckon we struck a bit of a snag,” said Benjamin, ”four of 'em in a lump.”

”They properly cleaned me out, anyway,” said the digger. ”I ain't got so much as sixpence to jingle on a tombstone.”

He fumbled in his pockets, and at length drew out two pieces of crumpled paper. These he smoothed with his rough begrimed hands, and then placed them on the table. They were Tresco's IOUs.

”I suppose you'll fix these 'ere, mate,” said he.

Benjamin scratched his head.

”When I've squared up my hotel bill an' a few odds and ends,” explained the digger, ”I'll be makin' tracks.”

Tresco looked on this man as a veritable gold-mine, in that he had discovered one of the richest diggings in the country. To quarrel with him therefore would be calamitous: to pay him was impossible, without recourse to financial suicide.

”What does it amount to?” he asked, bending over the bits of dirty paper. ”H'm, 117--pretty stiff little bill to meet between 10 p.m. and 10 a.m. Suppose I let you have fifty?”

The digger looked at the goldsmith in astonishment.

”If I didn't want the money, I'd chuck these bits o' paper in the fire,”

he exclaimed. ”S'fer as _I'm_ concerned the odd seventeen pound would do _me_, but it's the missis down in Otago. She _must_ 'ave a clear hundred. Women is expensive, I own, but they mustn't be let starve. So anty up like a white man.”

”I'll try,” said Tresco.

”If I was you I'd try blanky hard,” said the digger. ”Act honest, and I'll peg you off a claim as good as my own. Act dishonest, an' you can go to the devil.”

Tresco had taken off his ap.r.o.n, and was putting on his coat. ”I've no intention of doing that,” he said. ”How would it be to get the police to make those spielers disgorge?--you'd be square enough then.”

”Do that, and I'll never speak to you again. I've no mind to be guy'd in the papers as a new chum that was bested by a set of lags.”

”But I tell you they had loaded dice and six-shooters.”

”The bigger fools we to set two minutes in their comp'ny.”

”What if I say they drugged you?”

”I own to bein' drunk. But if you think to picture me to the public as a greenhorn that can be drugged first and robbed afterwards, you must think me a bigger fool'n I look.”

Tresco held his hat in his hand.

”I want this yer money _now_,” said the digger. ”In three weeks money'll be no object to you or me, but what I lent you last night must be paid to-day.”