Part 69 (2/2)

he cried. ”Heave!” The wooden building creaked and cracked; down came a chimney, rattling upon the iron roof.

”Pull, boys!” shouted the Prospector. ”Take the time from me.” With arms extended above his head, he swayed his body backwards and forwards slowly, and shouted in time to his gesticulations, ”Heave! Heave! Now you've got her! Altogether, boys! Let her 'ave it! Heave!”

The groaning building moved a foot or two forward, the windows cracked, and another chimney came down with a crash. Bill held up his hand, and the hawser slackened.

”Now, mister,” he said, addressing the helpless, struggling Sergeant, ”when's my mate a-comin'? Look sharp in saying the word, or your old shed'll only be fit for firewood.”

At this point of the proceedings, a constable with an axe in his hand issued from the tottering building; his intention being to cut the rope.

But he was immediately overpowered and disarmed.

”That fixes it,” said the Prospector. ”Now, boys; take a strain--the last one. Heave, all! Give 'er all you know. Altogether. Heave! There she comes. Again. Heave!”

There was a cras.h.i.+ng and a smas.h.i.+ng, the whole fabric lurched forward, and was dragged half-way across the road. Bill held up his hand.

”Now, Sergeant, have you had enough, or do you want the whole caboose pulled across the paddock?”

But the answer was given by a constable leading a battered, tattered, figure from the wrecked building.

It was Benjamin Tresco.

Led by the Prospector, the great crowd of diggers roared three deafening cheers; and then the two mates shook hands.

That affecting greeting over, Benjamin held up his hand for silence.

”Gentlemen, I thank you,” he said. ”This is the proudest day of my life.

It's worth while being put in limbo to be set free in this fas.h.i.+on. I hardly know what I've done to deserve such a delicate attention, but I take it as a token of good feeling, although you pretty near killed me with your kindness. The Law is strong, but public opinion is stronger; and when the two meet in conflict, the result is chaos for the Law.”

He pointed to the wrecked building, by way of proof; and the crowd roared its approval.

”But there's been a man worse man-handled than me,” continued the goldsmith, ”a man as innocent as an unborn babe. I refer to Mr.

Scarlett, the boss of the Robin Creek diggings.”

The crowd shouted.

”But he has regained his liberty.” Benjamin's face shone like the rising sun, as he said the words. ”I call upon you to give three cheers for Mr. Jack Scarlett.” The response was deafening, and the roar of the mult.i.tude was heard by the sailors on the s.h.i.+ps which lay at the wharves of Timber Town.

From the mixed crowd on the side-path, where he had been standing with Cathro and Mr. Crewe, Scarlett stepped forward to thank the man who by his intervention had delivered him from obloquy and, possibly, from death. Immediately the diggers marked the meeting, they rushed forward, seized Scarlett, Tresco, and the Prospector; lifted them shoulder high, and marched down the street, singing songs appropriate to the occasion.

At the door of The Lucky Digger the procession stopped, and there the heroes were almost forcibly refreshed; after which affecting ceremony one body-guard of diggers conducted Scarlett to the Pilot's house, and another escorted Bill and Ben to the goldsmith's shop. But whereas Scarlett's friends left him at Captain Summerhayes' gate, the men who accompanied Tresco formed themselves into a guard for the protection of his person and the safety of his deliverer.

When Scarlett walked into the Pilot's parlour, he found the old sailor poring over a pile of letters and doc.u.ments which had just arrived by the mail from England.

”Well, Pilot, good news, I hope,” said Jack.

”No,” replied the gruff old seaman; ”it's bad--and yet it's good. See here, lad.” He pushed a letter towards Jack, and fixed his eyes on the young man's face.

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