Here two Hebrew gentlemen offered Sam and Kaiser a £10 note for our entire stock of gem-stones. In consequence of this generous offer (!) and the fact that his great height afforded an easy means of identification, we had to send Sam rather hurriedly to Melbourne. We eventually restored peace, however, by selling our stones to the afore-mentioned individuals for £80; and since then Aaron K. has informed me that one stone alone, when cut into four parts and polished, fetched fifty-three sovereigns.
[IN THE GUM-LAND OF WANGERI]
There is a region away in the far north of New Zealand, where sooner or later the wanderer who knows the world by the track of his footsteps must surely gravitate, there to mingle with kindred spirits and pursue the even tenor of life's way for a brief space under tranquil circumstances, digging for the Kauri-resin deposits of former ages along the fern swamps and uplands, amassing wealth if fortune favours, but casually content with the generous subsistence his peaceful labours at the least will bring, until his restless nature compels him to journey forth again on his ceaseless pilgrimage.
My acquaintance with this odd corner of the globe was made some years ago, when chance—fatality, the gum-diggers would call it—led me to take a trip on a coasting steamer trading from Auckland northwards. I had never heard of the gum-digging industry except in the vaguest way, and curiosity had fired my interest in inverse ratio with the amount of information gathered. But I could not help noticing that all my inquiries on the subject were treated with scantily hidden disapproval, and in consequence I never pressed my apparently awkward questions, fearing that I had by accident hit on a conversational topic, which, like that of convict history in Australia, had best be tabooed. So it happened that when the SS. Bulimba moored alongside the jetty in the beautiful harbour of Wangeri, I stepped ashore, meaning to put in a day or so in the picturesque little township which looked so alluring from the water, yet wholly unaware of the fact that I had at last reached the centre of the gum country. That was a small matter, however, on which I was speedily enlightened.
I had just got clear of the long wharf, and was looking about the quiet street in which I found myself, in hopes of spying the hospitable portals of an hotel near at hand, when four extremely ragged men emerged from the doorway of the establishment I had at that moment decided to patronise. Their outward appearance was bad—very bad, and though I have foregathered with all sorts and conditions in my time, I like to choose my company when I can. I resolved promptly to pass on to some other house. The disreputable quartette were now hurrying towards me, and I moved aside to give them ample room to go by. Three of the party were engaged in animated discussion; the fourth walked a little way ahead, his eyes fixed listlessly on the ground. He looked up as he noticed the shadow across his path, and at once an expression of relief brightened his weary countenance.
"I ask your pardon, sir," he said, with quaint courtesy. "But will you do me a small service?"
My hand slid into my pocket involuntarily; then I recollected that I was not in Britain, and withdrew it again carelessly. "Fire away," I said; "what's the trouble?"
The argumentative trio had meanwhile ceased their wordy altercations and were staring at me eagerly. Their polite spokesman began again:—