"I presume you have been in the various Australian cities?"—he nodded in the direction of my portmanteau, which I had set down in the middle of the road, whereon were emblazoned the advertising devices of many enterprising hotel proprietors.
"You are certainly a lineal descendant of Sherlock Holmes," I ventured with mild sarcasm, half wondering if in this remote settlement I had stumbled upon an adapted version of the old, old confidence trick.
He appeared to understand my innuendo, for he flushed up angrily, then suddenly glancing at his dilapidated wardrobe, he checked a fiery outburst and smiled feebly instead. His companions too seemed powerfully affected by my simple remark, and their wrath did not cool down as swiftly as I would have wished. They crowded around me threateningly, while the vials of their speech overflowed in a tempestuous torrent of indignant reproaches.
"We is Ostralians," they bellowed with one voice, "we is——"
"Calm yourselves, boys," I entreated. "You're over-sensitive to be abroad in this wicked world. I said nothing——"
"An' don't say it again," interrupted the tallest and ugliest of the group. "I is known as Long Ted in these parts, I is; an' I fights when my fur is raised, I does."
It was now my turn to feel annoyed; the aggressive nature of the party almost confirmed me in my first doubt.
"Suppose you stand out of the way," I suggested. "I'm not holding a levee——"
The leader at this stage endeavoured to throw oil on the troubled waters. "I must apologise for bringing this trouble upon you," he said, frowning severely on his associates. "We are not tramps, though I have no doubt our looks are against us. We are gum-diggers out for a spell; at least my companions are on a holiday; I—I am only going to take care of them."