“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 fashion. 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 multitude was heard by the sailors on the ships which lay at the wharves of Timber Town.