About every fifteen miles, as I judged, we changed horses, and went on with a fresh spurt. Sometimes the coach would travel on one wheel for a second or two, or on one side, then on the other. Then we travelled, for an hour or more, on level ground, and would suddenly skid, with the break on, down a steep hill, in and out among the rocks, to the bottom, and then slowly labour up the next rise.
About ten o'clock we stopped at a wayside inn. Some one called out, "Supper." There was no need to announce it. It announced itself with a nasal effect. The nose had the news first. The air was full of it, shouting "onions."
Everybody but myself went to supper. I wouldn't show myself in the fierce glare of the kerosene lamps; so I sat where I was, pulled out my sandwich case, and had a square meal then washed it down with a swig of brandy and water.
In half an hour the passengers clambered to their seats, the driver shouted, "All aboard!" cracked his whip, and we were off. It was black as pitch, the road was sticky, the air clammy, and the coachman looked like the Wild Huntsman careering to the bottomless pit. I had had enough make-believe sleep, and was very wide awake. I peered through the curtain and looked out. It was a blindman's holiday. We came to a steep pinch, and the horses stopped. All the men were ordered to get down and walk. It was a relief to stretch one's legs, so I went ahead, and the rest of the passengers lumbered behind. Some of them were soon blown in trying to keep pace with the horses. When the band begins to march you must keep up with it, or you'll lose the music. When the coach stopped at the top of the hill three men were missing, but they soon came up, and we went on again. The dreary night died by inches; I thought the day would never dawn. When it came, dancing over the mountains, I retired behind my hat.
About noon we arrived at the town of Benalla. This was as far as I was going by coach, so I got down at the hotel where the horses were changed. Here I got a wash and a good dinner.
I went into the town, with my swag on my back, and steered a southerly course towards the mountains. A young woman, who had lost nearly all her teeth, and hadn't sense enough to keep her mouth shut, showed me the Mansfield road, and told me that some rich diggings had been discovered near Pepper Hill. I promised to give them a try.
The road was as intricate as a railway guide. Branch tracks switched off here and there, and wandered about till they were bogged or "bushed." Noble red gum-trees scented the air. A pastoral symphony was performed by an orchestra of magpies, laughing jackasses, and cockatoos. Kingfishers flashed like jewels; parrots, clad in rainbows, chattered; the whip-bird cracked his thong, and made the forest ring; native bears placidly stared; bees and honey-suckers were competing for cargo in the same line.
It was a peaceful scene. I was quite enchanted, and would willingly have abandoned the enterprise for the life of the simple farmer, whistling at the plough or calling the cattle home. Should I return in peace with the trophies of war, or leave my bones to bleach in the sun and wind until the last trump shall echo among the mountains?
I had been walking for some hours, when I saw, away to the left, a long, low house nestling among trees. I jumped over a bush-fence, and took a straight aim for a chimney that blew a wreath of smoke out of its pipe. The sun was going down. The birds were settling themselves in bed, and tucking their heads among the feathers.