In the extremity of his strait, Gerard bethought himself of Mr Kingsland. Should he write and endeavour to bespeak the latter’s aid, telling all the circumstances of his evil fortune and the cruel swindle which had left him penniless? He remembered the hearty kindness of the old settler’s tone, and assurances of friendship. Surely he was justified in asking for a helping hand towards some means of gaining his own livelihood! But no sooner had he taken pen in hand to do so than he flung that redoubtable implement to the other end of the room. He could not do it. It was too much like writing a begging letter. Besides, what claim had he upon anybody? So, instead of writing the letter, he took a hurried survey of his possessions, and then strolled round to an auctioneer’s sale-rooms, to see whether the chances were good in favour of obtaining a reasonable price for his new saddle at the next morning’s sale.
Turning the street corner he ran right against Harry Maitland, or rather against the latter’s horse, for Harry himself was in the act of dismounting.
“Hallo, Ridgeley! Where’ve you dropped from?” said Harry. “Still counter-jumping with that distinguished-looking relation of yours?”
“No such luck,” replied Gerard, with a rueful laugh. And he told him what had happened. “And here I am nearly stumped, and see no way of getting up again,” he concluded.
“Stumped, eh? That’s devilish awkward,” quoth Harry. “You would go counter-jumping, you see, instead of going to work in the right way. Look at me now. I know shoals of people already, and am having a right good time. There’s nothing like looking about one first for a bit, depend upon it. Well, ta-ta. See you again. Here—hallo, Warner!” he sang out to a man who had just passed them. “Hold on, can’t you!”
And, leaving Gerard standing there, he went after the new-comer.
“Who’s that fellow you were yarning to?” said the latter. “A devilish decent-looking chap, whoever he is.”
“That! Oh, he’s a poor devil I used sometimes to talk to on board ship. And, I say, Warner, you turned up in the very nick of time. He was just going to try and borrow a five-pound note from me. I’ll swear he was. I could see it in his eye. Let’s go and liquor.”
It was lucky for the utterer of this remark that it remained unheard by the object thereof, otherwise we fear that, even in the middle of that bustling pavement, a vigorous application of shoe-leather might have awakened Master Harry most painfully to the fact that it had been overheard. Gerard, however, had resumed his way, sad and bitter of heart; for he was young yet, and had not even begun to learn to take the insincerity and ingratitude of so-called friends as a matter of course. He only remembered how glad the other had been to get under his wing, so to say, when they had first landed. Thrown upon their own resources, strangers in a strange land, he it was who had taken the initiative; upon him had all the managing and thinking devolved. Harry Maitland had been glad of his company then, so glad of it indeed that he had even made some sacrifice of his own comfort rather than cut himself adrift from it. Now he hardly condescended to know him. Well, it was only one more lesson out of the volume of the world’s hard and flinty teaching; but, as we said, Gerard was still very young, and the lesson was bitter.
He gained the auction-room. A sale of miscellaneous articles was in full swing, and bidding was brisk. While waiting till it should be over and he could speak to the auctioneer, he amused himself watching the competing groups as well as those—far the greater number—who were only there to look on; for in a colonial town a public sale of whatever kind draws a crowd of loungers of every description as surely as a store-cupboard draws flies in hot weather. Bronzed and bearded stock-farmers and transport-riders, alert-looking townsmen, a sprinkling of Indian coolies, turbaned and deferential, but none the less intent, in their own quiet, half-shy manner, upon getting their money’s worth for their money, all clustered and crowded around the tables, more or less eagerly bidding, or keeping up a running fire of chaff with the auctioneer. Watching this mass of diversified humanity, Gerald was conscious of the descent of a friendly hand upon his shoulder, and a friendly voice at his ear.