The suggestion proved acceptable.
“It’s a good name,” said one. “A bit long, perhaps; but you can call her Esmie or Ralda, if you’re in a hurry.”
“Esmeralda Howard,” said another. “Of course, she takes Varley’s name.”
“‘Esmeralda Howard’ be it,” said Varley, as impassively as ever. “Fill up all round, boys.”
The men stood round, and lifted their glasses, and shouted:
“Esmeralda! Esmeralda! And luck to her!”
And Esmeralda the child was christened by general consent.
[CHAPTER II.]
Three Star Camp was not exactly the place in which a tender parent or a careful guardian would have chosen to bring up a child, though it was no better and no worse than any other Australian gold camp. The men were rough and rowdy, but there were very few really bad ones among them, and there were a great many whose roughness hid very excellent qualities. In no place on earth do you meet with such a variety of the human species as in a camp such as Three Star.