“Ah,” cried the big ruffian, from where he lay; “come on, mates. They’re trying to put a stop to the gold-washing, and to rob us of our claim.”
“Gag that scoundrel if he speaks again,” cried Mr Raydon, coolly, as the rough-looking men clustered together, dirt-stained, unkempt, and drenched with water some of them, and all anxiously handling their pieces. There was a low angry murmur from the new-comers, and our assailants shouted—
“Yes; come to rob us of our claim.”
“Silence!” cried Mr Raydon, turning then to the gold-finders. “I am Mr Daniel Raydon, chief officer of Fort Elk, the station of the Hudson’s Bay Company.”
“Ay, that’s right,” said one of the new-comers.
“I stand to all here as the magistrate of this district till the Governor, her Majesty’s representative, sends officers to preserve order, and protect you and your rights and claims in this newly-discovered goldfield.”
“That’s right, sir; that’s right, sir,” said the same man. “But when we’ve chosen claims you’re not to take them away.”
“Hear, hear!” roared the big ruffian, faintly.
“And shoot him down,” cried another of the fresh coiners; and there was a loud murmur like a chorus of approval.
“Of course not, my men,” said Mr Raydon, calmly.