The judge put on his spectacles, which had been reposing on his notebook, and said, as he eyed the Crown prosecutor with severity,—
'I understood this man was charged with forgery.'
The Crown prosecutor blinked, and eventually Samuel Potter was discharged.
Although it was perfectly true that Potter could neither read or write, he was a shrewd man, and his shanty had been the scene of many an illegal transaction.
Swamp Creek folk had a wholesome dread of Potter's, and the solitary mounted constable in the place knew it was wise for him to 'keep in' with old Sam.
The police magistrate for the district was also aware that Potter's Shanty was a house of ill repute, but what could he do, he was one against many?
The incident alluded to by Dr Tom was exciting enough in its way.
Ned Glenn, the driver of the coach, pulled up as usual at Potter's to refresh his horses, five of them, fairly good animals. The passengers also endeavoured to cool their parched throats, but old Sam was one too many for them. His liquors were strong and 'home made,' and so the passengers discovered.
It so happened that on this journey the young manager of the Swamp Creek branch of the Nation's Bank was on his way to the headquarters for the Western District at Bourke. He carried with him a considerable sum of money, much in gold, more in notes.
It was his way of doing it. He thought that by not giving notice of the fact, publicity would be avoided, and that he might escape observation. Thirty or forty years ago things were very different in Australia to what they are now, and coaches were run in districts where the trains may now be seen daily.