‘I don’t think I am the best adviser you could pick in that way,’ said Ernest. ‘I am too sensible of my own defects; but I will deliver your message and add my feeble weight to the influence of your name.’
‘That’s all right, and handsomely said. Now, my friend’s name is Ernest Neuchamp! I’ve bought the land and the cattle for him. They’re cheap enough if he never pays me for them, but I believe he will, and that those Freeman chaps will be biting their fingers at letting theirselves go so cheap this time next year. But, mind you tell him not to waste his money. Tell him Levison said so. Ha, ha! I must start now.’
Mr. Levison laughed for the first time since Ernest had made his acquaintance. It must have been the sight of Ernest’s wonder-stricken face which caused this unprecedented though brief incongruity.
‘I can never sufficiently thank you,’ he said; ‘but where’s the money to come from? The station will never pay it.’
‘That’s more than you can know,’ answered the Changer of Destinies; ‘It’s more than I know, too. I don’t mind telling you—as I said before—you’re not likely to interfere much with any man’s profits. But cattle are going to rise, and that to no foolish price. You mark my words. Before this time twelve months fat cattle will be worth five pounds a head, as sure as my name’s Ab. Levison. And if rain comes—and I’ve seen some signs that I have great dependence on—store cattle will be two and three pounds a head, and hard to buy at that.’
These last words he uttered with great solemnity, and Mr. Neuchamp perceived that he was fully imbued with faith in his own vaticinations.
‘I hope it may be so,’ Ernest replied. ‘Good heavens! what a wonderful change it would make in everything. But why should stock rise so?’
‘Because the yield of gold is increasing every day and every hour in these colonies. Don’t you see the papers? I thought you was sure to have read everything. Why, you are not half posted up. Look here!’
Here he produced from one of his capacious pockets a much worn and closely printed Melbourne Argus, in which mention was made of ‘the astonishing discovery of gold near Bunninyong at Mr. Yuille’s station, commonly known as Ballarat, in such quantity and richness as bade fair to rival the hitherto exhaustless yields of Turonia and California. Great excitement had taken place. Melbourne was deserted. You could not get your hair cut. The barristers were gone, leaving the judges lamenting. The doctors had followed their patients. The clergymen had followed their flocks. The shepherds had deserted theirs. All society existed in a state of dislocation!’
‘Now,’ he continued, receiving the journal from Ernest, and carefully refolding and returning it to its place of safety, ‘do you see what all this gold breaking out here and there and all about means?’