“An old friend, though I think it likely a forgotten one,” answered the stranger. “Do not say that I know your people. If they recollect me, well and good; if not, it matters little: I am not worth recollecting.”
It was evident that the stranger did not belong to the rank of life his appearance had at first betokened. James, who had been at a distance, now arriving, came to the door, and invited him in to supper. The stranger followed him, and with a bow to the ladies, which was certainly not like that of a mere countryman, was about to take a seat at table, when Arthur entered. The stranger’s colour mounted to his cheeks as he said—
“I am indebted to you, sir, for my life, and I am most thankful, as it enables me to enjoy the present society, though I fear my life is not worth the risk you ran to save it.”
Arthur had been earnestly examining the countenance of the stranger while he was speaking. “I thought so,” he exclaimed, coming round to him and taking his hand; “Mark Withers, of Wallington?”
“The same, though somewhat wiser; rather further down the hill than when we parted,” returned the stranger. “But I’ll own it does my heart good to meet so many old friends together.”
Kind and warm greetings saluted the wanderer; his heart softened, and for a time he laid aside his cynical, discontented manner. The well-furnished rooms, the handsome arrangements of the supper-table, and the servants in attendance, all spoke of ample means. A feeling of jealousy might possibly have passed through his heart as he made these observations. He remarked, however, when left alone with the brothers, “Well, you fellows seem to have fallen on your feet; and I’m heartily glad of it, indeed I am.”
“We have been working pretty hard, though,” said James; and, after giving a brief sketch of their career in the colony, he asked, “And you, Withers, I hope that you have got a comfortable home in Australia somewhere.”
“Home!” exclaimed Withers; “I haven’t a wigwam I can call my own, and my whole property consists in the damp duds I had on my back when I pulled them off in Willie’s room.”
“Where have you been, then, Mark, all this time?” asked Arthur.
“Been! why, my dear fellow, all round the world, exemplifying the truth of the saying, that ‘a rolling stone gathers no moss.’ My father did not much fancy my giving up his business; and indeed I had to take French leave at last, and then write and ask his forgiveness. He told me, in reply, that I was a graceless vagabond; but that I might follow my own devices, if I was so minded, without opposition, though without help from him. I fancied that my own devices were full of wisdom, so resolved to follow them. I had fallen in with a man bound for the Cape of Good Hope Colony, and, listening to his representations, agreed to accompany him. Out to the Cape I went, but soon discovered that a farm-life was not to my taste; and so, meeting with some sporting companions, I spent my time in shooting elephants and lions, and other beasts of the forests and mountains of that wonderful land. As my expenses at this sort of work were far greater than my profits, I spent, in time, all the money I possessed, and had at length to engage as a labourer on a property of which, on first landing, I might have become the owner. This was not what I had bargained for; and hearing that fortunes were to be made rapidly in South Australia, I saved enough money to carry me to Cape Town, where I found a ship calling in on her way to that colony. I shipped on board her to work my passage; but finding the work I had to do and the treatment I had received very far from my taste, I resolved never again, if I could help it, to place myself in the same position. I found, on reaching Adelaide, that if fortunes were to be made in a hurry, they were to be lost still more rapidly—not that I had myself any opportunity of making the experiment I tried all sorts of plans which I thought would prove short roads to what I so much desired—to become rich; but, somehow or other, none of them proved satisfactory. At length I had struck out something new which would, I really believe, have been a great success, when the news of the wonderful discoveries of gold in California reached the colony. Wonderful to relate, I had made enough money to pay my passage, which I took on board one of the first vessels sailing for those regions I considered myself wonderfully fortunate to get there, for I had now no longer the slightest doubt of success. San Francisco was already a wonderful place. Everybody on board hastened to the shore as soon as we entered the harbour, and in the course of two or three days the whole of the crew, except the captain and first mate, had deserted the ship. The central part of the city consisted at that time chiefly of lodging-houses, gambling-houses, and houses of entertainment. The lodging-houses, fast as they could be put up, were crowded, and were of the most wretched description. The best to which I could gain admission was a long barn-like edifice, with bunks or berths like those on board a ship, arranged along on either side with straw, hay, or leaves as a mattress, and a horsecloth as a coverlet. The gambling-houses were the most attractive. There was music gratis, and spirits without limitation for all who chose to play. I felt sure that I should make my fortune in that way. How was I to get enough to stake? I must work. I found no difficulty in obtaining employment as a labourer at high wages. In a short time I had saved about twenty dollars. I walked into the largest gambling-house, with my few dollars jingling in my pockets. The hall was brilliantly lighted. It was hung with coloured silk or calico, and adorned with mirrors and pictures. There was a gallery with a band of music, and a bar where all sorts of viands could be obtained. There were small tables for cards on either side, and several larger tables in the centre, at which sat the bankers, the professional gamblers, the owners or renters of the saloon. I walked up to one of these tables and staked five of my hardly gained dollars against a thousand or so, and won. I won again and again, until I found myself the owner of twenty thousand dollars. I had never been so rich in my life, but yet it was not a sum which would allow me to leave off. I played on all night, losing and regaining; and at length, when the saloon was closed, I had but a quarter of my first winning remaining. This would never do. I determined to go the next day, and I persuaded myself that if I could win as much as I had done the first night, I would never bet on a card again. I returned to that hall of horrors—for so it was, in spite of its gilding and mirrors and music. The haggard, pallid countenances of the professional players, almost Satanic in their calmness; the excited, eager looks of those who had come in the hopes, by staking their all, of clearing themselves from difficulties, or, by rapidly acquiring wealth; of being able to return to their far-distant homes! To a considerable number, I believe, the scene was thoroughly distasteful; and yet, infatuated folly led them, as it did me, there. I won at first; but fortune turned against me, and I went on losing rapidly. If I staked high, I lost; if low, it was the same. Every instant I expected to have my first good luck come back, till I discovered that, to the very last dollar, my pocket was cleared out. But I saw a terrible sight that evening—I spare you the particulars—the suicide of a poor young Englishman, who, like me, had lost every shilling he had. I trembled lest I should be tempted to commit a like act; for I found that hardly a week passed by but some wretched victim of gaming thus plunged into a fearful eternity, while numbers took to drinking hard, and brought themselves speedily to the grave. Sickened for the time of gambling, I worked hard again, till I had saved enough to take me up to the diggings. I found one of my shipmates about to start. We agreed to go together. We were bound to each other, not by mutual regard, but that we required companionship, and believed we could trust each other. I do not much like to think of all the hardships we underwent. We had some distance to go up the river, on the crowded deck of a vessel; then, with our packs on our backs, we commenced the toilsome part of our journey, over mountain and valley, across rivers and plains, on the highlands, exposed to sharp winds, which pierced bitterly through our light clothes, while on the plains we were scorched with the fierce rays of the unclouded sun. A large party had collected at the foot of a rugged mountain. Before us lay a plain of vast extent, which must be crossed. We had heard that there was a scarcity of water. Some had filled their water-skins and jars and kegs; others laughed at the notion of not being able to go a few hours without water, even should we not find any; and some carried flasks filled with rum or brandy, boasting that that was the best stuff for quenching thirst I never felt greater heat in the tropics; the air was filled with the finest dust, which got down our throats, stopped our nostrils, and filled up the pores of our already parched skins. The first night we stopped for very weariness—no water was to be found. Those who had some would not part with a drop to their comrades: they might want it themselves. All night the wolves howled round us, as if scenting their prey. There were reports, too, that hostile Indians had been seen; and several times the camp was aroused by an alarm that the redskins were on us. The next day, when the sun rose, the sky was cloudless, and there was not a breath of wind. Greater than ever was the heat, and more intense the thirst of those who had brought no water. I had a small flask full; but though I kept wetting my lips occasionally, I suffered dreadfully. Almost certain destruction would be the lot of those who dropped behind; yet, one by one, several poor wretches sunk down exhausted, in vain imploring the rest to carry them on. Sad were their cries; but our breasts were steeled against their appeals. We had our own safety to consult, and the gold mines were before us. Among those who sunk down were several who carried flasks of spirits. Our guides declared that we should reach water before sunset. This kept up the spirits of the stronger men. They were mistaken, or had purposely deceived us to encourage us to proceed. Again we slept on the burning sand, with our pistols in our hands, and our water-bottles under our heads, ready at a moment’s notice to defend ourselves against either Indians, wolves, or our own companions, who, tempted by thirst, might endeavour to steal the water we found so precious. The howling of the wolves in the distance, and the groans, and often the imprecations of those suffering from thirst, drove away sleep; and I, with others, started up to reach the river, which we were assured was not more than fifteen miles off. In four or five hours it might be reached. We pushed on at a rapid rate, our mules following willingly, instinct telling them that relief was at hand. The green trees appeared in sight, and the water, bright and limpid, was seen between them. We hurried on—men and animals together rushing into the stream, the men lapping the water up like dogs, and dipping their whole bodies in without even stopping to pull off any of their clothes. It is a wonder the sudden change from heat to cold did not kill some of us; but the fact is, that our pores were so completely closed up with dust that the bath, by removing the dirt, allowed the perspiration to escape and saved us from fever. A few turns in the sun soon dried our garments, and then delightful indeed was it to throw ourselves on the grass, in the shade of the tall trees, and to rest after our fatigue. One man proposed that we should load our mules with water and go back for our poor comrades who had dropped in the desert, if the caravan would camp for a couple of days; but the proposal was instantly negatived with derision.