After this piece of news the convict became an object of curiosity to us, and we watched him until he entered his carriage and drove off, his coachman treating him with as much respect as he would the governor general.
"I say," asked Fred of our new acquaintance, "do all convicts get rich? Because if they do I want to become one as soon as possible."
"Not all," replied the man; "but some blunder into luck, and others are shrewd and look after the chances. I don't suppose I shall ever be rich, although I am doing pretty well."
"And are you a—"
I didn't like to say convict, and so I hesitated.
"O, yes; I was sentenced to ten years' transportation for writing another man's name instead of my own on a piece of paper."
"That is forgery."
The convict smiled, as much as to say, you have hit it, and continued to smoke his pipe with infinite satisfaction.
"I should like to know if the company we are likely to meet in the mines are of the same class?" muttered Fred.
"Most of them," replied the man, who appeared to be a man of education; "and you'll find them more honest than those never sentenced, because they know that their freedom depends upon their reputation."