While Smith was speaking, we heard a team behind us that appeared to be tearing along at a rapid rate; and even before we could discover its outlines, we distinguished the cracking of a whip as though the driver was anxious to see how many times he could snap it in a minute.
"I hear you," muttered Smith, driving his oxen to one side of the road, and stopping them. "There is no occasion for you to make so much noise to let people know that you are coming."
Even while Smith was grumbling, a light-bodied cart, with lamps on each side, drawn by a span of horses, and driven by a man who wore a sort of uniform, whizzed past us, and by the side of the team rode two soldiers, dressed in the livery of England. They were out of sight in a moment, but they threw a jest at us as they passed, and before Smith could reply, the soldiers were lost to view.
"A hard time you have of it," cried Smith, as he started his team again.
"Who are they?" we asked.
"That is a government team, and carries the mail between Melbourne and Ballarat. Day and night they are upon the move, and only stop long enough to change horses and escort. To-morrow at this time the miners will be in possession of their letters and papers, and I need not tell you how anxiously news is looked for from home."
"But are we to keep on day and night until we reach Ballarat?" asked Fred.
"No," replied Smith, touching up his cattle. "Do you see yonder light far ahead?" he cried, pointing with his whip.
"Yes."