"O, yes you would," he replied, confidently.
"Why do you think so?" I asked.
"Because you will hear my name mentioned oftener at Ballarat than any other."
"And pray, may we he so bold as to ask what your position is, that gives you so great a notoriety?"
"Ask? To be sure you may," returned the little man; "I am the police inspector of Ballarat, and my name is James Brown, very much at your service."
"We have mingled with the police so much since we have been in Australia, that we almost consider ourselves as belonging to the department. We are therefore sorry that we were not introduced to your notice under better auspices," Fred said.
"O, you alluded to that shooting affair to-night. That did not amount to much, although I must say that I wish you had killed the bully, for he has given me more trouble than any other man at the mines. He is as desperate a scoundrel as ever went unhanged, and had he been killed outright, there are few who would mourn his fate."
"That may be true, yet I have always a great repugnance to shedding human blood," replied Fred, in a sorrowful tone.
Mr. Inspector Brown stopped for a moment, as though surprised by the answer.
"I had the same kind of feeling once, yet it is many years since. A long residence in Australia has blunted all my finer sensibilities, and I have witnessed so much crime and cruelty, that I am unmoved now, even when a poor wretch is gasping forth his last words. I have often thought that I would give all the gold that the mines of Australia yield if I was but young again, and possessed the same sympathizing heart that I did once."