"Why do you speak of working under ground?" I inquired. "Is not mining the same here as in California?"
"Bless your heart"—and Mr. Inspector Brown smiled at my ignorance—"don't you know that at Ballarat a shaft has to be sunk many feet below the surface of the earth, and after you have reached the layer of dirt in which the gold is found, you are obliged to work upon your hands and knees, and excavate for many feet in different directions, until at last you break in upon some other miner's claim, and are compelled to retreat and sink a new shaft?"
This was all news to us, or if we had heard of it before we had not given the subject any attention. A new light broke in upon us, and we began to consider.
"Breakfast is all ready," said Smith, just at that moment.
We had brought a few luxuries with us from Melbourne that were unknown at the mines, and I saw the eyes of the inspector sparkle as he snuffed the perfume of the fried potatoes and warm chocolate.
"Will you join us, Mr. Brown?" I asked, extending an invitation that I knew he was dying to receive. "We have not much to ask you to share, but such as it is you are welcome to." "Well," he answered, "really, I don't know as I feel like eating at so early an hour, but—"
Smith opened a hermetically sealed tin canister, which he had been warming in a pot of hot water, and the steam of fresh salmon greeted our olfactory nerves.
"What!" cried the inspector, with a look of astonishment, "you don't mean to say that you have got preserved salmon for breakfast?"
"If you will really honor us with your presence at breakfast you shall he convinced of the fact," Fred answered, politely.
"Say no more; I'd stop if all Ballarat was at loggerheads."