"Is this a fair sample of the charity miners exhibit towards each other?" Fred asked of the inspector.
"I am sorry to say that it is; but this is not unusual; before you leave the mines you will see cases of selfishness that will make you think men have turned brutes, and possess the hearts of stoics," replied Mr. Brown, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"I confess," Fred said, speaking so that those present could hear him, "that I have not lost all feelings of humanity, and that I never turned a deaf ear, or calculated what I should make by assisting a person in distress. The customs of Ballarat may be just, but I must say, that in my humble opinion, they are heartless and cruel."
"Hoot, man," replied the Scotchman; "you are but a boy, and have not been long enough here to understand us. It's little silver or gold ye will git if ye run after other people's business."
The Scotchman relighted his pipe, and was walking towards his tent, when Fred stopped him.
"What shall I pay you per hour for assisting to rescue the miners?" he asked.
"Ah, now man, ye is talking to some purpose, now. What will you give?"
"Two shillings per hour," answered Fred, at a venture.
"Ah, well, I don't mind helping the poor fellows, at that rate. I never could stand distress. But, Misther, ye wouldn't mind paying in advance, I suppose?"
"I will be responsible for your pay," the inspector said, seeing that the man hesitated from fear that he should get cheated, after he had performed his part of the bargain.