"You can afford to lose them, for they are more dangerous to the man who fires them than the one who stands before them. Congratulate yourself on their loss. It is your gain."
Our host laughed, but denied the truth of my assertion, and during the remaining time we were at the table the subject was not again alluded to.
We finished our breakfast, received our gold from Mr. Wright, who had locked it in his safe during our stay, and had not asked us a single question concerning it, although I have no doubt that he suspected the truth—shook hands with the men, and received the blessings of Nancy, and the tearful adieus of Betsy—held a short interview with the ghost, who was inclined to shed tears because he could not accompany us, but who was consoled when we promised to get him pardoned, and to send him a present of tobacco, and brandy enough to last a twelvemonth—had another hand-shake all round, and then we mounted our horses, and with three ringing cheers in our ears we started on out journey towards Ballarat.
"A pleasant visit we have had," muttered Mr. Brown, after we were put of sight of the house. "Faith, I would have no objection to owning a farm like this."
"Which you would sell in less than a year at a sacrifice."
"No, I don't think so. But, hullo! we've forgotten something."
"Well, what is it?"
"Why, something to eat on the route."
"Jackson has looked to our welfare, and if you will examine the bundle strapped to the back part of your saddle you will find a choice collection of eatables, and a large flask of something stronger than water. You see that I am provided in the same manner."
"I am thankful for it, and sincerely hope that you will make no demands upon me during the journey."