field. The loafers, rowdies, and such
gentry did not like Vale, who had a way of throwing a man out if he
became objectionably drunk and unduly offensive.

One afternoon, about five, three men entered the "hotel" part of Vale's
establishment, and entered what was termed "the parlour." They were
very good customers of Vale's, although he did not much care about them,
being somewhat suspicious as to their character and antecedents. The
three men were Forreste, the Jew Barney Green, and Cheyne.

The former had grown a thick beard, and looked what he professed to
be--a digger pure and simple; and Green and Cheyne also had discarded
the use of the razor, and in their rough miners' garb--flannel shirts,
moleskin pants, and slouch felt hats--there was nothing to distinguish
them from the ordinary run of diggers at Hansen's Rush. They had, Vale
knew, a supposedly paying claim, but worked it in a very perfunctory
manner, and employed two "wages men" to do most of the pick and
shovel work. Their esteemed American _confrere_ was not with them this
afternoon--one of them always remained about their claim and tent on
some excuse, for it contained many little articles which, had they been
discovered by the respectable diggers at Hansen's, would have led to
their taking a very hurried departure from the field.

"What's it to be?" said Vale, coming to the door of the room.

"Oh, a bottle of Kinahan," said Forreste, tossing the price of it--a
sovereign--upon the table. "Got any salt beef to spare?"

"Not a bite. Wish I had. But that mob of cattle can't be far off now.
They were camped at the Green Swamp two nights ago. There's a hundred
head--all fine, prime young cattle, I hear."

"Are you buying the lot?"

"Every hoof--at ten pound a head. Plenty of fresh beef then--at two bob
a pound. No charge for hoofs, horns, and the end of the tail," and with
this pleasantry, the landlord of the "Roan Pack-Horse" withdrew, to
bring the whisky.

A step sounded outside, and Randolph Aulain entered and nodded to the
three men. He had been at Hansen's for some months, and had one of the
richest "pocket" claims on the field, but most of the gold it produced
went in gambling. He had made the acquaintance of Forreste and his
gang, and in a way had become intimate with them, although he was pretty
certain of their character. But he did not care.

"Have a drink, Aulain?" said Barney Green.

Aulain nodded, and sat down, and then a pack of cards