rcial traveller, Moran an
ex-policeman, Beswick a tailor, Bernie a clogger. The first lucky
digger we saw, after Picaninny Jack, came among us one dark night; he
came suddenly, head foremost, into our fire, and plunged his hands
into the embers. We pulled him out, and then two other men came up.
They apologised for the abrupt entry of their mate. They said he was
a lucky digger, and they were his friends and fellow-countrymen. A
lucky digger could find friends anywhere, from any country, without
looking for them, especially if he was drunk, as was this stranger.
They said he had travelled from Melbourne with a pack horse, and,
near Mount Alexander, he saw a woman picking up something or other on
the side of a hill. She might be gathering flowers, but he could not
see any. He stopped and watched her for a while and then went
nearer. She did not take any notice of him, so he thought the poor
thing had been lost in the bush, and had gone cranky. He pitied her,
and said:

"My good woman, have you lost anything? Could I help you to look for it?"

"I am not your good woman, and I have not lost anything; so I don't
want anybody to help me to look for it."

He was now quite sure she was cranky. She stooped and picked up
something, but he could not see what it was. He began to look on the
ground, and presently he found a bright little nugget of gold. Then
he knew what kind of flowers the woman was gathering. Without a word
he took his horse to the foot of the hill, hobbled it, and took off
his swag. He went up the hill again, filled his pan with earth, and
washed it off at the nearest waterhole. He had struck it rich; the
hill-side was sprinkled with gold, either on the surface or just
below it. For two weeks there were only two parties at work on that
hill, parties of one, but they did not form a partnership. The woman
came every day, picking and scratching like an old hen, and went away
at sundown.

When the man went away he took with him more than a hundredweight of
gold. He was worth looking at, so we put more wood on the fire, and
made a good blaze. Yes, he was a lucky digger, and he was enjoying
his luck. He was blazing drunk, was in evening dress, wore a black
bell-topper, and kid gloves. The gloves had saved his hands from
being burned when he thrust them into the fire. There could be no
doubt that he was enjoying himself. He came suddenly out of the
black night, and staggered away into it aga