hom
I flogged while I was in the business, and every single man-jack of
them would kill me if he got the chance. And so for goodness' sake
let me stay here till dark. I suppose you are an honest man; you
look like it anyway, and you would not want to see me murdered, now,
would you?"

Barton was, in fact, as great a liar and rogue as you would meet with
anywhere, but in extreme cases he would tell the truth, and the
present case was an extreme one. Philip was merciful; he allowed
Barton to remain in his tent all day, and gave him his dinner. When
darkness came he escorted him to the tent of the men from Nyalong,
and was introduced to them by his new friend. Their names were
Gleeson, Poynton, Lyons, and two brothers McCarthy. One of these men
was brother-in-law to Barton, and had been a fellow-trooper with him
under Captain Foster. Barton had entered into family relations as an
honest man; he could give himself any character he chose until he was
found out. He was too frightened to stay another night on Bendigo,
and he began at once to bundle up his swag. Gleeson and Poynton
accompanied him for some distance beyond the pillar of white quartz
on Specimen Hill, and then he left the track and struck into the
bush. Fear winged his feet' he arrived safely at Nyalong, and never
went to another rush. The other five then stayed on Bendigo for
several weeks longer, and when they returned home their gold was
sufficient for a dividend of 700 pounds for each man. Four of them
bought farms, one kept a store, and Barton rented some land. Philip
met them again when he was promoted to the school at Nyalong, and
they were his firm friends as long as he lived there.

I went to various rushes to improve my circumstances. Once I was
nearly shot. A bullet whizzed past my head, and lodged in the trunk
of a stringy bark a little further on. That was the only time in my
life I was under fire, and I got from under it as quickly as
possible. Once I went to a rush of Maoris, near Job's Gully, and
Scott came along with his portfolio, a small pick, pan, and shovel.
He did not dig any, but got the ugliest Maori he could find to sit on
a pile of dirt while he took his portrait and sketched the tattoos.
That spoiled the rush; every man, black and white, crowded around
Scott while he was at work with his pencil, and then every single
savage shook hands with him, and made signs to have his tattoos
taken, they were so proud of their ug