f the
voorlooper as he urged his oxen announced that the wagon was within
earshot. Up it came, the great tilt gleaming white in the moonlight, and
every eye was fixed expectantly on the dark chasm within. The driver,
puffed up with his own importance, cracked his long whip and deigned not
to notice the men whom he usually greeted with a friendly hail, and the
Hottentot boy ahead, imitating his master, vouchsafed no explanation.
With more deathly slowness than usual did the lumbering vehicle crawl
along until the tired cattle pulled up before the door of the American
Bar. Then there was a rush and a bit of a scuffle for the honour of
handing the woman out. The Cripple was the fortunate man, and, after
assisting her to the ground, waved his tattered hat toward the gleaming
open doorway. But he did not speak. Words were beyond him. Indeed, the
diggers, who were none of them particularly remarkable for taciturnity
as a general thing, seemed, with one exception, to be stricken dumb.
But the Scholar proved himself equal to the occasion, and with courtly
phrase bade the new-comer welcome to the camp. He had always been a
popular man among women in his palmier days, though openly holding
rather a poor opinion of them; and as the one before him now was neat
of speech and comely of form, he was not at all averse to enjoying her
society and conversation.

"I should be much obliged if you would direct me to a hotel," she said,
after taking a look around the cheap gaudiness of the saloon.

"I'm sorry to say that we have no hotel here as yet, Miss--er--?"

"Musgrave. Miss Mary Musgrave"--with a little bow. "But I heard that a
German had started a hotel here."

"No; there is nothing but this. That"--pointing to Herr Gustave, who was
regarding the newcomer with an evil eye--"that is the German."

Miss Musgrave appeared distressed.

"Then where can I go?" she asked. "Are there any lodgings to be had?"

"The lady may have my place," chorused three eager voices, and every man
in the room repeated the offer.

She thanked them with a pretty smile and one comprehensive bow, and
looked up at the Scholar for help.

"I would offer you my hut if it were not such a wretched one. But, as
it is, I should advise you to take this man's"--and he pointed to Tommy
Dartmoor.

"Why, mine's twenty carats better than hisn!" exclaimed the Cripple.

"And mine better 'n either," growled Dan.

"Mine's the best of the lot."

"No, it isn't; mine i