was little more than a large
tent with a pretentious wooden front. It was illumined by a single lamp
suspended above the counter. This lamp lit up the faces of the men
gathered under it, but beyond the countenances of the customers faded
into a mist of tobacco-smoke, deepening into darkness in the corners.

Done leant against the bar, watching the scene, still curious, content to
wait till the busy barman had leisure to attend to him. After a few
moments he found himself an object of most marked interest to a tall,
thin digger, perched on an up-ended barrel, drinking porter. The man was
watching him narrowly, and at length, as if to leave no doubt of his
attentions, he stepped down, and, standing squarely in front of Done,
looked him closely in the face. Jim returned the stare, finding curiosity
deepen into surprise, and surprise into conviction, in the countenance
confronting him.

'Solo!' cried the man. 'Solo, by all that's holy!' As he spoke he sprang
between Jim and the door way, as if to cut off escape. 'Bail up!' he
said; 'we've got you tight this trip.'

'You're making a mistake, I think, mate,' said Jim. 'Anyhow, my name is
not Solo.'

'That's a bluff! I know you too damn well! Boys,' continued the miner,
addressing the crowd, 'it's Solo. I'll wager my soul on it. Get at him!
There's five hundred cold guineas on his head!'

'I tell you you're wrong!' blurted Done.

The tall man waited for no further argument, but jumped at Done, and they
closed. There was a short struggle, and Jim put his opponent down with an
old Cousin-Jack trick that he had often tried on better men.

'The man's drunk!' said Jim, as the crowd narrowed in on him. He set his
back against the counter, prepared to make a good fight.

A raw-boned, brown-faced native of about twenty-six grappled with him, but
only as a pretence, as Done speedily found.

'Bolt, or you're a done man!' whispered the Australian at his ear. 'When
I smash the lamp, over the counter and under the tent, and skedaddle for
your life!'

This young fellow allowed himself to be thrown off, and backed into the
crowd. The long man, who had recovered his wind, turned to address the
men.

'It's Solo, mates,' he said, 'and there's five hundred waiting for us if
we take him.'

The men moved forward in a body, but just then a pewter crashed into the
lamp, and there was darkness. Acting on his new friend's advice, Done
cleared the counter at a bound, and dived under the