ted, so in less than twenty minutes they were all
inside of a high yard, where they could scarcely see over the cap, with
a row of loose boxes and stalls behind. We put 'em into Joe Stevenson's
hands to sell--that was what every one called the auctioneer--and walked
down the long street.

My word, we were stunned, and no mistake about it. There was nothing to
see but a rocky river and a flat, deep down between hills like we'd seen
scores and scores of times all our lives and thought nothing of, and
here they were digging gold out of it in all directions, just like
potatoes, as Maddie Barnes said. Some of the lumps we saw--nuggets they
called 'em--was near as big as new potatoes, without a word of a lie
in it. I couldn't hardly believe it; but I saw them passing the little
washleather bags of gold dust and lumps of dirty yellow gravel, but
heavier, from one to the other just as if they were nothing--nearly 4
Pounds an ounce they said it was all worth, or a trifle under. It licked
me to think it had been hid away all the time, and not even the blacks
found it out. I believe our blacks are the stupidest, laziest beggars
in the whole world. That old man who lived and died in the Hollow,
though--HE must have known about it; and the queer-looking thing with
the rockers we saw near his hut, that was the first cradle ever was made
in Australia.

The big man of the goldfield seemed to be the Commissioner. We saw him
come riding down the street with a couple of troopers after his heels,
looking as if all the place, and the gold too, belonged to him. He had
to settle all the rows and disputes that came up over the gold, and the
boundaries of the claims, as they called the twenty-foot paddocks they
all washed in, and a nice time he must have had of it! However, he was
pretty smart and quick about it. The diggers used to crowd round and
kick up a bit of a row sometimes when two lots of men were fighting for
the same claim and gold coming up close by; but what he said was law,
and no mistake. When he gave it out they had to take it and be content.
Then he used to ride away and not trouble his head any more about it;
and after a bit of barneying it all seemed to come right. Men liked to
be talked to straight, and no shilly-shally.

What I didn't like so much was the hunting about of the poor devils that
had not got what they called a licence--a printed thing giving 'em leave
for to dig gold on the Crown lands. This used to cost a po