'I love you! I love you! I love you!' There was not now in the young man's mind any self-questioning; there was no probing for logical reasons, no doubting, no examining emotions in a suspicious, pessimistic spirit. Done abandon himself to the delicious intoxication of the moment, and Aurora was transfigured under his caresses her aggressiveness, her bonhomie, her bold independence of spirit, were all gone; she developed a clinging and almost infantile tenderness, and breathed about him a cloud of ecstasy.

When Burton returned in two hours' time, Done said nothing about Aurora's visit, but Mike did not fail to mark his mate's demeanour, which was unusually thoughtful.

'Not feelin' too bright, old man?' asked Mike

'Nonsense, Mike; I'm all right.'

'Thought p'r'aps those rib-benders o' Quigley's were pullin' you up.'

'Not a bit of it. I haven't a thought to spare for Quigley.'

Burton understood better later in the evening, when he saw Jim and Aurora sitting together at Kyley's in the dim corner furthest from the wide fireplace, and the Geordie touched him on the arm and jerked his thumb in their direction.

'She was down to your tent to see after her champion this mornin',' he said.

'Spoils to the victor!' said the Prodigal.

Mike's eyes drifted towards Jim and Aurora several times during the evening, and he thumbed his chin in a troubled way. He had been thinking it was almost time to try fresh fields; but it was not going to be so easy a matter to shift as he had imagined.

A few nights later, seizing the opportunity when he was alone in the tent, Jim cut the st.i.tches that secured the locket containing Lucy Woodrow's portrait in the breast pocket of his jumper, convenient to his heart; and drawing from under his pillow the tin box that held his mother's brooch and picture, and the few papers and heirlooms he cherished, he placed Lucy's gift somewhat reverently amongst his treasures, and hastily stowed the box away again. He had formulated no definite reason for doing this, and experienced some contrition in performing the act, and a sense of relief when it was done.

The young man's complete victory over Quigley made his reputation throughout Diamond Gully. Pete Quigley had two or three hard-won battles to his credit, and it was thought there was no man on the field so hard to handle, with the exception of Ben Kyley, whose showing against a professional of Bendigo's calibre set him on a plane above the mere amateur. Pete confessed himself beaten without equivocation.

'I ain't got any patience with this blanky new fangled style o'

fightin',' he said. 'A man ought to toe the scratch an' take his gruel like a man. With those Johnnie-jump-ups it's all cut an' run, an' I admit it licks me. I ain't neither a foot-racer nor a acrobat, an' Done gave me as much as I cared about.'

Indeed, Quigley looked it. The fact was patent on the face of him, and he would not be in a condition to dispute the thoroughness of his trouncing for three weeks at least.

Jim was regarded as a celebrity. Strangers even went to him, and gravely asked to be permitted to shake hands with him as such. He was pointed out to newcomers, and observed on all hands with a serious respect that had all the comedy of piquant burlesque.

''Pon my soul, Mike!' said Jim, 'if your republic comes while my popularity lasts, I shall be first President.'

'Well,' answered Mike soberly, 'if you could talk as well as you fight, I'd like your chances.'

Done's opportunity of increasing his popularity came on the following Sat.u.r.day. The Sat.u.r.day afternoon off was strictly observed on the rushes.

The miners were nearly all batchers--that is, bachelors keeping house for themselves--and the tidy men amongst them needed one half-day for washing and cleaning and putting their tents in order. Only the more prodigal spirits cared to pay Mrs. Kyley's exorbitant rates for laundry work, and for the others who cherished a respect for cleanliness--the nearest the ordinary digger came to G.o.dliness--Sat.u.r.day afternoon was washing day, and scores might have been seen after crib outside their tents performing the laundress's office, usually astride a log, on which 'the wash' was spread to be alternately splashed and soaped and rubbed. Sat.u.r.day was the great 'settling day,' too. If there were any differences to be fought out, or any disputes requiring the nice adjustment of the prize-ring, they were almost in variably made fixtures for Sat.u.r.day afternoon.

For a month past Aurora had forcibly taken over the mates' washing, and as they were well-disciplined batchers who performed their domestic duties effectually from day to day, for them Sat.u.r.day afternoon was really a holiday; and on this particular afternoon they were sitting in the open, sunning themselves, and talking with the Prodigal of the latest news from Ballarat, where the leaders of the diggers' cause were agitating resolutely for alterations in the mining laws and reform of the Const.i.tution, when a party of about twenty men approached them from the direction of Forest Creek. The party halted at a distance of about fifty yards, and after a short conference two of the men came on.

'h.e.l.lo!' said Mike, 'here's trouble.'

'Five ounces to a bone b.u.t.ton they are looking for fight, added the Prodigal.

'Good day, mates!' The foremost of the two strangers greeted them with marked civility, and the friends replied in kind. 'One of you is the man that beat Pete Quigley, we're told.'

'This is Jim Done,' said Mike, giving an informal introduction, indicating Jim with the toss of a pebble.

'Glad to know you,' the other said, with some show of deference. 'Fact is, we've got a man here who's willing to fight you for anything you care to mention up to fifty pounds.'

'What!' cried Done in amazement.

'Oh, quite friendly, and all that. He hasn't anything against you.'

'Confound his cheek! Does he--do you think I've nothing better to do than to offer myself to be thumped by every blackguardly bruiser who comes along?'

'Softly, mate; no need for hard names. We come here as sportsmen, making you a fair offer, thinking, perhaps, you'd be glad of a bit of a rough-up this fine day.'

'Then you can go to the devil!' said Jim, laughing in spite of himself.

'You won't fight?'

'I will not. I'm no fighting man. I only fight when forced, and then with a bad grace, I can a.s.sure you.'

The two men looked quite pathetic in their disappointment as they turned to rejoin their companions.

'Well, of all the outrageous--' gasped Jim.

'Price of fame! said the Prodigal.

Mike grinned. 'Don't be selfish, Jim. I've got nothing to do this afternoon, an' would just as soon watch a good sc.r.a.p. Why not oblige the kind gentleman?'

'You and the kind gentleman can go hang!'

'They've got Brummy the Nut there,' the Prodigal said. 'Brummy is a lag who had all the sensibilities battered out of him in the quarries. He has no science, but hits like the kick of a cart-horse, and is humbly grateful for punishment that would knock the hide off an old man hippopotamus.'

'Look here, you won't disappoint poor Brummy the Nut,' pleaded Mike, with mock gravity.

The deputation of two returned after another conference.

'How would you take it,' asked the first speaker--. 'mind, we're just asking, being anxious to bring about a friendly meeting--how would you take it if our man gave you a bit of a clip over the ear?'

This was put as a reasonable possibility, and as a simple and pleasant method of establishing a casus belli that might satisfy Done's ridiculous punctilio.

'I'd take it very badly,' said Jim warmly, 'and probably knock your man's confounded head off his shoulders with this pick-handle.'

''Twouldn't be done unfriendly,' said the second man in a hurt tone.

'Why doesn't your man show himself?'

'They guessed his beauty would prejudice you,' said the Prodigal. 'You might have conscientious scruples, and refuse to do anything to mar so perfect a specimen of Nature's handiwork.'

One of the strangers beckoned, and his party advanced with their champion. Done gazed wonderingly at the man they brought against him.

Brummy the Nut was perhaps five feet nine inches in height, but walked in the stooping att.i.tude of a person under a burden, his long arms swinging in a manner that strengthened the hint of gorilla in his broad, battered face; he dragged his feet as if the ball and chain were still at his heels, and, despite the enormous strength suggested by his ma.s.sive limbs and great trunk, bore himself with a childish meekness in ludicrous contrast with his sinister appearance. All that long years in a convict h.e.l.l could do to rob a man of the grace of humanity and harden him to pain and labour had been done for Brummy the Nut. The Nut favoured Jim, Mike, and the Prodigal each with a duck of the head and a movement of his hand towards the forehead.

'This is our man, Brummy the Nut,' said the party's spokesman.

'Well, Brummy, I won't fight you,' replied Done. Brummy ducked his head again, and muttered something in a husky voice about being 'proud to hey a fr'en'ly go with any gent ez is a gent.'

'He's a gentleman amateur like yourself,' said the spokesman persuasively 'and a fairer fighter never stripped.'