At one place, we were told that real London porter could be obtained for ten shillings per bottle; and at another, that XX ale was selling for only one shilling per glass.

Signs innumerable greeted our eyes.  Doctors, who informed the public that their charges were only one pound per visit, cash in advance to save trouble; carpenters, who offered to build houses at the cheapest rate; carriers, willing to freight goods to any part of Australia, and would not guarantee a safe delivery—­all these were passed by without attracting any attention, although the scene was one of novelty and excitement to us.

We gained a portion of the town that was comparatively clear of tents, and near a stream of water.  Here Smith thought we had better stop; and tired, and perhaps homesick, we pitched our tent, and ate our first supper at the mines of Ballarat.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

The bully of Ballarat.—­Fred fights A duel.

Horse stealing is not regarded as a very serious crime, I regret to say, in Australia.  There is a certain class of people who make no scruple of borrowing an animal without the owner’s consent, and if great objection is made to such a proceeding, a resort to firearms quickly settles the matter, generally to the disadvantage of the remonstrant.

The mines are overrun with ruffians, who have no fear of law, and can only be kept in awe by courage superior to their own.  Of this we were quickly made acquainted, as we were considered, by the old residents, green, having but recently arrived, and not yet learned the mysteries of Ballarat.

The first case occurred even before we had finished our supper, and perhaps gave us a better insight into the manners and customs of the miners than we could have otherwise learned for months.

I have already said that Fred and myself rode two fine horses, formerly owned by the police department of Melbourne.  The animals, owing to the care which we had taken of them during our journey, were in capital order, and worth full as much money as when we first purchased them.

As we had understood that horseflesh was scarce and dear at the mines, we had determined to hold on to the brutes for a few days, and then, if we liked Ballarat, and were disposed to locate there, we had resolved to sell them, to save expense of keeping—­no inconsiderable item, where to turn a horse out to pasture was to lose sight of him forever, and where barley was worth about ten dollars a hundred.

We were leisurely sipping our coffee, after looking to the comfort of the animals, having fed and rubbed them down, and allowed them to drink their fill of water, when a thick-set, black-bearded man, evidently partially intoxicated, came swaggering towards us.  He wore a blue flannel shirt, open at the neck, exposing a chest brawny enough for Hercules; and around his waist was a leather belt, such as is worn by sailors on shipboard.  In the belt was a long knife on one side, and on the other a pistol of mammoth dimensions; but it looked to me as though more dangerous to the holder than the one who stood before it, for the stock was broken, and the barrel rusty and neglected.