“But it appears to me that the population of the town is all here now,” remonstrated Fred.

“There’s where you are mistaken,” replied Charley; “the news has hardly reached the miners in the shafts, and that class of people will feel deeply grieved unless they are among the spectators.”

“There comes a gang of men,” I said, calling the Californian’s attention to thirty or forty, who, to judge by soiled garments, had just come from the bowels of the earth.

“Yes, there are some of the underground miners, and a rough set they are.  Will you hurry up?” Charley shouted, “or are we to wait here all night?”

“Why weren’t we called afore?” asked one of the party.  “This don’t look like the old style of doing things, I must say.”

“I got word to you as quick as I could, and what more can I do?  It’s all owing to me that you got an invite at all.  This young feller don’t know our customs, and wanted to bang away afore any one was here,” replied my assistant second.

“Did you tell him how we managed things?” asked the leading miner, gravely, as though a breach of etiquette had been committed of the rudest kind.

“Of course I did,” replied Charley, with alacrity.  “You don’t think I’d forget my duty?”

“And what answer did the young feller make?” inquired the miner, as though a great deal was attached to Fred’s reply.

“He said that he was ready to comply with the customs of Ballarat, and that he would wait a fortnight, if necessary, to allow the shaft miners to get out to see the fun.”

“He said that, did he?” asked the spokesman, nodding his head with pleasure.

“Of course he did; and let me tell you he is one of ’em,” Charley exclaimed, with enthusiasm.

“I believe ye, and the fight can go on without any further delay, after I’ve filled my pipe and lighted it.”

We watched the miner as he slowly cut his tobacco and stuffed it into his pipe, and then, with great deliberation, sheltered it with his hands while he lighted it with a match.

“Now I’m comfortable—­let the fight go on.”

As soon as the miner, who appeared to have great authority over the crowd, uttered these words, there was a scattering on every side to get out of range of the bullets.  The people fell back and left the two principals with their seconds in a double line, which extended for some distance.

“Let us shake hands again,” said Fred, as the two men were brought into position.  “You, too, Smith, are entitled to my thanks, and a farewell.”

“Don’t say that—­God knows I did all that I could to keep you apart.”

“I know that you did,” replied Fred, with a smile; “but we have no time to talk of such matters.  Stand one side, for I see the crowd and my opponent are impatient to smell blood.”

Smith fell back, and I slowly and reluctantly followed him.

“Gentlemen,” cried the Californian, taking his station about midway between the principals, “you are to fire when I say ‘fire,’ and not before.  The man who discharges his pistol before the word is given shall get the contents of half a dozen different revolvers.”