“Then there is a prospect of his recovering?” demanded Fred, anxiously.

“Well, I should think there was a right smart chance of his getting on his pins in the course of time.  It’s hard killing such ugly customers, you know.”

“I am thankful that he will not die by my hand,” replied Fred, with his whole heart.

“Well, it’s just as one fancies, you know.  Now I shouldn’t have thought it a great crime had the old scamp been peppered right through the heart.  But, how’s this?”

The eyes of Charley wandered around the tent as though he saw something that excited his suspicions.  We looked at him with astonishment.

“It ain’t the way the miners have been accustomed to be treated, and I’m sorry that I had any thing to do with the duel, ’cos I’ll be blamed,” Charley said, shaking his head, and looking as mournful as though he had just heard of the death of his grandfather.

“Will you be kind enough to tell us what you disapprove of,” asked Fred, anxiously.

“Well, I hope that I’ll be acquitted of all blame, and I want you to say so when the influential miners make their appearance,” our new acquaintance said, still shaking his head and muttering to himself.

“Pray, what do you mean?” repeated Fred, beginning to feel a little nervous and a little angry at the same time.

“Well, I suppose you know something ’bout the customs of the miners, don’t you?” Charley asked.

“I know nothing about your customs or laws, for I’ve been in Ballarat only two hours, and yet I’ve fought a duel and eaten supper, work enough for one man,” Fred said.

“I forgive you,” cried Charley, seizing our hands and shaking them in a sudden burst of friendship.’  “Say no more—­I forgive you.”

“For Heaven’s sake, what have I done that deserves forgiveness on your part?” demanded Fred.

“Why, didn’t you know that on occasions like these ’ere the survivor of a duel is expected to have a few refreshments set out in his tent, and that all the principal men of Ballarat will be here to take a drink?”

“I certainly was not acquainted with such an understanding, and I don’t think that even my friend Smith, here, who has made many trips to Melbourne and the mines, ever heard of it,” replied Fred.

Smith shook his head to intimate that he was in blissful ignorance, and just then one of the Californians, who acted as doorkeeper, put his head into the tent and shouted,—­“They’re coming, Charley; are you ready for ’em?”

“You see,” our friend said, with great coolness, “that something to drink is expected, and yet we have nothing to offer.  What are we to do?”

“What have you been accustomed to do?” interrogated Fred, beginning to think that he had fallen among queer people, his countrymen included.

“Well, a gallon or two of gin, or the same amount of brandy, has always been considered as about right.  It all depends on a man’s circumstances.  Now, you,” and Charley fixed his eyes with great earnestness upon Fred’s form while speaking, “I calculate, is worth something considerably handsome, and can afford to treat the boys pretty liberal.”