“There is no row, only I am happy to say that I made a mistake in my man,” the little person said.

“What, ain’t they men, after all?” shouted Ben; “if they ain’t men, they must be wimmin, and that’s all the better; if one of ’urn wants a husbin’ I’m the feller for her!”

“Their past conduct don’t prove that they are women!” cried the little man.  “They are the two Americans who are known all over the island as bushranger hunters.  We have all read an account of their doings in the Melbourne papers, and we welcome them to the mines, and hope that they will be as successful here as they have been elsewhere.”

“The devil they is; why, I thought when I seen that ere feller stand up to be shot at, that he had smelled gunpowder afore.  Give us your hands, my chickens!  Cuss me, if ye ain’t an honor to the States!”

We hardly dared trust our hands within Ben’s grip, yet when we did so, we were delightfully surprised to find that he was reasonable.

“Well, I allers said that they was all right!” cried Charley, who turned with the tide; “the instant I seed ’um insulted, I knew that I should be on the right side.  You wouldn’t like to pay for the whiskey which has been drunk, would you?” he asked, in an undertone.

Fred put a number of gold coins in his hand, but whether our sponging friend was overpaid, or whether the money fell short, I never knew, as I saw the little man give him a glance that was very expressive of his disapprobation, and with an ashamed look, the fellow slunk back to his whiskey cask.

“Come, gentlemen,” said the little man; “this is no place for tired travellers.  Let us retire, and leave the crowd to drink themselves drunk.”

We followed his advice, and in a few minutes had left the dissipated miners to their revels.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

ARRIVAL AT BALLARAT.—­MR. BROWN’S STORY.

We walked slowly along the main street of Ballarat, and chatted with our new friend on a variety of subjects.  He appeared to be well informed on mining, and shrugged his shoulders when we intimated that our intention was to get rich by delving in the earth, and bringing its riches to light.

“By the way,” our new acquaintance said, “it is a little singular that Murden did not give you a letter to me.  He knows that I am stationed here, and that I would do all in my power to assist his friends.”

I suddenly recollected, that just before we left Melbourne, Murden did scribble off a letter, and hand it to me, with a remark, that perhaps it might be useful to us.  I had forgotten the circumstance, but I knew where the note was, and I determined to hunt it up as soon as I returned to my tent.

“I have a letter from the lieutenant,” I said; “but if I am not mistaken, it is addressed to a Mr. Brown, although where Mr. Brown is to be found is more than I can tell.”