“There’s a big fight at the ‘Pig and Whistle’ saloon, sir, and it’s pistols they is using, sure,” replied the visitor.

“I wish they would enact the part of the Kilkenny cats,” replied the inspector, as he rose to bid us good night, “for as sure as night comes a fight occurs at that den.  Gentlemen, I shall see you in the morning, and if I can be of any service to you pray don’t scruple to ask for it.”

The inspector shook hands with us, and then turned to the fellow who had brought the news.

“Run to the Whistle and tell them I’m coming, and those not killed by the time I arrive shall be hanged without judge or jury.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the person addressed, and off he started to carry the message, while the inspector followed more slowly.

We saw that our animals were safe, and then left them in charge of Rover, while we retired to get a night’s rest—­something that we really stood in need of.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

FINDING OF A 110 LB.  NUGGET.—­CAVING IN OF A MINE.

We had hardly dressed ourselves and made our scanty toilet the morning after our arrival, when the inspector made his appearance, looking none the worse for the tumult which summoned him away the night before.

“You are stirring early,” he said, warming his hands by a fire which Smith had started for the purpose of getting breakfast; “I expected to find you sleeping off your fatigue, for men with nothing to do generally like to lie abed mornings.”

“Late sleeping will not earn the fortune that we expect to get,” replied Fred.

“So you still think of sinking a shaft here, do you?” inquired the inspector, with a grave smile.

“Of course, such is our intention at present, if we can get a license for mining.”

“The license is obtained easily enough—­government is very happy to receive ten shillings per month for the privilege of allowing a man to try his luck,” the inspector answered, with an attempt at a laugh.

“Then if you will oblige us by getting a license, we will commence operations to-day,” Fred answered.

“Why, you are in a hurry,” Mr. Brown replied, seating himself composedly, and lighting a pipe which he carried in a small box in his pocket.

“Wouldn’t you advise us to commence mining?” I asked.

“To answer you frankly, I would not, because I know that you can do better than by spending your days under ground, and emerge at night to find that you are killing both mind and body.”

“Why do you speak of working under ground?” I inquired.  “Is not mining the same here as in California?”

“Bless your heart”—­and Mr. Inspector Brown smiled at my ignorance—­“don’t you know that at Ballarat a shaft has to be sunk many feet below the surface of the earth, and after you have reached the layer of dirt in which the gold is found, you are obliged to work upon your hands and knees, and excavate for many feet in different directions, until at last you break in upon some other miner’s claim, and are compelled to retreat and sink a new shaft?”