There is quite a number of species of the serpent tribe in Australia, whose bite is death; but there is one kind, of a bright orange color, with a dark ring around the neck, that is very venomous.  I once saw a miner bitten by one, and in defiance of all exertions that were made to save his life, the poor fellow died in less than an hour.  We cauterized the wound with a hot iron, and at the same time compelled him to swallow huge draughts of raw whiskey; but to no purpose.  In twenty minutes after he was bitten, the miner began to swell—­in half an hour he could not swallow another drop of liquor, although what he had taken apparently had no effect upon him.  In three quarters of an hour he was speechless, and in fifty-five minutes he was dead.  That was quick work for the poison, and proves that the snakes of Australia are more venomous than the rattlesnake of America.  Luckily, the orange colored snakes are not numerous, and I only saw three during my residence on the island, and I suffer no compunctions of conscience when I acknowledge that I assisted to kill them.

But the saddest part of the story connected with the miner’s death remains to be told.  After he was dead, no one would go near him, or assist to give the body a decent burial.  Fred offered a handsome sum to any one who would do so, but all declined, until an American, whose heart was not contaminated by bad influence, gathered pieces of boards and made a coffin, and then assisted us to dig a grave on the hill-side, where we deposited the remains of the unfortunate man, to take his last rest.

Fred and I sat in the dark, conversing in a low tone, and starting at every sound, expecting to hear the slimy crawling of another snake; but in this we were disappointed, and happily so.  As soon as daylight appeared, we started towards the hut of the inspector, situated at no great distance from our so-called store.  Mr. Brown was asleep when we called, and it was with some difficulty that we aroused him.

“Hullo!” he exclaimed, at length, raising his head from his hard couch, and rubbing his eyes; “what’s the matter?  The store hasn’t burned down, has it, and destroyed all the stock in trade?”

“Worse than that,” returned Fred.

“Then a great misfortune must have occurred.  What is it?  If I can assist in any thing, I’ll get up; if not, I’m going to sleep an hour or two longer.  The miners had a meeting last evening, and what with bad rum and long resolutions, they kept me pretty busy until an hour since.”

“Then make up your mind that you’ll have no more sleep until our business is finished.  Come, get up and take breakfast with us,” Fred rejoined.

“That invitation is sufficient to make a hungry man forget sleep for a week.  I’m with you.”

The inspector gave himself a shake, and was dressed and ready to accompany us.  He left word with one of his men, who was on duty, where he could be found in case he was wanted, and then declared that he was ready.