We would not allow him to talk more, and even if he had been so disposed we could not have stopped to listen, for a whip was cracked in front of the store like the report of a pistol, and then we heard Smith’s voice, shouting, in no gentle terms, to his oxen.

CHAPTER LIX.

OUR TEAMSTER BARNEY, AND HIS WIFE.

The burly form and red face of our partner was never more welcome, for our stock of goods was run low, and our good credit required that we should have an assortment on hand second to none in the town.  We had already a reputation with the miners for keeping articles of the best quality, and our prices seemed to give better satisfaction than the rates of any other storekeepers.

We grasped our diligent partner by his huge, hard hand, and welcomed him to our home, and asked a dozen questions in a minute, regarding the state of the markets in Melbourne—­whether he had got a package of letters for us—­how many newspapers he had with him—­whether the roads were safe—­and a dozen other matters were touched on, that required all of Smith’s patience and lungs to attend to.

“Just you hold on a minute,” he said, “until I can get my cattle unyoked, and then I will attend to you and your questions.”

We did not wait for him to carry his request into effect, for we lent him a helping hand with the cattle, although, to tell the truth, the animals did not seem in the least grateful for the assistance, and attempted, with their long horns, to transfix certain portions of our anatomy that we were not disposed to have injured.  At length, however, the animals were turned loose, and then Smith was at liberty to reply to our interrogations.

“In the first place, I’ve got a dozen or twenty letters, and about the same number of newspapers from the States.  I’ll tell you how I fixed it.”

“But the papers?” we cried.

“I’m coming to ’em as fast as I can.  Just as I got into Melbourne, a big American ship dropped anchor, and on board I went.  I got hold of the captain, told him the news, and then boned him for papers.  I informed him that I wanted them for countrymen of his, and he gave me all that he had, and here they are.”

Smith pulled the precious documents from his knapsack, and in a few minutes we were absorbed in devouring the contents of letters, and Boston and New York newspapers.

We never knew the name of the captain who responded so promptly to Smith’s appeal, but wherever his fortune may lead him, may he have fair winds, and high freights, and never lose a spar.

No one can understand the joy with which a letter is received from home, unless he has travelled in foreign lands, and been without advices from friends for many months.  The letters were the first that we had received while in Australia, and we prized them more on that account, perhaps, than if we had been in constant communication with the States.