“Let us rouse him, and find out the news from Ballarat,” Mr. Brown said.

I made no opposition.  My friend approached the sleeping man, and touching him lightly on the shoulder, caused him to look up.  The fellow rubbed his eyes, and stared wildly at us for a moment, and then began to beg most piteously.

“I haven’t got a single thing about me that’s worth stealing,” he cried.  “If you want my blanket you can have it, but it ain’t a very good one.”

“I suppose that you take us for bushrangers?” quietly remarked Mr. Brown.

“I certainly do—­ain’t you?” asked the man, between hope and fear.

“Not quite so far gone as that.  All that we desire of you is news, and that you can soon give us without much sacrifice.”

“O, is that all?  I thought that somebody had been blowing on me,” cried the teamster, considerably relieved.

“How are matters at Ballarat?” I demanded.  “Bad as bad can be,” replied the stranger promptly.  “The devil has taken possession of the miners, and they refuse to pay gold taxes to the government.  The latter don’t want to yield, and there will be a fight or I’m much mistaken.  I don’t want to hurry you, but if you want to be counted in, you’d better be moving, or the whole matter will be decided before you arrive.”

“I’ll bet a wager that you are a Yankee,” Mr. Brown remarked, and I thought I detected the man’s cuteness before my friend spoke.

“I take the bet,” was the prompt reply.  “Put the money in my hands.”

Mr. Brown’s money was not forthcoming, at which the stranger sneered.

“I s’posed that I had picked up a man who wanted a chance to make a few dimes, but you don’t seem inclined to come to time.  Here’s my specie, and there’s more where that came from.”

“Never mind the wager,” I said; “you don’t belong to the New England States, I’ll take my oath, so you can’t catch us in that trap.”

“That’s so,” replied the teamster, with a chuckle; “but what makes you think so?”

“In the first place, you haven’t the accent of a genuine Yankee,” I replied; “and in the next place, a Yankee would not have exposed a single dollar until he was certain of the company that he was in.  Am I right?”

“Hang me if you ain’t, stranger,” cried the teamster, in a burst of generous enthusiasm.  “If you ain’t a Yankee, there ain’t one in the country.”

I pleaded guilty to the charge, and got a warm shake of the hand for my nationality’s sake.

“I ain’t a Yankee, that’s a fact,” my new acquaintance said; “but I belong to Yankee land, and that’s honor enough, by thunder.  I’m an Ohio boy, and just looking round the world to see how it’s made afore I settle on dad’s farm, and tie up for life.  If I can pick up a few dimes afore I go back so much the better, and if I don’t it won’t break my heart.”