I went to various rushes to improve my circumstances.  Once I was nearly shot.  A bullet whizzed past my head, and lodged in the trunk of a stringy bark a little further on.  That was the only time in my life I was under fire, and I got from under it as quickly as possible.  Once I went to a rush of Maoris, near Job’s Gully, and Scott came along with his portfolio, a small pick, pan, and shovel.  He did not dig any, but got the ugliest Maori he could find to sit on a pile of dirt while he took his portrait and sketched the tattoos.  That spoiled the rush; every man, black and white, crowded around Scott while he was at work with his pencil, and then every single savage shook hands with him, and made signs to have his tattoos taken, they were so proud of their ugliness.  They were all naked to the waist.

Near the head of Sheep’s Head Gully, Jack Moore and I found the cap of a quartz reef with visible gold in it.  We broke up some of it, but could not make it pay, having no quartz-crushing machinery.  Golden Gully was already nearly worked out, but I got a little gold in it which was flaky, and sticking on edge in the pipeclay bottom.  I found some gold also in Sheep’s Head, and then we heard of a rush on the Goulburn River.  Next day we offered our spare mining plant for sale on the roadside opposite Specimen Hill, placing the tubs, cradles, picks and spades all in a row.  Bez was the auctioneer.  He called out aloud, and soon gathered a crowd, which he fascinated by his eloquence.  The bidding was spirited, and every article was sold, even Bez’s own two-man pick, which would break the heart of a Samson to wield it.

When we left Bendigo, Bez, Birnie, Dan, Scott, and Moses were of the party, and a one-horse cart carried our baggage.  When we came to a swamp we carried the baggage over it on our backs, and then helped the horse to draw the empty cart along.  Our party increased in number by the way, especially after we met with a dray carrying kegs of rum.

Before reaching the new rush, afterwards known as Waranga, we prospected some country about twenty miles from the Goulburn river.  Here Scott left us.  Before starting he called me aside, and told me he was going to the Melbourne Hospital to undergo an operation.  He had a tumour on one leg above the knee, for which he had been treated in Dublin, and had been advised to come to Australia, in the hope that a change of climate and occupation might be of benefit, but he had already walked once from Bendigo to Melbourne, and now he was obliged to go again.  He did not like to start without letting someone know his reason for leaving us.  I felt full of pity for Scott, for I thought he was going to his death alone in the bush, and I asked him if he felt sure that he could find his way.  He showed me his pocket compass and a map, and said he could make a straight course for Melbourne.  He had always lived and worked alone, but whenever we moved he accompanied us not wishing to be quite lost amongst strangers.  He arrived at the hospital, but he never came out of it alive.