So the merry months passed, and the mates worked claim after claim on Diamond Gully, doing much prospecting work and sinking sundry duffers, but unearthing sufficient gold to make Done’s riches a good deal of a nuisance to him, although translated into the biggest bank-notes available.  During all this time Quigley’s dislike for Jim was only kept within bounds by the vein of flippancy that ran through Aurora’s demonstrations of preference for the younger man.  The quarrel was inevitable, however, and it was precipitated by a half-drunken demonstration of affection towards Aurora on Quigley’s part, which the girl resented with a savageness that betrayed an unexpected trait.

One Saturday night Done and Burton were partners in a four-handed game of euchre going on at one of the tables, when a sudden disturbance arose at the counter.  Mrs. Ben Kyley’s familiar rum-jug crashed and flew to pieces on the table amongst the men.  The players were on their feet in an instant.  At the other end of the compartment Aurora was struggling in the hands of Pete Quigley.  Pete held her wrists firmly, and Aurora’s fingers clutched the neck of a bottle.  Her face was distorted with passion, no trace of its habitual humour remained; the fury of a mountain cat blazed in her eyes, her lips were drawn back from her large white teeth, which were clenched with a biting vindictiveness.  The other men reseated themselves, watching the struggle without much concern.  Mrs. Kyley shouted an uncomplimentary summary of Quigley’s character from behind the counter.  Jim alone advanced to interfere.

‘Drop it, Quigley,’ he said quietly, but his warmer feelings stirred.  ‘Blast it, man, let the girl be!’

‘An’ have my brains knocked out with a bottle?  I’ll see you flaming first!’

Done pressed Aurora’s fingers apart, and threw the bottle behind the counter.

‘Now release her!’ he said in a tone conveying a threat.

‘Mind your own infernal business!’ answered Pete.  ’I’ll deal with you in half a minute.’

‘Release her!’ Done was at Quigley’s throat with a grip that started Pete’s eyes from their sockets, and the elder digger abandoned his hold on Aurora to fight for his own breath.  There was a brief struggle, and Jim sent Pete sprawling over a stool.

Quigley picked himself up.  He did not rush at Done:  he was apparently composed.  He undid the wrist and collar buttons of his jumper, drew the garment over his head, and threw it on the floor at Jim’s feet.

‘I suppose you’ll take it fighting!’ he said.  ’If you won’t I’ll thump the soul out of you, anyhow.’

Aurora rushed between them, and endeavoured to grapple with Pete again.

‘You shall not fight!’ she cried.  ‘You coward!  You brute!’

At this juncture Kyley, who had been away replenishing the rum-barrel, entered the tent.  He took in the situation at a glance.

‘Look after Aurora, Ben!’ ordered Mrs. Kyley, and Kyley calmly took the struggling girl in his arms, and handed her bodily over the counter into the washer-woman’s gentle care.