’Not very badly, old girl; but not good enough compared with what we hear of from the other fields.’

She was sitting on the counter, holding his arm, and turned and looked sharply into his face.

‘You’re off?’ she said.

Done nodded his head, and watched her apprehensively.  She was not disturbed; next moment there was merriment in the eyes turned up to him from where her head nestled on his breast.

‘Mike thinks we are wasting valuable time here.’

And you are, too.  Good luck go wid you, ma bouchal’ She kissed the point of his chin.

‘You don’t mind, Aurora?’ He had come in shivering with apprehension at the prospect of a passionate outburst, knowing the possibilities of her fervid temperament, and now experienced some sense of disappointment at finding her unmoved.

‘Mind, darlin’?  Cud I expect to be keepin’ you here all the days of your life?  Where are you going?’

‘To the new diggin’s, Jim Crow.’

’It’s a wild field, they tell me, Jimmy.  No fighting, mind.  Leastwise, none for other girls.’

‘We start early in the morning.’

‘I’ll be up to throw an old shoe after you.’

‘I came to say good-bye to-night.’

‘Good-bye, is it?’ She flashed upon him, her face crimsoned, and a look, half fearful, half angry, glowed in her splendid eyes.  But the feeling was only momentary; laughter rippled into her cheeks again, and she wound her arms about his neck.  ‘Good-bye?’ she said.  ‘And isn’t it breakin’ your heart you are to be sayin’ good-bye to me?’

Done clasped her closer, and kissed her, stirred by her warmth and her beauty.

’Ah, my dear, dear boy, you may say good-bye to me a thousand times if you’ll cure the sting with such kisses,’ she said softly.

When Jim returned to their tent he found Burton already abed.  Mike continued to read his paper, smoking placidly, but he was feeling no little concern.  He had feared the result of that last interview with Aurora, and now waited the word from Done, who seated himself on his bunk and unlaced his boots in silence.

‘She took it without a whimper,’ he said presently.

‘No!’

‘She didn’t speak a word or raise a finger to keep me.’

‘Well, I’m blowed!’ Burton was openly delighted; not so Done, who, true to the contrariness of poor human nature, was apparently quite depressed.

Jim Crow, maddest of fields, like Tarrangower, which came later, resort of the most turbulent spirits, and a favourite centre with runaway convicts, gold-robbers, and the riffraff of the rushes, was still young when Burton and Done went, hastening down the hills on to the lead, with the thin but turbulent stream of diggers, but its character was already formed.  Here the revolver was counted among the necessities of life, and although the main body of the diggers, as on all the other fields, were sober, industrious, and decent