One evening Bill was unusually eloquent in his discourse on the lavishness with which Nature had gifted the desert, and as all our claims had been yielding but poor returns for the last week or so, we paid more attention to his words than we had been in the habit of doing.

"I wouldn't mind having a try out back," said Scottie, "if there were a railway, or if we had fleein' machines."

"Couldn't we go as we are?" lisped the Parson, "we may work here for ever, and not better ourselves."

Bill gave vent to some sarcastic remarks anent the last speaker's powers of endurance, but otherwise made no comment.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BORING FOR OPAL INDICATIONS.]

"Bill says the surface is ironshot," continued the Parson blandly, "and, as I saw a team come into town to-day with about two dozen bicycles for sale, I thought----"

"Man, ye are a thinker, Parson," cried Scottie, "I'll gang away wi' ye the morn if ye like--that is if the machines are no ow'r dear."

"I think we ought to get them, no matter what they cost," I remarked, "for if we do go out they would enable us to cross right over to the Cooper at a pinch, if they did not break down, and the ground was pa.s.sable."

"Well, I guess I am one of the crowd that goes," announced Hoskins.

"Unt me," cried the German.

"I reckon we is all going," said Bill, looking round the camp-fire for corroboration. "Int you, Satan?"

"Of course I is," answered the individual addressed, a corrugated-skinned specimen of humanity. "I is goin' where Scottie an'

the Parson goes; but where in tarnation is ye goin', and what for?"

"Cooper's Creek, for opal," roared Scottie.

"Opal," repeated Satan vacantly. Then his eyes kindled suddenly, and he exclaimed, "Lor', I forgot to tell ye, boys, I has been haulin' the stuff out by the sackful these last two weeks."

"What!" yelled all in chorus, springing to their feet, and even the stoical Ted stopped in the act of lighting his pipe to gaze at Satan.

"It are a fact, mates," continued that gentleman apologetically, "I reckon I has near got a waggon-load dumped out by now. Lor', what's the racket, mates?"

Few heard his last words, for as the full literal import of what he had just said began to dawn on the a.s.sembly, a stampede took place down the hill towards the shaft; but another surprise was in store. While some were rummaging in Black George's tent for candles to explore the long drive in Satan's claim, and others were sliding down his windla.s.s rope, a series of sounds broke out round our deserted fire, the fervour of which made Hoskins say, "Hallo, boys, how is Bill not here?"

"I is here, darn ye!" came the m.u.f.fled response from the darkness; "that's Ted that's shouting," which information made it clear to all that Silent Ted in his excitement had placed the blazing mulga stump in his mouth and thrown away his pipe.

I had known Ted for a long time, but that was only the second occasion on which I had heard the sound of his voice. A few seconds later we had crowded into Satan's drive, and after crawling over a heap of mullock that blocked the pa.s.sage to within one foot of the roof, we found ourselves in the chamber where, from the presence of his pick and other implements, we knew he had recently been working. In a moment the candles were lit, and then a cry of wonder burst from all. We were standing in what might have been an Aladdin's palace, and the walls danced and flashed in the gloom as if alive. The roof was simply one blaze of ever-changing orange and green, and through the whole would dart spasmodically a "living" flash of fiery red. Clearly Satan had struck it, for there must have been several thousand pounds' worth of opal exposed, whatever amount may have been hidden behind. Bill was the first to break the silence of admiration, which had fallen over all, and he only said one word. It was characteristic and expressive, but quite unprintable; and slowly we filed out again and clambered up the rope to the surface. When we got back to our camp we found Ted, Satan, and the Swede sitting in silent meditation round the fire. Probably Ted would have accompanied us, had it not been for the fact that he, being cook, had to look after a mysterious compound of flour and other substances commonly known as damper, which every evening was prepared among the ashes.

"Well, boy, you have struck it, an' no mistake," called out Ford, the New Zealander, to Satan as we approached. "You're a millionaire now."

"Get awa' frae this fire, you unceevilised heathen," roared Scottie, in virtuous indignation. "A man that wouldna' tell his mates when he struck a ton of opal is nae frien' o' mine; get awa' before a dae ye damage."

"Come Scottie," began the Parson, but Mac would have none of him.

"Don't Scottie me," he bellowed, "Ye--ye----" Then seeing the look of pain on the face of the would-be peacemaker he calmed down and said, "Weel, ye shouldna anger me. I'll alloo ony man to judge if----"

"Lor', Scottie, what is ye sayin'?" interrupted Satan anxiously; "I forgot all about the darned stuff. I has no mate, and if you will come and help spend it you can have the half."

"Mein Gott," cried Kaiser, "I vil be your mate for von quarter."

"Satan," began Mac, "A'm sorry A spoke, but A can see ye're no fit to be left alane, among so mony Germans and foreign heathen. Sell yer opal, lad, and bank the money in Sydney. The coach leaves the morn's nicht."

"I'll be darned if I do. I never went and left my mates yet, an' I ain't goin' to start now," exclaimed Satan doggedly.

And then I explained that he had already done sufficient to merit our blessing by discovering the layer of opal at the forty-four feet level.

"It in all probability extends throughout all our claims at that depth,"

I said, "so you had better go down to Sydney and dispose of yours before the news leaks out. Otherwise there will be so much of the opal for sale locally when we all strike it that the buyers may be frightened."

Ultimately we convinced Satan that he should go down to the coast, for it was evident he needed a change, and he could now well afford it.

Shortly afterwards the party broke up for the night, and soon the camps were wrapt in slumber, each man dreaming, doubtless, of the opal he would get on the morrow four feet beneath the floor of his lowest drive.

In the morning the Parson, Kaiser, and Mac went over to a.s.sist Satan in working out the opal showing in his claim, and in the evening he departed with twenty pounds weight of first-grade opal tied securely in sacks so as to excite no suspicion. The news of the deep-level find soon spread, and at noon of the day following Satan's departure our little community was the centre of a "rush," which by evening had swelled into a great canvas settlement stretching right across the white glistening lake-bed towards the township.

That evening our usual camp-fire circle was increased by the addition of over a hundred hardened fortune-seekers eager to obtain any information as to the levels, depths, and formations of the country, which, obviously, only we who had shafts already sunk were able to supply.

"It are the forty-four feet level seam we has struck," Bill answered to all inquiries, "an' it likely spreads out all over the flat there, though I 'spects it turns into Potch before it goes far."

"I reckon we'll chance that," was the general response, and next day the many heaps of upturned sand that grew in proportion as we looked, showed that the new arrivals were fast doing so.

Meanwhile, the buyers were greatly agitated. They had heard exaggerated reports concerning the find of the "forty-four," and had arranged among themselves to beat down the prices of the opal to 4 an ounce. It, therefore, surprised them to find the days pa.s.sing and no one offering to sell any opal; and one morning two of their fraternity repegged Satan's abandoned claim, evidently with the intention of investigating matter for themselves. As we had been endeavouring by various subterfuges to keep this claim intact, some of us having even altered our boundaries the better to do so, we were much chagrined at this brilliant move on their part, but marvelled how they had come to know that it was not legally manned. However, the claim was worked out, and as the two new holders knew as little about the practical part of mining for opal as we knew of the value of the gem, we consoled ourselves with the reflection that, after all, we might be able to turn their proximity to account.

Thus it was that every evening a well-packed sack was carefully hoisted from each of the shafts of the surrounding claim-holders, and a rumour spread abroad that a new Sydney syndicate was buying opal by the ton.

Our two Hebrew friends, by dint of persistent effort, gradually insinuated themselves into our good graces, and one day astonished us by announcing that they were capitalists, and would purchase our claims if the terms were reasonable. At this straightforward way of doing business, so foreign to the nature of their compatriots, I felt that we had greatly wronged them, and as they said, truly enough, that they did not know what our claims contained, and that their offer was merely a part of honest speculation, the Parson and I were much worried over certain matters.

"I reckon I vote for selling," said Bill one evening as we held a meeting to consider the proposal. "The money will pay ex's for a trip West, an' darn 'em! they're Jews anyhow."

"A'm wi' ye, Bill," cried Mac, and one by one all signified their approval of the sentiments expressed until only the Parson and I were left.

"Of course I will not vote against my partner, Kaiser," began the Parson, "but really there is nothing in our cl----" He stopped abruptly, for, from the shadows of our mullock-heap, stepped a stranger. There seemed something familiar about his gait as he crossed the fire-lit zone, and sat down on the empty kerosene tin on which Satan used to sit, but I could not recollect whom he resembled. For a moment no one spoke; the stranger's amazing coolness had taken our breath away. He was dressed in, presumably, the latest style of Sydney clothing, but even in the dim light I could see that his garments hung loosely on his person.

Evidently he had just arrived in White Cliffs, and had not yet been in a w.i.l.l.y-w.i.l.l.y (sand-storm).

"Look here, ma man, hae ye a ticket?" said Mac at length.

"If ye is a new chum ye will get tucker in that tent there," said Bill, "but----"

"Lor', mates! What does ye mean? Doesn't ye not know me?" interrupted the stranger. "I is Satan----"

"Golly! an' so it is, but--but where's your whiskers," cried Black George, holding a lighted match in the stranger's face.

"Satan, ye deevil, gie's yer hand," roared Scottie, "A'm rael glad to see ye."

"Oh, mates, I is glad to git back, I is," began our old friend. "I hasn't had a proper feed since I left, an' I has been disgraced. I went to a theatre in Sydney an' there was a fight on the stage, an' because I jumped up an' jined in socially like, the police came in an' started on me. I couldn't fight them all, for there war' mor'n a dozen, an' next day the judge, a very decent old gentleman, told me to git from Sydney, for it war' full o' sharks. I gitted to Melbourne, but, oh, Lor'! mates, don't none of you never go there----"

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BELLE OF THE BUSH.

A SALVATION ARMY CONVERT IN WHITE CLIFFS.]

"But your opal, Satan? What did you get for it?" I broke in.