The Great Crushing at Mount Sugar-Bag | Page 5

the wonder of the rest of the diggers at Sugar-bag.
And they would have been still more surprised had they gone one
Sunday into a thick scrub about a mile from the camp, and seen Rody
Monogue fix an old vice on a stump, and spreading a bag beneath it,
produce a rasp, and begin to vigorously file a thick roll of lead into fine
shavings, that fell like a shower of silver spray upon the bag beneath.
Rody spent the best part of the day in the scrub. He had brought his
dinner, and enjoyed his laborious task. As soon as it was finished he
carefully poured the bright filings into a canvas bag, and threw the vice
and rasp far into the scrub. Then, just at dusk he carried the heavy bag
home unobserved.
That night, as they turned in, he said to his mates--
"We must all be up at old Ikey's to-morrow night, boys, to see the
mailman come in. I think we are pretty sure to get Jim Kettle's wire
to-night. I asked him to send it at once."
It may be mentioned here that although there was no telegraph station
at Sugar-bag, there was at Big Boulder, a small but thriving minig
township five miles away, and telegrams sent to any one at Sugar-bag
were sent on by the postmaster at Big Boulder by Dick the mailman.
"Here's Dick the mailman coming!" and the crowd of diggers that sat in
Ikey Cohen's bar lounged ouside to see him dismount.
In a few minutes he came inside, and first handing the small bag that
contained the Sugar-bag mail to Mr. Cohen, who at once, by virtue of

his office, proceeded to open it and sort out the few letters, he went to
the bar at Buller's invitation for a drink.
"How are you, boys? How goes it, Rody? I'll take a rum, please Missis.
How's the claim shapin', Durham?"
"Here's a delegram for you," said Ikey, handing the missive to Durham,
and wishing that he could kept it back till the morning, so as to have
made himself acquainted with its contents.
"Thank you," said Durham. "I wonder who it's from?"
"No bad news, Harry, is there?" said Mrs. Ikey, sympathetically; "you
look very serious."
"Oh, no; it's from Jummy Kettle; he and I and Tom Gurner--who went
to South Africa--used to be mates on the Etheridge; and without further
explanation he walked away, accompanied by Rody and Buller.
Early next morning, as Mr. Cohen opened his store and pub, Durham
walked in.
"Look here, Cohen, I want to sell out and get away. Will you give me
something for my horse, and ten pounds for my share in the crushing?
Rody can't do it, of course; neither can Buller."
"No, I von't," said Mr. Cohen; "I ain't going to throw away any more
money. Vere do you want to go to?"
Durham, with a gloomy face, handed him the telegram he had received.
It ran as follows:-
"From JAMES KETTLE, Adelong.
"To HENRY DURHAM, Sugar-bag, N.2.
"Tom Gurner returned. Has done well. Wants you and me to go back
South Africa with him. Will stand the racket for passage money.
Steamer leaves Sydney in four weeks. Hurry up and join us."

"Can't you give me a lift at all?" said Durham, after Cohen had read the
telegram.
"No, I can't."
"Then blarst you, don't! I'll foot it to Townsvill, you infernal old
skunk."
Sure enough that day he did leave, but not on foot, for some one lent
him a horse, to be returned by the mailman. Rody accompanied him
part of the way and gave him some final instructions.
On the day that Durham reached Townsville Rody and Buller began
crushing their stone at the mill. The forty tons of stone were to go
through first, and were to be followed by the stuff from Mason's and
Crow's old claims, which had been carted down to the mill. As Rody
surmised, the stone showed for about ten penny weights, and the
second day, about dusk, they "cleaned up," squeezed the amalgam into
balls, and placed it in an enamelled dish, ready for retorting.
"Four of these will do us," said Rody, taking out that number of balls of
amalgam, pressing them into a flat shape, and thrusting them into his
trousers pockets; "here's that old swine Ikey coming now to see if we
are robbing him."
"Vell, how does she look?" inquired Cohen.
Rody, with a face of gloom, pointed to the amalgam in the dish. "It'll go
about ten pennyweights," he said, "but we're going to start on that other
stuff to-morrow. It's patchy, but I believe there's more in it than there
was in the quartz."
"Vell, vat are you going to do