Twice Bought | Page 2

"Do you suppose," interrupted the other sharply, "that I will consent to
become a beggar?"

"No," replied Westly, "but there is no reason why you should not
consent to accept an offer when it is made to you by an old chum.
Besides, I offer the money on loan, the only condition being that you
won't gamble it away."
"Fred," returned Brixton, impressively, "I must gamble with it if I take
it. I can no more give up gambling than I can give up drinking. I'm a
doomed man, my boy; doomed to be either a millionaire or a madman!"
The glittering eyes and wild expression of the youth while he spoke
induced his friend to fear that he was already the latter.
"Oh! Tom, my dear fellow," he said, "God did not doom you. If your
doom is fixed, you have yourself fixed it."
"Now, Fred," returned the other impatiently, "don't bore me with your
religious notions. Religion is all very well in the old country, but it
won't work at all here at the diggin's."
"My experience has proved the contrary," returned Westly, "for
religion--or, rather, God--has saved me from drink and gaming."
"If it be God who has saved you, why has He not saved me?"
demanded Brixton.
"Because that mysterious and incomprehensible power of Free Will
stands in your way. In the exercise of your free will you have rejected
God, therefore the responsibility rests with yourself. If you will now
call upon Him, life will, by His Holy Spirit, enable you to accept
salvation through Jesus Christ."
"No use, Fred, no use," said Tom, shaking his head. "When you and I
left England, three years ago, I might have believed and trusted as you
do, but it's too late now--too late I say, so don't worry me with your
solemn looks and sermons. My mind's made up, I tell you. With these
three paltry little lumps of gold I'll gamble at the store to-night with
Gashford. I'll double the stake every game. If I win, well--if not, I'll--"

He stopped abruptly, because at that moment Paddy Flinders re-entered
with the sugar; possibly, also, because he did not wish to reveal all his
intentions.
That night there was more noise, drinking, and gambling than usual at
Lantry's store, several of the miners having returned from a prospecting
trip into the mountains with a considerable quantity of gold.
Loudest among the swearers, deepest among the drinkers, and most
reckless among the gamblers was Gashford "the bully," as he was
styled. He had just challenged any one present to play when Brixton
entered the room.
"We will each stake all that we own on a single chance," he said,
looking round. "Come, that's fair, ain't it? for you know I've got lots of
dust."
There was a general laugh, but no one would accept the
challenge--which Brixton had not heard--though he heard the laugh that
followed. Many of the diggers, especially the poorer ones, would have
gladly taken him up if they had not been afraid of the consequences if
successful.
"Well, boys, I couldn't make a fairer offer--all I possess against all that
any other man owns, though it should only be half an ounce of gold,"
said the bully, tossing off a glass of spirits.
"Done! I accept your challenge," cried Tom Brixton, stepping forward.
"You!" exclaimed Gashford, with a look of contempt; "why, you've got
nothing to stake. I cleaned you out yesterday."
"I have this to stake," said Tom, holding out the three little nuggets of
gold which he had found that day. "It is all that I possess, and it is more
than half an ounce, which you mentioned as the lowest you'd play for."
"Well, I'll stick to what I said," growled Gashford, "if it be half an
ounce. Come, Lantry, get out your scales."

The storekeeper promptly produced the little balance which he used for
weighing gold-dust, and the diggers crowded round with much interest
to watch, while Lantry, with a show of unwonted care, dusted the scales,
and put the three nuggets therein.
"Three-quarters of an ounce," said the storekeeper, when the balance
ceased to vibrate.
"Come along, then, an' let's have another glass of grog for luck," cried
Gashford, striking his huge fist on the counter.
A throw of the dice was to decide the matter. While Lantry, who was
appointed to make the throw, rattled the dice in the box, the diggers
crowded round in eager curiosity, for, besides the unusual disparity
between the stakes, there was much probability of a scene of violence
as the result, Brixton having displayed a good deal of temper when he
lost to the bully on the previous day.
"Lost!" exclaimed several voices in disappointed tones, when the dice
fell on the table.
"Who's lost?"