I would
therefore propose (turning to my brother), that we proceed first to
Melbourne, where you can leave your sister, and we can then start for
the Ovens; and as provisions are at an exorbitant price there,
we might risk a little money in taking up a dray-full of goods as
before. And as we may never chance to be in this part of Victoria
again, I vote that we take William's 'pleasure trip' to Forest Creek,
stop there a few days, and then to Melbourne."
This plan was adopted.
FRIDAY MORNING. - Frank stole out early after breakfast, for a visit to
little Jessie. I learnt the full particulars afterwards, and therefore
will relate them as they occurred, as though myself present. He did not
find her sitting outside the tent as before, and hesitated whether to
remain or go away, when a low moaning inside determined him to enter.
He pushed aside the blanket, and saw her lying upon an old mattress on
the ground; beside her was a dark object, which he could not at first
distinguish plainly. It was her grandfather, and he was dead. The
moaning came from the living orphan, and piteous it was to hear her. It
took Frank but a few minutes to ascertain all this, and then he gently
let down the blanket, and hastened to the butcher's shop I have already
mentioned. He learnt all that there was to know: that she had no
friends, no relatives, and that nothing but her own labour, and
the kindness of others, had kept them from starvation through the
winter. Frank left a small sum in the butcher's hands, to have the old
man buried, as best could be, in so wild and unnatural a place, and
then returned to the mourning child. When he looked in, she was lying
silent and senseless beside the corpse. A gentle breathing - a slight
heaving of the chest, was all that distinguished the living from the
dead. Carefully taking her in his arms, he carried her to our tent. As
I saw him thus approaching, an idea of the truth flashed across me.
Frank brought her inside, and laid her upon the ground - the only
resting-place we had for her. She soon opened her eyes, the quick
transition through the air had assisted in reviving her, and then I
could tell that the whole sad truth returned fresh to her recollection.
She sat up, resting her head upon her open hands, whilst her eyes were
fixed sullenly, almost doggedly, upon the ground. Our attempts at
consolation seemed useless. Frank and I glanced at one another. "Tell
us how it happened," said he gently.
Jessie made no answer. She seemed like one who heard not.
"It must have been through some great carelessness - some neglect,"
pursued Frank, laying a strong emphasis on the last word.
This effectually roused her.
"I NEVER left him - I NEVER neglected him. When I waked in the morning I
thought him asleep. I made my fire. I crept softly about to make his
gruel for breakfast, and I took it him, and found him dead - dead," and
she burst into a passion of tears.
Frank's pretended insinuation had done her good; and now that her grief
found its natural vent, her mind became calmer, and exhausted with
sorrow, she fell into a soothing slumber.
We had prepared to start before noon, but this incident delayed us a
little. When Jessie awoke, she seemed to feel intuitively that Frank
was her best friend, for she kept beside him during our hasty dinner,
and retained his hand during the walk. There was a pleasant breeze, and
we did not feel over fatigued when, after having walked about eight
miles, we sat down beneath a most magnificent gum tree, more
than a hundred feet high. Frank very wisely made Jessie bestir herself,
and assist in our preparations. She collected dry sticks for a fire,
went with him to a small creek near for a supply of water; and so well
did he succeed, that for a while she nearly forgot her troubles, and
could almost smile at some of William's gay sallies.
Next morning, very early, breakfast rapidly disappeared, and we were
marching onwards. An empty cart, drawn by a stout horse, passed us.
Frank glanced at the pale little child beside him. "Where to?" cried
he.
"Forest Creek."
"Take us for what?"
"A canary a-piece."
"Agreed." And we gladly sprung in. For the sake of the uninitiated, I
must explain that, in digger's slang, a "canary" and half-a-sovereign
are synonymous.
We passed the "Porcupine Inn." We halted at noon, dined, and about two
hours after sighted the Commissioners' tent. In a few minutes the cart
stopped.
"Can't take yer not no further. If the master seed yer, I'd cotch it
for taking yer at all."
We paid him and alighted.
Chapter XI.
FOREST CREEK
In my last chapter we were left standing not far from the
Commissioners' tent, Forest Creek, at about three o'clock in the
afternoon of Saturday, the 16th. An air of quiet prevailed, and made
the scene unlike any other we had as yet viewed at the diggings. It was
the middle of the month; here and there a stray applicant for a licence
might make his appearance, but the body of the diggers had done so long
before, and were disseminated over the creek digging, washing, or
cradling, as the case might be, but here at least was quiet. To the
right of the Licensing Commissioners' tent was a large one
appropriated to receiving the gold to be forwarded to Melbourne by the
Government escort. There were a number of police and pensioners about.
