In A New World: or, Among The Gold Fields Of Australia

"What, Fletcher! you don't mean to say you are goin' to leave us without sayin' goodby? We can't spare you, really."

Fletcher tried to shake himself free from the Yankee's detaining grasp.

"Let me alone, you scarecrow!" he exclaimed fiercely.

"Thank you for the compliment, Fletcher," said Obed. "I aint so han'some as you are, that's a fact, but I guess I'm a good deal better."

As he spoke his grip became stronger, and Fletcher found his efforts to escape absolutely futile.

"I should like to choke you," he said fiercely.

"I've no doubt you would, Fletcher. It would be a nice amusement for you, but I'm not quite ready for the operation just yet. When I am I'll let you know."

"But for you, I would have got away," said Fletcher, in bitter disappointment.

"I guess you would. It's lucky I opened my eyes in time. There'd have been mournin' in this camp if you'd got away, Fletcher. You're wastin' yourself in the woods. You're fitted to adorn Melbourne society, and it won't be my fault if you don't arrive there."

At that moment Captain Forbush awoke.

"What's happened?" he asked anxiously.

"One of our friends was takin' French leave, that's all," said Obed. "I woke just in time to persuade him to stay a little longer."

"Ha! so Fletcher was trying to escape, was he? I am indebted to you, Mr. Stackpole, for frustrating his plan. We can't spare him at all events. I would rather lose any two of his companions."

"You see, Fletcher, how much we value your society," said Obed. "It was cruel in you to leave us."

"You're a fool!" exclaimed Fletcher, darting a look of hate at Obed.

"You never did appreciate me, Fletcher. All I want is your good."

Fletcher was secured in such a way that escape was no longer possible. In due time he and his comrades reached Melbourne as captives, and were transferred to the civil authorities. It may be well to add here that they were tried, and sentenced to a prolonged term of imprisonment. Colson and Ropes fared a little better, their term being only half as long. They submitted sullenly to their fate, but singularly seemed more embittered against Obed Stackpole than against any of the officers through whose hands they passed. Obed would have fared badly had he fallen unprotected into their hands.

It was a joyful day for our young hero, as well as his three companions, when they saw rising before them the roofs and spires of Melbourne. During the weeks that had elapsed since their departure, they had not only "roughed it," but they had met with a series of adventures which were pleasanter to remember than to pass through. Twice they had been captives, but each time they had been providentially rescued. Harry felt that God had watched over him, and delivered him from danger and the schemes of wicked men, and his confidence and trust in an Overruling Power were stronger than ever.

It was some days before they secured the money resulting from the disposal of the nugget. When the matter was finally arranged, they found themselves in possession of about sixteen thousand dollars. This included the sum realized from the sale of the mining claim.

"That gives us about five thousand three hundred dollars apiece," said

Harry, after a brief calculation.

"I can't believe it," said Jack, who really seemed bewildered by his good fortune. "Why, it's wonderful!"

"So it is, Jack. I dare say you are the richest young sailor of your age in the world."

"I don't know about that, but I feel as rich as a Vanderbilt."

"When does the next steamer start, Obed?"

"In four days. Can you be ready in that time?"

"I would get ready to start to-morrow if necessary."

"So would I. Melbourne is a nice city, but I'd rather be on dad's farm, eatin' supper in the old kitchen, than in the best hotel here."

"After all, there's no place like home, Obed."

"That's a fact, but perhaps Jack doesn't feel so."

"My home isn't what it was once," said Jack soberly. "If mother hadn't married again it would have been different, but I never can like or respect my step-father."

"There's one place you ought to visit before you start for home, Harry," suggested Obed.

"I mean to see the city pretty thoroughly before I go, as I don't imagine I shall ever come this way again."

"That's all right, but it isn't what I mean."

"What then?"

"Do you remember the old gentleman you saved from a ruffian the night before you started for the mines?"

"Mr. Woolson, yes."

"You ought to call, you and Jack."

"I'll go this morning. Will you come too, Jack?"

"I'll go with you anywhere, Harry," said the young sailor, whose affection and admiration for Harry were very strong.

About ten o'clock the boys entered the office of Mr. Woolson. It was situated in one of the handsomest blocks in Little Collins Street, and they learned that he was a wholesale merchant and importer.

"Is Mr. Woolson in?" Harry asked of a clerk.

"He is in the inner office. Have you business with him?"

"Yes."

Admitted into the inner office, the boys saw the old gentleman seated at a large desk with a pile of papers and letters before him. They were by no means certain that he would recognize them, but he did so instantly.

"I am glad to see you, my young friends," he said, rising and shaking hands with them. "I have thought of you often, and of the great service you did me. Have you just returned from the mines?"

"Yes, sir."

"I hope you have had good luck."

"Wonderful luck. Jack and I are worth over five thousand dollars apiece."

"Bless my soul! Why it only seems a week since you went away."

"It is nearly three months, and seems longer to us, for we have passed through a great deal."

"I shall be glad to hear a full account, but I have not time in business hours. Will you do me the favor to dine with me at my house to-night and spend the evening?"

"With pleasure, sir."

"Then I shall expect you. The hour is six o'clock sharp."

The boys met the engagement, and passed the time most agreeably. Jack felt a little bashful, for Mr. Woolson lived in fine style, and Jack was not used to an elegant house or table.

When the cloth was removed, Mr. Woolson asked the boys their plans.

"We intend to sail for New York next Saturday," said Harry. "That is as far as we have got."

"If you were willing to stay in Melbourne, I would give you a place in my counting-room."

"Thank you, sir, but I prefer to live in America."

"Then I will give you a letter to my nephew and business correspondent in New York. He will further any business views you may have."

"Thank you, sir."

"And I will do the same for your friend, if he desires."

"Thank you, sir," said Jack, "but I mean to keep on as a sailor; I hope some day to be a captain."

"I will give you a place on one of our ships, and you shall be promoted as rapidly as you are qualified to rise."

Jack looked gratified, for he knew the value of so powerful a friend.

Late in the evening the boys took leave of the hospitable merchant, and three days afterward they embarked for New York.

CHAPTER XXXV. SOME OLD ACQUAINTANCES

We will now return to America, and for the benefit of those readers who are not familiar with Harry's early adventures, as narrated in the story of "Facing the World," I will give a brief account of his story before setting out on the voyage to Australia.

Left an orphan, with a scanty patrimony amounting to three hundred dollars, Harry left it all in the hands of his father's friend, Mr. Benjamin Howard of Ferguson, and set out, not in quest of a fortune, but of a livelihood. He had been recommended by his father to seek a cousin of his, John Fox of Colebrook, and place himself under his guardianship. He visited Mr. Fox, but found him so mean and grasping that he left him after a brief stay, preparing to face the world without assistance. Mr. Fox, who had two children, Joel and Sally, was greatly disappointed, as he bad hoped to get control of the boy's slender property, and convert it to his own use. He pursued Harry, but was unable to overtake and capture him.

Months passed, and John Fox heard nothing of his wandering relative.

One day, however, he came home triumphant.

"Well, Maria," he said, addressing his wife, "I've heard of Harry

Vane."

"You don't say!" ejaculated Joel, his face screwed up into an expression of curiosity. "What did you hear? Where is he?"

"Joel," answered his father, with an attempt at solemnity, "the judgments of the Lord have fallen upon your unhappy cousin."

"What do you mean, Mr. Fox?" asked his wife, showing curiosity in turn.

"I mean that he is lying dead at the bottom of the sea."

"Don't be so tantalizing, Mr. Fox. If you know anything about the boy, out with it!"

When Mrs. Fox spoke in this tone her husband knew that she would not stand any nonsense. So he answered without delay. "Soon after he left our happy home, Maria, he shipped on board the Nantucket, as a common sailor, I presume, and the ship was lost off in the Southern Ocean with all on board."

"How awful, pa," said Sally, who alone of all the family had felt kindly toward Harry, "and he was so good-looking, too!"

"He wasn't a bit better looking than Joel," said her mother sharply.

"Oh, ma!"

"It's true. I never could see any good looks in him, and it doesn't become you, miss, to go against your own brother. How did you find it out, Mr. Fox?"

"I came across an old copy of the New York Herald, giving an account of the disaster, and mentioning Harry Vane as one of the passengers. Of course it's a mistake, for he must have been one of the common sailors."

"Well, I reckon there's no call for us to put on mourning," said Mrs.

Fox.

"I don't know about that. It might look better."

"What do we care about Harry Vane?"

"My dear, he left property," said Mr. Fox significantly. "There's three hundred dollars in the hands of that man in Ferguson, besides the money he got for saving the train, as much as two hundred dollars. As we are his only relatives, that money ought to come to us by rights."

"That's so, husband. On the whole, I'll put a black ribbon on my bonnet."

"And I'll wear a black necktie," said Joel. "How much of the money am I to have?"

"Wait till we get it," said his father shortly.

"What steps do you propose to take in this matter, Mr. Fox?" queried his wife.

"I'm going to Ferguson to-morrow, to see Mr. Benjamin Howard. Of course he won't want to give up the money, but I'll show him I mean business, and am not to be trifled with."

"That's right, pa," said Joel approvingly.

"Five hundred dollars will give us quite a lift," said Mrs. Fox thoughtfully.

"So it will, so it will, my dear. Of course, I'm sorry to hear of the poor boy's death, but I shall insist upon my rights, all the same."

Mrs. Fox warmly approved of her husband's determination, being quite as mean and money-loving as he.

CHAPTER XXXVI. A HEART-BROKEN RELATIVE

Late in the afternoon, John Fox knocked at the door of Benjamin Howard, in the town of Ferguson. It was a hundred miles distant from Colebrook, his own residence, and he grudged the three dollars he had spent for railroad fare; still he thought that the stake was worth playing for.

"I am John Fox of Colebrook," he said, when Mr. Howard entered the room.

"You may have heard of me."

"I have," answered Mr. Howard, slightly smiling.

"I am the only living relative of Harry Vane, that is, I and my family."

"I have heard Harry speak of you," said Mr. Howard, non-committally.

"Yes, poor boy! I wish he were alive;" and Mr. Fox drew out a red bandanna handkerchief and covered his eyes, in which there were no tears.

"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Howard, startled.

"Then you haven't heard?"

"Heard – what?"

"That he sailed in the ship Nantucket, which was lost, with all on board, in the Southern Ocean?"

It so happened that Mr. Howard had received a letter from Harry after his arrival in Australia, and so knew that Harry was not lost. For a moment he thought Mr. Fox might have later information, but saw that it was not so. He decided to draw Mr. Fox on, and ascertain his object in calling.

"I hope that this is not so," he said gravely.

"There is not a doubt of it," answered Fox. "There's an account of the loss of the vessel in the New York Herald. I cut it out, and have it in my pocket-book. Would you like to see it?"

"If you please."

Mr. Fox produced the scrap, and asked triumphantly, "Doesn't that settle it?"

"Suppose that it does, what then?"

"What then? It follows that Harry's money comes to me and my family, as the only surviving relatives. You've got money of his, the boy told me."

"Yes."

"About how much?"

"About three hundred dollars."

"So I thought. That money ought to be handed over to me."

"I don't see that, Mr. Fox."

"You don't see that?" interrogated Fox sharply. "Do you mean to keep it yourself?"

"Not for my own use; I am not that kind of a man, Mr. Fox. But I have no authority to hand the money over in the unceremonious way you expect."

"Why not? Isn't the boy dead?"

"I have no proof of it."

"What better proof do you want than the New York Herald?"

"The account in the Herald may contain errors."

"Perhaps you think the boy could swim to shore a few hundred miles," suggested John Fox with sarcasm.

"No, I don't think that likely."

"Then what possible chance had he to escape?"

"He might have been rescued by a passing vessel."

"Look here, Mr. Howard," said Fox indignantly, "you don't mean what you say. You evidently mean to keep that money from the lawful claimants. I am not much surprised. I expected it. But I can tell you here and now that John Fox isn't a man to be cheated and imposed upon. I mean to have my rights."

"Are you aware, Mr. Fox, that your language is offensive and insulting?"

"I don't care. I came here for justice. That money ought not to be in your hands, who are no kith nor kin to Harry Vane. It ought to go to me, and I mean to sue you for it."

"Mr. Fox, I propose to obey the law, but it appears to me that you are taking it for granted that Harry Vane is dead without sufficient proof."

"What more proof do you want than this paragraph? The fact is, you don't want to believe it."

"No!" answered Mr. Howard in a tone of emotion, "I don't want to believe that poor Harry is dead."

"Nor I," said John Fox. "If the boy hadn't been foolish and left my happy home, he'd have been alive to-day. But we can't alter facts. He's dead, and all our grief won't bring him back."

Benjamin Howard looked at the man curiously. "His grief doesn't seem to be very profound," he thought. "I will test him."

"Even if I were convinced that poor Harry was dead," he said, "I should not deliver up the money till you had established a legal claim to it."

"So you mean to put all possible obstacles in my way," said John Fox, provoked. "I thought so. But, Mr. Howard, let me tell you that you can't rob the orphan."

"Meaning yourself?"

"No, I mean the dead boy – that is the orphan's estate – without settling with me. I am a man of influence, I'd have you know, and I'll put the matter in the hands of the lawyer right off."

"It might be well, first, to listen to what I have to say."

"Aha! he's scared!" thought John Fox.

"I'm ready to hear what you've got to say," he answered, "but it won't influence me a particle."

"I think it will. Harry Vane is alive!"

"What!" ejaculated John Fox, his face expressing his dismay. "It's a lie. I don't believe it."

"Georgie," said Mr. Howard to his little son, who just then entered the room, "go to my desk and bring me Harry Vane's letter."

This was done at once, John Fox meanwhile sitting in painful suspense.

"This letter," said Mr. Howard, taking it in his hand, "was posted, as you see, at Melbourne, Australia. Harry was shipwrecked on an island, from which he finally escaped, and was carried to Melbourne. He writes me that he has gone to the mines, and is hoping to find some gold there."

"Is this true?" asked Fox in a hollow voice.

"I will read you the letter, and show you the signature."

"I think it's a forgery."

"No chance of that. I know Harry Vane's handwriting well. But you don't look well, Mr. Fox. I thought you would be pleased to hear that Harry had escaped from the perils of shipwreck and is alive."

John Fox did not reply, but after examining the letter he rose with a rueful countenance, and departed unceremoniously, a badly disappointed man.

"It'll cost me three dollars to get back," he groaned, "and I shall have to stop at a hotel, for there is no train till to-morrow. 'Most ten dollars gone altogether – just thrown away! I'm a very unlucky man."

The news he carried home brought grief to Mrs. Fox and Joel. Only Sally seemed glad that Harry was still living. For so expressing herself she was severely rebuked by her mother.

CHAPTER XXXVII. HOME AGAIN

It was a bright, beautiful morning when our three friends landed in New York. Their voyage had been a favorable one, and they had made some pleasant acquaintances, but they were overjoyed to tread once more the familiar streets and see the familiar sights of the American metropolis.

They registered at a quiet hotel on the European system, intending to remain in the city a few days. They sought out a prominent broker and asked his advice about the investment of their money. He received them in a friendly manner, and gave them the best advice in his power. Each reserved three hundred dollars for present use.

It was a novelty to all of them to be free from anxiety on the score of money, and it may well be believed that all enjoyed the feeling.

The second morning, as they were walking down Broadway, their eyes fell upon a familiar figure. Directly in front of them they beheld a slender young man, dressed in the extreme of fashion, swinging a light cane. As he walked along it was easy to see that he was on the most comfortable and agreeable terms with himself, and firmly persuaded that he was an object of general admiration.

"Montgomery Clinton!" exclaimed Harry and Jack simultaneously.

"You don't mean to say you know that critter!" said Obed, eying Mr.

Clinton with evident curiosity.

"Yes, he was one of the Nantucket passengers, and shipwrecked with us," said Harry. "He did not remain in Australia, but took a return vessel at once."

"That was lucky. A critter like that wouldn't be of much account at the mines."

"Stop! I am going to speak to him."

Harry quickened his step, and touched Mr. Clinton on the shoulder.

Clinton turned languidly, but when he saw who it was his face expressed undisguised pleasure.

"Mr. Vane!" he exclaimed. "I'm awfully glad to see you, don't you know?"

"You haven't forgotten my friend Jack, I hope," said Harry, indicating the young sailor.

"I am glad to see him, too," said Mr. Clinton, with modified pleasure, offering two fingers for Jack to shake, for he had not forgotten that Jack had been a sailor.

"When did you come from Australia?" asked Clinton.

"We only arrived day before yesterday."

"And what luck did you have at the mines?"

"We struck it rich. We are all capitalists, Jack and all."

"You don't say so! I wish I had gone with you, really now."

"I don't think you'd have liked it, Mr. Clinton. We had a hard time. We had to wade through mud and mire, and sleep on the ground, and twice we were captured by bushrangers. They wanted Jack and myself to join the band."

"You don't say so – really?"

"They might have made you a bushranger, Mr. Clinton, if they had caught you."

"I never would consent, never!" said Mr. Clinton, with emphasis.

Jack smiled at the idea of the elegant Mr. Clinton being transformed into an outlaw and bushranger.

"I am awfully glad I did not go with you," he said, shuddering.

"Let me make you acquainted with my friend, Mr. Obed Stackpole, Mr.

Clinton," said Harry. "He was with us in all our trials and dangers."

Montgomery Clinton surveyed Obed with evident curiosity. The long gaunt figure of the Yankee was clad in a loose rough suit which was too large for him, and Clinton shuddered at the barbarous way in which he was attired.

"Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Stickpole," he said politely.

"_Stack_pole, if it's all the same to you, friend Clinton," corrected Obed. "Glad to see any friend of Harry's and Jack's. You look as if you had just come out of a bandbox."

"Ob, thank you," said the gratified dude. "You're awfully kind. My friends think I have a little taste in dress."

"My friends never paid me that compliment," said Obed. "Say, how do you like my fit out?"

"I – I don't think they have very good tailors in Australia," said

Clinton hesitatingly.

"Have you as many pairs of trousers as ever, Mr. Clinton?" asked Harry.

"I have only nineteen, Mr. Vane, but I shall order some more soon."

"Nineteen pairs of breeches!" ejaculated Obed in amazement. "What in the name of Jehoshaphat do you want of so many?"

"Well, I don't want to have people get used to seeing me in the same trousers, don't you know, so every day I wear a different pair."

"It must cost a mint of money to buy so many clothes."

"Oh, I have accounts with four or five tailors. They're willing to wait, don't you know. They appreciate a gentleman's custom."

"How long do they wait?" asked Harry.

"I'm owing some two years. There's lots of fellows make them wait as long."

"That aint my way," said Obed. "I pay cash. Don't they make a fuss?"

"Oh, they send in their bills, but I don't take any notice of them," said Clinton languidly.

"Then, young man," said Obed, "let me advise you to pay your bills, and get back your self-respect. I'd go six months with only a single pair of breeches, sooner than cheat a tailor out of a new pair."

"I never wear breeches," drawled Clinton, with a shudder. "I don't know what they are. Mr. Vane, those trousers you have on are very unbecoming. Let me introduce you to my tailor. He'll fit you out in fashionable style."

"Thank you. I believe I do need a new pair."

"Will he fit me, too?" asked Obed.

"He don't make – breeches!" said Clinton disdainfully.

"A good hit, by Jehoshaphat!" exclaimed Obed, slapping Clinton on the back with such emphasis that he was nearly upset.

"Don't hit quite so hard," said the dude ruefully. "You nearly upset me, don't you know?"

"I know it now. The fact is, friend Clinton, you ought to be shut up in a glass case, and put on exhibition in a dime museum."

"How awfully horrid!" protested Clinton.

"You're more fit for ornament than use."

"You're awfully sarcastic, Mr. Stackpole, don't you know?" said Clinton, edging off cautiously. "I must bid you good-morning, Mr. Vane, as I have to buy a new neck tie. I will go to the tailor's any day."

"What was such a critter made for, anyway?" queried Obed, when Clinton was out of hearing. "He looks for all the world like a tailor's dummy."

CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE BOYS SECURE POSITIONS

Before leaving New York, Harry Vane decided to call upon the nephew to whom Mr. Woolson of Melbourne had given him a letter of introduction. Upon inquiry, he found that John Woolson & Co. (the style of the firm) were large importers in the lower part of the city.

Accompanied by Jack, he called one morning. Mr. John Woolson, a courteous gentleman, about forty years of age, received him with politeness, which changed to cordiality when he had read his uncle's letter.

"My uncle writes here that you two young gentlemen recently rendered him an important service."

"We were fortunate enough to save him from being robbed," said Harry modestly.

"And maltreated, also, I presume," said the nephew. "When did you arrive in New York?"

"Last Thursday, sir."

"Did you leave my uncle well?"

"He looked in excellent health."

"How long do you remain in the city? What are your plans?"

"We think of leaving to-morrow. We wish to see friends from whom we have long been parted."