By good luck we found a man who kept an assortment of really excellent ready-made clothing, and after chatting with the fellow until he had reduced his prices one half, we purchased two complete suits.

Pleased with our purchases, we carried them to the house, drank one bowl of good punch, which Smith made as a sort of night-cap, as he termed it, and then lighting our pipes, turned in, and after a brief review of the events of the day, sank into a deep sleep.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Large fire in Melbourne.—­English machines at fault.

I know not what the others were dreaming about, but I imagined myself standing by a pile of brush and branches, on which was placed the dead bodies of Black Darnley and his gang, and I thought that I had just applied a match to the dry wood, and that the flames were soaring heavenward, filling the sky with a luminous, blood-red color, and that the corpses, as the fire licked their bodies, began shouting, in derisive tones, for more fuel, when a hand was laid upon my shoulder, and my dreams vanished in an instant.  I sprang to my feet, and even then but half awake, I reached for my revolver, and tried to recollect where I was, and how I came there.  The room, was as light as day, and through the single window streamed the glare of such a fire as I had seen in my dream.

I could hear the roaring of the flames, and a shouting of voices afar off; and an old cracked bell, upon a church a short distance off, was laboring hard to start into life the sleepers of the city.

“The city is on fire!” cried Smith, giving me another shake to awaken me into consciousness; “all Collins Street appears to be in a bright blaze.”

“Wake Fred, and we will go and lend what assistance we can,” I replied, thoroughly aroused.

While Smith proceeded to do so, I stepped to the door, and surveyed the scene, which was grand in the extreme; and I felt my blood course through my veins wildly, as old recollections of volunteer service were brought back, when gentlemen of the utmost respectability petitioned for admittance to our organization.

That fire was like the blast of a trumpet, and all the old feelings, which had lain dormant for many years, were revived, and I wished that I had an engine and a brave company, to rush to the rescue.  While I stood surveying the flames, I was joined by Fred, an old fireman like myself, but cooler, and not so impulsive.

“Do you see!” I exclaimed; “half of the city appears to be in flames, and I do not hear the working of an engine.  Let us hasten, and render what assistance is possible.”

“Where are your engine houses?” asked Fred, turning to Smith, who appeared to be remarkably cool and unconcerned.

“That’s more than I can tell, and I don’t believe that even the captain of police can find one, try he ever so hard,” replied Smith.