The company’s representative in Coolgardie welcomed us with great hospitality, and invited us to tea at his camp.  Here he produced whisky, and what he told us he considered the very best of tinned meats.  “So help me never, it’s minced mutton!” shouted poor Luck, as the tin was opened—­a little joke that has never been forgotten.

It is a rather novel sensation to find that you are dead; and this was our experience, for the papers had killed us some time since—­our bones had been seen bleaching in the sun, and all that sort of thing.  Unfortunately our death was not certain enough to warrant any obituary notices, which might have been interesting reading.

On our return to Perth, the manager of the company for which we had worked, who had arrived in our absence, far from thanking us for having tried our best, asked why we went into a d——­d desert to look for gold!  This we considered a little mean, seeing that a great part of the country we had traversed had been hitherto unexplored.  However, one doesn’t look for thanks from a mining company.  So our journey was finished—­a journey that I shall never look back upon with regret, but with pleasure, for Luck was a fine fellow and the best of mates; and at least we had the satisfaction of knowing that if we had been unsuccessful, it was not for the want of trying.

PART III SECOND PROSPECTING EXPEDITION

CHAPTER I

THE JOYS OF PORTABLE CONDENSERS

November 8, 1894, was a red-letter day in the history of Coolgardie, for on that date the foundation-stone of the first brick building was laid by Mr. James Shaw, the mayor.  Under the stone was deposited a specimen of each coin of the realm, and these, by the way, were purloined in the night.  This great day was made the occasion for feasting and jubilation, the feasting taking the not uncommon form of a gigantic “Champagne Spree,” to which the whole town was invited.

When once a wave of inebriety swept over the settlement, something a little out of the ordinary was likely to occur.  Fights and rows would be started with the most bloodthirsty intentions, only to end in peace and harmony after the swearing of eternal friendships.  A good fight in Coolgardie in those days would attract as much attention as a cab accident in the streets of London.  The well-known cry of “A fight! a fight!” would bring the greater part of the population from their dwellings—­from stores, banks, offices, bars, an excited and rushing crowd would hurry to the scene of the fray, all eager to witness a good row; they were not, as a rule, disappointed, for, as one fight usually breeds several, a fair afternoon’s or morning’s entertainment could be safely counted on.  A mining community must have excitement; even a dog-fight would command a considerable amount of interest.