Ghost Stories and Mysteries by Ernest Favenc Page B

other was dark-eyed, with a black moustache, and rather a theatrical looking personage.
    “Why, Starr, you are looking jollier than ever. I think you have grown even taller since I last saw you.”
    “Glad to see you back again, Harris,” returned Starr as they shook hands.
    “Mr. Haughton,” said Harris, indicating his companion. Starr bowed, and Jackson made his appearance, giving his face a finishing rub with a towel. Harris and he were old friends, so his greeting done, and Mr. Haughton having been presented for the second time, they went inside.
    “What is the news from Blatherskyte, Harris,” said Starr, when they were all seated at tea.
    “Any amount of gold being got by some; nothing by others. Mr. Haughton is one of the unlucky ones.”
    The other two glanced enquiringly at the stranger, who had scarcely spoken as yet. He remarked that he had been up there for the last six months, that he went on to the field with money, and had now scarcely enough left to carry him off; so his luck had not been in.
    “Everybody drunk last night,” said Harris, taking up the thread. “We were going to have a concert, but the singers got too drunk to sing, and the audience to listen—so that it was a failure as far as the melody of the affair went. You are going up to-morrow, did you not say, Starr?”
    “Yes, I start in the morning, with some bullocks, and expect to get in some time during the next day. Any water at the twenty-mile creek?”
    “Yes, enough to do you, and that is about all. When will you be back?”
    “I intend to come straight back the day after I get in. I am going down to Imberwalla, to take down some gold I want to get rid of.”
    “You will be worth sticking up.”
    “Yes, I shall; for old Jawdon, the butcher, owes me for half of the last draft, which I shall get this time. I shall have about seven hundred, mostly in gold.”
    “Well, that is not such a great sum, but many a man has lost his life for less.”
    “I hope that is not going to be my case,” replied Starr; and after the usual bush talk about horses and cattle they rose from the table.
    “Where is your old hutkeeper?” said Jackson, after the things were cleared away.
    “I had a row with him this morning; he had been here too long, and was getting cheeky, so he went this morning. This man happened to be passing, and wanted a job, so he got the place.”
    “I never did like that other fellow, he had an evil look about him,” remarked Harris.
    “He was a very good cook,” returned Starr.
    “Let us have a game at whist,” he said, rising. “Do you play, Mr. Haughton?”
    “I don’t mind taking a hand.”
    They sat down, Harris and Jackson against Starr and Haughton. They played for some time, but after the first game or two all the luck went over to Haughton and his partner. Harris, who was a volatile sort of fellow, after a great deal of restlessness, proposed changing the game to euchre. The game was changed, but not the luck; Haughton and Starr still won. It was about ten o’clock when they left off playing, the winnings then amounted to a couple of pounds or so. Haughton proposed to his partner that they should play off—who took the lot. They did so, and Haughton won. Starr rose, and, going into his room, brought out a couple of pair of blankets.
    “You will have to be contented with a shake down to-night, Mr. Haughton; I have no spare bed to offer you.”
    “Oh, I will do right enough,” said the other, smilingly. “I will sleep in the verandah; it is cooler.”
    He went outside, after bidding the others good night. Jackson was sitting on the table, playing at patience with the cards.
    “Well, I intend starting early to-morrow, so shall say good night,” said Starr.
    “All right, but don’t go just yet; it is not so very late. I have any amount of news to tell you, but I cannot get it all out at once,” returned Harris.
    “Well, let us hear some of it”
    “You know Rowdy Jack, who was horse breaking for