Denis Dent: A NovelHornung, E. W. (Ernest William)
General
Denis Dent: A Novel
Hornung, E. W. (Ernest William)
Gold mines and mining -- Australia -- Ballarat (Vic.) -- Fiction
"No, you wouldn't, Jimmy; but if he wants to grin and bear it, why, he's
welcome--till they come for him! Come on, Moseley," added Denis, as that
placid person characteristically took his time, under the gagged man's
nose, over his stolen belongings. But in a few moments the three were
off at the double, and in a few more the contents of a third revolver
followed them without effect.
"I expected that," said Denis as they ran. "But what a fine villain! Not
a word in his pain. Educated man, I should say."
"Mean to put the police on 'em to-night or in the morning?" called
Moseley, with languid interest, as he jogged along last.
"Not at all," said Denis.
"Not at all?" panted Doherty.
"We want to get to the diggings, not to cool our heels in this nice
place. We've winged one and taught them both a lesson, and wasted quite
enough time on such carrion as it is."
They were now in full view of the lights of Canvas Town. Moseley, far
behind, petitioned for a more civilized pace in the most strenuous tone
the others had yet heard from him. And while they waited Denis returned
the revolver to its rightful owner.
"I'm heartily ashamed of myself, Jimmy," said he: "first I blame you for
buying the one thing we want more than another, and then I take it from
you and use it myself! But the credit's every bit of it yours; but for
you those villains would have gone scot-free with this fellow's fortune;
but for you he would be a poor man to-night, and he's got to know it. I
hope you recovered everything?" added Denis, as Moseley came up with
them at his leisure, and all three proceeded toward the lights.
"I don't know," was the reply. "I ought to have thirty-eight pound,
twelve and six, but there's over a pound of it in silver, and you didn't
give me time to count it."
A few paces were covered in silence; then Denis gave a grim little
laugh. "So we've all risked our lives for thirty-eight pounds odd!"
"It was my all," said Moseley, rather hurt. "I never said it was much,
and never asked you to risk your lives."
Denis took his arm with a heartier laugh.
"My dear fellow, we weren't going to let you risk yours alone, and I
wouldn't undo it if I could. It wasn't a question of amount, either; if
you had told us the figure it would have made no difference. But you did
say it was your pile, you know, that you were taking back to England!"
"It wasn't much of one, certainly," the other admitted on reflection,
with his own ingenuous candour. "I am not so sure, now, that it would
have paid my passage home. I never thought of that before. So you two
are going up to the diggings, just as I come down?" he added rather
wistfully, after a pause.
"We start to-morrow if we can."
"Much capital, may I ask?"
"Not much more than half your pile between us, I'm afraid."
"It needs more capital than you'd think," said Moseley, in a pensive
way.
"I dare say."
And Denis sighed.
"Ballarat or Bendigo?"
"I thought of tossing for it."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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