When Bat reached forth his hand to take hold of the vessel, the brandy was thrown into his face; and the next instant he himself fell heavily to the earth--from the effects of a blow administered by the clenched fist of the drayman! Bat rose to his feet, and tried to show fight; but no efforts he could make, either offensive or defensive, hindered him from getting his deserts. It was the first time I had ever been pleased at the sight of one man punishing another. After getting a thorough thrashing from his irate partner, Bat took up his blankets, and then started back along the road towards Ballarat-- having, for some reason or other, changed his mind about going to Avoca. I paid the drayman what I had agreed to give him for taking my "swag;" and, accompanied by the digger, who had been robbed along with him, I continued my journey afoot--each of us carrying his own blankets and tent. We left the poor drayman alone with his dray, in what the Yankees call a "fix," for he dare not leave the vehicle, and the goods it contained, to go in search of a horse, and without one it would be impossible for him to transport his property from the place. I would have stopped along with him for a day or two, and lent him some assistance, had it not been, that he was one of those unfortunate creatures so often met in the Australian colonies, who seldom speak without using some of the filthy language imported there from the slums of London. For this reason I left him to get out of his difficulty the best way he could; and, for all I know to the contrary, he is still keeping guard over his dray, and the miscellaneous lading it contained. Volume Three, Chapter IV. THE "SWEET VALE OF AVOCA." We arrived near the Avoca diggings late in the afternoon. Seeing a good spot for pitching a tent, my companion stopped, and proposed that we should go no further: as that place was exactly suited to his mind. "All right," said I. "If it suits you--you had better stay there." While the digger was disencumbering himself of his load, I walked on. I did so, because my travelling companion was a man whose acquaintance I did not care to cultivate any further. I did not take the trouble to satisfy myself of any reason for leaving him in this unceremonious manner. I only knew that I did not like his society; and, therefore, did not desire to pitch my tent near him--lest I might have more of it. My principle objection to remaining with the man was this. I had formed an idea, that nothing was to be gained from him--neither knowledge, amusement, friendship, money, nor anything else--unless, perhaps, it might have been, a worse opinion of mankind; and this of itself, was just ground for my giving him the good-bye. After going a little farther on, I pitched my tent in a place I made choice for myself. Next morning I walked forth, to have a look at the new gold-field.