Here, carelessly lounging against the wall, you saw a man whose clean-cut features, correct mannerism, cultivated voice and easy abandon proclaimed him unmistakably to have been a former denizen of the club and drawing-room. Yet he is talking and drinking with a huge, burly fellow whose sunburnt face, open jumper, tattooed arms and shoulder-of-mutton fist branded him as a shell-back from before the stick. Yes, they were all there, the ex-public schoolboy, the ex-army man, the ex-sailor, stock-rider, bushman, gold-digger, professional man, ay, and, had you looked carefully, you would no doubt have found the unfrocked parson. The great majority of them are British, but among them is a sprinkling of vivacious Frenchmen, stolid Germans, hang-dog-looking Dagos, and even a few half-caste Maoris and South Sea Islanders. No matter what nationality they belonged to, they all had the same indescribable air of reckless good-nature, combined with determination and latent ferocity, which fully convinced an observer that although they might be a dangerous and godless crew, yet they were a fearless one, and that he could plank down his bottom dollar on the assertion that they would stick to a leader of their own choice to the last gasp. West knew some of them, and, having spotted the man he wanted to get hold of, we elbowed our way through the crowd towards him, refusing many invitations to drink _en route_. My appearance seemed to cause considerable excitement among them, and I was nearly deafened with the number of chaffing questions put to me. “Hullo, mate,” quoth one, “what’s the last news from the big smoke?” “How’s Kate and Rose thriving, and is the old market as naughty as ever?” “Have a drink, pal, and tell us what you were lagged for,” bellows another. “Good old collars and cuffs, who’s the best girl in London nowadays?” While one big fellow raised a laugh by roaring out: “Come and have a wet, new chum. Don’t you tumble, boys, to it? Why, he must be the new little general who’s been sent out to teach us how to lick the Hau Haus.” Taking no notice of these embarrassing but good-natured remarks, I pushed on after my leader, till we reached the man he was making for, who was a tall, good-looking, bearded fellow whom I at once saw to be a man in every sense of the word. “Hutton,” quoth West, “come out of this. I want you to come over and tiffin, also to introduce you to a new chum friend of mine. Mr Burke, Mr Hutton. Now you know each other, come along.”