Jimmy Laird's "claim" we used to call it—and, by Jove, it was the richest claim on the whole diggings.
The boys hailed Jack with a shout. He just stopped for a moment, and the collie trotting beside him settled into a long, low growl.
"Shut up Kaiser" and then he walked into the thick of us.
He was too free and jolly not to take all hearts, and before he'd settled down amongst us an hour, his voice was ringing through the place in a rattling song, and he'd made a dozen friends.
"Where'll I camp at all to-night, I wonder!"
I offered him a corner in my hut, and he came. That's how we met. He shouted rum—and then we went down the creek together—and never parted again on Solferino.
We built our humpy down in a quiet nook away from the camp, pegged out a claim on the "Don Juan" line, and worked it, till the lead ran out and times got hard. Ours was a strange, wild life, with a lot of ups and downs—chiefly downs; but we got on well together, and were happy.
Christmas Eve! We'd just came from the store—been laying in a stock for the next day.
Christmas Eve, with a cloudless, clear night, and a grand moon. Our iron bark fire crackled cheerfully, the cool air just lifting up the smoke which, as it rose, mixed with the long branches of the trees above. We didn't feel like turning in, so stretched out upon the grass, and set to thinking.
Kaiser cruised round a bit, but soon settled; and turning his wistful eyes first at one and then at the other of us, snugged his nose down between his paws and went to sleep.
I was thinking of home away in England, wondering what they were doing there. Next day an empty chair would be placed at the table in my old place, and a dear voice, I was destined never to hear again,
