18
XIII.
UBI CARO, IBI VULTURES.
One morning, I woke all on a sudden.—What's up? A troop of horse was galloping exactly towards my tent, and I could hear the tramping of a band of traps. I got out of the stretcher, and hastened out of my tent. All the neighbours, in night-caps and unmentionables, were groping round the tents, to inquire what was the matter. It was not yet day-light. There was a sly-grog seller at the top of the hill; close to his store he had a small tent, crammed with brandy cases and other grog, newly come up from town. There must have been a spy, who had scented such valuable game.
The Commissioner asked the storekeeper, who by this time was at the door of his store: "Whose tent is that?" indicating the small one in question.
"I don't know," was the answer.
"Who lives in it? who owns it? is anybody in?" asked the Commissioner.
"An old man owns it, but he is gone to town on business, and left it to the care of his mate who is on the night-shift," replied the storekeeper.
"I won't peck up that chaff of yours, sir. Halloo! who is in? Open the tent;" shouted the Commissioner.
No answer.
"I say, cut down this tent, and we'll see who is in;" was the order of the Commissioner to two ruffianly looking troopers.
No sooner said than done; and the little tent was ripped up by their swords. A government cart was, of course, ready in the gully below, and in less than five minutes the whole stock of grog, some two hundred pounds sterling worth, or five hundred pounds worth in nobblers, was carted up to the Camp, before the teeth of some hundreds of diggers, who had now collected round about. We cried "Shame! shame!" sulkily enough, but we did not interfere; first, because the store had already annoyed us often enough during the long winter nights; second, because the plunderers were such Vandemonian-looking traps and troopers, that we were not encouraged to say much, because it would have been of no use.
As soon, however, as the sun was up, and all hands were going to work, the occurrence not only increased the discontent that had been brewing fast enough already, but it rose to excitement; and such a state of exasperated feelings, however vented in the shouting of "Joe," did certainly not prepare the Eureka boys to submit with patience to a licence-hunt in the course of the day.
