Page:In bad company and other stories.djvu/234

222 would not work? Not work! He was Cobb and Co.'s man—that is, he did all their 'stage' repairs. Well he knew that the night must be to him even as the day when their humblest vehicle on the road needed his aid. As a firm they went strictly by results and took no excuses. If a man upset his coach and did damage once, he was shifted to another part of the line. If he repeated the accident, he was dismissed. There was no appeal, and the managing body did not trouble about evidence after the first time. If he was negligent, it served him right. If he was unlucky, that was worse.

The journey to Bendigo was accomplished at the rate of nine miles an hour, stoppages included. It was midwinter. The roads were deep in places. It was therefore good-going, punctual relays, and carefully economised time, which combined to land us at Hefferman's Hotel before darkness had set in. As usual a crowd had collected to enjoy the great event of the day.

Bendigo was in that year a very lively town, with a population roused to daily excitement by fortunes made or lost. Gold was shovelled up like sugar in bankers' scoops, and good money sent after bad in reckless enterprise, or restored a hundredfold in lucky ventures.

Here I was to undergo a new experience in company with Her Majesty's Mails.

As I rather impatiently lingered outside of Hefferman's after breakfast next morning, an unpretending tax-cart, to which were harnessed a pair of queer, unmatched screws, drove up to the door. 'German Charlie'—his other name I never knew—driver and contractor, informed me that I was the only passenger, lifted my valise, and the talismanic words 'Reedy Creek' being pronounced, vowed to drop me at the door. He had always parcels for Mr. Keene. This gentleman's name he pronounced with bated breath, in a tone of deepest veneration.

Beyond all doubt would I be landed there early on the morrow.

I mounted the Whitechapel, saw my overcoat and valise in safely, and, not without involuntary distrust, committed myself to Charlie's tender mercies. He gave a shout, he raised his whip—the off-side horse made a wild plunge; the near-side one, blind of one eye, refused to budge. Our fate hung on the