The Tale of Timber Town

It was but a brief walk from the Club to the Kangaroo Bank.

“You’re a god-send to this town, Jack; a perfect god-send. Do you know that since you discovered this gold, sir, my properties in Timber Town have increased twenty-five per cent. in value? And do you know that I believe they will increase cent. per cent.? Imagine it, sir. Why, we shall all be rich men.”

They passed out into the bright street, where the gaily-painted shops shone in the blazing sun and the iron roofs of the verandahs ticked with the midday heat. The door of the Bank stood open, that the outer air might circulate freely through the big building. The immaculately-attired clerk stood behind his counter, with a big piece of plaster on his forehead; but Scarlett, taking no notice of the scowl he received from the dark-featured Zahn, knocked at the door of the Manager’s room.

Within the financial sanctum, a little shrivelled-up man sat at a large table which was placed in the middle of the room. His face was clean-shaven but for a pair of grizzled mutton-chop whiskers, and as he bent over his papers he showed a little bald patch on the top of his crown.

Scarlett and Mr. Crewe stood side by side, in front of him.

“I have come from the diggings,” said Jack, “and have called to ask …”

“Oh … How do you do, Mr. Crewe? Be seated, sir… Be seated, both of you… A lovely day, Mr. Crewe; a perfectly beautiful day. Take a seat, sir, I beg.”

But as the chairs stood a long way off against the wall, old Mr. Crewe and Jack only glanced at them.

“I’ve come to ask,” continued Scarlett, “that you will establish a branch of your Bank on Bush Robin Creek.”

The Manager looked first at Scarlett and then at Mr. Crewe. “You’re very good,” he said. “Establish a branch on the diggings? Gentlemen, do be seated.” So saying, he journeyed to a far wall, and returned with a couple of chairs, which he dragged after him to where his visitors stood.

“It would be a great convenience to the diggers,” said Jack, “to sell their gold on the field, and receive drafts on your Bank. Then, they would travel with more safety and less fear of being robbed.”

“It’s worth thinking of,” said the Manager, when he had seen that both Scarlett and Mr. Crewe were seated.

“It should be profitable to the Bank,” said Mr. Crewe, “and that, sir, is your main consideration.”

“The track will be completed in a few days,” Scarlett remarked, “and your agent couldn’t possibly lose his way in the bush.”

“Could not lose his way? Exactly. It would be very awkward if he were to get lost, with £20,000 in his possession.”

“I can imagine what sort of a losing it would be considered,” said Mr. Crewe, laughing.

“How far is it to the field?” asked the Manager.

“As the crow flies, about forty miles,” replied Jack, “but by the track, some eight or ten miles more.”

“The difficulty will be the escort,” said the Manager. “There must be an escort to convey gold to town. If the police, now, would give assistance, it could be managed.”

“Failing them,” said Jack, “the diggers would be only too glad to provide an escort themselves.”

The banker smiled. “I was imagining that the Government might undertake the transportation.”

“This is a detail,” said Mr. Crewe. “It could be arranged when your agent wished to come to town with all the gold he had bought on the field.”

“I make the proposal to you on behalf of the syndicate which I represent,” said Jack. “There is a demand for a branch of your Bank on Bush Robin Creek: communication is now easy, and the field is developing fast.”

“I shall see to it, gentlemen; I shall do my best to oblige you.”

“And to benefit your institution,” interjected Mr. Crewe.

The Manager smiled the sycophantic smile of one who worships Mammon. “I shall endeavour to meet the difficulty, Mr. Crewe. We shall see what can be done.” He rang his bell, and a clerk appeared. “Mr. Zahn is not at the counter to-day,” he said.

“No, sir,” said the clerk; “he is buying gold.”

“Very good; send him to me,” said the Manager, and Isaac was quickly summoned.

“I shall require you to proceed to the diggings at Bush Robin Creek,” said the Manager, addressing the gold-clerk. “These gentlemen have made representations to me which show that there is considerable business to be done there by buying gold. You will hold yourself in readiness to start in a couple of days. Does that suit you, sir?” he added, turning to Scarlett.

“Admirably,” replied Jack. “I’ll return to-morrow, and shall tell the diggers that your agent is coming.”

“But why should you not travel together?” said the Manager. “You could show Mr. Zahn the way.”

Isaac looked at Scarlett, and Scarlett looked at him.

“I think I could find my way alone,” said Zahn.

Jack smiled. “I shall be only too glad to give any assistance I can; but if Mr. Zahn prefers to travel by himself, of course there is the bare chance that he might get off the track and be lost.”

“I’ll risk it,” said the Jew. “I’d rather get lost than be thrown over a precipice.”

“Dear me, dear me,” said Mr. Crewe, his voice and gesture expressive of the utmost astonishment. “This looks bad, Jack; this is a very bad beginning.”

“You mean that you don’t quite appreciate this gentleman’s overtures?” asked the Manager.

Zahn was silent.

“We had a small difference in a hotel,” said Jack. “But for my part I am quite willing to let bygones be bygones.”

Zahn scowled. “That may be so,” he said, “but I should prefer to travel alone.”

“Dear, dear; well, well,” said the Father of Timber Town. “But, after all, this is a mere matter of detail which can be settled by and by. If you go to the diggings, sir” – he turned his benignant gaze on the clerk – “you will not only be in a most responsible position, but you will be able to do such profitable business for your Bank, sir, that you will probably earn promotion.”

“It’s settled,” said the Manager. “We shall send a representative, and I hope that the arrangement will be satisfactory to all parties. I hope you are contented, Mr. Crewe.”

“Perfectly, my dear sir, perfectly,” said the Father of Timber Town.

“Then you may consider the thing done,” said the Manager; and ushering his visitors from the room he conducted them to the garish street.

CHAPTER XXVII

The Signal-Tree

“I jest walked in,” said Dolphin, “an’ I says, ‘About thisyer gold-escort: when does it start?’ I says. The shrivelled party with the whiskers looks at me acrost the counter, an’ e’ says, ‘What business is that of yours, my man?’ ‘None,’ I says, ‘’xcept me an’ my mate is nervous of swaggin’ our gold to town ourselves.’ ‘Don’t you bother about that,’ ’e says. ‘All you’ve got to do is to sell your gold to our agent on the field, and leave the rest to him.’ The escort will leave reg’lar, accordin’ to time-table; so we can stick it up, sure as Gawd made little apples.”

“And what about goin’ through the Bank?” asked Sweet William.

“Now I ask you,” said Dolphin, “what’s the use of messing with the Bank, when we can clean out the gold-escort, an’ no one the wiser?”

“Same here. My opinion,” said Gentleman Carnac.