' It was a sporting offer, boys, and, of course, Bill
jumped. And so a contract was drawn up which had to be signed. And
'What's your name?' said Fletcher Hill." Warden suddenly began to laugh.
"On my oath, he didn't know what to say, so he just caught at the first
honest-sounding name he could think of. 'Fortescue,' he said. Hill didn't
ask a single question. 'Then that mine shall be called the Fortescue Gold
Mine,' he said. 'And you'll work it and make an honest man's job of it.'
It was a pretty big undertaking, but it sort of appealed to Buckskin
Bill, and he took it on. The only real bad mistake he made was when he
trusted Harley. Except for that, the thing worked--and worked well.
The smuggling trade isn't what it was, eh, boys? That's because
Fortescue--and Fletcher Hill--are using up the labour for the mine. And
you may hate 'em like hell, but you can't get away from the fact that
this mine is run fair and decent, and there isn't a man here who doesn't
stand a good chance of making his fortune if he plays a straight game.
It's been a chance to make good for every one of us, and it's thanks to
Fletcher Hill--because he hasn't asked questions--because he's just taken
us on trust--and I'm hanged if he doesn't deserve something better than a
bullet through his brain, even if he is a magistrate and a policeman and
a man of honour. Have you got that, boys? Then chew it over and swallow
it! And when you've done that, I'll tell you something more.
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