The fervour of the editors of all the journals, printed within a thousand miles or so, having exhausted itself and the public interest, matters returned to their normal state and condition. The escort waggonette, artistically tooled by Gore Chesterfield, cleared out for Perth at sunrise one fine morning, ‘laden’ (as the local mining organ put it) ‘with gold, ammunition, firearms, and decayed gentlefolk.’ On the box-seat, between Mr. Banneret and the charioteer, sat an aristocratic society dame of ducal connections, who, originally voyaging to Fremantle with maternal solicitude, had remained to take a hand in the mining adventure of the period. Having been down the deepest mine of the ‘field,’ and across the desert on a camel as far as the famous ‘Leonora’ and ‘Mount Idalia,’ in both of which ‘shows’ she had invested sensationally, she was not to be daunted by the off-chance of a bullet wound on the present journey. The perils of this passage through the wilderness were, however, minimised by the attendance of a doubled police escort and half a hundred volunteer guards, who (shares in the popular investment of the day, the ‘Rotherwood’ mine, being at a premium and rising fast) resolved to combine the performance of a patriotic duty with the excitement of a ‘jamberoo’ in Perth, and ‘a whiff of the briny’ long looked forward to, and, before this happy conjunction of profit and pleasure, almost despaired of. When it is considered that most of the men who composed this advanced guard were young, or youthful-seeming—that the prospects of the majority were like the climate, sunny in the extreme—that fortune had lately showered favours upon nearly all,—it may be imagined what a joyous cavalcade, dashing at reckless speed through plain and thicket—waking the long-silent, solitary champaign with song and shout—the ‘Last Chance’ escort must have appeared to the ordinary wayfarer.
O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
The treasure was duly deposited in the banks of the period; certain favourites of fortune, among them the lady of the box-seat, took passage by the outgoing mail-steamer. Lord Newstead was bound for ‘England, home, and beauty,’ whence his return was problematical; Arnold Banneret for Sydney; while Messrs. Chesterfield and Southwater would return to the vicinity of Pilot Mount, not having as yet acquired the ‘pile’ which was to crown the pyramid of a life’s endeavour. Arnold Banneret made a final adieu to the ‘Reward Claim,’ having by wire received a declaration from his wife that, ‘no matter how many ounces to the ton the “Last Chance” produced, never again would she consent to his putting foot on that goldfield; even if his presence was indispensable to prevent Pilot Mount from being turned into a volcano in full working order, her resolve remained unalterable. What she had suffered when she heard the news (false as it turned out to be) of his death, could never be endured twice. So now, he knew.’ When Mrs. Banneret concluded an argument with these words the ‘incident was closed.’ Her sympathetic partner ‘for better for worse’ resigned himself to a future existence hampered only by the necessity of finding use for a capital of a hundred thousand pounds or two, ‘with all the woes it brings.’