The police on foot,
armed with carbines and accompanied by officers, next came down the
centre of the gully, and every digger was asked to show his license.
I showed that of William Matthews.
It was not that the policy of William Patterson was tried and found
wanting. He was at work on his claim a little below mine, and
knowing he had no license, I looked at him to see how he would behave
in the face of the enemy. He had stopped working, and was walking in
the direction of his tent, with head bowed down as ifin search of
something he had lost. He disappeared in his tent, which was a large
one, and had, near the opening, a chimney built up with ironstone
boulders and clay. But the police had seen him; he was followed,
found hiding in the corner of his chimney, arrested, and placed among
the prisoners who were then halted near my tub. Immediately behind
Patterson, and carrying a carbine on his shoulder, stood a well-known
shipmate named Joynt, whom poverty had compelled to join the enemy.
He would willingly have allowed his friend and prisoner to escape,
but no chance of doing so occurred, and long after dark Patterson
approached our camp fire, a free man, but hungry, tired, and full of
bitterness. He had been forced to march along the whole day like a
convicted felon, with an ever-increasing crowd of prisoners, had been
taken to the camp at nightfall and made to pay 6 pounds 10s.
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