They sauntered through the big room, which was just then crowded with a curious company, as Clifford said. I suppose there was every kind of man and miner under the sun. Not many women, but what there was not a little out of the way in looks and manners. We kept on working away all the time. It helped to stop us from thinking, and every week we had a bigger deposit-receipt in the bank where we used to sell our gold. People may say what they like, but there’s nothing like a nest egg; seeing it grow bigger keeps many a fellow straight, and he gets to like adding to it, and feels the pull of being careful with his money, which a poor man that never has anything worth saving doesn’t. Poor men are the most extravagant, I’ve always found. They spend all they have, which middling kind of people just above them don’t. They screw and pinch to bring up their children, and what not; and dress shabby and go without a lot which the working man never thinks of stinting himself in. But there’s the parson here to do that kind of thing. I’m not the proper sort of cove to preach. I’d better leave it to him. So we didn’t spend our money foolish, like most part of the diggers that had a bit of luck; but we had to do a fair thing. We got through a lot of money every week, I expect. Talking of foolish things, I saw one man that had his horse shod with gold, regular pure gold shoes. The blacksmith made ‘em—good solid ones, and all regular. He rode into the main street one holiday, and no end of people stopped him and lifted up his horse’s feet to see. They weighed 7 oz. 4 dwt. each. Rainbow ought to have been shod that way. If ever a horse deserved it he did. But Starlight didn’t go in for that kind of thing. Now and then some of the old colonial hands, when they were regularly “on the burst,” would empty a dozen of champagne into a bucket or light their pipes with a ten pound note. But these were not everyday larks, and were laughed at by the diggers themselves as much as anybody.