Here they passed from group to group and from hole to hole, calling for the production of licences with an insolence that made its object see red.

They were nice of scent, too, and, nine times in ten, pounced on just those unfortunates who, through carelessness, or lack of means, or on political grounds, had failed to take out the month's licence to dig for gold.

Every few minutes one or another was marched off between two constables to the Government Camp, for fine or imprisonment.
Now it was that it suddenly entered Long Jim's head to cut and run.

Up till now he had stood declaring himself a free-born Briton, who might be drawn and quartered if he ever again paid the blasted tax.

But, as the police came closer, a spear of fright pierced his befuddled brain, and inside a breath he was off and away.