 CHAPTER IX FISHING The party had for some time been walking near the creek, so close to it that it was within sound, although they seldom got a glimpse of water, save were the tea-treatants grub on the bank grew thinner, or the light wind stirred an opening in its branches. Now, however, the hermit suddenly turned, and although the others failed to perceive any track or landmark, he led them quickly through the scrub-belt to the bank of the creek beyond. It was indeed an ideal place for fishing. A deep, quiet pool, partly shaded by big trees, lay placid and motionless, except for an occasional ripple, stirred by a light puff of wind. An old wattle-tree grew on the bank, its limbs jutting out conveniently, and here Jim and Wally ensconced themselves immediately and turned their united attention to business. For a time no sound was heard, save the dull plunk of sinkers, as the lines, one by one, were flung into the water. The hermit did not fish. He had plenty at his camp, he said, and fishing for fun had lost its excitement, since he fished for a living most days of the week. So he contented himself with advising the others where to throw in, and finally sat down on the grass near Nora. A few minutes passed, then Jim jerked his line hurriedly, and began to pull in with a feverish expression. It lasted until a big black fish made its appearance, dangling from the hook, and then it was suddenly succeeded by a look of intense disgust as a final wriggle released the prisoner, which fell back with a splash into the water. "'Well, I'm blessed,' said Jim wrathfully. "'Hard luck,' said Harry. "'Try again, Jimmy, and stick to him this time,' counseled Wally, in a fatherly tone. "'Oh, you shut up,' Jim answered, rebaiting his hook. I didn't catch an old boot anyhow, which pertinent reflection had the effect of silencing Wally amidst mild mirth on the part of the other members of the expedition. Scarcely a minute more, and Nora pulled sharply at her line, and began to haul in rapidly. "'Got a whale?' inquired Jim. "'Something like it,' Nora pulled wildly. "'Hang on. Stick to him. Mind your eye. Don't get your line tangled. "'Want any help? Miss Nora?' "'Nothing's.' Nora was almost breathless. A red spot flamed in each cheek. Slowly the line came in. Presently it gave a sudden jerk, and was tugged back quickly, as the fish made another run for liberty. Nora uttered an exclamation, quickly suppressed, and it caught it sharply, pulling strongly. Ah! he was out! A big, handsome perch, struggling and dancing in the air at the end of the line. Shouts broke from the boys as Nora landed her prize safely on the bank. "'Well done, Miss Nora,' said the hermit, warmly. "'That's a beauty, as fine a perch as I've seen in this creek.' "'Oh! isn't he a splendid fellow?' Nora cried, surveying the prey with dancing eyes. I'll have him for dad anyhow, even if I don't catch another. "'Yes. Dad's breakfast's all right,' laughed the hermit. "'But don't worry, you'll catch more yet. See, there goes Harry.' There was a shout, as Harry, with the scientific flourish of his rod, hauled a small blackfish from its watery bed. "'Not bad for a beginning,' he said, grinning, but not a patch on yours, Nora.' "'Oh! I had luck,' Nora said. "'He really is a beauty, isn't he? I think he must be the grandfather of all the perches.' "'If that's so,' said Jim, beginning to pull in, with an expression of do or die earnestness. "'I reckon I've got the grandmother on now.' A storm of advice hurdled about Jim as he tugged at his line. "'Hurry up, Jim. Go slow. There. He's getting off again.' "'So are you,' said the ungrateful recipient of the council, puffing hard. "'Only a boot, Jim. Don't worry.' "'Gammon, it's a shark. Look at his worried expression. "'I'll shark you, young Harry,' grunted Jim. "'Mind your eye. There he comes.' An expressions of admiration broke from the scoffers, as a second, splendid perch dangled in the air, and was landed high and dry, or comparatively so, in the branches of the wattle-tree. "'Is he as big as yours, Nora?' "'Query, Jim, a minute later, tossing his fish down on the grass, close to his sister in the hermit. Nora laid the two fishes alongside. "'Not quite,' she announced. "'Mind's about an inch longer, and a bit fatter.' "'Well, that's all right,' Jim said. "'I said it was the grandmother I had. Yours is certainly the grandfather. "'I'm glad you got the biggest, old girl.' They exchanged, a friendly smile. A yell from Wally intimated that he had something on his hook, and with immense pride he flourished in the air a diminutive blackfish, so small that the hermit proposed to use it for bait, a suggestion promptly declined by the captor, who hid his catch securely in the fork of two branches, before rebaiting his hook. Then Harry pulled out a fine perch, and immediately afterwards Nora caught a blackfish, and after that the fun waxed fast and various, the fish biting splendidly, and all hands being kept busy. An hour later Harry shook the last worm out of the bait-ten, and dropped it into the water on his hook, where immediately was seized by a perch of very tender years. "'Get back and grow till next year,' advised Harry, detaching the little prisoner carefully, the hook having caught lightly on the side of its mouth. "'I'll come for you next holidays,' and he tossed the tiny fellow back into the water. "'That's our last scrap of bait, you chaps,' he said, beginning to wind up his line. "'I've been fishing with an empty hook, for I don't know how long,' said Jem, hauling up also. These beggars have nibbled my bait off, and carefully dodged the hook. "'Well, we've plenty, haven't we?' Nora said. "'Just look what a splendid pile of fish.' "'They take a lot of beating, don't they?' said Jem. "'That's right, Wally. Pull them up,' as Wally hauled in another fine fish. "'We couldn't carry more if we had them. "'Then it's a good thing my bait's gone too,' left Nora, winding up. "'Haven't we had any most lovely time?' Jem produced a roll of canvas, which turned out to be two sugar bags, and in these carefully bestowed the fish, sowsing the hole thoroughly in the water. The boys gathered up the lines and tackled and planted the rods conveniently behind a log. "'To be ready, for next time,' they said. "'Well, we've had splendid sport.' "'Thanks to you, sir,' Jem said, turning to the hermit, who stood looking on at the preparations, in benevolent person, something between Father Christmas and Robinson Crusoe, as Nora whispered to Harry, we certainly wouldn't have got on half as well if we'd stayed where we were.' "'Oh, I don't know,' the hermit answered. "'Yours is a good place. I've often caught plenty of fish there, only not to be relied on as this pool is. I've really never known this particular spot fail. The fish seemed to live in it all the year round. However, I'm glad you've had decent luck. It's not a bit jolly to go home empty-handed. I know.' "'And now, what's the next thing to be done? The afternoon's getting on. Don't you think it's time you came to pay me a visit at the camp?' "'Oh, yes, please,' Nora cried. Jem hesitated. "'We'd like, awfully, to see your camp. If—if it's not any bother to you,' he said. "'Not the least in the world,' the hermit said. "'Only I can't offer you any refreshment. I've nothing but cold possum and tea, and the possums, and acquired taste. I'm afraid. I've no milk for the tea, and no damper, either.' "'By George,' said Jem remorsefully. "'Why, we ate all your damper at lunch. I can easily manufacture another,' the hermit said, laughing. "'I'm used to the process. Only I don't suppose I could get it done soon enough for the afternoon tea.' "'We've loads of tucker,' Jem said. Far more than we're likely to eat. Milk, too. We meant to boil the belly again before we start for home. "'I'll tell you what,' Nora said, struck by a brilliant idea. "'Let's cooie for Billy, and when he comes, send him back for our things. Then, if—if Mr. Hermit likes, we could have tea at his camp.' "'Why, that's a splendid notion,' the hermit cried. "'I'm delighted that you've thought of it, Miss Nora, although I'm sorry my guests have to supply their own meal. It doesn't seem quite the thing. But in the bush, polite customs have to fall into disuse. I only keep up my good manners by practicing on old turpentine, my snake. However, if you're so kind as to overlook my deficiencies, and make them up yourselves, by all means, let us come along and cooie for sweet William.' He shouldered one of the bags of fish as he spoke, disregarding a protest from the boys. Jem took the second, and they set out for the camp. Their wade led for some time along the track by which they had come. If track it might be called. Certainly the hermit trod it confidently enough, but the others could only follow in his wake, and wonder by what process he found his wade so quickly through the thick bush. About half a mile along the creek, the hermit suddenly turned off almost at right angles, and struck into the scrub. The children followed him closely, keeping as nearly at his heels as the nature of the path would permit. Nora found it not very pleasant. The hermit went at a good rate, swinging over the rough ground with the sure-footed case of one accustomed to the scrub and familiar with the path. The boys, unhampered by skirts and long hair, found no great difficulty in keeping up with him, but the small maiden of the party, handicapped by her clothes, to say nothing of being youngest of them all, plotted along in the rear, catching on sarsaparilla vines and raspberry tangles, plunging headfirst through masses of dogwood, and getting decidedly the worst of the journey. Harry was the first to notice that Nora was falling into the distance, as he put it, and he ran back to her immediately. "'Poor old kid,' he said, shame-facedly. "'I had no idea you were having such a beast of a time. Sorry, Nora.' His polite regrets were cut short by Nora's catching her foot in a creeper, and falling bodily upon him. "'Thank you,' said Harry, catching her deftly. "'Delighted, I'm sure, ma'am. It's a privilege to catch anyone like you. Come on, old girl, and I'll clear the track for you.' A little farther on the hermit had halted, looking a trifle guilty. "'I'm really sorry, Miss Nora,' he said, as Nora and Harry made their way up to the waiting-group. "'I didn't realize I was going at such a pace. We'll make haste, Mark, slowly.' He led the way, pausing now and again, to make it easier for the little girl holding the bushes aside, and lifting her bodily over several big logs and sharp water-courses. Finally he stopped. "'I think if you give Billy a call now, Jim,' he said, "'he won't have much difficulty in finding us.' To the children it seemed an utter impossibility that Billy should ever find them, though they said nothing, and Jim obediently lifted up his voice and cooied in answer to the hermit's words. For himself Jim was free to confess he had quite lost his bearings, and though other boys were as much at sea as if they had suddenly been dropped down at the North Pole. Nora alone had an idea that they were not far from the original camping-place, an idea which was confirmed when a long I.E. came in response to Jim's shout, sounding startlingly near at hand. Master Billy has been making his way along the creek, commented the hermit. "'He's no distance off. Give him another call.' "'Here,' Jim shouted. Billy answered again, and after a few more exchanges the bushes parted and revealed the sable retainer, somewhat out of breath. Scoot back to camp, Billy, Jim ordered. Take these fish and soak them in the creek, and bring back all our tucker, milk and all. Bring it, whereily bring it, sir,' to the hermit. "'See that tall tree, broken with a bow, dangling?' the hermit asked, pointing some distance ahead. Billy nodded. Back to that in cooie, and we'll answer you. "'Plenty,' said Billy, shouldering the bags of fish, and departing at a run. Billy had learnt early the futility of wasting words. "'Come along,' said the hermit, laughing. He turned off and to the scrub, and led the way again. Taking, it seemed to Nora, rather a roundabout path. At length he stopped short, near a dense clump of dogwood. "'My back door,' he said politely. He stared about them. There was no sign of any door at all, nor even of any footprints or marks of traffic. The scrub was all about them. Everything was very still and quiet, in the afternoon hush. "'Well, you've got us beaten, and no mistake,' Jim laughed, after they had peered fruitlessly about. "'Unless you camp in the air, I don't see.' "'Look here,' said the hermit. He drew aside a clump of dogwood, and revealed the end of an old log, a huge tree-truck that had long ago been a forest monarch, but having fallen now stretched its mighty length more than a hundred feet along the ground. It was very broad, and the uppermost side was flat, and here and there bore traces of caked dry mud that showed where a boot had rested. The dogwood walled it closely on each side. "'That's my track home,' the hermit said. "'Let me help you up, Miss Nora.' He sprang up on the log as he spoke, and extended a hand to Nora, who followed him lightly. Then the hermit led the way along the log, which was quite broad enough to admit of a wheel-barrow being drawn down its length. He stopped where the butt of the old tree, rising above the level of the trunk, barred the view, and, pulling aside the dogwood, showed rough steps cut inside of the log. "'Down here, Miss Nora.' In a moment they were all on the ground beside him, wall-y, disdaining the steps, having sprung down and unexpectedly measured his length on the earth to the accompaniment of much chaff. He picked himself up, laughing more than any of them, just as Nora popped her head through the scrub that surrounded them and exclaimed delightedly. "'Why, here's the camp,' I say,' Jim said, following the hermit into the little clearing. "'You're well planted here.' The space was not very large. A roughly circular piece of ground rang round with scrub, in which big gum-trees reared their lofty heads. A wattle-tree stood in the center, from its boughs dangling a rough hammock made of sacking, while a water-bag hung from another convenient branch. The hermit's little tent was pitched at one side. Across the clearing was the rude fireplace that Nora had seen in the morning. Everything, though tough enough, was very clean and tidy, with a certain attempt at comfort. The hermit laughed. "'Yes, I'm pretty well concealed,' he agreed. "'You might be quite close to the camp and never dream that it existed. Only bold explorers like Miss Nora would have hit upon it from the side where she appeared to me this morning, and my big log saves me the necessity of having a beaten track home. I try by getting on it at different points to avoid a track to the log, although should a footmark lead anyone to it, the intruder would never take the trouble to walk down an old bush-hung tree trunk, apparently for no reason, so that I feel fairly secure about my home and my belongings when I plan a fishing expedition or an excursion that takes me any distance away.' "'Well, it's a good idea,' Jim said. "'Of course, a beaten track to your camp would be nothing more or less than an invitation to any swaggy or black fellow to follow it up.' "'That's what I thought,' the hermit said, and very awkward it would have been for me, seeing that one can't very well put a padlock on a tent, and that all my belongings are portable, not that there's anything of great value. I have a few papers I wouldn't care to lose, a watch, and a little money, but they're all safely buried in a cash-box, with a good luck. The rest I have to chance, and as I told you, I've so far been pretty lucky in repelling invaders. There's not much traffic round here, you know.' Jim and Nora laughed. "'Not much,' they said, nodding. Why, a tent's not that large,' the hermit said, leading the way to that erection, which was securely and snugly pitched with its back door, had there been one, against the trunk of a huge dead tree. It was a comparatively new tent, with a good fly, and was water tight, its owner explained, in all weathers. The flap was elaborately secured by many strings, tied with wonderful and fearful knots. "'It must take you a long time to untie those traps every day,' said Wally. "'It would,' said the hermit, if I did untie them, they're only part of my poor little scheme for discouraging intruders, Master Wally. He slipped his fingers inside the flap, and undid a hidden fastening, which opened the tent without disarranging the array of intricate knots. A fellow without a knife might spend quite a while in untying all those,' said the hermit. He'd be rather disgusted, or completing the job, to find they had no bearing on the real fastening of the tent. And perhaps by that time I might be home. The interior of the tent was scrupulously tidy and very plain. A hastily put up bunk was covered with blue blankets, and boasted a sacking pillow. From the ridgepole hung a candlestick, roughly fashioned from a knot of wood, and the furniture was completed by a rustic table and chair, made from branches, and showing considerable ingenuity in their fashioning. Wallaby skins thrown over the chair and upon the floor lent a look of comfort for the tiny dwelling, and a further touch of homeliness was given by many pictures cut from illustrated papers and fastened to the canvas walls. The fly of the tent projected some distance in front, and formed a kind of veranda, beneath which a second rustic seat stood, as well as a block of wood that bore a tendish, and evidently did duty as a wash stand. Several blackened billies hung about the camp, with a frying-pan that bore marks of long and honorable use. The children surveyed this unusual home with much curiosity and interest, and the boys were loud in their praises of the chairs and tables. The hermit listened to their outspoken comments, with a benevolent look, evidently pleased with their approval, and soon Jim and he were deep in a discussion of bush-carpentry. Jim, as Wallaby said, reckoning himself something of an artist in that line, and being eager for hints. Meanwhile the other boys and Nora wandered about the camp, wondering at the completeness that had been arrived at with so little material, and at its utter loneliness and isolation, a man might die here half a dozen times, and no one be any the wiser, Wallaby said. I wouldn't like it myself. Once would be enough for most chaps, Harry Greend. Oh, get out! You know what I mean, retorted Wallaby. You chaps are never satisfied, and unless you're pulling my leg, it's a wonder I don't limp. But seriously, what a jolly-rum life for a man to choose! He's an educated chap, too, Harry said. Talks like a book, when he likes. I wonder what on earth he's doing it for. They had dropped their voices instinctively, and had moved away from the tent. He's certainly not the ordinary Swaggy, Nora said slowly. Not by a good bit, Wallaby agreed. Why, he can talk like our English master at school. Perhaps he's hiding. Might be, Harry said. You never can tell. He's certainly keen enough on getting away from people. He's chosen a good place, then. Couldn't be better. I wonder if there's anything in it. If he really has done anything, and doesn't want to be found. I never heard such bosh, said Nora, indignantly. One would think he really looked wicked, instead of being such a kind old chap. Do you think he's gone and committed a murder, or robbed a bank, or something like that? I wonder you're not afraid to be in his camp. The boys stared in amazement. Whooo! Whistled Wallaby. Harry flushed a little. Oh, steady, Nora, he protested. We really didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It was only an idea. I'll admit, he doesn't look a hardened sinner. Well, you shouldn't have such ideas. Nora said stoutly. He's a great deal too nice. And look how kind he's been to us. If he chooses to plant himself in the bush, it's no one's business but his own. I suppose not, Harry began. He pulled up shortly, as the hermit, followed by Jim, emerged from the tent. The hermit had a queer smile in his eyes, but Jim looked desperately uncomfortable. Jim favoured the others with a heavy scowl as he came out of the tent, slipping behind the hermit, and ordered that he might deliver it, unobserved. It was plain enough to fill them with considerable discomfort. They exchanged glances of bewilderment. I wonder what's up now, Wallaby whispered. Jim strolled over to them as the hermit, without saying anything, crossed to his fireplace, and began to put some sticks together. You're bright objects, he whispered wrathfully. Why can't you speak softly? You must go gabbling about other people. You don't mean to say he heard us, Harry said, colouring. I do, then. We could hear every word you said, and it was jolly awkward for me. I didn't know which way to look. Was he wild? whispered Wallaby. Blessed if I know, he just laughed in a queer way, until Nora stuck up for him. And then he looked grave. I'm lucky to have one friend, he said, and walked out of the tent. You're a set of goats, finished Jim comprehensively. While I'm not ashamed of what I said anyhow, Nora answered indignantly. She elevated her tip-tilted nose, and walked away to where the hermit was gathering sticks, into which occupation she promptly entered. The boys looked at each other. Well, I am, rather. Harry said. He disappeared into the scrub, returning presently, with a log of wood, as heavy as he could drag. Wally, seeing his idea, speedily followed suit, and Jim, after a stare, copied their example. They worked so hard that by the time the hermit and Nora had the fire alight, quite a respectable stack of wood greeted the eye of the master of the camp. He looked genuinely pleased. Well, you are kind chaps, he said. That will save me wood-courting for many a day, and it is a job that bothers my old back. We are very glad to get it for you, sir, Jim blurted a trifle, shame-facedly. A twinkle came into the hermit's eyes as he looked at him. That's all square, Jim, he said quietly. And without any more being said, the boys felt relieved. Evidently, this hermit was not a man to bear malice, even if he did over-here talk that wasn't meant for him. Well, said the hermit, breaking a somewhat awkward silence. It's about time we heard the dusky little Billy, isn't it? Quite a time, I reckon, Jim replied, lazy young beggar. Well, the Billy's not boiling yet, although it's not far off it. There he is, Nora said quickly, as a long shout sounded near at hand. The hermit quickly went off in its direction, and presently returned, followed by Billy, whose eyes were round as he glanced about the strange place in which he found himself, although otherwise no sign of surprise appeared on his sable continents. He carried the bags containing the picnic expedition supply of food, which Nora promptly fell to unpacking. An apple supply remained from lunch, and when displayed to advantage on the short grass of the clearing, the meal looked very tempting. The hermit's eyes glistened as Nora unpacked a bag of apples and oranges as a finishing touch. Fruit, he said, O you lucky people, I wish there were fruit shops in this grub. I can dispense with all the others, but one does miss fruit. Well, I'm glad we brought such a bag full, because I'm sure we don't want it, Nora said. You must let us leave it with you, Mr. Hermit. Water's plenty boiling, said Billy. Tea was quickly brod, and presently they were seated on the ground and making a hearty meal, as if the lunch of a few hours ago had never been. If a fellow can't get hungry in the bush, said Wally, holding out his hand for his fifth scone, then he doesn't deserve ever to get hungry at all. To which Jim replied, Don't worry, old man, that's a fate that's never likely to overtake you. Wally, whose hunger was of a generally prevailing kind, which usually affected him most in school hours, subsided meekly into his tea-cup. They did not hurry over the meal, for every one was a little lazy after the long day, and there was plenty of time to get home. The long summer evening was before them, and it would merge into the beauty of a moonlit night. Also they loathed and chatted aimlessly, and drank huge quantities of the Billy tea, that it is quite the nicest tea in the world, especially when it is stirred with a stick, and when they were really ashamed to eat any more they lay about on the grass, yarning, telling bush-tells many and strange, and listening while the Hermit spun them old world stories that made the time slip away wonderfully. It was with a sigh that Jim roused himself at last. Well, he said, it's awfully nice being here, and I'm not in a bit of a hurry to go. Are you chaps? The chaps chorused. No. At the same time it's getting a light. Jim went on, pulling out his watch, later than I thought. My word. Come on, we'll have to hurry. Billy, you slip along and saddle up the ponies, one time quick. Wally departed, noiselessly. He never said, plenty. Said Wally, disappointedly, gathering himself up from the grass. It was an oversight. Jim laughed. Now then, Nora, come along. What about the miserable remains? The remains aren't so miserable, said Nora, who was on her knees, gathering up the fragments of the feast. See, there's a lot of bread yet. There's so many scones, heaps of cake, and the fruit, to say nothing of butter and jam. She looked up shyly at the hermit. Would you mind having them? The hermit laughed. Ha! Not a bit! He said. I'm not proud, and it is really a treat to see civilized food again. I willingly act as your scavenger, Miss Nora. Together they packed up the remnants, and the hermit deposited them inside his tent. He rummaged for a minute in a bag near his bed, and presently came out with something in his hand. I amused myself in many odd moments by this sort of thing, he said. Will you have it, Miss Nora? He put a photograph frame into her hand, a dainty thing made from the native woods, cunningly jointed together and beautifully carved. Nora accepted it with pleasure. It's not anything, the hermit disclaimed. Very rough, I'm afraid, but you can't do very good work when your pocket-knife is your only tool. I hope you'll forgive its shortcomings, Miss Nora, and keep it to remember the old hermit. I think it's lovely, Nora said, looking up with shining eyes, and I'm ever so much obliged. I'll always keep it. Don't forget, the hermit said, looking down at the flesh-face, and some day, perhaps, you'll all come again. We must hurry, Jim said. They were all back at the lynching place, and the sight of the suns sinking far across the plain. Recalled Jim to a sense of half-forgotten responsibility. It's every man for his own steed, he said. Can you manage your old crock, Nora? Don't you wish yours was half as good, queried Nora, as she took the halter off Bob's and slipped the bit into his mouth? Jim grinned. Knew I'd got her on a soft spot, he murmured, wrestling with a refractory cropper. Harry and Wally were already at their ponies. Billy, having fixed the load to his satisfaction on the pack-marrow, was standing on one foot, on a log, jutting over the creek, drawing the fish from their cool resting place in the water. The bag came up heavy and dripping, so heavy, indeed, that it proved the last straw for Billy's balance, and after a wild struggle to remain on the log, he was forced to step off with great decision into the water, a movement accompanied with a decisive bust amid wild mirth on the part of the boys. Luckily, the water was not knee-deep, and the black retainer regained the log, not much the worse, except in temper. Dampen there Billy, queried Wally, with a gray face. Plitty, growled Billy, marching off the log with offended dignity and a dripping leg. The hermit had taken Nora's saddle and placed it on Bob's, girthing it up with the cooked movements of a practiced hand. Nora watched him keenly, and satisfaction crept into her eyes. As the job done, the old man stroked the pony's glossy neck, and Bob's, sending a friend, put his nose into his hand. "'He likes you,' Nora said. He doesn't do that to every one. Do you like horses?' "'Better than men,' said the hermit. "'You have a good pony, Miss Nora.' "'Yes, he is a beauty,' the little girl said. I've had him since he was a foal. "'He'll carry you home well, fifteen miles, is it?' "'About that, I think.' "'And we'll find Dad hanging over the home-padlock gate, wondering where we are,' said Jim, coming up, leading his pony. "'We'll have to say good-night, sir. Good-night and good-bye,' said the hermit, holding out his hand. "'I'm sorry, you've all got to go. Perhaps some other holidays.' "'We'll come out,' not a Jim. He shook hands, warmly, and if you ever find your way in, as far as our place.' "'I'm afraid not,' said the hermit hastily, as it was explained to Miss Nora. "'I'm a solitary animal, but I hope to see you all again.' The boys said good-bye and mounted. The hermit held Bob's, while Nora swung herself up. The pony was impatient to be gone. "'Good-bye,' he said. Nora looked at him pitifully. "'I won't say good-bye,' she said. "'I'm coming back, some day. So it's so long—so long!' The old man echoed, rather gerrally, holding her hand. Then something queer came into his eyes, for suddenly Nora bent from the saddle and kissed his cheek. He stood long, watching the ponies and the little young figures scurrying across the plain. When they vanished he turned wearily, and with slow steps went back into the scrub. They forded the creek carefully, for the water was high, and it was dark in the shadows of the trees on the banks. Jim knew the way well, and so did Nora, and they led, followed by the other boys. When they had crossed it was necessary to go steadily in the dim light. The track was only wide enough for them to ride in Indian file, which is not a method of locomotion, which assists conversation, and they rode almost in silence. It was queer down there in the bush, with only cries of the far-off birds to break the quiet. Owls and mopokes hooted dismally, and once a great flapping thing flew into Harry's face, and he uttered a startled yell before he realized that it was only one of the night-birds, whereot mirth ensued at the expense of Harry. Then to scare away the hooters they put silence to flight with the choruses, and the old bush echoed to, way down upon the Swanee River and more modern songs, which aren't half so sweet as the old Christy-menstrual ditties. After they had exhausted all the choruses they knew, Harry obliged, with one of Gordon's poems, recited with such boyish simplicity, combined with vigor, that it quite brought down the audience, who applauded so loudly, that the orator was thankful for the darkness to conceal his blushes. "'Old Harry's our champion, Elocutioner, at school, you know,' Wally said. "'You should have heard him last speech-day. He got more clapping than all the rest put together.' "'Shut up, young Wally,' growled Harry, and tones of affected wrath. "'Same to you,' said Wally, cheerfully, why you had all the mamas howling into their hankies in your own core-piece. After which nothing would satisfy Nora but another recitation, and another after that. And then the timber ended, and there was only the level plain between them and home, with the moon just high enough to make it sufficiently light for a gallop. They tore wildly homeward, and landed in a slightly disheveled bunch at the gate of the paddock. No one was about the stables. "'Men all gone off somewhere,' said Jim, leconically, sitting to let his pony go. His example was followed by each of the others, the steeds dismissed with a rub and a pat, and the saddles placed on the stands. "'Well, I don't know about you, chaps,' said Jim, but I'm as hungry as a hunter.' "'Same here,' chorused the chaps. "'Come along and see what good old brownies put by for us,' said Nora, disappearing towards the house like a small comet. The boys raced after her. In the kitchen doorway Mrs. Brown stood. Her broad face, resplendent with smiles, I was just beginning to wonder if any of you had fallen into the greek.' She said, "'You must be hungry, poor dears. Supper's ready.' "'Where's Dad?' asked Nora. "'Your paw's gone to Sydney.' "'Sidney?' "'Yes, my dears. A telegram came for him. Something about some valuable cattle to be sold, as he wants.' "'Oh,' said Jim, those shorthorns he was talking about.' "'Very likely, Master Jim, very sorry, your paw were,' he said, to go so sudden, and not to see you again. And the other young gentleman, likewise, seeing you go away on Monday, he left his love to Miss Nora, and a letter for you. And Miss Nora, you was to try not to be dull, and he would be back by Thursday. So he hoped.' "'Oh,' said Nora, blankly, it's hardly a homecoming without Dad.' Supper was over at last, and it had been a monumental meal. To behold the onslaughts made by the four upon Mrs. Browne's extensive preparations one might have supposed that they had previously been starving for time uncounted. "'Hey, ho!' said Jim, our last day to-morrow.' Friends followed from Harry and Wally. What do you want a reminder to follow for?' Couldn't help it. Slipped out. What a jolly cell not to see old Dad again.' Jim wrinkled, his brown, handsome face, into a frown. "'You needn't talk,' said Nora, glimly, fancy me on Monday, not a soul to speak to.' "'Poor old Nora, yes, it's rough on you,' said Jim. "'Wish you were coming, too. Why can't you get Dad to let you go to school in Melbourne?' "'Thanks,' said Nora hastily. "'I'd rather not. I think I can bear this better. "'School? What on earth would I do with myself? Shut up all day.' "'Oh, all right, I thought you might like it. You get used to it, you know.' "'I couldn't get used to doing without Dad,' returned Nora. "'Or Dad, to doing without you, I reckon,' said Jim. "'Oh, I suppose it's better as it is. Only you'll have to get taught some day, old chap, I suppose.' "'Oh, never mind that now,' Nora said impatiently. "'I suppose I'll have a governess some day, and she won't let me ride a stride, or go after the cattle, or climb trees, or do anything worth doing, and everything will be perfectly hateful. It's simply beastly to be getting old.' "'Clear up, old party,' Jim laughed. "'She might be quite a decent sort for all you know.' "'As for riding a stride, Dad'll never let you ride any other way, so you can keep your mind easy about that. Well, never mind governesses anyhow. You haven't got one yet. Insufficient unto the day is the governess thereof. "'What are we going to do to-morrow?' "'Can't do very much,' said Nora, still showing traces of gloom. "'It's Sunday. Besides, the horses want a spell, and you boys will have to pack. You'd leap pretty early on Monday, you know.' "'Oh, botheration,' said Wally, jumping up so suddenly that he upset his chair. "'For goodness' sake, don't talk of going back until we actually get there. It's bad enough then. Let's go and explore somewhere to-morrow.' "'We can do that all right,' said Jim, glad of any turn, being given to the melancholy conversation. We've never taken your chops to the falls, two miles up the creek, and there we're seeing.' "'It's a nice walk, too,' added Nora, putting sorrow to flight by deathly, landing a pellet of bread on Harry's nose. Think you can struggle so far, Harry?' "'Yes, and carry you back when you knock up,' said that gentleman, returning the missile, without success. Nora, having retreated behind a vase of roses, I think it would be a jolly good plan. "'Right, oh,' said Jim, that settled. We'll pack up in the morning, get Brownie to give us dinner early, and start in good time. It doesn't really take long to walk there, you know. Only we want to be able to loaf on the way, and when we get to the falls.' "'Rather,' said Harry, I never seen any fun in a walk when you tear somewhere, get there, and tear back again. Life's too short. Come on, Nora, and play to us.' So they tripped into the drawing-room, and for an hour the boys lay about on sofas and easy-chairs, while Nora played softly. Finally she found that her entire audience was sound asleep. A state of things she very naturally resented by gently pouring water from a vase on their peaceful faces. Peaceful at it, at that. And so did Nora. "'Coming,' said Harry's cheerful voice, he appeared on the veranda, endeavoring to cram a gigantic apple into his pocket. "'Nora's,' he said, in response to Jim's lifted eyebrows. Don't know if she means to eat it in sections or not. It certainly doesn't mean to go into my pocket, as it is.' He desisted from his efforts. "'Try it in the crown of your hat, old man. Thanks. My hat's got all it knows to hold my brains.' Retorted Jim. "'You can't take that thing. Here, Nora, as that damsel appeared on the step. How do you imagine Harry's going to cart this apple?' "'Quite simple,' said Nora, eerily, cut it in four, and will each take a bit.' "'That's the judgment of Solomon,' said Wally, who was lying full length on the lawn, recovering, as Jim unkindly suggested, from dinner. "'Well, come along,' Jim said impatiently. "'You're an awfully hard crowd to get started. We want to reach the falls in fair time to see the sunlight on them. It's awfully pretty. After about three or four o'clock the trees shade the water, and it's quite ordinary.' "'Just plain wet water,' murmured Wally. Jim rolled him over and over down the sloping lawn, and then fled, pursued by Wally, with disheveled attire and much grass in his mouth. The others followed more steadily, and all four struck across the paddock to the creek. It was a rather hot afternoon, and they were glad to reach the shade of the bank, and to follow the cattle-track that led close to the water. Great fat bullocks lay about under the huge gum trees, scarcely raising their eyes to glance at the children as they passed. None were eating, all were chewing the cud in lazy contentment. They passed through a smaller paddock, where superb sheep dotted the grass, real aristocrats, these, accustomed to be handled and petted, and to live on the fat of the land. Poor grass or rough country food they had never known. Jim and Nora visited some special favorites and patted them. Harry and Wally admired at a distance. Though some of the sheep you say from the fire, queried Harry. Nora flushed. Never did, she said shortly, and untruthfully. Don't know why you can't talk sense, Jim, at which that maligned youth laughed excessively until first the other boys, and then Nora jaund and perforce. After again climbing over the sheep-proof fence of the smaller paddock, they came out upon a wide plain, almost treeless, save for the timber along the creek, where their cattle tracks still led them. Far as they could see, no fence broke the line of yellow grass. There were groups of cattle out in the plain. These were store-bullocks, Jim explained. A draft recently arrived from Queensland, and hardly yet acclimatized. It takes a good while for them to settle down, Nora said, and then lots of them get sick, plurro and things, and we inoculate them, and their tails drop off, and sometimes the sick ones get bad-tempered, and it's quite exciting work mustering. Dangerous? asked Wally. Not with a pony that knows things like Bob's, said Bob's mistress. He always keeps his weather-eye open for danger. Not a bad thing, as you certainly don't, laughed Jim. Well, do you? Certainly I do, said Jim, firmly, whereas Nora laughed very heartily. When I leave school, Dad says I can go on the roads with the cattle for one trip, said Jim. Be no end of fun. Takes ever so long to bring them down from Queensland, and the men have a real good time. Travel with a cook and a covered buggy and pear to bring the tucker and tents along. What'll you be? asked Wally. Cook. No, slushy, said Harry. No, I'll take you two chaps along in those billets, grinned Jim. I don't know who'd be Cook, said Nora solemnly, but I don't think the men would be in very good condition at the end of the trip, whichever of you it was. With such pleasantries that they beguiled the way, until unrounding a bend in the track, a dull roar came plainly to their ears. What's that? asked Wally, stopping to listen. That's the falls, my boy, replied Jim. They're really quite respectable falls, almost Niagaraous. Come along, we'll see them in a couple of minutes. The sound of falling water became planer and planer as they pushed on. At this point the track was less defined, and the scrub thicker. Jim explained that the cattle did not come here much, as there was no drinking place for them for a good distance below the falls. They might almost have imagined themselves back in the bush near the Hermits camp. Harry said, as they pushed their way through scrub and undergrowth, many raspberry vines adding variety, if not charm, to the scramble. The last part of the walk was uphill, and at last they came out upon a clear patch of ground. For some time the noise of the falls had deepened, until now it was a loud roar, but the sound had hardly prepared the boys for the sight that met their gaze. High up were rocky cliffs, sparsely clothed with vegetation, and through these the creek had cut its way. Falling in one sheer mass, fifty feet or more, into the bed below, hollowed out during countless ages. The water curved over the top of the fall in one exquisite wave, smooth as polished marble, but halfway down a point of rock jutted suddenly out, and on this the waters dashed and split, flying off from it in a cloud of spray. At the foot the cataract roared and bubbled and seetheed in one boiling mass of rapids. But the glory of it all was the sunlight. It fell right on the mass of descending water, and in the rays the fall glittered and flashed with all the colors of the rainbow, and the flying spray was like powdered jewels. It caught the drops hanging on the ferns that fringed the water, and turned them into twinkling diamonds. The whole fall seemed to be alive in the sunbeam's dancing light. Oh, I say, whispered Harry, fancy never showing us this before. He cast himself on the ground and lay, chin in hands, gazing at the wonder before him. We kept it to the last, said Nora softly. She sat down by him, and the others followed their example. Just think, said Harry, that old creek's been doing that ever since time began. Every day the sun comes to take his share at lighting it up. Long before we were born, and ages after we shall die. Doesn't it make you feel small? Nora nodded, understandingly. I saw it once by moonlight, she said. Dad and I rode here one night, full moon. Oh, it was lovely. Not like this, of course, because there wasn't any color, but a beautiful white, clean light, and the fall was like a sheet of silver. Did you ever throw anything over? asked Wally. His wonderment was subsiding, and the boy in him woke up again. No good, said Jim. You never see it again. I've thrown a stick in up above, and it simply whisks over and gets sucked underneath the curtain of water at once, and disappears altogether until it reaches the smooth water ever so far down. Say, you went over yourself. Wouldn't be much left of you, Jim answered with a laugh. The bed of the creek simply full of rocks. You can see a spike sticking up here and there in the rapids. We've seen sheep come down in flood-time. They get battered to bits. I don't think I'll try any experiments. Thank you, young Wally. You always were a disobliging critter, Wally grinned. Another time a canoe came over, Jim said. It belonged to two chaps farther up. They'd just built it, and were out for the first time, and got down two near the falls. They didn't know much about managing their craft, and when the suck of the water began to take them along, they couldn't get out of the current. They went faster and faster, struggling to paddle against the stream, instead of getting out at an angle and making for the bank, which they might have done. At last they could hear the roar of the falls quite plainly. What happened to them, asked Wally. Did they go over? Well, they reckoned it wasn't healthy to remain in the canoe, said Jim. It was simply spinning along in the current, and the falls were almost in sight. So they dived in on opposite sides. The blessed canoe nearly tipped over when they stood up, and only the shock of the cross-drive kept her right. Of course the creeks not so very wide, even farther up beyond the falls, and the force of their spring sent them nearly out of the current. They could both swim well, and after a struggle they got to the banks, just in time to see the canoe whisk over the waterfall. What hard luck! It was, rather. They started off downstream to find it, but for a long way they couldn't see a trace. Then, right in the calm water ever so far down, they found it, bit by bit. It was broken into so much matchwood. What did they do? asked Wally. Stood and stared at it from opposite sides, like two wet images, said Jim, laughing. It slowed down to grin, I suppose, but they must have looked funny. Then one of them swam across, and they made their way to our place, and we fixed them up with dry things, and drove them home. I don't think they've gone in for canoeing since, finished Jim, reflectively. Well, I guess it would discourage them a bit, Wally agreed. Getting shipwrecks, no fun. Ever tried it? Once, in Albert Park Lagoon, Wally admitted bashfully, some of us went out for a sail one Saturday afternoon. We didn't know much about it, and I really don't know what it was that tipped the old boat over. I was the smallest, so naturally I wasn't having any say in managing her. That accounts for it, said Jim, dryly. Didn't mean that, goat, said Wally. Anyhow, I was very much astonished to find myself suddenly kicking in the mud. Ever been in that lake? It isn't nice. It isn't deep enough to drown you, but the mud is a caution. I got it all over me, face and all. You must have looked your best, said Jim. I did. I managed to stand up, very much amazed to find I wasn't drowned. Two of the others walked out. I was too small to do more than just manage to keep up right. The water was round my chest. I couldn't have walked a yard. How did you manage? A boat came along and picked up the survivors, Grand Wally. They wouldn't take us in. We were just caked with mud, so I don't blame them, but we hung on to the stern, and they towed us to the shore. We were quite close to land. Then they went back and brought our boat to us. They were jolly kind chaps. Didn't seem to mind any trouble. You don't seem to have minded it either, said Nora. We were too busy laughing. Wally said, You have to expect these things when you go in for a life on the ocean wave. The worst part of it came afterwards when we went home. That was really unpleasant. I was staying at my aunt's in Turak. Did you get into a row? It was unpleasant, Wally repeated. Aunt's haven't much sympathy, you know. They don't like mess, and I was no in messy. We won't talk about it, I think. Thank you. Wally rolled over on his back, produced an apple, and bit into it solemnly. Let us respect his silence, said Jim. You had asked who? Carried Wally with his mouth full. Not exactly aunt's. Jim said, But we had an old tartar of a housekeeper once. When we were small kids, she ruled us with a rod of iron for about six months, and Nora and I could hardly call our souls our own. Father used to be a good deal away, and Mrs. Lister could do pretty well as she liked. I did abominate that woman, said Nora reflectively. I don't wonder, replied Jim. You certainly were a downtrodden little nipper, as ever was. Do you remember the time we went canoeing in the flood on your old perambulator? Not likely to forget it. What was it, Wally asked? Tell us, Jim. Nora had a pram. Like most kids, Jim began. Well, I liked that, said Nora, in great indignation. It was yours first. Never said it wasn't, said Jim, somewhat abashed by the laughter that ensued. But that was ages ago. It was yours at this time anyhow. But only the lower story was left, just the floor of the pram on three wheels. Nora used to sit on this thing and push herself along with two sticks, like rowing on dry land. It was no end of fun, said Nora. You could go. You could, grin, Jim. I'll never forget the day I saw you start from the top of the hill near the house. The pram got a rate on of a mile a minute, and the sticks weren't needed. About half way down, it struck a route, and turned three double somersaults in the air. I don't know how many Nora turned, but when Dad and I got to the spot, she was sitting on a thick mat of grass, laughing like one o'clock, and the pram was about half a mile away on the flat, with its wheels in the air. We quite reckoned you were killed. Yes, and Dad made me promise not to go down that hill again, said Nora, roofily. It was a horrid nuisance. Well, there was a flood, said Jim. Not very much of one. We'd had a good bit of rain, and the water-hole on the home-paddock overflowed and covered all the flat about two feet deep. At first it was a bit too deep for Nora and her wheeled boat, but when it went down a bit she would set off voyaging. She did look a rum little figure out in the middle of the water, pushing herself along with her two sticks. Mrs. Lister didn't approve of it, but as Dad had given her leave, the housekeeper couldn't stop her. At this point Nora was here to murmur, Cat. Just so, said Jim. Well, you know, I used to poke fun at Nora and this thing, but one day I had gone down to the water's edge, and she came up on it, pulling herself through the water at a great rate, and it occurred to me it didn't look half bad fun, so I suggested a turn myself. You said, Here kid, let's have that thing for a bit, said Nora, firmly. Did I? said Jim, with meekness. Yes, you did, so I kindly got off. Then, asked Harry. He got on, I said. Jim, dear, pray be careful about the holes, and let me tell you where they are. I'm sure you did, Grand Wally. And he said, If a kid like you can keep out of holes, I guess I can. I'm sure he did, said Wally. Yes, so he set off. Now I had been over that flat so often in dry weather, that I knew every bit of it, but Jim didn't. He went off as hard as he could, and got on very well for a little bit. Am I telling this yarn, or are you? Enquired Jim, laughing. This is the part that is best for me to tell, said Nora solemnly. Then he turned suddenly, so suddenly I hadn't time to do more than yell a warning, which he didn't hear. In the next minute the side wheels of the pram went over the edge of a hole, and the thing turned upside down upon poor old Jimmy. Lovely, said Wally, kicking with delight. Well, and what happened? Oh, Jim can tell you now. Laughed Nora, I wasn't under the water. I was, said Jim. The blessed old pram turned clean over, and cast me bodily into a hole. That was all I knew, until I tried to get out, and found the pram had come to, and was right on top of me. And do you think I could move that blessed thing? Well. In came Nora, said Jim. I'll take it out of you now, my girl. She realized at once what had happened, and waited in from the bank, and pulled the old pram off her poor little brother. I came up, spluttering, to see Nora, looking very white, just preparing to dive in after me. You never saw such a drowned rat, said Nora, taking up the tail. Soat, and muddy, and very cross. And the first thing he did was to abuse my poor old wheelie boat. Well, wouldn't you? Jim laughed. Had to abuse something. Anyhow, we ridded her, and Nora waited farther in after the sticks, which had floated peacefully away, and we pulled the wheelie boat ashore. Then we roared, laughing at each other. I certainly was a drowned rat, but Nora wasn't much better, as she'd slipped nearly into the hole herself, in pulling the pram off me. But when we'd laughed, the first thought was, how are we going to dodge Mrs. Lister? It was a nasty problem. What did you do? Well, after consultation, we got up near the house, planting the pram in some trees. We dodged through the shrubbery, until we reached that old summer house. And there I left Nora, and scooted over to the stables, and borrowed an overcoat, belonging to a boy we had working, and a pair of his boots. Dad was away, or I might have gone straight to him. I put on the borrowed things over my wet togs, and very nice I looked. And trotted off to the side of the house. No one seemed about, so I slipped into my room through the window, and then into Nora's, and got a bundle of clothes, and back I scooted to the summer house, left Nora's things there, and found a dressing room for myself, among some shrubs, close by. Well, do you know that old cat, Mrs. Lister, had seen us all the time? She'd actually spotted us coming up the paddock, dripping, and had deliberately planted herself in. She knew all about my expedition after clothes, then she followed us to the shrubbery, and descended upon us like an avalanche, just as we got half-trust. May I ask what you naughty little children are doing? She said. Well, you know, that put my back up a bit, because I was nearly twelve, and Dad didn't make a little kid of me. However, I tried to keep civil, and tell her what had happened, but she told me to hold my tongue. She grabbed Nora by the shoulder, and called her all the names under the sun, and shook her. Then she said, You come to bed at once, Miss, and caught hold of her wrist, to drag her in. Now, Nora had sprained her wrist, not long before, and she had to be a bit careful of it. We all knew that. She didn't cry out when Mrs. Lister jerked her wrist, but I saw her turn white, and I knew. And knew it was the bad one. So he chucked himself on top of old Mrs. Lister, and pounded her as hard as he could. Put in Nora, and she was so astonished she let me go. She turned her attention to Jim, then, and gave him a terrible whack over the head that sent him flying. And just then we heard a voice that was so angry, we hardly recognized it for Dad's, saying, What is this all about? My word, we were glad to see Dad, said Jim. He came over and put his arm round Nora, poor little kid. Mrs. Lister had screwed her wrist till it was worse than ever it had been, and she was as white as a sheet. Dad helped her on with her clothes. All the time, Mrs. Lister was pouring out a flood of eloquence against us, back in the face with rage. Dad took no notice until Nora was dressed. Then he said, Come to me in the study in twenty minutes. And he picked Nora up and carried her inside, where he dosed her, and fixed up her wrist. I put on my clothes and followed them. Nora and I never said anything until Mrs. Lister had told her story, which was a fine production, little truth, and three parts awful crams. Then Dad asked our side, and we just told him. He knew we never told lies, and he believed us, and we told him some other things Mrs. Lister used to do to us in the way of bullying and spite. I don't know that Dad needed them, because Nora's wrist spoke louder than fifty tails, and he didn't need any more evidence, though, after all, she might have grabbed the bad wrist by mistake, and she had done far worse things when Mrs. Lister departed that night, and Nora and I danced apoka in the hall when we heard the buggy drive off. That being the case, said Nora gravely, we'll all have an apple. The apples were produced and discussed, and then it was time to think of home, for the sun had long since left the glistening surface of the falls, so they gathered themselves up, and reluctantly enough left the beautiful scene behind them with a backward look. The way home was rather silent. The shadow of the boy's departure was over them all, and Nora especially felt the weight of approaching loneliness. With Dad at home it would have been easier to let the boys go, but the prospect of several days by herself, with only the servants for company, was not a very comforting one. Nora wished, dismally, that she had been born a boy with the prospect of a journey to school, and no end of larks. Then she thought of Dad, and those still dismal, unwished the wish, and was content to remain a girl. There was a little excitement on the homeward trip over a snake, which tried to slip away unseen through the grass, and when it found itself surrounded by enemies, coiled itself round Harry's leg, a proceeding very painful to that youth, who nevertheless stood like a statue, while Jim dodged a strike at the wildly waving head. He got it at last. And while the reptile writhed in very natural annoyance, Harry managed to get free, and soon put a respectful distance between himself and his two affectionate acquaintance. Jim finished up the snake, and they resumed the track, keeping a careful look out, and imagining another in every rustle. Well done, old Harry, said Wally, stood like a statue you did. Thanks, said Harry. Jim's the chap to say, well done too, I think. Not me, said Jim. Is he enough to try to kill the brute? I'd rather do that than feel him round my leg, where I couldn't get at him. Well, I think I would too, Harry said, laughing, I never felt such a desire to stampede in my life. It was beastly, affirmed Nora. She was a little pale. It seemed about an hour before he poked his horrid head out and let Jim get a whack at it. But you didn't lose much time then, Jimmy. Could he have bitten through the leg of your pants, queried Wally, with interest? He couldn't have sent all the venom through, I think, Jim replied, but enough would have gone to make a very sick little Harry. It'd be an interesting experiment, no doubt, said Harry, but if you find I'll leave it for someone else to try. I'd recommend a wooden-leg man as the experimenter. He'd feel much more at ease while the snake was trying how much venom he could get through a pant leg. End of Chapter 10 CHAPTER 11 OF A LITTLE BUSH MADE by MARIE GRANT BRUCE This Libber Box recording is in the public domain. Reading by Bologna Times Chapter 11 I was just going to ring the big bell, said Mrs. Brown. She was standing on the front faranda as the children came up the lawn. Why, we're not late brownie, are we? asked Nora. Not very, the old housekeeper smiled at her, only when your paws away I always feel a bit nervous about you. Such thoughtless young people and all them animals and snakes would gap on, said Jim laughing. Do you mean to say I can't look after them, brownie? I'd rather not say anything rash. Master Jim rejoined Mrs. Brown with a twinkle. I guess Mrs. Brown's got the measure of your foot, old man, grinned Harry. Oh well, said Jim resignedly. A chap never gets his due in this world. I forgive you, brownie, though you don't deserve it. Got a nice tea for us? Such as it is, Master Jim. It's waitin' on ya, said Mrs. Brown with point. That's what you might call a broad hint, cried Jim. Come on, chaps, race you for a wash-up. They scattered. Mrs. Brown laying violent hands on the indignant Nora and insisting on arraying her in a clean frock, which the victim resisted as totally unnecessary. Mrs. Brown carried her point, however, and a little maiden joined the boys in the dining-room five minutes later. Mrs. Brown's cooking was notable, and she had excelled herself over the boys' farewell tea. A big cold turkey sat side by side with a ham of majestic dimensions, while a cool green of a salad was tempting after the hot walk. There were jellies and a big bowl of fruit salad, while the center of the table was occupied by a tall cake, stuffed, glittering white tears. There were scones and parts and wee cakes, and dishes of fresh fruit, and altogether the boys whistled long and softly and declared that brownie was no end of a brick. Where at, Mrs. Brown hovering about to see that her charges wanted nothing, smiled and blushed, and said, Get on, now. Do. Jim carved, and Jim's carving was something to marvel at. When he came amiss to him, when he could cut straight, he did. At other times, he sawed, and, when it seemed necessary, he dug. After he had finished helping everyone, Wally said that the turkey looked as if a dog had been at it, and the ham was worse, which remarks Jim meekly accepted as his do. Nor did the inartistic appearance of the turkey prevent the critic from coming back for more. Everyone was hungry, and did full justice to Brownie's forethought. While Nora, behind the tall teapot, declared that it was a job for two men and a boy to pour out for such a thirsty trio, Harry helped the fruit salad, and Harry's helpings were based on his own hunger, and would have suited Goliath. Finally, Nora cut the cake with great ceremony, and Wally's proposal that everyone should retire to the lawn was carried unanimously. Out on the grass they lay, and shattered, while the dust came down, and slowly a pale moon climbed up into the sky. Nora alone was silent. After a while, Harry and Wally declared they must go and pack, and Jim and his sister were left alone. Wally and Harry scurried down the hall, the sound of their merry voices died away, in silence on the lawn. Jim rolled nearer to Nora. Blue, old girl? Mmm, said a muffled voice. Jim felt for her hand in the darkness, and found it. The small, brown fingers close tightly round his rough paw. I know, he said, comprehendingly. I'm awfully sorry, old woman. I do wish we hadn't to go. There was no answer. And also knowing perfectly well that tears would mean the deepest shame he talked on without requiring any response. Beastly hard luck. He said, we don't want to go a bit. Fancy school after this. Ugh! But there are three of us. So it isn't so bad. It wouldn't matter if Dad was at home for you. But I must say it's low down to be leaving you all by your lonely little self. Nora struggled hard with that abominable lump in her throat, despising herself heartily. Brownie'll be awfully good to you, went on Jim. You'll have to buck up, you know, old girl, and not let yourself get dull. You practice like one o'clock or make jam or something, or get Brownie to let you do some cooking. Anything to keep you from brooding on being a dork, as old David Haram says. There's all the pets to look after, you know. You've got to keep young Black Billy up to the mark, or he'll never feed him properly, and if you let him alone he changes the water in the dishes when the last lots dry. And by George, Nora, Jim had a bright idea, Dad told me last night he meant to shift those new bullocks into the long plane. Ten to one he forgot all about it, going away so suddenly you'll have to see to it. I'd like that, said Nora, feeling doubtfully for her voice. Rather, best thing you can do, Jim said eagerly, take Billy with you, of course, and a dog. They're not wild, and I don't think you'll have any trouble. Only be very careful to get them all. Examine all the scrub in the paddock. Billy knows how many there ought to be. I did know, but, of course, I've forgotten. Of course, Dad may have left directions with one of the men about it already. Well, I could go too, couldn't I, queried Nora? Rather. They'd be glad to have you. Well, I'll be glad of something to do. I wasn't looking forward to tomorrow. No, said Jim. I know you weren't. Never mind, you keep busy. You might drive into Congee with Brownie on Tuesday. Probably you'd get a letter from Dad a day earlier and hear when he's coming down. And if he says he's coming home on Thursday, Wednesday won't seem a bit long. You'll be as right as nine pence if you buck up. I will, old chap. Only I wish you weren't going. So do I, said Jim. And so did the other chaps. They want to come again some holidays. Well, I hope you'll bring them. My word, I will. Do you know, Nora, they think you're no end of a brick. Do they? said Nora. Much pleased. Did they tell you? They're always telling me. Go to bed, old girl. He rose and pulled her to her feet. Nora put her arms around his neck. A very rare caress. Good night, she said. I do love you, Jimmy. Jim hugged her. Same here, old chap, he said. There was such scurrying in the early morning. Daylight revealed many things that had been overlooked in the packing overnight and they had to be crammed in somehow. Other things were remembered and packed, and which must be found, and diligent hunt had to be made for them. Nora was everybody's mate, running on several errands at once, finding Jim's school cap near Harry's overcoat while she was looking for Wally's cherished snakeskin. Her strong brown hands pulled tight the straps of bulging bags on which their perspiring owners knelt, puffing. After the said bags were closed and carried out to the buggy, Mrs. Brown, who had been up since Don, had packed a huge hamper and superintended its placing in the buggy. It was addressed to Master James, Master Harry, and Master Wally, and later Jim reported that its contents were such as to make the chaps at school speechless. A compliment which filled Mrs. Brown with dismay and a wish that she had been able to bring to the buggy. She said, dismay and a wish that she had put in less pastry and perhaps a little castor oil. At present she felt mildly safe about it and watched it loaded with a sigh of relief. Boom! Went the big gong and the boys rushed to the dining-room where Nora was ready to pour out tea. You have some Nora, said Harry, retaining his position close to the teapot when Wally had vainly striven to dislodge him. Yes, old girl, you eat some breakfast, commanded Jim. Nora flashed a smile at him over the cozy. Let's time afterwards, she said, a little sadly. No time like the present. Wally took a huge bite out of a scone and surveyed the relic with interest. Someone put a smoking plate full before him and his further utterances were lost in eggs and bacon. Mrs. Brown flitted about like a stout guardian angel, keeping an especially watchful eye on Jim. If the supply in his plate lessened perceptibly, it was replenished with more, like matter from above. To his laughing protest she merely murmured, poor dear lamb, where at Wally and Harry laughed consumedly and Jim blushed. Well, you've beaten me at last, brownie. Jim declared finally. He waved away a chop which was about to descend upon his plate. No, truly, brownie dear, there are limits. Tea? No thanks, Nora. I've had about a dozen cups already, I believe. You fellows ready? They were. And the table was briskly deserted. There was a final survey of the boy's room which resembled a rubbish heap owing to vigorous packing. Everybody ran wildly about looking for something. Wally was found searching frantically for his cap, which Nora discovered on his head. There was a hurried journey to the kitchen to bid the servants good-bye. The buggy wheels scrunched the gravel before the hall door. The overseer cooied softly. All aboard! All right, Evans. Jim appeared in the doorway, staggering under a big Gladstone bag. Billy, similarly laden, followed. His black face was unusually solemn. Chuck him in, Billy. Come on, you chaps. The chaps appeared. Good-bye, Nora. It's been grand. Harry pumped your hand vigorously. Wish you were coming, said Wally, dismally. Good-bye. Right to us, won't you, Nora? Now, then, Master Jim. Evans glanced at his watch. Right out, said Jim. He put his arm round the little girl's shoulders and looked keenly into her face. There was no hint of breaking down. Nora met his gaze steadily and smiled at him. But the boy knew. Good-bye, little chap, he said, and kissed her. You'll keep your pecker up. She nodded. Good-bye, Jimmy, oh boy. Jim sprang into the buggy. All right, Evans. They whirled down the drive, looking back, waving their caps. The boys carried away a memory of a brave little figure, smiling and lonely on the doorstep. The next few days went by slowly enough. Nora followed faithfully all Jim's plans for her amusement. She practiced, did some cooking, and helped Mrs. Brown preserve apricots. Then there were the pets to look to, and best of all, the bullocks to move from one paddock to another. It was an easy job, and Evans was quite willing to leave it to Nora, Billy, and a dog. The trio made a great business of it and managed almost to forget loneliness in the work of hunting through the scrub and chasing the big, sleepy, half-fat beasts out upon the clear plain. There were supposed to be forty-four in the paddock, but Nora and Billy mustered forty-five, and were exceedingly proud of themselves in consequence. Next day, Nora persuaded Mrs. Brown to allow herself to be driven into kanji. There was nothing particular to go for, except that, as Nora said, they would get the mail a day earlier. But Mrs. Brown was not likely to refuse anything that would chase the look of loneliness from her charge's face. Accordingly, they set off after an early lunch, Nora driving the pair of brown ponies in a light, single buggy that barely held her, and her by no means fairy-like companion. The road was good, and they made the distance in excellent time. Arriving in kanji to see the daily train off its way out of the station, then they separated, as Nora had no opinion, whatever, of Mrs. Brown's shopping, principally in draper's establishments, which the bushmaiden hated cordially. So Mrs. Brown, unhampered, plunged into mysteries of flannel and sheeding, while Nora strolled up the principal street and exchanged greetings with those she knew. She paused by the door of a blacksmith's shop for the smith, and she were old friends, and Nora regarded Blake as quite the principal person of kanji. Generally, there were horses to be looked at, but just now the shop was empty, and Blake came forward to talk to the girl. Seeing the police out, Joe White, he asked presently, after the weather, the crops, and the dullness of business had been exhausted as topics. Police? queried Nora. No, why? There was two mounted men rode out in your direction yesterday. Blake answered, they're on the track of that Winfield murderer, they believe. What was that? asked Nora, blankly. I never heard of it. Not heard of the Winfield murderer? Well, you can't read the papers, Missy, Shirley. No, of course I don't. Nora said, Daddy doesn't like me to read everyday ones. Blake nodded. It was not, he said. You're too young to worry, your little head, about murders and such like, but everybody was talking about the Winfield affair, so I sort of took it for granted that you'd know about it. Well, I don't, said Nora. What is it all about? There's not very much I can tell you about it, Missy. Blake said, scratching his head and looking down at the grave face. Nobody knows much about it. Winfield's a little bit of a place, about 20 miles from here. You know, right in the bush and away from any rail or coach line, only a couple of stores and a hotel and a few houses don't suppose many people, others, district, ever heard of it. It's that quiet and asleep. Well, there was two old men living together in a little hut a mile or so from the Winfield township. Prospectors, they said they were. And there was an idea they'd done pretty well at the game and had a bit of gold hidden somewhere about the camp. They kept very much to themselves and never mixed with anyone. When one of them came into the township for stores, he'd get his business done and clear out as quick as possible. Well, about a month ago two fellows called Bowen were riding along a bush track between Winfield and the camp when they came across one of the two old mates pegging along the track for all he was worth. They were surprised to see that he was carrying a big swag and was apparently on a move. Hello, Harris, they said. Leaving the district, he was a civil-spoken old chap as a rule, so they were rather surprised when he only gave a soda grunt and hurried on. They was after cattle in pretty late the same day. They found themselves near the hut where the two old chaps lived They reckoned they'd call in and see if they could get a feed. So they rode up and tied their horses to a tree and walked up to the hut. No one answered their knock, so they opened the door and walked in. There, lying on his bunk, was all waters. They spoke to him, but he didn't answer. You see, Missy, he couldn't be dead. Dead, said Nora, her eyes dilating. Blake nodded. Stone dead, he said. They thought at first he just died natural as there was no market of violence on him, but when they got a doctor to examine him he soon found out very different. The poor old fella had been poisoned, Missy. The doctor said he must have been dead 12 hours when the Bowens found him. Everything of value was gone from the hut along with his mate, old Harris, a black-hearted villain he must be. Why did they think he killed the other man? Nora asked. Seems pretty certain, Missy, Blake replied. In fact, they don't seem the shadow of a doubt. He was coming straight from the hut when the Bowens met him, and he cleared out of the old place golden all. Oh, there ain't any doubt about Mr. Harris being the guilty party. The only thing doubtful is Mr. Harris's whereabouts. What's been looking for him? Asked Nora. Hunting high and low, without any luck, he seemed to have vanished off the earth. They'd been following up first one clue and then another without any result. Now the last is that he's been seen somewhere, the other side of your place, and two troopers have gone out today to see if there's any truth in the rumour. I think it's awfully exciting, Nora said, but I'm terribly sorry for the poor man who was killed. What a wicked old wretch the other must be. His own mate, too. I wonder what he was like. Did you know him? Well, I've seen old Harris a few times, not often, Blake replied. Still, he wasn't the sort of old man you forget. Not a bad looking old chap he was. Very tall and well set up, with piercing blue eyes, long white hair and beard, and a pretty uppish way of talking. I don't fancy anyone about him knew him very well. He had a way of caping to himself. One thing, there's plenty looking out for him now. I suppose so, Nora said. I wonder will he really get away? Might a small chance, said Blake. Still, it's wonderful how he's managed to keep out of sight for so long. Of course, once in the bush, it might be hard to find him, but sooner or later there will be a township for Tucker, and then everyone will be looking for him. They may have got him up your way by now, Missy. Is your part at home? He's coming in a day or two, Nora said. Perhaps tomorrow. I hope they won't find Harris and bring him to our place. Well, it all depends on where they find him if they do get him. Blake replied. Possibly, they might find the station a handy place to stop at. I have a Missy. Don't you worry ahead about it. Nothing for you to be frightened about. Why, I'm not frightened, Nora said. It hasn't got anything to do with me. Only, I don't want to see a man who could kill his mate. That's all. He's much luck any other man, said Blake philosophically. Say, here's someone coming after you, Missy. I'll think. I thought I'd find you here, as its owner puffed her way up the slope, leading to the blacksmiths. Good afternoon, Mr. Blake. I've finished all my shopping, Miss Nora, my dear, and the mail's in. And here's a letter for you, as you won't be sorry to see. From dad? How lovely! said Nora, snatching at the grey envelope with its big black writing, tore it open hastily. At the first few words, she uttered a cry of delight. And tomorrow, brownie, only another day, he says he thinks it's time he was home with murderers roaming about the district. And Nora executed a few steps of a highland fling, greatly to the edification of the blacksmith. Dear sakes alive, said Mrs. Brown, truckulently, I think there are enough of us at the station to look at you, murderer or no murderer, not as I'll but that heiress must be a nasty creature. Don't worry about your paws coming, Miss Nora, because nothing do seem right when he's away, and it's dull for you all alone. Master Jim, gone back, I suppose, query Blake. Yesterday, Nora added, then you must be lonely, the old blacksmith said, taking Nora's small brown hand and holding it for a moment in his horny fist, very much as if he feared it were an eggshell and not to be dropped. And Nora was throwing a big fellow too, going to be as big a man as his father, I believe. Well, goodbye, Missy, and don't forget to come in next time, you're in the township. There was nothing further to detain them in Congee, and very soon the ponies were fetched from the stables, and they were bowling out along the smooth metal road that wound its way across the plain. And Nora was mingling excited, little outbursts of delight into a big bag of sweets which Mrs. Brown had thoughtfully placed on the seat of the buggy. I don't know why Blake wanted to go telling you about that nasty murderer, Mrs. Brown said. They were ten miles from Congee, and the metal road had given place to a bush-track in very fair order. Why not? asked Nora with carelessness of twelve years. Well, tales of murders aren't the things for young ladies' ears, Mrs. Brown said primely. Your pa never tells you such things. The paper's been full of this murder, but I would have scorned to talk to you about it. I don't think Blake meant any harm, said Nora. He didn't say so very much. I don't suppose he'd have mentioned it, only that Mr. Harris is supposed to have come our way, and even that doesn't seem certain. Harris had baffled the police, said Mrs. Brown, with a solemn pride felt by so many at the worsting of the guardians of the law. They don't really know anything about his movements. That's my belief. Why, it's weak since he was seen. This yarn about his coming this way has only got up to I the fact that they don't know a thing about it. I don't believe he's anywhere within Cuy of our place, might be out of the country now. For all anyone sure of, Blake seemed to think he'd really come our way, Nora said. Blake's an ignorant man, said Mrs. Brown loftily. Well, I'll keep a look out for him at any rate, left Nora. He ought to be easy enough to find, tall and good-looking and well set up, whatever that may mean, and long white beard and hair. He must be a pretty striking-looking sort of man. I— and then the recollection swept over Nora like a flood, her words faltered on her lips. Her hand gripped the reins tighter, and she drove on unconsciously. Blake's words were beating in her ears. Not a bad-looking old chap, very tall and well set up, piercing blue eyes and a pretty upish way of talking. The description had meant nothing to her, until someone, whom it fitted all too aptly, had drifted across her mental vision. The Hermit! felt, and told herself that it could not be true, the fatal accuracy of the likeness made her shudder. It was perfect, the tall white-haired old man, not the sort of old man you'd forget, with his distinguished look, the piercing blue eyes. But Nora knew what kindness lay in their depths, the gentle refined voice so different from most of the rough country voices. It would answer to Blake's pretty upish way of talking. Anyone who had read the description would, on meeting the Hermit, immediately identify him as the man for whom the police were searching, Nora's common sense told her that. A wave of horror swept over the little girl, and the hands gripping the reins trembled. Common sense might tell one tale, but every instinct of her heart told a very different one. That gentle-faced old man, with a world of kindness in his tired eyes, he the man sleeping mate for a handful of gold. Nora said, her square little chan, she would not, could not believe it. Why, you're very quiet, dearie. Mrs. Brown glanced inquiringly at her companion. A minute ago you was chattering, and now you've gone down flat, like old soda water. Is anything wrong? No, I'm all right, Brownie. I was only thinking, said Nora, forcing a smile. How many sweeties I expect, said Mrs. Brown, laying a heavy hand on the bag, and impounding it for future reference. Mustn't have you get indigestion, and your pal coming home tomorrow. Nora laughed. Ha! Now, did you ever know me to have indigestion in my life? She queried. Well, perhaps not, Mrs. Brown admitted. Still, you never can tell. You don't do pride oneself on anything. If it is indigestion, you've been thinking too much of this nasty murder. Nora flicked the off pony deliberately with her whip. Darkie is getting disgracefully lazy, she said. He's not doing a bit of the work. Nigger's worth two of him. The injured Darkie shot forward with a bound, and Mrs. Brown grabbed the side of the buggy hastily, and in her fears at the pace, for the ensuing five minutes, forgot her two convenient cross-examination. Nora settled back into silence. Her forehead puckered with a frown. She had never in her careless little life been confronted by such a problem as the one that now held her thoughts. That the startling similarity between her new-made friend and the description of the murderer should fasten upon her mind was unavoidable. She struggled against the idea as disloyal, but finally eventually. The descriptions tallied. So much was certain the verbal likeness of one man was an exact word painting of the other so far as it went, though as poor Nora reflected you can't always tell a person just by hearing what he's like. Then there was no denying that the conduct of the hermit would excite suspicion. He was camping alone in the deepest recesses of a lonely tract of scrub. He had been there some weeks and she had had plenty of proof that he was taken aback at being discovered and wished earnestly that no future prowlers might find their way to his retreat. She recalled his shrinking from the boys and his hasty refusal to go to the homestead. He had said in so many words that he desired nothing so much as to be left alone. Anyone would have gathered that he feared discovery. They had all been conscious of the mystery about him. Her thoughts flew back to the half laughing conversation between Harry and Wally when they had actually speculated as to why he was hiding. Putting the case fairly and squarely, Nora had to admit that it looked black against the hermit. Against it, what had she? No proof, only a remembrance of two honest eyes looking sadly at her, of a face that had restably drawn her confidence and friendship, of a voice whose tones had seemed to echo sincerity and kindness. It was absolutely beyond Nora's power to believe that the hand that had held hers so gently could have been the one to strike to death an unsuspecting mate. Her whole nature revolted against the thought that her friend could be so base. He was in trouble, Nora said over and over again in her uneasy mind. He was unhappy, but I know he wasn't wicked. Why, Bob's made friends with him. The thought put fresh confidence in her mind. Bob's always knew a good sort. I won't say anything, she decided at last, as they wheeled round the corner of the homestead. If they knew there was a tall old man there, they'd go and hunt him out and annoy him horribly. I know he's all right. I have a tongue about him, all together, even to Dad. The coach dropped Mr. Linton next day at the crossroads where a little figure clad in white linen sat in the buggy holding the brown ponies while the dusky billy was an attendant's sprite on his piebald mare. Well, my little girl, it's good to see you again, Mr. Linton said, putting his Gladstone bag into the buggy and receiving, undismayed, a small little daughter upon his neck. Steady, dear, mind the ponies. He jumped in and put his arm round her. Everything well? Yes, all right, Daddy, I'm so glad to have you back. Not gladder than I am to get back, my little ass," said her father. Good night, Billy. Let him go, Nora. Did you see Jim?" asked Nora, as the ponies bounded forward. No, missed him. I had only an hour in town, and went out to the school to find Master Jim had gone down the river, rowing practice. I was sorry to miss him, but it wasn't worth waiting another day in town. "'Jim would be sorry,' said Nora thoughtfully. She herself was rather glad. Had Jim seen his father, most probably he would have mentioned the hermit. Now she had only his letters to fear, and as Jim's letters were of the briefest nature and very far apart, it was not an acute danger." "'Yes, I suppose he would,' Mr. Linton replied. I regretted not having sent a telegram to say I was going to the school. It slipped my memory.' "'I had rather a rush, you know. I suppose you've been pretty dull, my girly.' "'Oh, it was horrid after the boys went,' Nora said. "'I didn't know what to do with myself, and the house was terribly quiet. There was hard luck that you had to go away, too.' "'Yes, I was very sorry it happened so,' her father said. "'Had we been alone together, I'd have taken you with me. But we'll have the trip some other time. Did you have a good day's fishing on Saturday?' "'Yes,' said Nora, flushing a little guiltily. The natural impulse to tell all about their friend, the hermit, was so strong. We had a lovely day, and caught ever-so-many fish, didn't get home till ever-so-late. The only bad part was finding you away when we got back.' "'Well, I'm glad you had good luck at any rate,' Mr. Linton said. "'So, Angler's Bend is keeping up his reputation, eh? We'll have to go out there, I think. Nora, what do you say about it? Would you and Billy like a three-day's jaunt on fishing-bend?' "'Oh, it would be glorious, Daddy, camping out.' "'Well, of course, since we'd be away three days. In this weather it would be a very good thing to do, I think.' "'You are a blessed Daddy,' declared his daughter, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. I never knew anyone with such beautiful ideas. She jigged on her seat with delight. "'Oh, and Daddy, I'll be able to put you on to such a splendid new hole for fishing.' "'Well, you indeed,' said Mr. Linton, smiling at the flesh-face. "'That's good, dear, but how did you discover it?' Nora's face fell suddenly. She hesitated and looked uncomfortable. "'Oh,' she said slowly, "'I—we found it our last trip.' "'Well, we'll go, Nora, as soon as I can fix it up,' said her father. "'And now, have you heard anything about the wind-filled murderer?' "'Not a thing, Daddy. Brownie thinks it's just a yarn that he was seen about here.' "'Oh, I don't think so at all,' Mr. Linton said. "'A good many people have the idea, at any rate. Of course, they may be wrong. I'm afraid Brownie is rather too ready to form wild opinions on some matters. To tell the truth, I was rather worried about the reports. I don't fancy the notion of escaped gentry of that kind wandering round in the vicinity of my small daughter.' "'Well, I don't think you need have worried,' said Nora, laughing up at him. "'But all the same. I'm not a bit sorry you did. If it brought you home a day earlier, Dad.' "'Well, it certainly did,' said Mr. Linton, pulling her ear. "'But I'm not sorry, either. I can't stand more than a day or two in town. As for the murderer, I'm not going to waste any thought on him now that I am here. There's the gate, and here comes Billy like a whirlwind to open it.' They balled through the gate, and up the long drive, under the arching boughs of the big gum trees, that formed a natural avenue on each side. At the garden gate Mrs. Browne stood waiting, with a broad smile of welcome, and a chorus of barks testified to the arrival of sundry dogs. "'It's a real homecoming,' Mr. Linton said, as he walked up the path, his hand on Nora's shoulder, and the little girl's answering smile needed no words. They turned the corner by the big rose-bush, and came within view of the house, and suddenly Nora's smile faded. A trooper in dusty uniform stood on the doorstep. "'Why, that's a pleasant object to greet a man,' Mr. Linton said, as the policeman turned and came to meet him, with a civil salute. He nodded as the man came up. "'Did you want me?' "'It's only about this year, murderers, sir,' said the trooper. "'Some of us is on a sort of ascent, but we haven't got fairly on to his tracks yet. I've ridden from Mogua today, and I came to ask if your people had seen anything of such a chap passing as a swaggy or anything.' "'Not that I know of,' said Mr. Linton. "'What is he like? Big fellow, old, plenty white-haired, and a beard. Though, of course, they're probably cut off by this time. Very decent-looking old chap,' said the trooper, reflectively. "'And a good way is speaking.' "'Well, I've seen no such man,' said Mr. Linton, decidedly. "'Of course, though. I don't see all the travelers who call. Perhaps Mrs. Brown can help you.' "'Not me, sir,' said Mrs. Brown, with firmness. "'There ain't been no such a person. And you may be sure there ain't none. I don't see. Fact is, when I saw, as out, the murderer was supposed to be in the district, I made inquiries amongst the men, the white-hands, that is, and none of them had seen any such man as the papers described. I reckoning may just as well be in any other district as this. "'I suppose the poor police must say, eh, some-wise.' She glared defiantly at the downcast trooper. "'Wish you had the job of finding a mum,' said that individual. "'Well, sir, there's no one else I could make inquiries of. Is there?' "'Mrs. Brown seems to have gone the rounds,' Mr. Linton said. "'I really don't think there's anyone else, unless my small daughter here can help you.' He added, laughingly. But Nora had slipped away, for seeing possible questioning. The trooper smiled. "'Don't think I need worry, such a small witness,' he said. "'No, I'll just move on, Mr. Linton. I'm beginning to think I'm on a wild goose chase.' End of Chapter 12