 CHAPTER VII At about noon, prayers were read out on the veranda, the congregation consisting of Mrs. Heathcott and her sister, Mrs. Growler, and Jaco. Harry himself was rather averse to this performance, intimating that Mrs. Growler, if she were so minded, could read the prayers for herself in the kitchen, and that, as regards Jaco, they would be altogether thrown away. But his wife had made a point of maintaining the practice, and he had, of course, yielded. The service was not long, and when it was over, Harry got into a chair, and was soon asleep. He had been in the saddle during sixteen hours of the previous day and night, and was entitled to be fatigued. His wife sat beside him, every now and again protecting him from the flies, while Kate daily sat by with her Bible in her hand. But she, too, from time to time, was watching her brother-in-law. The trouble of his spirits, and the work that he felt himself bound to do, touched them with a strong feeling, and taught them to regard him for the time as a young hero. "'How quietly he sleeps,' Kate said. The fatigue of the last week must have been terrible. "'He is quite, quite knocked up,' said the wife. "'I ain't knocked up a bit,' said Harry, jumping up from his chair. "'What should knock me up? I wasn't asleep, was I? Just dozing, dear. Oh, well, there isn't anything to do, and it's too hot to get out. I wonder all baits didn't come in for prayers.' "'I don't think he cares much for prayers,' said Mrs. Heathgood. "'But he likes an excuse for a nobler as well as any one. Did I tell you that they had fires over at Jackson's yesterday, at Goulirou? Was there any harm done?' A deal of grass burned, and they had to drive the sheep, which won't serve them this kind of weather. I don't know which I fear most—the grass, the fences, and all the sheep. As for the buildings, I don't think they'll try that again.' "'Why not, Harry?' The risk of being seen is too great. I can hardly understand that a man like Noakes should have been such a fool as he was.' "'You think it was Noakes?' "'Oh, yes, certainly.' "'In the first place, Jacko is as true as steel. I don't mean to swear by the boy, though I think he is a good boy. But I'm sure he's true in this. And then the man's manner to myself was conclusive. I cannot understand a man in Medley Cutts' positions supporting a fellow like that. By heaven's in it it drives me mad to think of it. Thousands and thousands of pounds are at stake. All that a man has in the world is exposed to the malice of a scoundrel like Noakes. And then a man who calls himself a gentleman will talk about it being un-English to look after him. He's a new chum. I suppose that's his excuse.' "'If it's a sufficient excuse, you should excuse him,' said Kate, with good feminine logic. Oh, that's just like you all over. He's good-looking, and therefore it's all right. He ought to have learned better. He ought at any rate to believe that men who've been here much longer than he has must know the ways of the country a great deal better.' "'It's Christmas time, Harry,' said his wife, and you should endeavour to forgive your neighbours.' "'What sort of a Christmas would it be if you and I and these young fellows here and Kate are all burned out of gang oil?' "'Ah, here's Bates. Well, Mr. Bates, how goes it?' "'Tremendous hot, sir.' "'We've found that out already. You haven't heard where that fellow-boskable has gone?' "'No, I haven't heard. But it'll be over with some of those Brownby lads. They say Georgie Brownby's about the country somewhere. If so, there'll be a row among them.' "'When thieves fall out, Mr. Bates, honest men come by their own.' "'Ah, so they say, Mr. Heathcott. All the same. I shouldn't care how far Georgie was away from any place I had to do with.' Then the young master and his old superintendent sauntered out to his back premises to talk about sheep and fires and plans for putting out fires. And no doubt Mr. Bates had the glass of brandy and water which he'd come to regard as one of his Sunday luxuries. From the back premises they went down to the creek to gauge the water. Then they sauntered on, keeping always in the shade, sitting down here to smoke, and standing up there to discuss the pedigree of some particular ram, till it was past six. "'You may as well come in and dine with us, Mr. Bates,' Harry suggested, as they returned toward the station. Mr. Bates said that he thought that he would. As the same invitation was given on almost every Sunday throughout the year, and was invariably answered in the same way, there was not much excitement in this. But Mr. Bates would not have dreamed of going into dinner without being asked. "'It's Midleycott's Trap,' said Mr. Bates as the end of the yard. "'I heard wheels when they were in the horse-paddock.'" Harry looked at the trap and then went quickly into the house. He walked with a rapid step onto the veranda, and there he found the sugar-grower and his mother. Mrs. Heathgood looked at her husband almost timidly. She knew from the very sound of his feet that he was perturbed in spirit. Under his own roof-tree he would certainly be courteous, but there is a constrained courtesy very hard to be born of which she knew him to be capable. He first went up to the old lady, and to her his greeting was pleasant enough. Harry Heathgood, though he had assumed the bush-mode of dressing, still retained the manners of a hybrid gentleman in his intercourse with women. Then, turning sharply round, he gave his hand to Mr. Midleycott. "'I'm glad to see you at gang-oil,' he said. "'I was not fortunate enough to be at home when you called the other day.' "'Mrs. Midleycott must have found the drive very hot, I fear.' His wife was still looking into his face, and was reading there, as in a book, the mingled pride and disdain with which her husband exercised civility to his enemy. Harry's countenance wore a look not difficult of perusal, and Midleycott could read the lines almost as distinctly as Harry's wife. "'I've asked Mrs. Midleycott to stay and die with us,' she said, said that she may have it cool for the drive back. "'I'm almost afraid of the bush at night,' said the old woman. "'You'll have a full moon,' said Harry. "'It will be as light as day.' So that was settled. Heathgood thought it odd that the man whom he regarded as his enemy, whom he had left at their last meeting in positive hostility, should consent to accept a dinner under his roof. But that was Midleycott's affair, not his.' They dined at seven, and after dinner strolled out into the horse-paddock and down to the creek. As they started, the three men went first, and the ladies followed them. But Bates soon dropped behind. It was his rest to-day, and he had already moved quite as much as was usual with him on a Sunday. "'I think I was a little hard with you the other day,' said Midleycott, when they were alone together. "'I suppose we hardly understand each other's ideas,' said Harry. He spoke with a constrained voice, and with an almost savage manner, engendered by a determination to hold his own. He would forgive any offence for which an apology was made. But no apology had been made as yet. And, to tell the truth, he was a little afraid that if they got into an argument on the matter, Midleycott would have the best of it. And there was, too, almost a claim to superiority in Midleycott's use of the word, hard. When one man says that he's been hard to another, he almost boasts that, on that occasion, he got the better of him. "'That's just it,' said Midleycott. "'We do not quite understand each other. But we might believe in each other all the same, and then the understanding would come. But it isn't just that which I want to say. Such talking really does any good.' "'What is it, then?' "'You may perhaps be right about that, man, loaks.' "'No doubt I may. I know I'm right. When I asked him, he said, I know I'm right. When I asked him whether he'd been at my shed, what made him say that he hadn't been there at night-time? I said nothing about night-time. But the man was there at night-time, or he wouldn't have used the word.' "'I'm not sure that that is evidence. Perhaps not in England, Mr. Midleycott, but it's good enough evidence for the bush. And what made him pretend he didn't know the distances? And why can't he look a man in the face? And why should the boy have said it was he if it wasn't? Of course, if you think well of him, you're right to keep him. But you may take it as a rule out here that when a man has been dismissed, it hasn't been done for nothing. Men treated that way should travel out of the country. It's better for all parties. It isn't here as it is at home, where people live so thick together that nothing is thought of a man being dismissed. I was obliged to discharge him, and now he's my enemy.' "'A man may be your enemy without being a felon.' "'Of course he may. I'm his enemy in a way, but I wouldn't hurt a hair of his head unjustly. When I see the attempts made to burn me out, of course I know that an enemy has been at work. Is there no one else who's got a grudge against you?' Harry was silent for a moment. What right had this man to cross-examine him about his enmities? The man whose own position in the place had been one of hostility to him, whom he had almost suspected of harboring nokes at the mill, simply because nokes had been dismissed from gang oil. That suspicion was indeed fading away. There was something in Medikot's voice and manner which made it impossible to attribute such motives to him. Nevertheless, the man was a free selector, and had taken a bit of the gang oil run after a fashion, which to Heathcutt was objectionable politically, morally and socially. Let Medikot, in regards to character, be what he might. He was a free selector, and a squatter's enemy, and had tinted his hostility by employing a servant to dismiss from the very run out of which he had bought his land. It is hard to say, he replied at length, who have grudges as against whom or why. I suppose I have a great grudge against you, if the truth be known, but I shall burn down your mill. I'm sure you won't. Nor yet say worse of you behind your back than I will to your face. I don't want you to think that you have occasion to speak ill of me either one way or the other. What I mean is this. I don't quite think that the evidence against nokes is strong enough to justify me in sending him away, but I'll keep an eye on him as well as I can. It seems that he left our place early this morning, but the men are not supposed to be there on Sundays, and of course he does as he pleases with himself. The conversation then dropped, and in a little time Harry made some excuse for leaving them, and returned to the house alone, promising, however, that he would not start for his night's ride till after the party had come back to the station. There's no hurry at all, he said. I shan't stir for two hours yet, but Mickey will be waiting there for stores for himself on the German. That means a noble of a Mickey, said Kate. Either of those men would think it a treat to ride ten miles in and ten miles back with a horse-load of sugar and tea and flour for the sake of a glass of brandy and water. And so would you, said Harry, if you lived in a hut by yourself for a fortnight with nothing to drink but tea without milk? The old lady and Mrs. Heathcote were soon seated on the grass, or Medleycote and Kate Daly roamed on together. Kate was a pretty modest girl, timid with all and shy, unused to society, and therefore awkward, but with the natural instincts and aptitudes of her sex. What the glass of brandy and water was to Mickey O'Dowd after a fortnight's solitude in a bush hut, with tea, dampers, and lumps of mutton! A young man and the guise of a gentleman was to pour Kate Daly. A brother-in-law, let him be ever so good, is after all no better than tea without milk. No doubt Mickey O'Dowd often thought about a nobler in his thirsty solitude, and so did Kate to speculate on what might possibly be the attractions of a lover. Medleycote probably indulged in no such speculations, but the nobler, when brought close to his lips, was grateful to him as to others. That Kate Daly was very pretty, no man could doubt. Isn't it sad that he should have to ride about all night like that? said Kate, to whom, as was proper, Harry Heathcote at the present moment was of no more importance than any other human being. I suppose he likes it. Oh no, Mr. Medleycote, how can he like it? It is not the hard, worky minds but the constant dread of coming evil. The excitement keeps him alive. There's plenty on a station to keep a man alive in that way at all times. And plenty to keep ladies alive too. Oh, ladies, I don't know that ladies have any business in the bush. Harry's trouble is all about my sister and the children and me. He wouldn't care a straw for himself. Do you think he'd be better without a wife? Kate hesitated for a moment. Well, no, I suppose it would be very rough without Mary, and he'd be so lonely when he came in. And nobody to make his tea. Or to look after his things, said Kate earnestly. I know it was very rough before we came here. He says that himself. There were no regular meals, but just food and a cupboard when he chose to get it. That is not comfortable, certainly. Horried, I should think. I suppose it is better for him to be married. You've got your mother, Mr. Medleycote. Yes, I've got my mother. That makes a difference, does it not? A very great difference. She'll save me from having to go to a cupboard for my bread and meat. I suppose having a woman about is better for a man. They haven't got anything else to do, and therefore they can look to things. Do you help to look to things? I suppose I do something. I often feel ashamed to think how very little it is. As for that, I'm not wanted at all. So that you're free to go elsewhere? I didn't mean that, Mr. Medleycote. Only I know I'm not of much use. But if you had a house of your own? Gangoil is my home, just as much as it is Mary's. And I sometimes feel that Harry is just as good to me as he is to Mary. Your sister will never leave Gangoil. Not unless Harry gets another station. But you will have to be transplanted some day. Kate merely chucked up her head and pouted her lips, as though to share that the proposition was one which did not deserve an answer. You'll marry a squatter, of course, Miss Daly. I don't suppose I shall ever marry anybody, Mr. Medleycote. You wouldn't marry anyone but a squatter? I can quite understand that. The squatters here are what the Lords and the country gentlemen are at home. I can't even picture to myself what sort of life people live at home. Both Medleycote and Kate Daly met England when they spoke of home. It wasn't as much different as people think. Classes hanged together just in the same way. Only I think there's a little more exclusiveness here than there was there. In answer to this, Kate asserted with innocent eagerness that she was not at all exclusive, and that if ever she married anyone, she'd marry the man she liked. I wish you'd liked me, said Medleycote. That's nonsense, said Kate, in a low, timid whisper, hurrying away to rejoin the other ladies. She could speculate on the delights of the beverage as would Mickey O'Dowd in his hut. But when it was first brought to her lips, she could only fly away from it. In this respect, Mickey O'Dowd was the more sensible of the two. No other word was spoken that night between them. No other word was spoken that night between them. But Kate lay awake till morning, thinking of the one word that had been spoken. But the secret was kept secretly within her own bosom. Before the Medleycote started that night, the old lady made a proposition that the Heathcotes and Miss Daly should eat the Christmas dinner at Medleycote's mill. Mrs. Heathcote, thinking perhaps of her sister, thoroughly liking what she herself had seen of the Medleycotes, looked anxiously into Harry's face. If he were consent to this, an intimacy would follow, and probably a real friendship be made. Ah, it's out of the question, he said. The very firmness, however, with which he spoke gave a certain cordiality even to his refusal. I must be at home, so that the men may know where to find me till I go out for the night. Then after a pause he continued, As we can't go to you, why should you not come to us? So it was at last decided, much to Harry's own astonishment, much to his wife's delight. Kate, therefore, when she lay awake, thinking of the one word that had been spoken, knew that there would be an opportunity for another word. Medleycote drove his mother home safely, and after he had taken her into the house, encountered nokes on his return from Boulebonne as had been told at the close of the last chapter. CHAPTER VIII. I do wish he would come. On the Monday morning Harry came home as usual, and, as usual, went to bed after his breakfast. I wouldn't care about the heat if it were not for the wind, he said to his wife, as he threw himself down. The wind carries it so, I suppose. Yes, and it comes from just the wrong side from the North West. There have been half a dozen fires about today. Join the night, you mean? No, yesterday, Sunday. I cannot make out whether they came by themselves. They certainly are not all made by incendiaries. Accidents, perhaps? Well, yes, somebody drops a match, and the sun ignites it. But the chances are much against a fire like that spreading. Care is wanted to make it spread. As far as I can tell, the worst fires have not been just after midday, when, of course, the heat is greater, but in the earlier night, before the dews have come. All the same, I feel that I know nothing about it, nothing at all. Don't let me sleep long. In spite of this injunction, Mrs. Heath could determine that he should sleep all day, if he would. Even the nights were fearfully hot and sultry, and on this Monday morning he had come home much fatigued. He would be out again at sunset, and now he should have what rest nature would allow him. But in this resolve she was opposed by Jacko, who came in at eleven, and requested to see the Master. Jacko had been over with the German, and, as he explained to Mrs. Heathgood, they too had been in and out, sometimes sleeping and sometimes watching. But now he wanted to see the Master, and under no persuasion would impart his information to the mistress. The poor wife, anxious as she was that her husband should sleep, did not dare in these perilous times to ignore Jacko and his information, and therefore gently woke the sleeper. In a few minutes Jacko was standing by the young Scotter's bedside, and Harry Heathgood, quite awake, was sitting up and listening. George Brown was a boule-bon. That, at first, was the graverman of Jacko's news. I know that already, Jacko. My word, exclaimed Jacko. In those parts Georgie Brownby was regarded almost as the evil one himself, and Jacko, knowing what mischief was, as it were, in the word, thought that he was entitled to bread and jam if not to a knobbler itself in bringing such tidings to Gangoil. Is that all, asked Heathgood? And Boss is a boule-bon, and Bill Nikes was there all Sunday, and Jerry Brownby's been out with Boss and Georgie. The old man wouldn't say anything of that kind, Jacko. The old man, he knows nothing about it. My word, they don't tell him about nothing. Or Tom? Tom's a lion-prison. They always got his the best when they want to send him to prison. If they'd lock up Jerry and George and Jack, my word, yes. You think they're arranging it all at boule-bon? Of course they are. I don't see why a boss couple shouldn't be at boule-bon without intending me any harm. Of course he'd go there when he left Gangoil. That's where they all go. And Bill Nikes, Mr. Harry? And Bill Nikes, too. Though why he should travel so far from his work this weather, I can't say. My word now, Mr. Harry. Did you see any fires about your way last night? Jacko should he said. You go into the kitchen and get something to eat, and wait for me. I shall be out before long now. Though Heathgood had made light of the assemblage of evil spirits at boule-bon, which had seemed so important to Jacko, he by no means did regard the news as unessential. Of Nikes's villainy, he was convinced. Of Boscoball, he had imprudently made a second enemy at a most inauspicious time. Georgie Brownby had long been his bitter foe. He had prosecuted, and perhaps persecuted, Georgie for various offenses. But as Georgie was supposed to be as much at war with his own brethren as with the rest of the world at large, Heathgood had not fought much of that miscreant in the present emergency. But if the miscreant were in truth at boule-bon, and if evil things were being plotted against gang oil, Georgie would certainly be among the conspirators. Soon after noon Harry was on horseback, and Jacko was at his fields. The heat was more intense than ever. Mrs. Heathgood had twisted round Harry's hat a long white scarf called a puggery, though we are by no means sure of our spelling. Jacko had spread a very dirty fragment of an old white handkerchief on his head, and wore his hat over it. Mrs. Heathgood had begged Harry to take a large cotton parasol, and he had nearly consented, being unable at last to recital himself to the idea of riding with such an accoutrement, even in the bush. The heat's a bore, he said, but I'm not a bit afraid of it as long as I keep moving. Yes, I'll be back to dinner, though I won't say when, and I won't say for how long. It will be the same thing all day to-morrow. I wish with all my heart those people were not coming. He rode straight away to the German's hut, which was on the northwestern extremity of his further paddock in that direction. From thence the western fence ran in a southerly direction, nearly straight to the river. Beyond the fence was a strip of land, in some parts over a mile broad, in others not much over a quarter of a mile, which he claimed was belonging to gang oil, but over which the brownbees had driven their cattle since the fence had been made, under the pretence that the fence marked the boundary of two runs. Against this assumption, Heathcud had remonstrated frequently, had driven the cattle back, and had exercised the ownership of a crown tenet in such fashion as the nature of his occupation allowed. Beyond this strip was Boulibond, the house at Boulibond being not above three miles distant from the fence, and not above four miles from the German's hut. So the brownbees were in truth much nearer neighbours to the German than was Heathcud and his family, but between the German and the brownbees, they're raged and into naysign feud. No doubt Harry Heathcud in his hut liked the German all the better on this account, but it behoved him both as a master and a magistrate to regard reports against Boulibond coming from the German with something of suspicion. Now Jacker had been introduced to gang oil under German auspices, and had soon come to a decision that it would be a good thing and a just to lock up all the brownbees in a great jail of equality at Brisbane. He probably knew nothing of law or justice in the abstract, but he greatly valued law when exercised against those he hated. The western fence, of which mentioned has been made, ran down to the Mary River, hitting at about four miles west of Medlicott's Mill, so that there was a considerable portion of the gang oil run having a frontage to the water. As has been before said, Medlicott's plantation was about forty miles distant from the house at Boulibond, and the distance from the gang oil house to that of the brownbees was about the same. The oppressiveness of the day was owing more to the hot wind than to the sun itself. This wind, coming from the arid plains of the interior, brought with it a dry, suffocating heat. On this occasion it was odious to Harry Heathcott, not so much on a kind of its own intrinsic abominations, as because it might cause a fire to sweep across his run from its western boundary. Just beyond the boundary there lay Boulibond, and there were collected his enemies. A fire that should have passed for a mile or so across the pastures outside and beyond his own farm would be altogether unextinguishable by the time that it reached his paddock. The brownbees, as he knew well, would care nothing for burning a patch of their own grass. Their stock, if they had any at the present moment, were much too few a number to be affected by such a loss. The brownbees had not a yard of fencing to be burned, and a fire, if once it got a hold of the edge of their run, would pass on away from them, right across Harry's pastures and Harry's fences. If such were the case, he would have quite an afternoon to drive his sheep from the fire, and it might be that many of them also would perish in the flames. The catastrophe might even be so bad, so frightful, that the shed and station and all should go. Though in thinking of all the fires of which he had heard, he could remember none that had spread with fatality such as that. He found Carl Bender in his hut and sleep. The man was soon up apologizing for his somnolence, and preparing tea for his master's entertainment. It is not Christmas like at home at all, is it, Mr. Ifcot? Dear Lord, Zembre-divils is there ready to give us a Christmas roasting. Then he told how he had boldly written up to Bulabong that morning, and had seen Georgie embossable with his own eyes. When asked what they had said to him, he replied that he did not wait till anything had been said, but had hurried away as fast as his horse could carry him. I'll go out to Bulabong myself, said Harry. My word, that is about knocking your head off, suggested Jacko. Carl Bender also thought that the making of such a visit would be a source of danger. But Heathcott explained that any personal attack was not to be apprehended from these men. That's not their game, he said, arguing that men who premeditated a secret outrage would not probably be tempted into personal violence. The horror of the position lay in this, that though the far should rise up almost under the feet of men who were known to be hostile to him, and whose characters were acknowledged to be bad, still would there be no evidence against them. It was known to all men that, a period of heat such as that which was now raging, far's were common. Every day the pastures were in flames, here, there, and everywhere. It was said indeed that there existed no evidence of far's in the bush till men had come with their flocks. But then there had been no smoking, no boarding of pots, no camping out till men had come, and no matches. Every one around might be sure that some particular far had been the work of an incendiary, might be able to name the culprit who had done the deed. And yet no jury could convict the miscreant. Watchfulness was the best security. Watchfulness day and night till rain should come, and he had calculated that it would be better for him that his enemies should know that he was watchful. He would go up among them, and show them that he was not ashamed to speak to them of his anxiety. They could hear nothing by his coming which they did not already know. They were well aware that he was on the watch, and it might be well that they should know also how close his watch was kept. He took the German and Jaco with him, but left them with their horses about a mile on the bullabong side of his own fence, nigh to the extreme boundary of the debatable land. They knew his whistle, and were to ride to him at once, should he call them. He had left the house about noon, saying that it would be home to dinner, which however on such occasions was held to be a feast movable over a wide space of time. But on this occasion the women expected him to come early, as it was the intention to be out again as soon as it should be dark. Mrs. Greiler was asked to have their dinner ready at six. During the day Mrs. Heathcote was backward and forward in the kitchen. There was something wrong, she knew, but could not quite discern the evil. Singsing the cook was more than ordinarily a alert, but Singsing the cook was not much trusted. Mrs. Greiler was as good as the bank, as far as that went, having lived with old Mr. Daly when he was prosperous. But she was apt to be down-hearted, and the present occasion was more than usually low in spirits. Whenever Mrs. Heathcote spoke, she wept. At six o'clock she came into the parlour with a budget of news. Singsing the cook had been gone for the last half hour, leaving the leg of mutton at the far. It soon became clear to them that he had altogether absconded. In reds always does Lever fall in house, said Mrs. Greiler. At seven o'clock the sun was down, though the gloom of the tropical evening had not yet come. The two ladies went out to the gate which was but a few yards from the veranda, and there stood listening for the sound of Harry's horse. The low moaning of the wind through the trees could be heard, but it was so gentle, continuous and unaltered, that it seemed to be no more than a vehicle for other sounds, and was deathlike as silence itself. The gate of the horse-paddock through which Heathcote must pass on his way home was nearly a mile distant. But the road there was hard, and they knew that they could hear from there the fall of his horse's feet. There they stood, from seven to nearly eight, whispering a word now and then to each other, listening always, but in vain. Looking away to the west every now and then, they fanted that they could see the sky glow with flames, and they would tell each other that it was fancy. The evening grew darker and still darker, but no sound was heard through the moaning wind. From time to time Mrs. Griner came out to them, declaring her fears in no measured terms. Well, ma'am, I'll do to clear. I think we'd better get away out of this. Go away, Mrs. Griner. What nonsense! Where can we go to? The mill would be nearest, ma'am. It should be safe there. I'm sure Mrs. Medley could but take us in. Why should you not be safe here? said Kate. That Richard Chinese hasn't gone and left us for nothing, miss, and what would we three alone women do here if all them brownbies came down upon us? Why don't Master come back? He ought to come back, ordinary ma'am. He never do think what alone women are. Mrs. Hithcott took her husband's part very strongly, and gave Mrs. Griner as hard as scolding as she knew how to pronounce. But her own courage was giving way much as Mrs. Griner's had done. We are bound to stay here, she said, and if the worst comes, we must bear it as others have done before us. Then Mrs. Griner was very sulky, and retreating to the kitchen sobbed there in solitude. OK, I do wish he would come, said the older sister. Are you afraid? It's so desolate, and he may be so far off, and we couldn't get to him if anything happened, and we shouldn't know. Then they were again silent and remained without exchanging more than a word or two for nearly half an hour. They took hold of each other, and every now and then went to the kitchen door that the old woman might be comforted by their presence, but they had no consolation to offer each other. The silence of the bush, and the feeling of great distances, and the dread of calamity almost crushed them. At last there was a distant sound of horses' feet. I hear him, said Mrs. Hithcott, rushing forward toward the outer gate of the horse paddock, followed by her sister. Her ears were true, but she was doomed to disappointment. The horseman was only a messenger from her husband, Mickey O'Diode, the Irish boundary rider. He had great tidings to tell, and was so long telling them that we were not tempted to give them in his own words. The purport of his story was as follows. Harry had been to Boulebonne House, but had found there but no one but the old man. Returning home then towards his own fence, he had smelled the smoke of fire, and had found within a furlong of his path a long ridge of burning grass. According to Mickey O'Diode, it could not have been lighted above a few minutes before Hithcott's presence on the spot. As it was, it had got too much ahead for him to put it out of single-handed. A few yards he might have managed, but, so Mickey said, probably exandering the matter, there was half a quarter of a mile of flame. He had therefore ridden on before the fire, had called his own two men to him, and had at once lighted the grass himself some two hundred yards in front, making it a second fire, but so keeping it down that it should be always under control. Before the hinder flames had caught him, Bender and Jacko had been with him, and they had thus managed to consume the fuel, which, had it remained there, would have fed the fire which was too strong to be mastered. By watching the extremities of the line of fire, they overpowered it, and so the damage was, for the moment, at an end. The method of dealing with the enemy was so well known in the bush, and had been so often canvassed in the hearing of the two sisters, that it was clearly intelligible to them. The evil had been met in the proper way, and the remedy had been effective. But why did not Harry come home? Mickey O'Dowd, after his fashion, explained that, too. The deadies were not to wait dinner. The master felt himself obliged to remain out at night, and had gotten food at the German's hut. He, Mickey, was commissioned to return with a flask full of brandy, as it would be necessary that Harry, with all the men whom he could trust, should be on the rampage all night. This small body was to consist of Harry himself, of the German, of Jaco, and, according to the stories at present told, especially of Mickey O'Dowd. Much as she would have wished to have kept the man at the station for protection, she did not think of disobeying her husband's orders. So Mickey was fed, and then sent back with the flask, with tidings also as to the desertion of that wretched cook, Sing Sing. I shall sit here all night, said Mrs. Heathgatt to her sister. I shall not think of going to bed. Kate declared that she would also sit at the veranda all night, and, as a matter of course, they were joined by Mrs. Grahner. They had been so seated about an hour, when Kate dearly declared that the heavens were on fire. The two young women jumped up, flew to the gate, and found that the whole western town had been covered in blood. Flew to the gate, and found that the whole western horizon was lurid with a dark red light. End of Chapter 8. Harry Heathgatt had on this occasion entertained no doubt whatever that the fire had been intentional and premeditated. A lighted torch must have been dragged along the grass, so as to ignite a line many yards long all at the same time. He had been luckily near enough to the spot to see almost the commencement of the burning, and was therefore aware of its form and circumstances. He almost wondered that he had not seen the figure of the man who had drawn the torch, or at any rate heard his steps. Pursuit would have been out of the question, as his work was wanted at the moment to extinguish the flames. The miscurrent probably had remembered this, and had known that he might escape stealthily without the noise of a rapid retreat. When the work was over, when he put out the fire he had himself lighted, and had exterminated the lingering remnants of that which had been intended to destroy him, he stood still a while, almost in despair. His condition seemed to be hopeless. What could he do against such a band of enemies, knowing as he did that had he been backed even by a score of trusty followers, one foe might still suffice to ruin him. At the present moment he was very hot with the work he had done, as were also Jacko and the German. Odio had also come up as they were completing their work. Their mode of extinguishing the flames had been to beat them down with branches of gum-tree loaded with leaves. By sweeping these along the burning ground the low flames would be scattered and expelled. But the work was very hard and hot. The boughs they used were heavy, and the air around them, sultry enough from its own properties, was made almost unbearable by the added heat of the fires. The work had been so far done, but it might be begun again at any moment, either near or at a distance. No doubt the attempt would be made elsewhere along the boundary between Gangor and Bulabong was very probably being made at this moment. The two men whom he could trust and Jacko were now with him. They were wiping their bras with their arms and panting with their work. He first resolved on sending Mickey O'Dowd to the house. The distance was great, and the man's assistance might be essential. But he could not bear to leave his wife without news from him. Then, after considering a while, he made up his mind to go back toward his own fence, making his way as he went southerly down toward the river. They who were determined to injure him would, he thought, repeat their attempt in that direction. He hardly said a word to his two followers, but rode at a foot pace to the spot at his fence, which he had selected as the site of his bivouac for the night. It won't be very cheery, Bender, he said to the German, but we shall have to make a night of it till they disturb us again. The German made a motion with his arms, intended to signify his utter indifference. One place was the same as another to him. Jacko uttered his usual ejaculation, and then, having hitched his horse to the fence, threw himself on his back upon the grass. No doubt they all slept, but they slept as watchers sleep with one eye open. It was Harry who first saw the light, which a few minutes later made itself visible to the ladies at the home station. Carl, he exclaimed, jumping up, they're at it again, look there. In less than half a minute, and without speaking another word, they were all on their horses and riding in the direction of the light. It came from a part of the Boulebonne run somewhat nearer to the river than the place at which they'd stationed themselves, where the strip of ground between Harry's fence and the acknowledged boundary of Brownby's run was the narrowest. As they approached the far, they became aware that it had been lighted on Boulebonne. On this occasion Harry did not ride on up to the flames, knowing that the use or loss of a few minutes might save or destroy his property. He hardly spoke a word as he proceeded on his business, feeling that they upon whom he had had to depend were sufficiently instructed, if only they would be sufficiently energetic. Keep it well under, but let it run, as, lighting a dried bush with a match, he ran the far along the ground in front of the coming flames. A stranger seeing it all would have felt sure that the remedy would have been as bad as the disease, for the far which Harry himself made every now and again seemed to get the better of those who were endeavouring to control it. There might perhaps be a quarter of a mile between the front of the advancing far, and the line at which Harry had commenced to destroy the food which would have fed the coming flames. He himself, as quickly as he lighted the grass, which in itself was the work-but of a moment, would strain himself to the utmost at the much harder task of controlling his own far, so that it should not run away with him, and get, as it were, out of his hands, and be as bad to him as that which he was thus seeking to circumvent. The German and Jaco worked like heroes, probably with intense enjoyment of the excitement, and after a while found a fourth figure among the flames, for Mickey had now returned. "'You saw them?' Harry said, panting with his work. "'It is all right,' said Mickey, flopping away with the great bow. "'But that tiny-nation Chinese has gone off.' "'My word, sing-sing, find him a boule-bon,' said Jaco.' The German, whose gum-tree bow was a very big one, and whose every thought was intent on letting the fire run while he still held it in hand, had not breath for a syllable. But the back-fire was extending itself so as to get round them. Every now and then Harry extended his own line, moving along always forward towards Gengor, as he did so, though he and his men were always on Brownby's territory. He had no doubt but that where he could succeed in destroying the grass for a breath of forty or fifty yards, he would starve out the inimicable flames. The trees and bushes without the herbage would not enable it to travel a yard. Wherever the grass was burned down black to the soil, the fire would stop. But should they, who were at work, once allow themselves to be outflanked, their exertions would be all in vain. And then those wretches might light a dozen fires. The work was so hard, so hot, and often so hopeless, that the unhappy young squatter was more than once tempted to bid his men desist and to return to his homestead. The flames would not follow him there. He could at any rate make that safe. And then, when he had repudiated this feeling as unworthy of him, he began to consider within himself whether he would not do better of his property by taking his men with him on to his run and endeavouring to drive his sheep out of danger. But as he thought of all this, he still worked, still far the grass and still controlled the flames. Presently he became aware of what seemed to him at first to be a third far. Through the trees in the direction of the river, he could see the glimmering of low flames and the figures of men. But it was soon apparent to him that these men were working in his cause, and that they too were burning the grass that would have fed the advancing flames. At first he could not spare the minute which would be necessary to find out who was his friend. But as they drew nearer, he knew the man. It was the sugar-planter from the mill, and with him his foreman. We've been doing our best, said Medicut, but we've been terribly afraid that the far would slip away from us. It's the only thing, said Harry, too much excited at the moment to ask questions as to the cause of Medicut's presence so far from his home at that time of the evening. It's getting round, as I'm afraid, all the same. I don't know but it is, it's almost impossible to distinguish how hot the far makes it. What indeed, said Harry. It's killing work for men, and then all for no good. To think that men are creatures that call themselves men to do such a thing as this, it breaks one's heart. He paused, as he spoke, leaning on the great battered bar which he held, but in an instant was at work with it again. Do you stay here, Mr. Medicut, with the men, and I'll go on beyond where you began. If I find the far growing down, I'll shout, and they can come to me. So, saying, he rushed on with a lighted bush torch in his hand. Suddenly he found himself confronted in the bush by a man on horseback whom he had once recognised as Georgie Brownby. He forgot for a moment where he was and began to question the reprobators to his presence at that spot. Much like your impotence, said Georgie, you're not only trespassing but you're destroying our property willfully, and you ask me what business I have here. You're a nice sort of young man. Harry checked for a moment by the remembrance that he was in truth upon Boulevain Run, did not at once, answer. Put that bush down and don't burn our grass, continued Georgie, or you shall have to answer it. What wide have you to fire our grass? Who fired it first? Lighted itself. That's no rule why you should light it more. You give over or I'll punch your head for you. Harry's men and Medicut were advancing toward him, tramping out their own emperors as they came. And Georgie Brownby, who was alone, when he saw that there were four or five men against him, turned round and rode back. Did you ever see impotence like that? said Harry. He's probably the very man who set the match, and yet he comes and brazens it out with me. I don't think he's the man who set the match, said Medicut quietly. At any rate, there was another. Who was it? I saw him with a torch in his hand. Heaven and earth! He asked Mr. Heathcott, I saw him put it down. You were about right, you see, and I was about wrong. Harry had not a word to say, unless it were to tell the man that he loved him for the frankness of his confession. But the moment was hardly auspicious for such a declaration. There was no excuse for them to pause in their work, for the fire was still crackling at their back, and they did no more than pause. Ah! said Harry. There it goes. We should be done at last. We saw that he was being outflanked by the advancing flames. But still they worked, drawing lines of fire here and there, and still they hoped that there might be ground for hope. Nooks had been seen, but, pregnant as the theme might be with words, it was almost impossible to talk. Questions could not be asked and answered without stopping in their toil. There were questions which Harry longed to ask. Could Millicott swear to the man? Did the man know that he had been seen? If he knew that he had been watched while he lit the grass, he would soon be far away from Millicott's mill and gang oil. Harry felt that it would be a consolation to him in his trouble if he could get hold of this man and keep him and prosecute him and have him hung. Even in the tumult of the moment he was able to reflect about it, and to think that he remembered that the crime of arson was capital in the colony of Queensland. He had endeavoured to be good to the men with whom he had dealings. He had not stinted their food or cut them short in their wages or been hard in exacting work from them, and this was his return. Ideas as to the excellence of absolute dominion and power flitted across his brain, such power as Abraham no doubt exercised. In Abraham's time the people were submissive and the world was happy. Harry Heathcott at least had never heard that it was not happy. But as he thought of all this, he worked away with his bush and his matches, extinguishing the flames here and lighting them there, striving to make a cordon of black bare ground between boulevard and gang oil. Surely Abraham had never been called on to work like this. He and his men were in a line covering something about a quart of a mile of ground, of which line he was himself the nearest to the river, a Millicott and his foreman, the farthest from it. The German and O'Dowd were in the middle, and Jacko was working with his master. If Harry had just cause for anger and sorrow in regard to Noakes and Boscoble, he certainly had equal cause to be proud of the staunchness of his remaining satellites. The men worked with a will, as though the whole round had been the personal property of each of them. Noakes and Boscoble would probably have done the same had the fires come before they had quarrelled with their master. It is a small and narrow point that turns the rushing train to the right or to the left. The rushing man is often turned off by a point as small and narrow. One word, said Jacko on a sudden, here they are, all across Beck. And as he spoke, there was the sound of half a dozen horsemen galloping up to them through the bush. While there's boss his own self, said Jacko. The two leading men were Joe and Jerry Brownby, who for this night only had composed their quarrels, and close to them was Boscoble. There were others behind, also mounted Jack Brownby and Georgie and Noakes himself. But they, though their figures were seen, could not be distinguished in the bloom of the night. Nor indeed it did Harry at first discern of how many of the party consisted. It seemed that there was a whole troop of horsemen whose purpose it was to interrupt him in his work, so that the flames should certainly go ahead. And it was evident that the men thought that they could do so without subjecting themselves to legal penalties. As far as Harry Heathgood could see, they were correct in their view. He could have no right to burn the grass on Boulebon. He had no claim even to be there. It was true that he could plead that he was stopping the fire which they had purposely made. But they could prove his handbook, whereas it would be almost impossible that he should prove theirs. The whole forest was not red but lurid with the fires, and the air was laden with both the smell and the heat of the conflagration. The horsemen were dressed, as was Harry himself, in trousers and shirts with old slouch hats, and each of them had a cudgel in his hand. As they came galloping up through the trees there was an uncanny and unwelcome a set of visitors as any man was ever called on to receive. Harry, necessarily, stayed his work, and stood still to bear the brunt of the coming attack. But Jack O went on with his employment faster than ever, as though a troop of men in the dark were nothing to him. Jerry Brownby was the first to speak. What's this you're up to, Heathgood? Firing our grass? It's arson. You shall swing for this. I'll take my chance of that," said Harry, turning to his work again. No, I'm blessed if you do. I'll have her embossed while I stop these other fellas. The Brownby's had been aware that Harry's two boundary riders were with him, but had not heard of the arrival of Medlicut and the other man. Noakes was aware that someone on horseback had been near him when he was firing the grass, but had thought that it was one of the party from gang oil. By the time that Jerry Brownby had reached the German, Medlicut was there also. Who did you see you? asked Jerry. Who's business is that of yours? said Medlicut. No, business of mine. You firing our grass? I'll let you know my business pretty quickly. It's that fellow Medlicut from the Sugar Mill, said Joe. The man that Noakes is with. I thought you was a house of another colour, continued Jerry, who had been given to understand that Medlicut was Heathgood's enemy. Anyway, I won't have my grass fired. If God Almighty chooses to send fires, we can't help it, but I'm not going to have incendiaries here as well. You're a new charm, and don't understand what you're about, but you must stop this. As Medlicut still went on putting out the fire, Jerry attempted to ride him down. Medlicut caught the horse by the rain and violently backed the brute in among the embers. The animal plunged and reared, getting his head loose, and at last came down, he and his rider together. In the meantime, Joe Brownby, seeing this, rode up behind the Sugar Planta and struck him violently with his cuddle over the shoulder. Medlicut sank nearly to the ground, but at once recovered himself. He knew that some bone on the left side of his body was broken, but he could still fight with his white hand, and he did fight. Boscoble and Georgie Brownby both attempted to ride over Harry together, and might have succeeded, had not Jacko ingeniously inserted the burning branch of gum-tree with which he'd been working under the belly of the horse on which Boscoble was riding. The animal jumped immediately from the ground, bucking into the air, and Boscoble was thrown far over his head. Georgie Brownby then turned upon Jacko, but Jacko was far too nimble to be caught and escaped among the trees. For a few minutes the fight was general, but the footman had the best of it, in spite of the injury done to Medlicut. Jerry was bruised and burned about the face by his fall among the ashes, and did not much relish the work afterward. Boscoble was stunned for a few moments, and was quite ready to retreat when he came to himself. Noakes, during the whole time, did not show himself, alleging as a reason afterward the presence of his employer, Medlicut. I'm blessed if your card is shan't hang you, said Joe Brownby to him on their way home. Do you think we're going to fight the battles of a feather like you who hasn't plucked to come forward himself? I'm as much pluck as you, answered Noakes, and I'm ready to fight you any day. But I know when a man is to come forward and when he's not. Hang me, I'm not so near hanging as some folks of Bulabong. We may imagine, therefore, that the night was not spent pleasantly among the Brownby's after these adventures. There were, of course, very much cursing and swearing, and very many threats, before the party from Bulabong did retreat. Their great point was, of course, this, that Heathcote was willfully firing the grass, and was therefore no better than an incendiary. Of course, they stoutly denied that the original fire had been intentional, and denied astightly that the original fire could be stopped by fires. But at last they went, leaving Heathcote and his party, masters of the battlefield. Jerry was taken away in a sad condition, and in subsequent accounts of the transaction given from Bulabong, his foe was put forward as the resignation of their flight, he having been the general on the occasion. And Boscobal had certainly lost all stomach for immediate fighting. Immediately behind the battlefield they come across nooks and sing-sing the runaway cook from gang-oil. The poor Chinaman had made the mistake of joining the party which was not successful. But Harry, though the victory was with him, was hardly in a mood for triumph. He soon found that Medicot's collarbone was broken, and it would be necessary, therefore, that he should return with the wounded man to the station. And the flames, as he feared, had altogether got ahead of him during the fight. As far as they had gone, they had stopped the fire, having made a black wilderness a mile and a half in length, which, during the whole distance, ceased suddenly at the line at which the subsidiary fire had been extinguished. But while the attack was being made upon them, the flames crept on to the southward, and had now got beyond their reach. It had seemed, however, that the mass of fire which had got away from them was small, and already the damp of the night was on the grass, and Harry felt himself justified in hoping not that there might be no loss, but that the loss might not be ruinous. Medicot consented to be taken back to gang-oil instead of to the mill. Perhaps he thought that Kate's daily might be a better nurse than his mother, or that the quart of the sheep-station might be better for him than the chatter of his own mill-wheels. It was midnight, and they had a ride of fourteen miles, which was hard enough upon a man with a broken collarbone. The whole party also was thoroughly fatigued. The work they had been doing was about as hard as could fall to a man's lot, and there had now been many hours without food. Before they started, Mickey produced his flask, the contents of which were divided equally among them all, including Jacko. As they were preparing to start home, Medicot had explained that it had struck in by degrees that Heathcote might be right in regard to Noakes, and that he determined to watch the man himself whenever he should leave the mill. On that Monday he'd given up work somewhat earlier than usual, saying that, as the following day was Christmas, he should not come to the mill. From that time Medicot and his foreman had watched him. Yes, said he, in answer to a question from Heathcote, I can swear that I saw him with the lighted torch in his hand, and that he placed it among the grass. Though two others from Bulabong with him, then they must have seen him too. End of Chapter 9. When the fight was quite over, and Heathcote's party had returned to their horses, Medicot, for a few minutes, was faint and sick, but he revived after a while and declared himself able to sit on his horse. There was a difficulty in getting him up, but when there he made no further complaint. This, said he, as he settled himself in his saddle, is my first Christmas day in Australia. I landed early in January, and last year I was on my way home to fetch my mother. It's not much like an English Christmas, said Harry. It's cork you should go to, or call way bedad if you want to see Christmas kept after the old fashion, said Mickey. I think we used to do it pretty well in Cumberland, said Medicot. There are things which can't be transplanted. They may have roast beef and all that, but you should have cold weather to make you feel that it is Christmas indeed. If we do it as well as we can, Harry pleaded, I've seen a great pudding come into the room all afar, just to remind one of the old country, when it has been so hot that one could hardly bear a shirt on one's shoulders. But yet there's something in it. One likes to think of the old place, though one is so far away. How do you feel now? Does the jolting hurt you much? If your horse is rough, change with me. This fellow goes as smooth as a lady. Medicot declared that the pain did not trouble him much. They'd have driven over us only for you, continued Harry. My word, wouldn't I? said Jacko, who was very proud of his own part in the battle. I'll say, Mr. Medicot, did you see Boss and his horse part company? You did, Mr. Harry. Didn't he fly like a bird all and among the bushes? I owed Boss one, I did, my word, and now I've paid him. I saw it, said Harry. He was riding at me as hard as he could come. Can't understand, Boscobal. Names his a sly, bad, slinking fellow whom I never liked. But I was always good to Boss, and when he cheated me, as he did, about his time, I'd ever even threatened to stop his money. You taught him of it too plain, said the German. I did tell him, of course, as I should you. It has come to that now that if a man robs you, your own man, you're not dead to tell him of it. What would you think of me, Carl, if I were to find you out, and was to be afraid of speaking to you, lest you should turn against me and burn my fences? Carl Bender shrugged his shoulders, holding his reins up to his eyes. I know what you ought to think, and I wish that every man about Gaengor should be sure that I would always say what I think right. I don't know that I ever was hard upon any man. I try not to be. True for you, Mr. Harry, said the Irishman. I'm not going to pick my words, because men like Noakes and Boscow will have the power of injuring me. I'm not going to chuckle to rascals, because I'm afraid of them. I'd soon be burned out of my house and home, and go and work on the wharves in Brisbane than that. More a word, yes, said Jacko, on I too. If the devil is to get ahead, he must, but I won't hold a candle to him. You fellows may tell every man about the place, what I say. As long as I'm master of Gaengor, I'll be master, and when I come across a swindle, I'll tell the man who does it he's a swindler. I told Bosc to his face, but I didn't tell anybody else, and I shouldn't if he'd taken it right and medded his ways. They all understood him very well, the German, the Irishman, Medecut's foreman, Medecut himself, and even Jacko. And though no doubt there was a feeling within the hearts of the men that Harry Keithcut was imperious, still they respected him, and they believed him. The master should be the master, no doubt, said the Irishman. A month that is a man will not sell himself body and soul, said the German slowly. Do I want dominion over your soul, Carl Bender? asked the Scotter, with energy. You know I don't, not over your body, except so far as it suits you to sell your services. What you sell you part with readily, like a man. And it's not likely that you and I shall quarrel, but all this row about nothing can't be very pleasant to a man with a broken shoulder. I like to hear you, said Medecut. I'm always a good listener, where men have something really to say. Well then I've something to say, quite Harry. There never was a man came to my house who might soon as see as a Christmas guest than yourself. Thank you, sir. It's more than I could have said yesterday, with truth. It's more than you did say. Yes, by George, but you've beat me now. When your hard press for hands down yonder, you send for me, and see if I won't turn the mill for you, or pocains either. So lie, my word, yes, just for my rations. They had, by this time, reached the gang wall fence, having taken the directest route for the house. But Harry, in doing this, had not been unmindful of the far. And Medecut had not been wounded, he would have taken the party somewhat out of the way, down southward, following the flames. But Medecut's condition had made him feel that he would not be justified in doing so. Now, however, it occurred to him that he might as well ride a mile or two down the fence and see what injury had been done. The escort of the men would be sufficient to take Medecut to the station, and he would reach the place as soon as they. If the flames were still running ahead, he knew that he could not now stop them, but he could at least learn how the matter stood with him. If the worst came to the worst, he would not now lose more than three or four miles of fencing, and the grass of a corner of his run. Nevertheless, tired as he was, he could not bear the idea of going home without knowing the whole story. So he made his proposal. Medecut, of course, made no objection. Each of the men offered to go with him, but he declined their services. There is nothing to do, said he, and nobody to catch, and if the fire is burning, he must burn. So he went alone. The words that he had uttered among his men had not been lightly spoken. He had begun to perceive that life would be very hard to him in his present position, or perhaps altogether impossible, as long as he was at enmity with those around him. Old squatters whom he knew, respectable men who had been in the colony before he was born, had advised him to be on good terms with the Brambies. You needn't ask him to your house or go to them, but just soft-sword them when you meet, an old gentleman had said to him. He certainly hadn't taken the old gentleman's advice, thinking that to soft-sword us, so great a reprobator as Jerry Bramby, would be holding a candle to the devil. But his own plan had hardly answered. Well, he was sure at any rate, of this, that he could do no good now by endeavouring to be civil to the Brambies. He soon came to the place where the fire had reached his fence, and found that it had burned its way through, and that the flames were still continuing their onward course. The fence to the north, or rather to the north-westward, the point whence the wind was coming, stood firm at the spot at which the fire had struck it. Dry as the wood was, the flames had not travelled upward against the wind. But to the south the fire was travelling down the fence. To stop this he rode half a mile along the burning barrier till he had headed the flames, and then he pulled the bushes down and rolled away the logs, so as to stop the destruction. As regarded his fence, there was less than a mile of it destroyed, and that he could now leave in security, as the wind was blowing away from it. As for his grass, that must now take its chance. He could see the dark light of the low-running fire, but there was no longer a mighty blaze, and he knew that the dew of the night was acting as his protector. The harm that had been as yet done was trifling, if only he could protect himself from further harm. After leaving the fire, he had still a ride of seven or eight miles through the gloom of the forest, all alone. Not only was he weary, but his horse was so tired that he could hardly get him to counter for a furlong. He regretted that he had not brought the boy with him, knowing well the service of companionship to a tired beast. He was used to such troubles, and could always tell himself that his back was bored enough to bear them. But his desolation among enemies oppressed him. Medlicott, however, was no longer an enemy. Then there came across his mind for the first time an idea that Medlicott might marry his sister-in-law and become his fast friend. If he could have but one true friend, he thought that he could bear the enmity of all the brambies. Here the two he'd be entirely alone in his anxiety. It was between three and four when he reached gang oil, and he found that the party of horsemen had just entered the yard before him. The sugar-planta was so weak that he could hardly get off his horse. The two ladies were still watching when the cavalcade arrived, though it was then between three and four in the morning. It was Harry's custom on such occasions to run up to the little gate close to the veranda, and there to hang his bridle till someone should take his horse away. But on this occasion he and the others rode into the yard. Seeing this, Mrs. Heathcott and her sister went through the house, and soon learned how things were. Mr. Medlicott from the mill had come with a bone-broken, and it was there due to nurse him till a doctor could be procured from Maryborough. Now, Maryborough was thirty miles distant. Someone must be dispatched from once. Jacko volunteered, but in such a service Jacko was hardly to be trusted. He might fall asleep on his horse and continue his slumbers on the ground. Mickey and the German both offered, but the men were so beaten by their work that Heathcott did not dare to take their offer. I'll tell you what it is, Mary, he said to his wife. There's nothing for it but for me to go for Jackson. Jackson was the doctor, and I can see the police at the same time. You shan't go, Harry. You are so tired already you can hardly stand this moment. Give me some strong coffee at once. You don't know what that man has done for us. I'll tell you all another time. I own more than a ride into Maryborough. I'll make the men get Yorkie up. Yorkie was a favourite horse he had. Well, you make the coffee, and I'll eat Colonel. Colonel was another horse well esteemed at Gangoyle. Jackson will come quicker on him than any other animal he can get at Maryborough. And so it was arranged, in spite of the wife's tears and entreaties. Harry had his coffee and some food, and started with his two horses for the doctor. Nature is so good to us that we are sometimes disposed to think we might have dispensed with art. In the bush where doctors cannot be had, bones will set themselves, and when doctors do come, but come slowly, the broken bones suit themselves to such tightness. Medicate was brought in and put to bed. Let the reader not be shocked to hear that Kate Daly's room was given up to him, as being best suited for a six-man's comfort, and the two ladies took it in turn to watch him. Mrs. Heathcote was, of course, the first, and remained with him till dawn. Then Kate crept to the door and asked whether she should relieve her sister. Medicate was asleep, and it was agreed that Kate should remain in the veranda, and look in from time to time to see whether the wounded man required order at her hands. She looked to him very often, and then at last he was awake. Mr. Daly, he said, I feel so ashamed of the trouble I'm giving. Don't speak of it, it is nothing. In the bush everybody, of course, does anything for everybody. When the words were spoken, she felt that they were not as complementary as she would have wished. You were to have come to-day, you know, but we did not think you'd come like this, did we? I don't know why I didn't go home instead of coming here. The doctor will reach gang oil soon as he could the mill. You are better here, and we'll send for Mrs. Medicate as soon as the men have had a rest. How was it all, Mr. Medicate? Harry says that there was a fight and that you came in just at the neck of time, and the buff for you, all the rum would have been burned. Or not that at all. He said so, and he went off so quickly and was so busy with things that we hardly understood him. Is it not dreadful that there should be such a fighting, and then these horrid fires? You were in the middle of the fire, were you not? It suited Gates' feelings that Medicate should be the hero of this occasion. We were lighting them in front to put them out behind. And then, while you were at work, these men from Boulabond came upon you. Oh, Mr. Medicate, we should be so happy to have you here, and we'll have you here. Oh, Mr. Medicate, we should be so very, very richly of you as much heard. My sister is so unhappy about it. It's only my collarbone, Miss Daly. But that is dreadful. She was still thinking of the one word that he'd spoken when he had, well, not asked her for her love, but said that which between a young man and a young woman ought to mean the same thing. Perhaps it had meant nothing. She had heard that young men do say things which mean nothing. But to her, living in the solitude of gang oil, the one word had been so much. Her heart had melted with absolute acknowledged love when the man had been brought through into the house with all the added attraction of a broken bone. While her sister had watched, she had retired, to rest, as Mary had said, but in truth, to think of the chance which had brought her and this guys into familiar contact with the man she loved. And then, when she crept up to take her place in watching him, she'd almost felt that shame should restrain her. But it was her duty, and of course a man with a collarbone broken would not speak of love. It will make your Christmas so sad for you, he said. Oh, as for that, we mind nothing about it for ourselves. We're never very gay here. But you are happy? Oh, yes, quite happy, except when Harry is disturbed by these troubles. I don't think anybody has so many troubles as a squatter. It sometimes seems that all the world is against him. We shall be allies now, at any rate. I do so hope we shall, said Kate, putting our hands together in her energy, and then retreating from her energy with sad awkwardness when she remembered the personal application of her wish. Well, that is, I mean, you and Harry, she added in a whisper. Why not I and others besides Harry? It is so much for him to have a real friend. Things concern us, of course, only just as they concern him. Women are never very much at count, I think. Harry has to do everything, and everything ought to be done for him. I think you spoil Harry among you. Don't you say so to Mary, or she will be fierce. I wonder whether I shall ever have a wife to stand up for me in that way. Kate had no answer to make, but you thought that it would be his own fault if he did not have a wife to stand up for him thoroughly. He has been very lucky in his wife. I think he has, Mr. Medlicott. But you're moving about, and you ought to lie still. There, I hear the horses. That's the doctor. I do so hope he won't say that anything very bad is the matter. She jumped up from her chair, which was close to his bed, and as she did so, just touched his hand with hers. It was involuntary on her part, having come of instinct rather than will, and she withdrew herself instantly. The hand she had touched belonged to the arm that was not hurt, and he put it out after her, and caught her by the sleeve as she was retreating. Oh, Mr. Medlicott, you must not do that. You will hurt yourself if you move in that way. And so she escaped, and left the room, and did not see him again till the doctor had gone from gang oil. The bone had been broken simply as other bones had broken. It was now set, and the sufferer was, of course, told that he must rest. He had suggested that he should be taken home, and the Heathcutts had concurred with the doctor, and asserting that no proposition could be more absurd. He had intended to eat his Christmas dinner at gang oil, and he must now pass his entire Christmas there. The sugar can go on very well for ten days, Harry had said. I'll go over myself and see about the men, and I'll fetch your mother over. To this, however, Mrs. Heathcutt had demurred successfully. You'll kill yourself, Harry, if you go on like this, she said. Bender, therefore, was sent in the buggy for the old lady, and at last Harry Heathcutt consented to go to bed. My belief is I shall sleep for a week, he said, as he turned in. But he didn't begin his sleep quite at once. I'm very glad I went into Maryborough, he said to his wife, rising up from his pillow. I swore an information against Noakes and two of the brown bees, and the police will be after them this afternoon. They won't catch Noakes, and they can't convict the other fellows. But it will be something to clear the country of such a fellow, and something also to let them know that a detention is possible. Do you sleep now, dear? she said. Yes, I will, I mean to. But look here, Mary, if any of the police should come here, mind you wait me at once. I'm very lucky here. Do you know I shouldn't be a bit surprised if that fellow was to be making up to Kate? Mrs. Heathcutt, with some little inward chuckle, at her husband's assumed quickness of apprehension, reminded herself that the same idea had occurred to her some time ago. Mrs. Heathcutt gave her husband full credit for more than ordinary intelligence in reference to affairs appertaining to the breeding of sheep and the growing of wool. But you did not think highly of his discernment in such an affair as this. She herself would be much quicker. When she first saw Mr. Middletcutt, she felt at a godsend that such a man, with the look of a gentleman, and unmarried, should come into the neighbourhood. And, in so feeling, her heart had been entirely with her sister. For herself it mattered nothing who came or did not come, or whether a man were a bachelor, or possessed of a wife and a dozen children. All that a girl had a right to want was a good husband. She was quite satisfied with her own lot in that respect, but she was anxious enough on behalf of Kate. And when a young man did come, who might make matters so pleasant for them, Harry quarreled with him because he was a free selector. A free fiddle-stick, she had once said to Kate, not, however, communicating to her innocent sister the ambition which was already filling her own bosom. Harry does take things so as though people weren't to live, some in one way, some in another. As far as I can see Mr. Middletcutt is a very nice fellow. Kate would have marked that he was all very well, and nothing more had been said. But Mrs. Heathcutt, in spite of Harry's aversion, had formed her little project, a project which, if then declared, would have filled Harry with dismay. And now the young aristocrat, as he turned himself in his bed, made the suggestion to his wife as though it were all his own. I never liked to think much of these things beforehand, she said innocently. I don't know about thinking, said Harry, but a girl might do worse. If you should come up, don't set yourself against it. Kate, of course, will please herself, said Mrs. Heathcutt. Now do lie down and rest yourself. His rest, however, was not of long duration. As he had himself suggested, two policemen reached Gangon at about three in the afternoon, on their way from Meribara to Bulabong, in order that they might take Mr. Middletcutt's deposition. After Heathcutt's departure it had occurred to Sergeant Forrest of the police, and the suggestion, having been transferred from the sergeant to the Stipendry Magistrate, was now produced with magisterial sanction, that, after all, there was no evidence against the brown bees. They had simply interfered to prevent the burning of the grass on their own run, and who could say that they had committed any crime by doing so? If Middletcutt had seen nooks with a lighted branch in his hand, the matter might be different with him. And therefore, Middletcutt's deposition was taken. He had sworn that he had seen nooks drag his lighted torch along the ground. He had also seen other horsemen, two or three, as he thought, but could not identify them. Jacker's deposition was also taken, as to the man who had been heard and seen in the wool shed at night. Jacker was ready to swear point blank that the man was nooks. The policeman suggested that, as the night was dark, Jacker might as well allow a shade of doubt to appear, thinking that the shade of doubt would add strength to the evidence. But Jacker was not going to be taught what sort of oath he should swear. Oh, a word, he said. Did not see his leg move? You go away. Armed with these depositions, the two constables went on to Boulabong in search of nooks, and of nooks only, much to the chagrin of Harry, who declared that the police would never really bestow themselves on a squatter's cause. As for nooks, you'll be out of Queensland by this time to-morrow. CHAPTER XI SARGENT FORREST The Brownby Party returned, after their midnight raid, in great discomforture to Boulabong. Their leader, Jerry, was burned about his hands and face in a disagreeable and unsightly manner. Joe had hardly made good that character for fighting it to the end, for which he was apt to claim credit. Boscoble was altogether disconcerted by his fall, and nooks who had certainly shown no aptitude for the fray was abused by them all, as having caused their retreat by his cardis, while Singsing, the runaway cook who knew that he had forfeited his wages at Gangoyle, was forced to turn over in his heathenish mind the ill effects of joining the losing side. You big fool, boss, he said more than once to his friend of the woodsman who had lured him away from the comforts of Gangoyle. I'll punch your head, John, if you don't hold your row," Boscoble would reply. But Singsing went on with his reproaches, and before they had reached Boulabong, Boscoble had punched the Chinaman's head. You're not coming in here, Jerry said to the nooks when they reached the yard gate. Who wants to come in, I suppose you're not going to send a fellow on without a bit of grub after such a night's work? Give him some bread and meat, Jack, and let him go on. There'll be somebody here after him before long. He can't hurt us, but I don't want people to think that we are so fond of him that we can't do without harboring him here. Georgie, you'll go too if you take my advice. That young kerb will send the police here as sure as my name is Bramby, and if they once get ahold of you, they'll have a great many things to talk to you about. Georgie grumbled when he heard this, but he knew that the advice given him was good, and he did not attempt to enter the house. So nooks and he vanished, away into the bush together, as such men do vanish, wandering forth to live as the wild beasts live. It was still a dark night when they went, and the remainder of the party took themselves to their beds. On the following afternoon they were lying about the house, sometimes sleeping, and sometimes waking up to smoke, when the two policemen, who had already been at gang oil, appeared in the yard. These men were dressed in flat caps, with short blue jackets, hunting britches, and long black boots. Very unlike any policemen in the old country, a much more picturesque. They allegedly tied their horses up, as if they had been in the habit of making weekly visits to the place, and walked round to the veranda. Well, Mr. Bramby, and how are you? said the sergeant to the old man. The head of the family was gracious, and declared himself to be pretty well considering all things. He called the sergeant by his name, and asked the men whether they'd take a bite of something to eat. Joe also was courteous, and after a little delay in getting a key from his brother, brought out the jar of spirits, which in the bush is regarded as the best sign known of thorough good breeding. The sergeant said that he didn't mind if he did, and the other man, of course, followed his office as an example. So far everything was comfortable, and the constables seemed in no hurry to allude to disagreeable subjects. They condescended to eat a bit of cold meat before they proceeded to business. And at last the matter to be discussed was first introduced by one of the Bramby family. I suppose you've heard that there was a scrimmage here last night? said Joe. The Bramby party present consisted of the old man, Joe, and Jack Bramby, and Bosscable, Jerry keeping himself in the background because of his disfigurement. The sergeant, as he swallowed his food, acknowledged that he had heard something about it. And that's what brings you here, continued Joe. There ain't nothing wrong here, said old Bramby. I hope not, Mr. Bramby, said the sergeant. I hope not. We haven't got anything against you at any rate. Sergeant Forrest was a graduate of Oxford, the son of an English clergyman, who, having his way to make in the world, had thought that an early fortune would be found in the colonies. He'd come out, had failed, had suffered some very hard things, and now at the age of thirty-five enjoyed life thoroughly as a sergeant of the colonial police. You haven't got anything against anybody here, I should think, said Joe. Anyone to get them has begun it, said Jack, and them has ought to be took up. You've got a gang oil. Hold your tongue, Jack, said his brother. Sergeant Forrest knows where to go better than you can tell him. Then the sergeant asked a string of questions as to the nature of the fight, who had been hurt, and how badly had anybody been hurt, and what other harm had been done. The answers to all these questions were given with a fair amount of truth, except that the little circumstance of the origin of the fire was not explained. Both Boscoble and Joe had seen the torch put down, but it could hardly have been expected that they should have been explicit as to such a detail as that. Nor did they mention the names of either their brother George or Noakes. And who was there in the matter? asked the sergeant. There was young Heathcote, and a boy he's got there, and the two chaps as he calls boundary rulers, and Medleycote, the sugar fella from the mill, and a chap of Medleycotes I never said eyes on before. They must have expected something to be up, or Heathcote would not have been going bowed at night by the tribe of men like that. And who were your party? Well, they were just ourselves, four of us. For Georgie was here, and this fellow Boscoble. Georgie never stays long, and he wouldn't be welcome if he did. He turned up just by chance like him, now he's off again. That was all there. Of course, they all knew that the sergeant knew that Noakes had been with them. Well then, that wasn't all, said old Brownby. Bill Noakes was here. Omeeth got dismissed ever so long ago, and that Chinese cook of his, he dismissed him too, I suppose, and he dismissed Boscoble here. No one could live a gangile any time, said Jack. Everybody knows that. He wants to be Lord Almighty over everything, but he ain't going to be Lord Almighty at Boulebon. And he ain't going to burn our grass either, said Joe. It's like his impotence, coming onto our run and burning everything before him. He calls himself a magistrate, but he's not to do just as he pleases because he's a magistrate. I suppose we can swear against him for lightly our grass, Sergeant. There isn't one of us that didn't see him do it. And where is Noakes? asks the sergeant, paying no attention to the application made by Mr Brownby, Jr., for a redress to himself. Well, said Joe, Noakes isn't anywhere about Boulebon. He's away with your brother George. I shouldn't wonder, said Joe. It's a serious matter lighting a fire, you know, said the sergeant. A man would have to swing for it. The more isn't young Heathcutt to swing, demanded Jack. There is such a thing as intent, you know, when Heathcutt lighted the fire, where would the fire have gone if he hadn't kept putting it out as fast as he kept lighting it? On to his own run, not to yours. And where would the other fire have gone, which somebody lit, and which nobody put out, if he hadn't been there to stop it? Unless you say against Heathcutt the better. So, Noakes is off, is he? He ain't here, anyways, said Joe. When the row was over, he wouldn't let him in. We didn't want him about here. I daresay not, said the sergeant. Now let me go and see the spot where the fire was. So the two policemen with the two young Brumbies rode away, leaving Boscobal with the old man. He knows everything about it, said old Brumbie. If he does, said Boscobal, it ain't no odds. Not a half of odds, said Jerry, coming out of his hiding place. Who cares what he knows? A man may do what he pleases on his own run, I suppose. He may light a fire as all spread, said the old man. Ah, there! Who's to prove that's what's in a man's mind? If I be notes, I'd have stayed and seen it out. I'd never be driven about the colony by such a fellow as Heathcutt with all the police in the world to back him. Sergeant Forest inspected the ground on which the fire had raged, and the spot on which the men had met. But nothing came of his inspection, and he not expected that anything would come of it. He could see exactly where the fire commenced, and could trace the efforts that had been made to stop it. He did not in the least doubt the way in which it had been lit. But he did very much doubt whether a jury could find nooks guilty. He nearly could catch nooks. Jacko's evidence is worth nothing. A mission medicate might be easily mistaken as to what he had seen at a distance in the middle of the night. All this happened on Christmas Day. At about nine o'clock the same evening the two constables reappeared at Gangoil, and asked for hospitality for the night. This was a matter of course, and also the reproduction of the Christmas dinner. Mrs. Medlicut was now there, and her son, with his collarbone set, had been allowed to come out onto the veranda. The house had already been supposed to be full, but room, as a matter of course, was made for Sergeant Forest and his man. It's a queer sort of Christmas we've all been having, Mr. Heathcutt, said the Sergeant, as the remnant of a real English plum pudding was put between him and his man by Mrs. Growler. A little hotter than it is at home, eh? Indeed it is. He must have had it hot last night, sir. Very hot, Sergeant. We had to work uncommonly hard to do as well as we did. It was not a nice Christmas game, sir, was it? I may, said Mrs. Medlicut. There's no Christmas games or any games here at all, except just worrying and harrying, like semi-dogs at each other's throats. And you think nothing more can be done? Harry asked. I don't think we should catch the men. When they get out backward, it's very hard to trace them. He's got a horse of his own with him, and he'll be beyond reach of the peace by this time tomorrow. Indeed, he's beyond their reach now. However, you'll have got rid of him. But there are others as bad as he left behind. I wouldn't trust that fellow, Boscobol, a yard. He won't, sir, sir. He belongs to this country and does not want to leave it. And when a thing has been tried like that and has failed, the fellows don't try to gain. They're cowed like by their own failure. I don't think you need fear far from the bull alongside again this summer. After this, the sergeant and his men discreetly allow themselves to be put to bed in the back cottage. For in truth, when they arrived, things had come to such a pass at Gangoyle that the two additional visitors were hardly welcome. But hospitality in the bush can be stayed by no such considerations as that. Let their employments or enjoyment on hand be what they may, everything was yielded to the entertainment of strangers. The two constables were in want of their Christmas dinner, and it was given to them with no grudging hand. As to nox, we may say that he has never since appeared in the neighbourhood of Gangoyle, and that none thereabouts ever knew what was his fate. Men such as he wander away from one colony into the next, passing from one station to another, more sleepy on the ground, till they become as desert and savage as solitary animals. And at last they die in the bush, creepy, we may suppose, into hidden nooks, as the beasts do when the hour of death comes on them. End of Chapter 11 The constables had started from Gangoyle on their way to Bulabong a little after four, and from that time till he was made to get out of bed for his dinner, Harry Heathcott was allowed to sleep. He had richly earned his rest by his work, and he lay motionless without a sound in the broad daylight, with his arm under his head, dreaming no doubt of some happy squatting land in which there were no free-selectors, no fires, no rebellious servants, no floods, no droughts, no wild dogs to worry the lambs, no grass-seeds to get into the fleeces. And in which the price of wool stood steady at two shillings and sixpence a pound. His wife from time to time came into the room, shading the light from his eyes, protecting him from the flies, and ministering in her soft way to what she thought might be his comforts. His sleep was of the kind which no light, nor even flies, can interrupt. Once or twice she stooped down and kissed his brow, but he was altogether unconscious of her caress. During this time old Mrs. Medleycott arrived, but her coming did not awake the sleeper, though it was by no means made in silence. The old woman sobbed and cried over her son, at the same time expressing her thankfulness that he should have turned up in the forest so exactly at the proper moment, evidently taking part in the conviction that her giles had saved gang oil and all its sheep. And then there were all the necessary arrangements to be made for the night, in accordance with which almost everybody had to give up his or her bed and sleep somewhere else. But nothing disturbed Harry. For the present he was allowed to occupy his own room, and he enjoyed the privilege. Kate daily during this time was much disturbed in mind. The reader may remember, Kate at any rate remembered well, that just as the doctor had arrived to set his broken bone, Mr. Medleycott, disabled as he was, had attempted to take her by the arm. He had certainly chosen an odd time for a declaration of love, just the moment in which he ought to have been preparing himself for the manipulation of his fractured limb. But, unless he had meant a declaration of love, surely he would not have seized her by the arm. It was a matter to her of great moment. Oh, of what vital importance! The English girl living in a town, or even in what we may call the country, has no need to think of any special man till some special man thinks of her. Men are fairly plentiful, and if one man does not come, another will. And there have probably been men coming and going in some sort since the girl left her school room and became a young lady. But in the bush the thing is very different. It may be that there is no young man available within fifty miles, no possible lover or future husband, unless heaven should interfere almost with a miracle. To those to whom lovers are as plentiful as blackberries, it may seem indelicate to surmise that the thought of such a want should ever enter a girl's head. I doubt whether the defined idea of any want had ever entered Paul Kate's head. But now that the possible lover was there, not only possible, but very probable, and so eligible in many respects, living so close, with a house over his head, and a good business, and then so handsome, and as Kate thought, so complete a gentleman. Of course she turned it much in her mind. She was very happy with Harry Keithcott. There never was a brother-in-law so good. But after all, what is a brother-in-law, may he be the very best. Kate had already begun to fancy that a house of her own and a husband of her own would be essential to her happiness. But then a man cannot be expected to make an offer with a broken collarbone. Certainly cannot do so just when the doctor has arrived to set the bone. Late on in the day when the doctor had gone, and Medlicut was, according to instructions, sitting out on the veranda in an armchair, and his mother was with him, and while Harry was sleeping as though he never meant to be awake again, Kate managed to say a few words to her sister. It will be understood that the lady's hands were by no means empty. The Christmas dinner was in course of preparation, and syncing that villainous Chinese cook had absconded. Mrs. Grahler no doubt did her best, but Mrs. Grahler was old and slow, and the house was full of guests. It was by no means an idle time, but still Kate found an opportunity to say a word to her sister in the kitchen. What do you think of him, Mary? To the married sister, him would naturally mean Harry Keithcott, of whom, as he lay asleep, the young wife thought that he was the very perfection of patriarchal pastoral manliness, but she knew enough of human nature to be aware that the him of the moment to her sister was no longer her own husband. I think he's got his arm broken fighting for Harry, and that we are bound to do the best we can for him. Oh yes, that's of course. I'm sure Harry will feel that. He used, you know, to—that is, not just to like him, because he is a free selector. Oh, they'll drop all that now. Of course they could not be expected to know each other at the first starting. I shouldn't wonder if they became regular friends. That would be nice. After all, though you may be so happy at home, it is better to have something like a neighbour, don't you think so? It depends on who the neighbours are. I don't care much for the brown-bees. They are quite different, Mary. I like the medikits very much. I consider he's quite a gentleman, said Kate. Of course he's a gentleman. Look here, Kate, I shall be ready to welcome bits to medikits as a brother-in-law if things should turn out that way. I didn't mean that, Mary. Did you not? Well, you can mean it if you please, as far as I am concerned. Has he said anything to you, dear? No. Not a word. I don't know what you call a word—not a word of that kind. I thought perhaps—I think he meant it once, this morning. I daresay he meant it, and if he meant it this morning, he won't have forgotten his meaning to-morrow. There's no reason why he should mean it, you know. None in the least, Kate, is there? Now, you're laughing at me, Mary. I never used to laugh at you when Harry was coming. I was so glad, and I did everything I could. Yes, you went away and left us in the botanical gardens, I remember. But you see, there are no botanical gardens here, and the poor man couldn't walk about if there were. I wonder what Harry would say if it were to be so? Of course he'd be glad, for your sake. But he does so despise free-selecters, and then he used to think that Mr. Medikit was quite as bad as the Brownbees. I wouldn't marry any one to be despised by you and Harry. That's all gone by, my dear," said the wife, feeling that she had to apologize for her husband's prejudices. Of course one has to find out what people are before one takes them to one's bosom. Mr. Medikit has acted in the most friendly way about these fars, and I'm sure Harry would never despise him any more. He couldn't have done more for a real brother than have his arm broken. But you must remember one thing, Kate. Mr. Medikit is very nice, and like a gentleman, and all that. But you never can be quite certain about any man till he speaks out plainly. Don't set your heart upon him till you're quite sure that he has set his upon you. Oh, no! said Kate, giving her maidenly assurance when it was so much too late. Just at this moment Mrs. Grierler came into the kitchen, and Kate's promises and her sister's cautions were for the moment silenced. I would have managed to get the dinner on the table, I for one don't know at all, said Mrs. Grierler. There's Mrs. Bates to be here, that'll be six of them, and that Mr. Medikit will want somebody to do everything for him, because he's been and got himself smashed, and that the old lady has just come out from home and is as particular as anything. Mr. Harry himself never thinks of things at all. One pair of hands of them very old can't do everything for everybody. All of which was very well understood, to mean nothing at all. I sell deficiencies, and indeed all deficiencies, are considerable or insignificant in accordance with the aspirations of those concerned. When a man has a regiment of servants in his dining-room, with beautifully cut glass of forest of flowers, and an iceberg in the middle of his table, if the weather be hot, his guests will think themselves ill-used and badly fed if ought in the banquet be astray. There must not be a rose-leaf ruffled, a failure in the attendance, a falling-off in a dish, or a fault in the wine is a crime. But the same guests shall be merry as the evening is long, with a leg of mutton and whiskey-toddy, and will change their own plates and clear their own table, and think nothing wrong, if from the beginning such has been in the intention of the giver of the feast. In spite of Mrs. Grierler's prognostications, though the cook had absconded, and the chief guest of the occasion could not cut up his own meat, that Christmas dinner at Gangloil was eaten with great satisfaction. Harry had been so far triumphant. He had stopped the far that was intended to ruin him, he had beaten off his enemies on their own ground, and he was no longer oppressed by that sense of desolation which had almost overpowered him. We'll give one toast, Mrs. Medecot, he said, where Mrs. Grierler and Kate between them had taken away the relics of the plum pudding. Our friends at home. The poor lady drank the toast with a sob. It's very real for you, Mr. Hithcott, you're young and will win your way home, and see old friends again, no doubt. But I'll never see any of them there, except those I have here. Nevertheless, the old lady ate her dinner and drank her toddy, and made much of the occasion, going in and out to her son upon the veranda. Soon after dinner, Hithcott, as was his wound, strayed out with his Prime Minister Bates to consult on the dangers which might be supposed still to threaten his kingdom. And Mrs. Hithcott, with her youngest boy in her lab, sat talking to Mrs. Medecot in the parlour. Such was not her custom in weather such as this. Kate had been sent out onto the veranda, with special command to attend to the wants of the sufferer. And Mrs. Hithcott would have followed her had she not remembered her sister's appeal. I did everything I could for you. In those happy days Kate had been very good, and certainly deserved requital for her services. And therefore, when the men had gone out, Mrs. Hithcott, with her guest, remained in the warm room, and went so far as to suggest that at that period of the day the room was preferable to the veranda. Poor Mrs. Medecot was new to the ways of the bush, and fell into the trap. Thus Kate Daly was left alone with her wounded hero. When told to take him out his glass of wine, and when conscious that no one followed her, she felt as though to have been guilty of some great sin and was almost tempted to escape. She had asked her sister for help, and this was the help that was forthcoming, help so palpable, so manifest, as to be almost indelicate. Would he think that plans were being made to catch him, now that he was a captive and impotent? The thought that it was possible that such an idea might occur to him was terrible to her. She would rather lose him altogether than feel the stain of such a suggestion on her own conscience. She put the glass of wine down on the little table by his side, and then attempted to withdraw. Stay a moment with me, he said. Where are they all? Mary and your mother were inside. Harry and Mr. Bates have gone across to look at the horses. I almost feel as though I could walk, too. You must not think of it yet, Mr. Medecot. It seems almost a wonder that you shouldn't have to be in bed, and you with your collarbone broken only last night. I don't know how you can bear it as you do. I should be so glad I broke it, if one thing will come about. What thing? asked Kate, blushing. Kate, may I call you Kate? I don't know, she said. You know I love you, do you not? You must know it. There is Kate. Can you love me and be my wife? His left arm was bound up and was in a sling, but he put out his right hand to take hers. If she would give it to him. Kate daily had never had a lover before, and felt the occasion to be trying. She had no doubt about the matter. If it were only proper for her to declare herself, she could swear with a safe conscience that she loved him better than all the world. Put your hand here, Kate, he said. As the request was not exactly for the gift of her hand, she placed it in his. May I keep it now? She could only whisper something which was quite inaudible, even to him. I shall keep it, and think that you are all my own. Stoop down, Kate, and kiss me, if you love me. She hesitated for a moment trying to collect her thoughts. She did love him, and was his own. Still, to stoop and kiss a man who, if such a thing were to be allowed at all, ought certainly to kiss her. She did not think she could do that. But then she was bound to protect him, wounded and broken as he was, from his own imprudence. And if she did not stoop to him, he would rise to her. She was still in doubt, still standing with her hand in his, half bending over him, but yet half resisting as she bent, when all suddenly Harry Heathcote was on the veranda, followed by the two priestsmen who had just returned from Budabong. She was sure that Harry had seen her, and was by no means sure that she'd been quick enough in escaping from her lover's hand to have been unnoticed by the priestmen also. She fled away as though guilty, and could hardly recover health sufficiently to assist Mrs. Grahler in producing the additional dinner which was required. The two men were quickly sent to their rest, as have been told before. And Harry, who had in truth seen how close to his friend, his sister, and all had been standing, would, had it been possible, have restored the lovers to their old positions. But they were all now on the veranda, and it was impossible. Kate hung back, half in and half out of the sitting-room, and old Mrs. Medlicut had seated herself close to her son. Harry was lying at full length on a rug, and his wife was sitting over him. Then Giles Medlicut, who was not quite contented with the present condition of affairs, made a little speech. A Mrs. Ethcut, he said, I've asked your sister to marry me. Dearly me, Giles, said Mrs. Medlicut. Kate remained no longer half in and half out of the parlour, but retreated altogether and hid herself. Harry turned himself over on the rug, and looked up at his wife, claiming infinite credit in that he had foreseen that such a thing might happen. And what answer has she given you, said Mrs. Ethcut? Gee, hasn't given me any answer yet. I wonder what you and Ethcut would say about it. What Kate has to say is much more important, replied the discreet sister. I should like it of all things, said Harry, jumping up. It's always best to be open about these things. When you first came here, I didn't like you. You took a bit of my river-frontage. Not that it does me any great harm. And then I was angry about that scoundrel nooks. I was wrong about nooks, said Medlicut, and have therefore had my collarbone broken. As to the land, you'll forgive my having it if Kate will come and live there. And by George, I should think so. Kate, why don't you come out? Come along, my girl. Medlicut has spoken out openly, and you should answer him in the same fashion. So saying, he dragged her forth. And I fear that, as far as she was concerned, something of the sweetness of her courtship was lost by the publicity with which she was forced to confess her love. Would you go, Kate, and make sugar down at the mill? I've often thought how bad it would be for Mary and me when you were taken away. But we shall mind it so much if we knew that you are to be near us. Speak to him, Kate, said Mrs. Heathcut, with her arm round her sister's waist. I think she's minded to have him, said Mrs. Medlicut. Tell me, Kate, should it be so? he did the lover. She came up to him, and leaned over him, and whispered one word which nobody else heard. But they all knew what the word was. And before they separated for the night, she was left alone with him, and he got the kiss for which he was asking when the policeman interrupted them. That's what I call a happy Christmas, said Harry, as the party finally parted for the night.