An Outback Marriage........................................................................................................................................1

It was a summer's evening in Sydney, and the northeast wind that comes down from New Guinea and the

tropical islands over leagues of warm sea, brought on its wings a heavy depressing moisture. In the streets

people walked listlessly, perspired, mopped themselves, and abused their muchvaunted climate. Everyone

who could manage it was out of town, either on the heights of Moss Vale or the Blue Mountains, escaping

In the Cassowary Club, weary, pallid waiters brought iced drinks to such of the members as were condemned

to spend the summer in town. The gong had sounded, and in ones and twos members shuffled out of the

smokingroom, and went in to dinner. At last only three were left talking at the far end of the big, empty

smokingroom, like three small stage conspirators at the end of a very large robbers' cavern.

One was a short, fat, redfaced man, who looked like a combination of seacaptain and merchant, and who

was the local representative of a big English steamship company. His connection with the mercantile marine

had earned him his nickname of "The Bo'sun". By his side sat Pinnock, a lean and biliouslooking solicitor;

the third man was an English globetrotter, a colourless sort of person, of whom no one took any particular

notice until they learnt that he was the eldest son of a big Scotch whisky manufacturer, and had �10,000 a

year of his own. Then they suddenly discovered that he was a much smarter fellow than he looked. The three

were evidently waiting for somebody. The Bo'sun had a grievance, and was relieving his mind by speech. He

walked up and down between the smokingroom chairs, brandishing a telegram as he talked, while the

"I call it a shame," he said, facing round on them suddenly; "I could have got up to Moss Vale for a day or

two, and now old Grant of Kuryong wires me to meet and entertain a new chum. Just listen to this: 'Young

Carew, friend of mine, on Carthaginia. Will you meet him and show him round; oblige me W. G. Grant.' I

met the old fellow once or twice at dinner, when he was in town for the sheep sales, and on the strength of

that he foists an unknown callow new chum on to me. People are always doing that kind of thing."

"Leave his friend alone, then," said Pinnock; "don't have anything to do with him. I know his sort

Government House young man the first week, Coffee Palace at two shillings a night the second week, boiler

on the wharf the third week, Central Police Court the fourth week, and then exit so far as all decent people are

"Oh, I don't suppose he'll be so bad," he said. "I've asked him here tonight to see what he's like, and if he's no

good I'I1 drop him. It's the principle I object to. Country people are always at this sort of thing. They'd ask

me to meet an Alderney bull and entertain him till they send for him. What am I to do with an unknown new

chum? I'd sooner have an Alderney bull he'd be easier to arrange for. He'd stop where he was put,

Here Gillespie, the globetrotter, cut into the conversation. "I knew a Jim Carew in England," he said, "and if

this is the same man you will have no trouble taking care of him. He was a great man at his 'Varsity triple

blue, or something of the sort. He can row and run and fight and play football, and all that kind of thing. Very

quietspoken sort of chap rather pretends to be a simple sort of Johnny, don't you know, but he's a regular

demon, I believe. Got into a row at a musichall one night, and threw the chuckerout in among a lot of

"Nice sort of man", said the Bo'sun. "I've seen plenty of his sort, worse luck; he'll be borrowing fivers after

The globetrotter smiled a sickly smile, and changed the subject. "What's old Grant like the man he's

"Oh, yes, and one of the real old sort, too," interposed Pinnock, "perfect gentleman, you know, but apt to

make himself deuced unpleasant if everything doesn't go exactly to suit him; sort of chap who thinks that

everyone who doesn't agree with him ought to be put to death at once. He had a row with his shearers one

year, and offered Jack Delaney a new Purdey gun if he'd fire the first two charges into the shearers' camp at

"Ha!" said Gillespie. "That's his sort, eh? Well, if this Carew is the Carew I mean, he and the old fellow will

"No great loss, either," said the Bo'sun. "Anyhow, I've asked this new chum to dinner tonight, and Charlie

Gordon's coming too. He was in my office today, but hadn't heard of the new chum. Gordon's a member

"What's he like?" said Gillespie. "Anything like the gentleman that wanted the shearers killed?"

"Oh, no; a good fellow," said the Bo'sun, taking a sip of sherry. "He manages stations for Grant, and the old

man has kept him out on the backstations nearly all his life. He was out in the Gulf country in the early days

got starved out in droughts, swept away in floods, lost in the bush, speared by blacks, and all that sort of

thing, in the days when men camped under bushes and didn't wear shirts. Gone a bit queer in the head, I

"How did this Grant make all his money?" asked Gillespie. "He's awfully well off, isn't he? Stations

"No; old Gordon Charlie's father used to have the money. He had a lot of stations in the old days, and

employed Grant as a manager. Grant was a new chum Scotchman with no money, but a demon for hard work,

and the most headstrong, badtempered man that ever lived hard to hold at any time. After he'd worked

for Gordon for awhile he went to the diggings and made a huge pile; and when old Gordon got a bit short of

"It wasn't at all funny for Gordon," said the lawyer, grimly. "Anything but funny. They each had stations of

their own outside the partnership, and all Gordon's stations went wrong, and Grant's went right. It never

seemed to rain on Gordon's stations, while Grant's had floods. So Gordon got short of money again and

borrowed from Grant, and when he was really in a fix Grant closed on him and sold him out for good and

"Just pure obstinacy Gordon had contradicted him or something, so he sold him up just to show which

"Died, and didn't leave a penny. So then Bully Grant wheeled round and gave Gordon's widow a station to

live on, and fixed the two sons up managing his stations. Goodness knows how much he's worth now. Doesn't

"He went to England and got married; there's a daughter. The wife's dead; the daughter is in England still

never been out here. There's a story that before he made his money he married a bush girl up on the station,

but no one believes that. The daughter in England will get everything when he dies. A chance for you

The Bo'sun hurried off to bring in his guest, while Pinnock called after him "Mind your eye, Bo'sun. Be

civil to him. See that he doesn't kill a waiter or two on the way up. Not but what he'd be welcome to do it, for

all the good they are here", he added, gloomily, taking another sip of his sherry and bitters; and before he had

They had expected to see a Hercules, a fieryfaced, fierceeyed man. This was merely a broad shouldered,

wellbuilt, wellgroomed youth, about twentythree years of age; his face was square and rather stolid,

cleanshaven, browncomplexioned, with honest eyes and a firmset mouth. As he stood at the door he

adopted the wooden expression that a University man always wears in the presence of strangers. He said

nothing on being introduced to Pinnock; and when the globetrotter came up and claimed acquaintance,

defining himself as "Gillespie of Balliol", the stranger said he didn't remember him, and regarded him with an

aspect of armed neutrality. After a sherry and bitters he thawed a little, and the Bo'sun started to

"Mr Grant of Kuryong wired to me about you," he said. "I suppose you came in the Carthaginia?"

"Yes," said the stranger, speaking in the regulation English University voice, a little deeper than usual. "I left

her at Adelaide. I'm out for some bush experience, don't you know. I'll get you to tell me some place to stop

His manner was distinctly apologetic, and he seemed anxious to give as little trouble as possible.

"Oh! you stop here," said the Bo'sun. "I'll have you made an honorary member. They'll do you all right here."

"Oh! not at all. You'll find the club not so bad, and a lot better than where you're going with old Grant. He's a

regular demon to make fellows work. It's pretty rough on the stations sometimes."

"Ah! yes; awf'lly rough, I believe. Quite frightened me, what I heard of it, don't you know. Still, I suppose

"Charlie Gordon will be here in a minute," said the Bo'sun. "He can tell you all about it. Here he is now," he

The newcomer was unmistakably a man from Far Out; tall, wiryframed, and very dark, and so spare and

lean of figure that he did not seem to have an ounce of superfluous flesh anywhere. His face was as hard and

impassive as a Red Indian's, and looked almost black by contrast with his white shirtfront. So did his hands.

He had thin straight hair, high cheekbones, and a drooping black moustache. But the eyes were the most

remarkable feature. Very keen and piercing they were, deepset in the head; even when he was looking

straight at anyone he seemed to be peering into endless space through the man in front of him. Such eyes men

get from many years of staring over vast stretches of sunlit plain where no colour relieves the blinding glare

His whole bearing spoke of infinite determination and selfreliance the square chin, the steadfast eyes,

telling their tale as plainly as print. In India he might have passed for an officer of native cavalry in mufti; but

when he spoke he used the curious nasal drawl of the Far Out bushman, the slow deliberate speech that

comes to men who are used to passing months with the same companions in the unhurried Australian bush.

Occasionally he lapsed into reveries, out of which he would come with a start and break in on other people's

"Come out to old man Grant, have you?" he drawled to Carew, when the ceremonies of introduction were

over. "Well, I can do something better for you than that. I want a mate for my next trip, and a rough lonely

hot trip it'll be. But don't you make any mistake. The roughest and hottest I can show you will be child's play

"No, he won't care. The old man doesn't take much notice of new chums he gets them out by the bushel.

He might meet a man at dinner in England and the man might say, 'Grant, you've got some stations. I've got a

young fellow that's no use at home or anywhere else for that matter can't you oblige me, and take him

and keep him out of mischief for a while?' And if the old man had had about a bottle of champagne, he'd say,

'Yes, I'll take him for a premium,' or if he'd had two bottles, he'd say, 'Send along your new chum I'll

make a man of him or break his neck.' And perhaps in the next steamer out the fellow comes, and Grant just

passes him on to me. Never looks at him, as likely as not. Don't you bother your head about Grant you

As he drawled out his last sentence, a move was made to dinner; so the Englishman was spared the pain of

making any comments on his own unimportance in Mr Grant's eyes, and they trooped into the diningroom

A club diningroom in Australia is much like one in any other part of the world. Even at the Antipodes

though the seasons are reversed, and the foxes have wings we still shun the club bore, and let him have a

table to himself; the head waiter usually looks a more important personage than any of the members or

guests; and men may be seen giving each other dinners from much the same ignoble motives as those which

actuate their fellows elsewhere. In the Cassowary Club, on the night of which we tell, the Bo'sun was giving

his dinner of necessity to honour the draft of hospitality drawn on him by Grant. At the next table a young

solicitor was entertaining his one wealthy client; nearby a band of haggard University professors were dining

a wandering scientist, all hair and spectacles both guest and hosts drinking mineral waters and such

horrors; while beyond them a lot of racing men were swilling champagne and eating and talking as heartily as

so many navvies. A few squatters, down from their stations had foregathered at the centre table, where each

was trying to make out that he had had less rain than the others. The Bo'sun and his guests were taken in hand

by the head waiter, who formerly had been at a London Club, and was laying himself out to do his best; he

had seen that Gillespie had "Wanderers' Club" on his cards, and he knew, and thanked his stars that he did

know, what "Wanderers' Club" on a man's card meant. His fellowwaiters, to whom he usually referred as "a

lot of savages", were unfortunately in ignorance of the social distinction implied by membership of such a

For a time there was nothing but the usual commonplace talk while the soup and fish were disposed of; when

they reached the champagne and the entr es, things became more homelike and conversation flowed. A

bushman, especially when primed with champagne, is always ready to give his tongue a run and when he

has two openmouthed new chums for audience, as Gordon had, the only difficulty is to stop him before

bedtime; for long silent rides on the plain, and lonely camps at night, give him a lot of enforced silence that

"Where are you from last, Gordon?" said the Bo'sun. "Haven't seen you in town for a long time."

"I've been hunting wild geese," drawled the man from far back, screwing up one eye and inspecting a glass of

champagne, which he drank off at a gulp. "That's what I do most of my time now. The old man Grant, you

know my boss he's always hearing of mobs of cattle for sale, and if I'm down in the southwest the

mob is sure to be up in the far northeast, but it's all one to him. He wires to me to go and inspect them quick

and lively before someone else gets them, and I ride and drive and coach hundreds of miles to get at some

flatsided pikehorned mob of brutes without enough fat on them to oil a man's hair with. I've to go right

away out back now and take over a place that the old man advanced some money on. He was fool enough, or

someone was fool enough for him, to advance five thousand pounds on a block of new country with five

thousand cattle on it bookmuster, you know, and half the cattle haven't been seen for years, and the other

half are dead, I expect. Anyhow, the man that borrowed the money is ruined, and I have to go up and take

"What do you call a bookmuster?" said the globetrotter, who was spending a month in the country, and

"Bookmuster, bookmuster? Why, a bookmuster is something like deadreckoning on a ship. You know

what deadreckoning is, don't you? If a captain can't see the sun he allows for how fast the ship is going, and

for the time run and the currents, and all that, and then reckons up where he is. I travelled with a captain once,

and so long as he stuck to deadreckoning he was all right. He made out we were off Cairns, and that's just

where we were; because we struck the Great Barrier Reef, and became a total wreck ten minutes after. With

the cattle it's just the same. You'll reckon the cattle that you started with, add on each year's calves, subtract

all that you sell, that is, if you ever do sell any and allow for deaths, and what the blacks spear and the

thieves steal. Then you work out the total, and you say, 'There ought to be five thousand cattle on the place,'

but you never get'em. I've got to go and find five thousand cattle in the worst bit of brigalow scrub in the

"It's called No Man's Land, and it's away out back near where the buffalo shooters are. It'll take about a

month to get there. The old man's in a rare state of mind at being let in. He's up at Kuryong now, driving my

brother Hugh out of his mind. Hugh would as soon have an attack of faceache as see old Bully looming up

the track. Every time he goes up he shifts every blessed sheep out of every paddock, and knocks seven years'

growth out of them putting them through the yards; then he overhauls the store, and if there's a box of

matches short he'll keep Hugh up half the night to account for it. He sacks all the good men and raises the

wages of the loafers, and then comes back to Sydney quite pleased; it's a little holiday to him. You come

along with me, Carew, and let old Bully alone. What did you come out for? Colonial experience?"

An Englishman hates talking about himself, and Carew rather hesitated. Then he came out with it awkwardly,

"Lots of them," said Gordon promptly, "lots of them. Why, I had a man named Considine working for me,

and he thought he got bitten by a snake, so his mates ran him twenty miles into Bourke between two horses to

keep him from going to sleep, giving him a nip of whisky every twenty minutes; and when he got to Bourke

he wasn't bitten at all, but he died of alcoholic poisoning. What about this Considine, anyhow? What do you

The Englishman felt like dropping the subject altogether, not feeling quite sure that he was not being laughed

"It's rather a long story, but it boils down to this," he said. "I'm looking for a Patrick Henry Considine, but I

don't know what he's like. I don't know whether there is such a chap, in fact, but if there is, I've got to find

him. A greatuncle of mine died out here a long while ago, and we believe he left a son; and if there is such a

son, it turns out that he would be entitled to a heap of money. It has been heaping up for years in Chancery,

and all that sort of thing, you know," he added, vaguely. "My people thought I might meet him out here, don't

you know, and he could go home and get all the cash, you see. They've been advertising for him."

"And what good will it do you," drawled Gordon, "supposing you do find him? Where do you come in?"

"Oh, it doesn't do me much good, except that if there is such a Johnny, and he dies without making a will,

then the money would all come to my people. But if there isn't, it all goes to another branch of the family."

Gordon thought the matter over for a while. "What you want," he said, "is to find this man, and to find him

dead. If we come across him away in the back country, we'll soon arrange his death for you, if you make it

By this time dinner was over. The waiters began to turn out the lights on the vacant tables; and, as the party

rose it was arranged nem. con., and with much enthusiasm, that Carew should accompany Gordon on this trip

to No Man's Land, and that Gordon should, by all means in his power, aid and abet Carew in his search for

Then, all talking together, and somewhat loudly, they strutted into the smokingroom.

The passing of the evening afterwards is the only true test of a dinner's success. Many a good dinner,

enlivened with wine and made brilliant with repartee, has died out in gloom. The quests have all said their

best things during the meal, and nothing is left but to smoke moodily and look at the clock. Our heroes were

not of that mettle. They meant to have some sort of fun, and the various amusements of Sydney were

canvassed. It was unanimously voted too hot for the theatres, ditto for billiards. There were no supporters for

a proposal to stop in the smokingroom and drink, and gambling in the cardrooms had no attractions on

"What do you say," he drawled, "if we go and have a look at a dancing saloon one of these larrikin

"Most interesting," said the other. "I've heard such a lot about the Australian larrikin. What they call a basher

in England, isn't it? Eh, what? Sort of rough that lays for you with a pal and robs you, eh?"

The Bo'sun rang for cigars and liqueurs, and then answered the question. "Pretty much the same as a basher,"

he said, "but with a lot more science and dogcunning about him. They go in gangs, and if you hit one of the

"If they have to wait a year to get you, they'll wait, and get you alone some night or other and set on to you.

"Rather roughish sort of Johnnies, eh?" said the Englishman. "But we might go and see the dancing no

Pinnock said he had to go back to his office; the globetrotter didn't care about going out at night: and the

Bo'sun tried to laugh the thing off. "You don't catch me going," he said. "There's nothing to be seen just a

lot of flash young rowdies dancing. You'll gape at them, and they'll gape at you, and you'll feel rather a pair

"If you dance with any of their women, you get her particular fancyman on to you, don't you?" asked

"I don't suppose their women would dance with you if you paid 'em five shillings a step," he said. "There'd

"Not a bit," replied that worthy. "Never fight if you can help it. No chap with any sense ever does."

"That's like me," said Gordon. "I'd sooner run a mile than fight, any time. I'm like a rat if I'm cornered, but it

takes a man with a stockwhip to corner me. I never start fighting till I'm done running. But we needn't get into

"Oh, yes; I'd like to," said the Englishman. "I don't suppose we need get into a fight."

So, after many jeers from the Bo'sun, and promises to come back and and tell them all about it, Carew and

Gordon sallied forth, a pair of men as capable of looking after themselves as one would meet in a day's

"Nearest darncin' saloon," said the cabman. "There ain't no parties tonight, sir; it's too 'ot."

"We're not expecting to drop into a ballroom without being asked, thank you," said Gordon.

"We want to go to one of those saloons where you pay a shilling to go in. Some place where the larrikins go."

"Ho! is that it, sir?" said the cabman, with a grin. "Well, I'll take you to a noo place, most selectest place I

know. Git up,'orse." And off they rattled through the quiet streets, turning corners and crossing tramlines

every fifty yards, apparently, and bumping against each other in the most fraternal manner.

Soon the cab pulled up in a narrow, illlit street, at the open door of a dingy house. Instructing the cabman to

wait, they hustled upstairs, to be confronted at the top by a man who took a shilling from each, and then was

not sure whether he would admit them. He didn't seem to like their form exactly, and muttered something to a

bystander as they went in. They saw a long, low room, brilliantly lighted by flaring gas jets. Down one side,

on wooden forms, was seated a row of flashily dressed girls larrikinesses on their native heath, barmaids

from cheap, disreputable hotels, shop girls, factory girls all sharpfaced and pert, young in years, but old

in knowledge of evil. The demon of mischief peeped out of their quickmoving restless eyes. They had

elaborate fringes, and their short dresses exhibited wellturned ankles and legs.

A large notice on the wall stated that "Gentlemen must not dance with nails in their boots. Gentlemen must

"That blocks us," said Gordon, pointing to the notice. "Can't dance together, no matter how much we want to.

Opposite the women sat or lounged a score or two of youths wiry, hardfaced little fellows, for the most

part, with scarcely a sizeable man amongst them. They were all clothed in "push" evening dress black

bellbottomed pants, no waistcoat, very short black paget coat, white shirt with no collar, and a gaudy

neckerchief round the bare throat. Their boots were marvels, very high in the heel and picked out with all

sorts of colours down the sides. They looked "varminty" enough for anything; but the shifty eyes, low

foreheads, and evil faces gave our two heroes a sense of disgust. The Englishman thought that all the stories

he had heard of the Australian larrikin must be exaggerated, and that any man who was at all athletic could

easily hold his own among such a poorlooking lot. The whole spectacle was disappointing. The most

elaborately decorous order prevailed; no excitement or rough play was noticeable, and their expedition

The bushman stared down the room with farseeing eyes, apparently looking at nothing, and contemplated

"Nothing very dazzling about this," he said. "I'm afraid we can't show you anything very exciting here. Better

Just then the band (piano and violin) struck up a slow, laboured waltz, "Bid me goodbye and go," and each

blackcoated male, with languid selfpossession, strolled across the room, seized a lady by the arm, jerked

her to her feet without saying a syllable, and commenced to dance in slow, convulsive movements, making a

great many revolutions for very little progress. Two or three girls were left sitting, as their partners were

talking in a little knot at the far end of the room; one among them was conspicuously pretty, and she began to

"There's one hasn't got a partner," said Gordon. "Goodlooking Tottie, too. Go and ask her to dance. See

what she says." The Englishman hesitated for a second. "I don't like asking a perfect stranger to dance," he

Carew drew down his cuffs, squared his shoulders, assumed his most absolutely stolid drawingroom

manner, and walked across the room, a gleaming vision of splendour in his immaculate evening dress.

As she did so, a youth among the talkers at the other end of the room looked round, and stared for a second.

Then he moistened his fingers with his tongue, smoothed the hair on his temples, and with elbows held out

from his sides, shoulders hunched up and underjaw stuck well out, bore down on Carew and the girl, who

were getting under way when he came up. Taking not the slightest notice of Carew, he touched the girl on the

"I'm darncin' with 'im," answered the girl, pertly, indicating the Englishman with a jerk of her head.

While this conversation was going on, the Englishman maintained an attitude of dignified reserve, leaving it

to the lady to decide who was to be the favoured man. At last he felt it was hardly right for an Oxford man,

and a triple blue at that, to be discussed in this contemptuous way by a larrikin and his "donah", so he broke

into the discussion, perhaps a little abruptly, but using his most polished style.

"I ah asked this lady to dance, and if she er would be kind enough to do me the honour," he

"Oh! you arst 'er to darnce? And what right 'ad you to arst 'er to darnce, you lopeared rabbit?" interrupted

the larrikin, raising his voice as he warmed to his subject. "I brought 'er 'ere. I paid the shillin'. Now then, you

take your 'ook," he went on, pointing sternly to the door, and talking as he would to a disobedient dog. "Go

The Englishman said nothing, but his jaw set ominously. The girl giggled, delighted at being the centre of so

much observation. The band stopped playing, and the dancers crowded round. Word was passed down that it

was a "toff darncin' with Nugget's donah", and from various parts of the room blackcoated duplicates of

The doorkeeper turned to Gordon. "You'd best get your mate out o' this," he said. "These are the Rocks Push,

"Deal with him, will they?" said Gordon, looking at the gesticulating Nugget. "They'll bite off more than they

can chew if they interfere with him. This is just his form, a row like this. He's a bit of a champion in a

"Is he?" said the doorkeeper, sardonically. "Well, look 'ere, now, you take it from me, if there's a row Nugget

will spread him out as flat as a newspaper. They've all been in the ring in their time, these coves. There's

Meanwhile the Englishman's ire was gradually rising. He was past the stage of considering whether it was

worth while to have a fight over a factory girl in a shilling dancing saloon, and the desire for battle blazed up

"You go about your business," he said, dropping all the laboured politeness out of his tones. "If she likes to

He got no further. A shrill whistle rang through the room; a voice shouted, "Don't'it 'im; 'ook 'im!" His arms

were seized from behind and pinioned to his sides. The lights were turned out. Somebody in front hit him a

terrific crack in the eye at the same moment that someone else administered a violent kick from the rear. He

was propelled by an invisible force to the head of the stairs, and then whizz! down he went in one

Here, in pitchdarkness, he grappled one of his assailants. For a few seconds they swayed and struggled, and

then rolled down the rest of the stairs, over and over each other, grappling and clawing, each trying to tear the

other's shirt off. When they rolled into the street, Carew discovered that he had hold of Charlie Gordon.

They sat up and looked at each other. Then they made a simultaneous rush for the stairs, but the street door

was slammed in their faces. They kicked it violently, but without result, except that a mob of faces looked out

of the firstfloor window and hooted, and a bucket of water was emptied over them. A crowd collected as if

by magic, and the spectacle of two gentlemen in evening dress trying to kick in the door of a shilling dancing

"What O! Won't she darnce with you?" said another; and somebody from the back threw banana peel at them.

Charlie recovered his wits first. The Englishman was fairly berserk with rage, and glared round on the

bystanders as if he contemplated a rush among them. The cabman put an end to the performance. He was

tranquil and unemotional, and he soothed them down and coaxed them into the cab. The band in the room

Carew subsided into the corner, breathing hard and feeling his eye. Charlie leant forward and peered out into

the darkness. They were nearly at the club before they spoke. Then he said, "Well, I'm blessed! We made a

"I'd like to have got one fair crack at some of 'em," said the Englishman, with heartfelt earnestness. "Couldn't

"No, what's the good? We'd never get in. Let the thing alone. We needn't say anything about it. If once it gets

known that we were chucked out, we'll never hear the last of it. Are you marked at all?"

"I've got a cut lip, and my head nearly screwed off. You did that. I'll know the place again. Some day we'll

get a few of the right sort to come with us, and we'll just go there quietly, as if we didn't mean anything, and

then, all of a sudden, we'll turn in and break the whole place up! Come and have a drink now."

They had a silent drink in the deserted club. The mind of each was filled with a sickening sense of defeat, and

without much conversation they retired to bed. They thanked heaven that the Bo'sun, Pinnock, and Gillespie

Even then Fate hadn't quite finished with the bushman. A newly joined member of the club, he had lived a

life in which he had to shift for himself, and the ways of luxury were new to him. Consequently, when he

awoke next morning and saw a man moving with catlike tread about his room, absolutely taking the money

out of his clothes before his very eyes, he sprang out of bed with a bound and halfthrottled the robber. Then,

of course, it turned out that it was only the bedroom waiter, who was taking his clothes away to brush them.

This contretemps, on top of the overnight mishap, made him determined to get away from town with all

speed. When he looked in the glass, he found his lip so much swelled that his moustache stuck out in front

like the bowsprit of a ship. At breakfast he joined the Englishman, who had an eye with as many colours as

Carew had resumed his mantle of stolidity, but he coloured a little at the question. "I've been out for a bit of a

walk round town," he said. "Fact is," he added in a sudden burst of confidence, "I've been all over town

lookin' for that place where we were last night. Couldn't find anything like it at all."

Charlie laughed at his earnestness. "Oh, bother the place," he said. "If you had found it, there wouldn't have

been any of them there. Now, about ourselves we can't show out like this. We'd better be off today, and no

one need know anything about it. Besides, I halfkilled a waiter this morning. I thought he was some chap

stealing my money, when he only wanted to take my clothes away to brush 'em. Sooner we're out of town the

So saying, they settled down to breakfast, and by tacit agreement avoided the club for the rest of the day.

Before leaving, Charlie had to call and interview Pinnock, and left Carew waiting outside while he went in.

He didn't want to parade their injuries, and knew that Carew's eye would excite remark; but by keeping his

upper lip well drawn over his teeth, he hoped his own trouble would escape notice.

"He'll do all right," said Charlie casually. "I've met his sort before. He's not such a fool as he lets on to be.

They sneaked on board the steamer without meeting the Bo'sun or anybody, and before evening were well on

There are few countries in the world with such varieties of climate as Australia, and though some stations are

out in the great, redhot, frying wastes of the NeverNever, others are up in the hills where a hot night is a

thing unknown, where snow falls occasionally, and where it is no uncommon thing to spend a summer's

evening by the side of a roaring fire. In the matter of improvements, too, stations vary greatly. Some are in a

wilderness with fittings to match; others have telephones between homestead and outstations, the jackeroos

dress for dinner, and the station hands are cowed into touching their hats and saying "Sir". Also stations are

of all sizes, and the man who is considered quite a big squatter in the settled districts is thought small

potatoes by the magnate "out back", who shears a hundred and fifty thousand sheep, and has an overdraft like

Kuryong was a hillcountry station of about sixty thousand acres all told; but they were good acres, as no one

knew better than old Bully Grant, the owner, of whose history and disposition we heard something from

Pinnock at the club. It was a highly improved place, with a fine homestead thanks to Bully Grant's money,

for in the old days it had been a very different sort of place and its history is typical of the history of

When Andrew Gordon first bought it, it was held under lease from the Crown, and there were no

improvements to speak of. The station homestead, so lovingly descanted upon in the advertisement consisted

of a tworoomed slab hut; the woolshed, where the sheep were shorn, was made of gumtree trunks roofed

with bark. The wool went down to Sydney, and station supplies came back, in huge waggons drawn by

eighteen or twenty bullocks, that travelled nine miles a day on a journey of three hundred miles. There were

no neighbours except at the township of Kiley's Crossing, which consisted of two publichouses and a store.

It was a rough life for the young squatter, and evidently he found it lonely; for on a visit to Sydney he fell in

love with and married a dainty girl of French descent. Refined, welleducated, and fragilelooking, she

seemed about the last person in the world to take out to a slabhut homestead as a squatter's wife. But there is

an old saying that blood will tell; and with all the courage of her Huguenot ancestry she faced the roughness

and discomforts of bush life. On her arrival at the station the old tworoomed hut was plastered and

whitewashed, additional rooms were built, and quite a neat little home was the result. Seasons were good, and

the young squatter might have gone on shearing sheep and selling fat stock till the end of his life but for the

In that year the Legislature threw open all leasehold lands to the public for purchase on easy terms and

conditions. The idea was to settle an industrious peasantry on lands hitherto leased in large blocks to the

squatters. This brought down a flood of settlement on Kuryong. At the top end of the station there was a

chain of mountains, and the country was rugged and patchy rich valleys alternating with ragged hills.

Here and there about the run were little patches of specially good land, which were soon snapped up. The

pioneers of these small settlers were old Morgan Donohoe and his wife, who had built the hotel at Kiley's

Crossing; and, on their reports, all their friends and relatives, as they came out of the "ould country", worked

their way to Kuryong, and built little bits of slab and bark homesteads in among the mountains. The rougher

the country, the better they liked it. They were a horsethieving, sheepstealing breed, and the talents which

had made thern poachers in the old country soon made them champion bushmen in their new surroundings.

The leader of these mountain settlers was one Doyle, a gigantic Irishman, who had got a grant of a few

hundred acres in the mountains, and had taken to himself a Scotch wife from among the free immigrants. The

story ran that he was too busy to go to town, but asked a friend to go and pick a wife for him "a fine

The Doyles were large, slow, heavy men, with an instinct for the management of cattle; they were easily

distinguished from the Donohoes, who were little redwhiskered men, enterprising and quickwitted, and

ready to do anything in the world for a good horse. Other strangers and outlanders came to settle in the

district, but from the original settlement up to the date of our story the two great families of the Doyles and

the Donohoes governed the neighbourhood, and the headquarters of the clans was at Donohoe's "Shamrock

Hotel", at Kiley's Crossing. Here they used to rendezvous when they went away down to the plains country

each year for the shearing; for they added to their resources by travelling about the country shearing, droving,

fencing, tanksinking, or doing any other job that offered itself, but always returned to their mountain

fastnesses ready for any bit of work "on the cross" (i.e., unlawful) that might turn up. When times got hard

they had a handy knack of finding horses that nobody had lost, shearing sheep they did not own, and branding

When they stole stock, they moved them on through the mountains as quickly as possible, always having a

brother or uncle, or a cousin Terry or Timothy or Martin or Patsy who had a holding "beyant". By

these means they could shift stolen stock across the great range, and dispose of them among the peaceable

folk who dwelt in the good country on the other side, whose stock they stole in return. Many a good horse

and fat beast had made the stealthy mountain journey, lying hidden in gaps and gullies when pursuit grew

Another striking feature was the way in which they got themselves mixed up with each other. Their names

were so tangled up that no one could keep tally of them. There was a Red Mick Donohoe (son of the old

publican), and his cousin Black Mick Donohoe, and Red Mick's son Mick, and Black Mick's son Mick, and

Red Mick's son Pat, and Black Mick's son Pat; and there was Gammy Doyle (meaning Doyle with the lame

leg), and Scrammy Doyle (meaning Doyle with the injured arm), and Bosthoon Doyle and Omadhaun Doyle

a Bosthoon being a man who never had any great amount of sense to speak of, while an Omadhaun is a

man who began life with some sense, but lost most of it on his journey. It was a common saying in the

countryside that if you met a man on the mountains you should say, "Good day, Doyle," and if he replied,

"That's not my name," you should at once say, "Well, meant no offence, Mr Donohoe."

One could generally pick which was which of the original stock, but when they came to intermarry there was

no telling t'other from which. Startling likenesses cropped up among the relatives, and it was widely

rumoured that one Doyle who was known to be in gaol, and who was vaguely spoken of by the dan as being

"away", was in fact serving an accumulation of sentences for himself and other members of the family, whose

With such neighbours as these fighting him for every block of land, Andrew Gordon soon came to the end of

his resources, and it was then that he had to take in his old manager as a partner. Before Bully Grant had been

in the firm long, he had secured nearly all the good land, and the industrious yeomanry that the Land Act was

supposed to create were hiding away up the gullies on miserable little patches of bad land, stealing sheep for

a living. Bully fought them stoutly, impounded their sheep and cattle, and prosecuted trespassers and thieves;

and, his luck being wonderful, he soon added to the enormous fortune he had made in mining, while Andrew

Gordon died impoverished. When he died, old Bully gave the management of the stations to his sons, and

contented himself with finding fault. But one dimly remembered episode in his career was talked of by the

old hands around Kiley's Hotel, long after Grant had become a wealthy man, and had gone for long trips to

Grant, in spite of the judgment and sagacity on which he prided himself, had at various times in his career

made mistakes mistakes in station management, mistakes about stock, mistakes about men, and last, but

not least, mistakes about women; and it was to one of these mistakes that the gossips referred.

When he was a young man working as Mr Gordon's manager, and living with the horsebreaker and the

rationcarrier on the outstation at Kuryong (in those days a wild, halfcivilised place), he had for

neighbours Red Mick's father and mother, the original Mr and Mrs Donohoe, and their family. Their eldest

daughter, Peggy "Carrotty Peg", her relations called her was at that time a fine, strapping, bush girl,

and the only unmarried white woman anywhere near the station. She was as fair complexioned as Red Mick

himself, with a magnificent head of red hair, and the bust and limbs of a young Amazon.

This young woman, as she grew up, attracted the attention of Billy the Bully, and they used to meet a good

deal out in the bush. On such occasions, he would possibly be occupied in the inspiriting task of dragging a

dead sheep after his horse, to make a trail to lead the wild dogs up to some poisoned meat; while the lady,

clad in light and airy garments, with a huge white sunbonnet for headgear, would be riding straddlelegged

in search of strayed cows. When Grant left the station, and went away to make his fortune in mining, it was,

perhaps, just a coincidence that this magnificent young creature grew tired of the old place and "cleared out",

too. She certainly went away and disappeared so utterly that even her own people did not know what had

become of her; to the younger generation her very existence was only a vague tradition. But it was whispered

here and muttered there among the Doyles and the Donohoes and their friends and relations, that old Billy the

Bully, on one of his visits to the interior, had been married to this undesirable lady by a duly accredited

parson, in the presence of responsible witnesses; and that, when everyone had their own, Carrotty Peg, if

alive, would be the lady of Kuryong. However, she had never come back to prove it, and no one cared about

So much for the history of its owners; now to describe the homestead itself. It had originally consisted of the

tworoomed slab hut, which had been added to from time to time. Kitchen, outhouses, bachelors' quarters,

saddlerooms, and storerooms had been built on in a kind of straggling quadrangle, with many corners and

unexpected doorways and passages; and it is reported that a swagman once got his dole of rations at the

kitchen, went away, and after turning two or three corners, got so tangled up that when Fate led him back to

the kitchen he didn't recognise it, and asked for the rations over again, in the firm belief that he was at a

The original building was still the principal livingroom, but the house had grown till it contained about

twenty rooms. The slab walls had been plastered and whitewashed, and a wide verandah ran all along the

front. Round the house were acres of garden, with great clumps of willows and acacias, where the magpies

The house stood on a spur running from the hills. Looking down the river from it, one saw level flats waving

with long grasses, in which the solemn cattle waded kneedeep. Here and there clumps of willows and stately

poplars waved in the breeze. In the clear, dry air all colours were startlingly vivid, and round the nearer

foothills wonderful lights and shadows played and shifted, while sometimes a white fleece of mist would drift

slowly across a distant hill, like a film of snowy lace on the face of a beautiful woman. Away behind the

foothills were the grand old mountains, with their snowclad tops gleaming in the sun.

The garden was almost as lacking in design as the house. There were acres of fruit trees, with prairie grass

growing at their roots, trees whereon grew luscious peaches and juicy eggplums; long vistas of grapevines,

with little turnings and alleys, regular lovers' walks, where the scent of honeysuckle intoxicated the senses. At

the foot of the garden was the river, a beautiful stream, fed by the mountainsnow, and rushing joyously over

clear gravel beds, whose milliontinted pebbles flashed in the sunlight like so many opals.

In some parts of Australia it is difficult to tell summer from winter; but up in this mountaincountry each

season had its own attractions. In the spring the flats were green with lush grass, speckled with buttercups and

bachelors' buttons, and the willows put out their new leaves, and all manner of shy dryscented bush flowers

bloomed on the ranges; and the air was full of the song of birds and the calling of animals. Then came

summer, when never a cloud decked the arch of blue sky, and all animated nature drew into the shade of big

trees until the evening breeze sprang up, bringing sweet scents of the dry grass and ripening grain. In autumn,

the leaves of the English trees turned all tints of yellow and crimson, and the grass in the paddocks went

brown; and the big bullock teams worked from dawn till dark, hauling in their loads of hay from the

But most beautiful of all was winter, when logs blazed in the huge fireplaces, and frosts made the ground

crisp, and the stock, longhaired and shaggy, came snuffling round the stables, picking up odds and ends of

straw; when the grey, snowclad mountains looked but a stone's throw away in the intensely clear air, and the

wind brought a colour to the cheeks and a tingling to the blood that made life worth living.

Such was Kuryong homestead, where lived Charlie Gordon's mother and his brother Hugh, with a lot of

children left by another brother who, like many others, had gone up to Queensland to make his fortune, and

had left his bones there instead; and to look after these young folk there was a governess, Miss Harriott.

The spring the glorious hillcountry spring was down on Kuryong. All the flats along Kiley's River

were kneedeep in green grass. The wattletrees were out in golden bloom, and the snowwater from the

mountains set the river running white with foam, fighting its way over bars of granite into big pools where

the platypus dived, and the wild ducks busy with the cares of nesting just settled occasionally to snatch

a hasty meal and then hurried off, with a whistle of strong wings, back to their little ones. The breeze brought

down from the hills a scent of grass and bush flowers. There was life and movement everywhere. The little

foals raced and played all day in the sunshine round their big sleepy mothers; the cattle bellowed to each

other from hill to hill; even those miserable brutes, the sheep, frisked in an ungainly way when anything

startled them. At all the little mountainfarms and holdings young Doyles and Donohoes were catching their

horses, lean after the winter's starvation, and loading the packsaddles for their fivemonths' trip out to the

borders of Queensland, from shearingshed to shearingshed. A couple of months before they started, they

would write to the squatters for whom they had worked on previous shearings such quaint, illspelled

letters asking that a pen might be kept for them. Great shearers they were, too, for the mountain air bred

hardy men, and while they were at it they worked feverishly, bending themselves nearly double over the

sheep, and making the shears fly till the sweat ran down their foreheads and dripped on the ground; and they

peeled the yellow wool off sheep after sheep as an expert cook peels an apple. In the settled districts such as

Kuryong, where the flocks were small, they were made to shear carefully; but away out on the Queensland

side, on a station with two hundred thousand sheep to get through, they rushed the wool off savagely. He was

a poor specimen of the clan who couldn't shear his hundred and twenty sheep between bell and bell; and the

price was a pound a hundred, with plenty of stations wanting shearers, so they made good cheques in those

One glorious spring morning, Hugh Gordon was sitting in his office every squatter and stationmanager

has an office waiting with considerable impatience the coming of the weekly mail. The office looked like

a blend of stationer's shop, tobacconist's store, and saddlery warehouse. A row of pigeonholes along the

walls was filled with letters and papers; the rafters were hung with saddles and harness; a tobaccocutter and

a jar of tobacco stood on the table, side by side with some formidablelooking knives, used for cutting the

sheep's feet when they became diseased; whips and guns stood in every corner; nails and saws filled up a lot

of boxes on the table, and a few samples of wool hung from a rope that was stretched across the room. The

mantelpiece was occupied by bottles of horsemedicine and boxes of cartridges; an elderly white cockatoo,

chained by the leg to a galvanisediron perch, sunned himself by the door, and at intervals gave an exhibition

of his latest accomplishment, in which he imitated the yowl of a troddenon cat much better than the cat

The air was heavy with scent. All round the great quadrangle of the house acacia trees were in bloom, and the

bees were working busily among the mignonette and roses in front of the office door.

Hugh Gordon was a lithe, wiry young Australian with intensely sunburnt face and hands, and a drooping

black moustache; a man with a healthy, breezy outdoor appearance, but the face of an artist, a dreamer, and a

thinker, rather than that of a practical man. His brother Charlie and he, though very much alike in face, were

quite different types of manhood. Charlie, from his earliest schooldays, had never read a book except under

compulsion, had never stayed indoors when he could possibly get out, had never obeyed an unwelcome order

when by force or fraud he could avoid doing so, and had never written a letter in his life when a telegram

would do. He took the world as it came, having no particular amount of imagination, and never worried

himself. Hugh, on the other hand, was inclined to meet trouble halfway, and to make troubles where none

Hugh walked to the door and gazed out over the garden and homestead, down the long stretch of green

paddocks where fat cattle were standing under the trees, too well fed to bother themselves with looking for

grass. He looked beyond all this to the long drabcoloured stretch of road that led to Kiley's, watching for the

mailboy's arrival. The mail was late, for the melting snow had flooded the mountain creeks, and Hugh knew

it was quite likely that little Patsy Donohoe, the mailboy, had been blocked at Donohoe's Hotel for two days,

unable to cross Kiley's River. This had happened often, and on various occasions when Patsy had crossed, he,

pony and all, had been swept down quite a quarter of a mile in the icecold water before they could reach

land. But that was an ordinary matter in the spring, and it was a point of honour with Patsy and all his breed

not to let the elements beat them in carrying out the mail contract, which they tendered for every year, and in

At last Hugh's vigil was rewarded by the appearance of a small and wildlooking boy, mounted on a large

and wildlooking horse. The boy was about twelve years of age, and had just ridden a halfbroken horse a

fortymile journey for of such is the youth of Australia. Patsy was wet and dirty, and the big leather

"We had to swim, Mr Hugh," the boy said triumphantly, "and this great, clumsy cow" (the child referred to

his horse) "he reared over on me in the water, twyst, but I stuck to him. My oath!"

Hugh laughed. "I expect Kiley's River will get you yet, Patsy," he said. "Go in now to the kitchen and get dry

by the fire. I'll lend you a horse to get back on tomorrow. You can camp here till then, there's no hurry back."

The boy let his horse go loose, dismissing it with a parting whack on the rump with the bridle, and swaggered

inside, carrying his saddle, to show his wet clothes and recount his deeds to the admiring cook. Patsy was not

Hugh carried the bag into the office, and shook out the letters and papers on the table. Everything was

permeated with a smell of wet leather, and some of the newspapers were rather pulpy. After sending out

everybody else's mail he turned to examine his own. Out of the mass of letters, agents' circulars, notices of

sheep for sale, catalogues of city firms, and circulars from pastoral societies, he picked a letter addressed to

himself in the scrawling fist of William Grant. He opened it, expecting to find in it the usual Commination

Service on things in general, but as he read on, a vivid surprise spread over his face. Leaving the other letters

and papers unopened, he walked to the door and looked out into the courtyard, where Stuffer, the youngest of

his nephews, who was too small to be allowed to join in the field sports of the others, was playing at being a

railway train. He had travelled in a train once, and now passed Hugh's door under easy steam, working his

arms and legs like pistonrods, and giving piercing imitations of a steamwhistle at intervals.

"Well, look here," said Hugh, "you just railwaytrain yourself round the house till you find her, and let me

The Stuffer steamed himself out with the action of an engine drawing a long train of cars, and disappeared

Before long he was back, drew himself up alongside an imaginary platform, intimated that his grandmother

was on the verandah, and then proceeded to let the steam hiss out of his safetyvalve.

Hugh walked across the quadrangle, under the acacia tree, heavy with blossoms, in which a myriad bees were

droning at their work, and through the house on to the front verandah, which looked over the wide sweep of

riverflat. Here he found his mother and Miss Harriott, the governess, peeling apples for dumplings great

rosycheeked, solidfleshed apples, that the hillcountry turns out in perfection. The old lady was slight in

figure, with a refined face, and a carriage erect in spite of her years. Miss Harriott was of a languid Spanish

type, with black eyes and strongly marked eyebrows. She had a petite, but wellrounded figure, with

curiously small hands and feet. Though only about twentyfour years of age she had the sedate and

unemotional look that one sees in doctors and nurses people who have looked on death and birth, and

sorrow and affliction. For Ellen Harriott had done her three years' course as a nurse; she had a natural faculty

for the business, and was in great request among the wild folk of the mountains, who looked upon her (and

perhaps rightly) as quite equal to the Tarrong doctor in any emergency. She knew them all, for she had lived

nearly all her life at Kuryong. When the family moved there from the back country a tutor was needed for the

boys, and an old brokendown gentleman accepted the billet at low pay, on condition that he was allowed to

bring his little daughter with him. When he died, the daughter still stayed on, and was made governess to the

new generation of young folk. She was a queer, selfcontained girl, saying little; and as Hugh walked in, she

looked up at him, and wondered what new trouble was bringing him to his mother with the open letter in his

She saw by her son's face that there was something more than usual in the wind, but one who had lived her

life, from fortune to poverty, through strife and trial, was prepared to take things much more easily than

"Yes, here's the letter. It only came this morning. Patsy was late, the river is up. I'll read it to you."

"The last lot of wethers, though they topped the market, only realised 10/. I think you would show better

judgment in keeping these sheep back a little. Don't rely upon Sutton's advice. He is generally wrong, and is

"My daughter has arrived from England, and will at once go up to the station. I have written to your mother

on the subject. My daughter will represent me in everything, so I wish her to learn a little about stations. Send

"Wednesday next!" said Hugh, "that letter is three days delayed. Patsy couldn't cross the river. She'll be there

before we can possibly get down. If no one meets her I wonder if she'll have pluck enough to get into the

"I don't envy her the trip, if she does," said Miss Harriott. "The coachdrive over those roads will seem awful

"I'll have to go down at once, anyhow," said Hugh, "and meet her on the road somewhere. If she is at the

"Yes," said the old lady, "but I won't show it to you now. You shall see it some other time."

"Well, I'll set about making a start," said Hugh. "What trap had I better take?"

"You'd better take the big waggonette," said the old lady, in her soft voice. "A young girl just out from

England is sure to have a great deal of luggage, you know. I wonder if she is anything like Mr Grant. I hope

"You'd better come down with me, Miss Harriott, to meet her," said Hugh. "I don't suppose your luggage

"I think I'll wait," said the young lady meditatively. "She'll be tired from travelling and looking after her

luggage, and she had better meet the family one at a time. You go and meet her, and your mother and I will

"No, that's all," said Hugh. "Well, I'll send the boy to run in the horses. I'll take four horses in the big

waggonette; I expect she'll be waiting at Donohoe's that is, if she left the railway station in the coach if

With this he went back to the office, and his mother and Miss Harriott went their separate ways to prepare for

the comfort of the heiress. To Ellen Harriott the arrival was a new excitement, a change in the monotony of

bush life; but to the old lady and Hugh it meant a great deal more. It meant that they would be no longer

master and mistress of the big station on which they had lived so long, and which was now so much under

Everything depended on what the girl was like. They had never even seen a photograph of her, and awaited

her coming in a state of nervous expectancy. All over the district they had been practically considered owners

of the big station; Hugh had taken on and dismissed employees at his will, had controlled the buying and

selling of thousands of sheep and cattle, and now this strange girl was to come in with absolute power over

them. They would be servants and dependants on the station, which had once belonged to them.

After Hugh had gone, the old lady sat back in her armchair and read over again her letter from Mr Grant; and,

lest it should be thought that that gentleman had only one side to his character, it is as well for the reader to

"I am writing to you about a most important matter. Colonel Selwyn is dead, and my daughter has come out

from England. I don't know anyone to take charge of her except yourself. I am an old man now, and set in my

ways, and this girl is really all I have to live for. Lookine back on my life, I see where I have been a fool; and

perhaps the good fortune that has followed me has been more luck than anything else. Your husband was a

smarter man than I am, and he came to grief, though I will say that I always warned him against that western

"Do you remember the old days when we had the two little homesteads, and I used to ride down from the

outstation of a Saturday and spend Sunday with you and Andrew, and talk over the fortunes we were going

to make? If I had met a woman like you in those days I might have been a better man. As it was, I made a

"Now about my girl. If you will take her, and make her as good a woman as yourself, or as near it as you can,

you will earn my undying thanks. As to money matters, when I die she will of course have a great deal of

money, so that it is well she should begin now to learn how to use it; I have, therefore, given her full power to

draw all money that may be required. I may tell you that I intend to leave your boys enough to start them in

life, and they will have a firstclass chance to get on. I am sending Charlie out to the west, to take over a

block which those fools, Sutton and Co, got me to advance money on, and on which the man cannot pay his

"Meanwhile, dear Mrs Gordon, for the sake of old times, do what you can for the girl. I expect she has been

brought up with English ideas. I can't get her to say much to me, which I daresay is my own fault. After she

Reading this letter called back the whole panorama of the past the old days when she and her husband

were struggling in the rough, hard, pioneering life, and the blacks were thick round the station; the birth of

her children, and the ups and downs of her husband's fortunes; then the burial of her husband out on the

sandhills, and her flight to this haven of rest at Kuryong. Though she had lost interest in things for herself,

she felt keenly for her children, and was sick at heart when she thought what this girl, who was to wield such

power over them, might turn out to be. But she hoped that Grant's daughter, whatever else she might be,

would at any rate be a genuine, straightforward girl; and filled with this hope, she sat down to answer

"Dear Mr Grant," she wrote, "I have received your letter. Hugh has gone down to meet your daughter, but the

mails were delayed owing to the river being up, and he may not get to the railway station as soon as she

arrives. I will do what I can for her, and I thank you for what you say you will do for my boys. I will let you

know the moment she arrives. I wish you would come up and live on the station for a time. It would be better

for you than life in the club, without a friend to care for you. If ever you feel inclined to stay here for a time, I

The coach from Tarrong railway station to Emu Flat, and then on to Donohoe's Hotel, ran twice a week. Pat

Donohoe was mailman, contractor and driver, and his admirers said that Pat could hit his five horses in more

places at once than any other man on the face of the earth. His coach was horsed by the neighbouring

squatters, through whose stations the road ran; and any horse that developed homicidal tendencies, or

exhibited a disinclination to work, was at once handed over to the mailman to be licked into shape. The result

was that, as a rule, Pat was driving teams composed of animals that would do anything but go straight, but

under his handling they were generally persuaded, after a day or two, to settle down to their work.

On the day when Hugh and Mrs Gordon read Mr Grant's letter at Kuryong, the train deposited at Tarrong, a

selfreliant young lady of about twenty, accompanied by nearly a truckfull of luggage solid leather

portmanteaux, canvascovered bags, iron boxes, and so on which produced a great sensation among the

rustics. She was handsome enough to be called a beauty, and everything about her spoke of exuberant health

and vitality. Her figure was supple, and she had the clear pink and white complexion which belongs to cold

She seemed accustomed to being waited on, and watched without emotion the guard and the solitary railway

official porter, stationmaster, telegraphoperator and lanternman, all rolled into one haul her

hundredweights of luggage out of the train. Then she told the perspiring stationmaster, etc., to please have

the luggage sent to the hotel, and marched over to that building in quite an assured way, carrying a small

handbag. Three commercial travellers, who had come up by the same train, followed her off the platform, and

the most gallant of the three winked at his friends, and then stepped up and offered to carry her bag. The

young lady gave him a pleasant smile, and handed him the bag; together they crossed the street, while the

other commercials marched disconsolately behind. At the door of the hotel she took the bag from her

cavalier, and there and then, in broad Australian daylight, rewarded him with twopence a disaster which

caused him to apply to his firm for transfer to some foreign country at once. She marched into the bar, where

Dan, the landlord's son, was sweeping, while Mrs Connellan, the landlady, was wiping glasses in the midst of

"I am going to Kuryong," said the young lady, "and I expected to meet Mr Gordon here. Is he here?"

Mrs Connellan looked at her openeyed. Such an apparition was not often seen in Tarrong. Mr and Mrs

Connellan had only just "taken the pub", and what with trying to keep Connellan sober and refusing drinks to

tramps, loafers and blackfellows, Mrs Connellan was pretty well worn out. As for making the hotel pay, that

idea had been given up long ago. It was against Mrs Connellan's instincts of hospitality to charge anyone for

a meal or a bed, and when any great rush of bar trade took place it generally turned out to be "Connellan's

shout", so the hotel was not exactly a goldmine. In fact, Mrs Connellan had decided that the less business

she did, the more money she would make; and she rather preferred that people should not stop at her hotel.

This girl looked as if she would give trouble; might even expect clean beds and clean sheets when there were

none within the hotel, and might object to fleas, of which there were plenty. So the landlady pulled herself

"Mr Gordon couldn't git in," she said. "The cricks (creeks) is all up. The coach is going down to Kiley's

"In an hour or two. As soon as Pat Donohoe, the mailman, has got a horse shod. Come in and have a wash,

"'Ello," said Dan's voice, from the passage, where, with the wildeyed servantgirl, he had been taking stock

"There are only four portmanteaux and three bags, and two boxes and a hatbox, and a roll of rugs; and

"Better git the bloomin' bullock dray," growled Dan, quite keen to see this aggregation of luggage; and

foreseeing something to talk about for the next three months. "She must ha' come up to start a store, I

reckon," said Dan; and off he went to struggle with boxes for the next halfhour or so.

Over Mary Grant's experiences at the Tarrong Hotel we will not linger. The dirty water, peopled by wriggling

animalculae, that she poured out of the bedroom jug; the damp, cloudy, unhealthysmelling towel on which

she dried her face; the broken window through which she could hear herself being discussed by loafers in the

yard; all these things are matters of course in bush townships, for the Australian, having a soul above details,

does not shine at hotelkeeping. The breakfast was enlivened by snatches of song from the big, goodnatured

bush girl who waited at table, and who "fancied" her voice somewhat, and marched into the breakfastroom

(spoken.) "What you'll have, there's chops, steaks, and bacon and eggs" "Chops, please."

While she ate, Miss Grant had an uneasy feeling that she was being stared at; all the female staff and

hangerson of the place having gathered round the door to peer in at her and to appraise to the last farthing

her hat, her tailormade gown, and her solid English walkingshoes, and to indulge in wild speculation as to

who or what she could be. A Kickapoo Indian in full warpaint, arriving suddenly in a little English village,

could not have created more excitement than she did at Tarrong. After breakfast she walked out on the

verandah that ran round the little onestorey weatherboard hotel, and looked down the mile and ahalf of

road, with little galvanisedironroofed cottages at intervals of a quarter of a mile or so, that constituted the

township. She watched Conroy, the policeman, resplendent in breeches and polished boots, swagger out from

the courthouse yard, leading his horse to water. The town was waking to its daily routine; Carry, the

butcher, took down the clumsy board that passed for a windowshutter, and McDermott, the carter, passed

the hotel, riding a huge roughcoated draught horse, barebacked. Everyone gave him a "Mornin', Billy!" as

he passed, and he returned the greeting as he did every morning of his life. A few children loitered past to the

She was in a hurry to get away English people always are but in the bright lexicon of the bush there is

no such word as hurry. Tracey, the blacksmith, had not by any means finished shoeing the coach horse yet.

So Mrs Connellan made an attempt to find out who she was, and why she was going to Kuryong.

"You'll have a nice trip in the coach," she said. "Lier (lawyer) Blake's going down. He's a nice feller."

Mrs Connellan was simply staggered at this colossal treasuretrove, this majestic piece of gossip that had

fallen on her like rain from Heaven. Mr Grant's daughter! Going out to Kuryong! What a piece of news!

Hardly knowing what she did, she shuffled out of the room, and interrupted the singing waitress who was

wiping plates, and had just got back to "It's a vilet" when Mrs Connellan burst in on her.

"Maggie! Maggie! Do you know who that is? Grant's daughter! The one that used to be in England. She must

be going to Kuryong to live, with all that luggage. What'll the Gordons say? The old lady won't like it, will

she? This'll be a bit of news, won't it?" And she went off to tell the cook, while Maggie darted to the door to

Dan told the stationmaster when he went back for the next load, and when he had finished carting the

luggage he got on a horse and went round telling everybody in the little town. The stationmaster told the

ganger of the four navvies who went by on their trolly down the line to work. At the end of their fourmile

length they told the rationcarrier of Eubindal station, who happened to call in at their camp for a drink of

tea. He hurried off to the headstation with the news, and on his way told three teamsters, an inspector of

selections, and a black boy belonging to Mylong station, whom he happened to meet on the road. Each of

them told everybody that they met, pulling up and standing in their stirrups to discuss the matter in all its

bearings, in the leisurely style of the bush; and wondering what she had come out for, whether the Gordons

would get the sack from Kuryong, whether she would marry Hugh Gordon, whether she was engaged

already, whether she was goodlooking, how much money she had, and how much old Grant would leave

her. In fact, before twentyfour hours were over, all the district knew of her arrival; which possibly explains

how news travels in Africa among the Kaffirs, who are supposed to have a signalling system that no one has

yet fathomed; but the way it gets round in Australia is just as wonderful as among the Kaffirs, in fact, for

speed and thoroughness of information we should be inclined to think that our coloured brethren run a bad

At last, however, Tracey had finished shoeing the coach horse, and Miss Grant, with part of her luggage, took

a seat on the coach behind five of Donohoe's worst horses, next to a welldressed, powerfully built man of

about fiveandtwenty. He looked and talked like a gentleman, and she heard the coachman address him as

"Mr Blake". She and he shared the boxseat with the driver, and just at the last moment the local priest

hurried up and climbed on the coach. In some unaccountable way he had missed hearing who the young lady

It was not long before, in the free and easy Australian style, the passengers began to talk to each other as the

coach bumped along its monotonous road up one hill, through an avenue of dusty, tiredlooking

gumtrees, down the other side through a similar avenue, up another hill precisely the same as the last, and so

Blake was the first to make advances. "Not much to be seen on this sort of journey, Miss Grant," he said.

The young lady looked at him with serious eyes. "No," she said, "we've only seen two houses since we left

Here the priest broke in. He was a broth of a boy from Maynooth, just the man to handle the Doyle and

"It's the big stations is the roon of the country," he said. "How is the country to go ahead wid all the good

land locked up? There's Kuryong on ahead here would support two hundred fam'lies, and what does it employ

By four in the afternoon they reached Kiley's River, running yellow and frothcovered with melting snow.

The coachman pulled his horses up on the bank, and took a good, long look at the bearings. As they waited,

"There's Mr Gordon," said the coachman. "I don't think he'll try it. I reckon it's a trifle deep for me. Do you

"Yes, very particularly, Pat. I've told Martin Donohoe to meet me down here with some witnesses in a

"I'm go'n on to Tim Murphy's dyin' bed. Put 'em into the wather, they'll take it aisy."

The driver turned to the third passenger. "It's a bit dangerouslike, Miss. If you like to get out, it's up to you

to say so. The coach might wash over. There's a settler's place up the river a mile. You can go and stay there

Preparations for crossing the river were soon made. Anything that would spoil by getting wet, or that would

float out of the coach, was lifted up and packed on the roof. The passengers stood up on the seats. Then Pat

Donohoe put the whip on his leaders, and calling to his two wheelers, oldseasoned veterans, he put them at

Snorting and trembling, the leaders picked their way into the yellow water, the coach bumping over the

rubble of the crossingplace. Hugh Gordon, watching from the farside of the river, saw the coach dip and

rock and plunge over the boulders. On it came till the water was actually lapping into the body of the coach,

roaring and swirling round the horses' legs, up to their flanks and bellies, while the driver called out to them

and kept them straight with voice and reins. Every spring he had a similar crossing, and he knew almost to an

inch at what height it was safe to go into the river. But this time, as illluck would have it, the offside leader

was a young, vicious, thoroughbred colt, who had been handed over to him to be cured of a propensity for

striking people with his forefeet. As the horses worked their way into the river, the colt, with the courage of

his breeding, pulled manfully, and breasted the current fearlessly. But suddenly a floating log drifted down,

and struck him on the front legs. In an instant he reared up, and threw himself heavily sideways against his

mate, bringing him to his knees; then the two of them, floundering and scrambling, were borne away with the

current, dragging the coach after them. In a few yards they were off the causeway; the coach, striking deep

water, settled like a boat, and turned over on its side, with the leaders swimming for their lives. As for the

wheelers, they were pulled down with the vehicle, and were almost drowning in their harness.

Cool as a cucumber, Blake had turned to the girl. "Can you swim?" he said. And she answered him as coolly,

"Well, put your hands on my shoulders, and leave everything to me." Just then the coach settled over with

Away they went with the roaring current, the girl clinging fast to his shoulders, while he gave his whole

attention to dodging the stumps and snags that were showing their formidable teeth above water. For a while

she was able to hold on. Then, with a sickening sense of helplessness, she felt herself torn from him, and

whirled away like a leaf. The rank smell of the muddy water was in her nostrils, the fear of death in her heart.

She struggled to keep afloat. Suddenly a bloodstreaked face appeared, and Blake, bleeding from a cut on the

forehead, caught her with a strong grip and drew her to him. A few more seconds of whirling chaos, and she

felt land under her feet, and Blake halfcarrying her to the bank. They had been swept on to one of the many

Halfhysterical, she sat down on a huge log, and waited while Blake ran upstream to give help to the

coachman. While the two had been battling in the water, the priest had stayed with the coachman to cut the

horses free, till at last all four got clear of the wreck, and swam ashore. Then the men followed them, drifting

Hugh Gordon drove the waggonette down to pick up the party when they landed. The scene on the bank

would have made a good picture. The horses, dripping with water and shaking with cold, were snorting and

staring, while the coachman was trying to fix up some gear out of the wreck, so that he could ride one of

them. The priest, his broad Irish face ornamented by a black clay pipe, was tramping up and down in his wet

clothes. Blake was helping Miss Grant to wring the water out of her clothes, and she was somewhat

incoherently trying to thank him. As Hugh drove up, Blake looked up and caught his eye, and there flashed

between the two men an unmistakable look of hostility. Then Hugh jumped from the waggonette, and walked

"I'm Hugh Gordon," he said. "We only got your father's letter today, or I would have been down to meet you.

I hope you are not hurt. Jump into the trap, and I'll run down to the Donohoes', and get you some dry things."

"Thanks," said Blake, equally stiffly, "I can ride one of the mail horses. It's no distance. won't trouble you."

But the girl turned and put her hand into Blake's, and spoke with the air of a queen.

"I am very much obliged to you more than I can tell you. You have saved my life. If ever I can do

"Oh, nonsense," said Blake, "that's nothing. It was only a matter of dodging the stumps. You'd better get on

The mere fact of his refusing a lift showed that there was some hostility between himself and Hugh Gordon;

but the priest, who had climbed into the Kuryong vehicle as a matter of course, settled the matter offhand.

"Get in the trap," he said. "Get in the trap, man. What's the use for two of ye to ride the mail horses, and get

"Of course I'll give you a lift," said Hugh. "Jump in, and let us get away before you all get colds. What will

"I'll borry them two old draught horses from Martin Donohoe, and they'll haul it out. Bedad, some o' that

luggage'll be washed down to the Murrumbidgee before night; but the most of it is strapped on. Push along,

With some reluctance Blake got into the waggonette; before long they were at Donohoe's Hotel, and Mary

Grant was soon rigged out in an outfit from Mrs Donohoe's best clothes a palegreen linsey bodice and

purple skirt everything, including Mrs Donohoe's boots, being about four sizes too big. But she looked by

no means an unattractive little figure, with her brown eyes and healthy colour showing above the shapeless

She came into the little sittingroom laughing at the figure she cut, sat down, and drank scalding tea, and ate

Mrs Donohoe's cakes, while talking with Father Kelly and Blake over the great adventure.

When she was ready to start she got into the waggonette alongside Hugh, and waved goodbye to the priest

and Blake and Mrs Donohoe, as thobgh they were old friends. She had had her first touch of colonial

As soon as Hugh got his team swinging along at a steady ten miles an hour on the mountain road, Mary Grant

"Yes, I know. Mrs Connellan called him the 'lier'. But I thought you didn't seem to like him. Isn't he nice?"

"There's nothing wrong about him," he said, "only his mother was one of the Donohoes not a lady, you

know and he always goes with those people; and, of course, that means he doesn't go much with us."

"Well, you see, they're selectors, and they look on the station people as well, rather against them, you

know sort of enemies and he has never come to the station. But there is no reason why he shouldn't."

"Certainly he did," said Hugh. "I'll say that for Blake, he fears nothing. One of the pluckiest men alive. And

"Yes, horribly. I have often wondered whether I should be brave, you know, and now I don't think I am. Not

the least bit. But Mr Blake seemed so strong directly he caught hold of me I felt quite safe, somehow. If

"Certainly, Miss Grant. My mother will only be too glad. She was sorry that we did not get down to meet

Mary Grant laughed as she looked down at Mrs Donohoe's clothes. "What a sight I am!" she said. "But, after

all, it's Australia, isn't it? And I have had such adventures already! You know you will have to show me all

Hugh thought there was nothing in the world he would like better, but contented himself with a formal offer

"You must begin at once and tell me things. What estate are we on now?" she asked.

"This is your father's station. All you can see around belongs to him; but after the next gate we come on some

"Well," said Hugh, a little awkwardly, "they are relations of Mr Blake's. You'll see what an Australian

They drove through a rickety wireandsapling gate and across about a mile of bush, and suddenly came on

a little slab house nestling under the side of a hill. At the back were the stockyards and the killingpen, where

a contrivance for raising dead cattle called a gallows waved its arms to the sky. In front of the house

there was rather a nice little garden. At the back were a lot of dilapidated sheds, leaning in all directions. A

mob of sheep was penned in a yard outside one of the sheds; and in the garden an old woman, whitehaired

and wrinkled, with a very short dress showing a lot of dirty stocking and slipshod elasticsided boot, was

"Good day, Mrs Doyle," said Hugh. "Hard work that, this weather. How's all the family?"

"Mag Marg'rut, I mane she's inside. That's her playin' the pianny. She just got it up from Sydney."

"Peter's shearin' the sheep. He's in that shed there beyant. He's the only shearer we have, so we tell him he's

the ringer of the shed. He works terr'ble hard, does Peter. He's not " and the old woman dropped her

"Mick, bad scran to him! He's bought a jumpin' haarse (horse), and he's gone to hell leppin! Down at one of

the shows he is, some place. He has too much sense to work, has Mick. Won't you come in and have a cup of

"No, we must get on, thank you," and Hugh and Mary drove off, watched by the old lady and the

lankylegged, shockheaded youth Peter himself who came to the door of the big shed to stare at

As they drove off Hugh was silent, wondering what effect the sight of the selectors might have had on Miss

"So those are Mr Blake's poor relations, are they? Well, that is not his fault. My father was poor once, just as

Hugh felt that she was halfconsciously putting him in the wrong for having more or less disapproved of Mr

As the team bore them along at a flying trot, they climbed higher and higher up the range; at last, as they

rounded a shoulder of the hillside, the whole valley of Kiley's River lay beneath them, stretching away to the

far blue foothills. Beyond again was a great mountain, its top streaked with snow. At their feet was a

gorgeous scheme of colour, greens and greys of the grass, bright tints of willow and poplar, and the speckled

forms of the cattle, so far down that they looked like pigmy stock feeding in fairy paddocks. Across the valley

there came now and again, softened by distance, the song of the river; and up in the riverbend, on a spur of

"How beautiful!" said the girl, half standing up in the waggonette, "and is that "

Miss GRANT'S arrival at Kuryong homestead caused great excitement among the inhabitants. Mrs Gordon

received her in a motherly way, trying hard not to feel that a new mistress had come into the house; she was

anxious to see whether the girl exhibited any signs of her father's fiery temper and imperious disposition. The

two servantgirls at the homestead great herculean, goodnatured bush girls, daughters of a

boundaryrider, whose highest ideal of style and refinement was Kuryong drawingroom breathed hard

and stared roundeyed, like wild fillies, at the unconscious intruder. The stationhands Joe the

woodandwater boy, old Alfred the groom, Bill the horseteam driver, and Harry Warden the married man,

who helped with sheep, mended fences, and did stationwork in general all watched for a sight of her.

They exchanged opinions about her over their smoke at night by the huge open fireplace in the men's hut,

where they sat in a semicircle, toasting their shins at the blaze till their trousers smoked again, each man with

a pipe of black tobacco going full swing from tea till bedtime. But the person who felt the most intense

For all her nurse's experience, Ellen Harriott was not a woman of the world. Except for the period of her

hospital training, she had passed all her life shut up among the mountains. Her dreamworld was mostly

constructed out of highclass novels, and she united a shrewd wit and a clever brain to a dense ignorance of

the real world, that left her like a ship without a rudder. She was, like most bushreared girls, a great

visionary many a castleintheair had she built while taking her daily walk by the river under the

drooping willows. The visions, curiously enough, always took the direction of magnificence. She pictured

herself as a leader of society, covered with diamonds, standing at the head of a broad marble staircase and

receiving Counts by the dozen (vide Ouida's novels, read by stealth); or else as a rich man's wife who

dispensed hospitality regally, and was presented at Court, and set the fashion in dress and jewels. At the back

of all her dreams there was always a man a girl's picture is never complete without a man a strong,

masterful man, whose will should crush down opposition, and whose abilities should make his name and

incidentally her name famous all over the world. She herself, of course, was always the foremost figure,

the handsomest woman, the bestdressed, the most admired; for Ellen Harriott, though only a girl, and a

friendless governess at Kuryong, was not inclined to put herself second to anyone. Having learnt from her

father's papers that he was of an old family, she considered herself anybody's equal. Her brain held a crazy

enough jumble of ideas, no doubt; but given a strong imagination, no experience, and omnivorous reading, a

young girl's mind is exactly the place where fantastic ideas will breed and multiply. She went about with Mrs

Gordon to the small festivities of the district, and was welcomed everywhere, and deferred to by the local

settlers; she had yet to know what a snub meant; so the world to her seemed a very easy sort of place to get

along in. The coming of the heiress was as light over a trackless ocean. Here was someone who had seen,

known, and done all the things which she herself wished to see, know, and do; someone who had travelled on

the Continent, tobogganed in Switzerland, ridden in Rotten Row, voyaged in private yachts, hunted in the

shires; here was the world at last come to her door the world of which she had read so much and knew so

On the second morning after Miss Grant's arrival, that young lady turned up at breakfast in a tailormade suit

with short skirt and heavy boots, and announced her intention of "walking round the estate"; but as Kuryong

though only a small station, as stations go was, roughly, ten miles square, this project had to be

abandoned. Then she asked Hugh if he would have the servants mustered. He told her that the two servants

were in the kitchen, but it turned out that she wanted to interview all the stationhands, and it had to be

explained that the horsedriver was six miles out on the run with his team, drawing in a load of bark to roof

the hay shed, and that Harry Warden was down at the drafting yards, putting in a new trough to hold an

arsenical solution, through which the sheep had to tramp to cure their feet; and that everybody else was away

out on some business or other. But the young lady stuck to her point, and had the groom and the

woodandwater boy paraded, they being the only two available. The groom was an English importation,

and earned her approval by standing in a rigid and deferential attitude, and saying "Yes, Miss," and "No,

Miss," when spoken to; but the woodandwater boy stood with his arms akimbo and his mouth open, and

when she asked him how he liked being on the station he said, "Oh, it's not too bad," accompanying his

The young lady returned to the house in rather a sharp temper, and found Hugh standing by a cart, which had

"Well, Miss Grant," he said, "the things are pretty right. The water went down in an hour or so, and the

luggage on the top only got a little wetting just a wave now and again. How have you been getting on?"

"Not at all well," she laughed. "I don't understand the people here. I will get you to take me round before I do

another thing. It is so different from England. Are you sure my clothes are all right?"

It was not long before the various boxes were opened. Ellen Harriott was called in to assist, and the two girls

had a real good afternoon, looking at and talking over clothes and jewellery. The things had come fairly well

out of the coach disaster. When an English firm makes a watertight cover for a bag or box, it is watertight;

even the waters of Kiley's River had swept over the canvas of Miss Grant's luggage in vain. And when the

The noblest study of mankind is man, but the most fascinating study of womankind is another woman's

wardrobe, and the Australian girl found something to marvel at in the quality of the visitor's apparel. Dainty

shoes, tailormade jackets, fashionable short ridinghabits, mannishlooking ridingboots, silk

undergarments, beautiful jewellery; all were taken out of their packages and duly admired. As each

successive treasure was produced, Ellen Harriott's eyes grew rounder with astonishment; and when, out of a

travelling bag, there appeared a complete dressingtable outfit of silverware silverbacked hairbrushes,

silver manicure set, silver handglass, and so forth she drew a long breath of wonder and admiration.

It was her first sight of the vanities of the world, the things that she had only dreamed of. The outfit was not

anything extraordinary from an English point of view, but to the bushbred girl it was a revelation.

"What beautiful things!" she said. "Now, when you go visiting to a countryhouse in England, do you always

"What is Paris like? Isn't it just a dream? Did you go to the opera? Have you been on the Riviera? Oh,

do tell me about those places is it like you read about in books? all beautiful, welldressed women and

This was all poured out in a rush of words; but in Mary's experience the Continent was merely a place where

"Travelling is so mixed up with discomfort, that it loses half its plumage," she said. "I'll tell you all I can

about Paris some other time. Now you tell me," she went on, folding carefully a silk blouse and putting it in a

"I'm afraid you'll find it very dull here," said Ellen. "There are no neighbours at all except Poss and Binjie,

two young fellows on the next station. The people in town are just the publicans and the storekeeper, and all

the selectors around us are a very wild lot. Very few strangers come that we can have in the house. They are

nearly all cattle and sheep buyers, and they are either too nervous to say a word, or they talk horses. They

always come just after mealtime, too, and we have to get everything laid on the table again sometimes we

have ten meals a day in this house. And the swagmen come all day long, and Mrs Gordon or I have to go and

give them something to eat; there's plenty to do, always. So you see, there are plenty of strangers, but no

It would have needed a much quicker eye than Mary's to catch the halfinvoluntary movement Ellen Harriott

made when Blake's name was mentioned. She flashed a look of inquiry at the heiress that seemed to say,

Then the long eyelashes shut down over the dark eyes again, and with an air of indifference she said, "Oh, Mr

Blake? Of course I know him. I dance with him sometimes at the show balls, and all that. I have been out for

a ride with him, too. I think he's nice, but Hugh and Mrs Gordon won't ask him here because he belongs to

the selectors, and his mother was a Miss Donohoe. He takes up their cases and wins them, too. But he

never comes here. He always stays down at the hotel when he comes out this way."

"Yes, I'm sure he would. If you like to write and ask him, Peter could ride down to Donohoe's today with a

From which it would seem thatone, at any rate, of the Kuryong household was not wholly indifferent to Mr

After breakfast next morning Mary decided to spend the day in the company of the hildren, who were having

"Just as well for you to learn the house first," said Hugh, "before you tackle the property. The youngsters

Two little girls were impressed, and were told to take Miss Grant round and show her the way about the

place; and they set off together in the bright morning sunlight, on a trip of exploration.

Now, no true Australian, young or old, ever takes any trouble or undergoes any exertion or goes anywhere

without an object in view. So the children considered it the height of stupidity to walk simply for the sake of

"What shall we see if we go along this road?" asked Miss Grant, pointing with her dainty parasol along the

"Then, what is there up that way?" she asked, waving her hand up towards the foothills and the blue

"Well, let us go into the woods and see if we can't find something," she said determinedly; and with her

reluctant guides she set off, trudging across the open forest through an interminable vista of gumtrees.

Miss Grant looked up, and saw through the trees a large and very frightened bay horse, with a white face. On

further inspection, a youth of about eighteen or twenty was noticed on the horse's back, but he seemed so

much a part of the animal that one might easily overlook him at a first glance. The horse had stopped at the

They advanced slowly, and the animal began snorting and sidling away among the timber, its rider

meanwhile urging it forward. Then Emily cried, "Hello, Poss!" and the horse gave a snort, wheeled round,

jumped a huge fallen tree, and fled through the timber like a wild thing, with its rider still apparently glued to

"That's Poss," said Emily carelessly. "He and Binjie live over at Dunderalligo. He often comes here. They

and their father live over there. That's a colt he's breaking in. He's very nice. So is Binjie."

"Well, here he comes again," said Miss Grant, as the horseman reappeared, riding slowly round them in

everlessening circles; the colt meanwhile eyeing them with every aspect of intense dislike and hatred, and

Emily waited till the rider came fairly close, and said, "Poss, this is Miss Grant."

The rider blushed, and lifted his hand to his hat. Fatal error! For the hundredthpart of a second the horse

seemed to cower under him as if about to sink to the ground, then tucked his head in between his front legs,

and his tail in between the hind ones, forming himself into a kind of circle, and began a series of gigantic

bounds at the rate of about a hundred to the minute; while in the air above him his rider described a catherine

wheel before he came to earth, landing on his head at Miss Grant's feet. The horse was soon out of sight,

making bounds that would have cleared a house if one had been in the way. The rider got up, pulled his hat

from over his eyes, brushed some mud off his clothes, and came up to shake hands as if nothing had

"My word, can't he buck, Poss!" said the child. "He chucked you all right, didn't he?"

"He got a mean advantage," said the young fellow, in a slow drawl. "Makes me look a fair chump, doesn't it,

getting chucked before a lady? I'll take it out of him when I get on him again. How d' you do?"

"I'm very well, thank you," said Miss Grant. "I hope you are not hurt. What a nasty beast! I wonder you aren't

"I ain't afraid of him, the cow! He can't sling me fair work, not the best day ever he saw. He can't buck," he

added, in tones of the deepest contempt, "and he won't try when I've got a fair hold of him; only goes at it

underhanded. It's up to me to give him a hidin' next time I ride him, I promise you."

"Where will he go to?" said Miss Grant, looking for the vanished steed. "Won't he run away?"

"He can't get out of the paddick," drawled the youth. "Let's go up to the house, and get one of the boys to run

him in. He had a goin this morning with me the bit came out of his mouth somehow, and he did get to

work proper. He went round and round the paddick at home, with me on him, buckin' like a brumby. Binjie

had to come out with another horse and run me back into the yard. He's a pretty clever colt, too. The timber is

tremendous thick in that paddick, and he never hit me against anything. Binjie reckons any other colt'd have

killed me. Come on up to the house, or he'll have my saddle smashed before I get him in."

As they hurried home, Miss Grant had a good look at the stranger a pleasant, brownskinned

brownhanded youth, with the down of a black moustache growing on his upper lip. His frank and open face

was easy to read. He looked with boyish admiration at Miss Grant, who immediately stooped to conquer, and

began an animated conversation about nothing in particular a conversation which was broken in upon by

"Not he," said the youth, with an air of great certainty. "We're busy over at our place, I tell you. The water is

all gone in the ninemile paddick. Binj an' me and Andy Kelly had to muster all the sheep and shift 'em

across to the home paddick. Binj is musterin' away there now. I just rode over to see Hugh about some of

"No, of course he won't. Don't I tell you he's got three days' work musterin' there? I must be off at daylight

By this time they had reached the homestead, and Poss went off with the children to the stables. Here he

secured the "knockabout" horse, always kept saddled and bridled about the station for generally useful work,

and set off at a swinging canter up the paddock after his own steed. Miss Grant went in and found Mrs

"Well, and have you found anything to amuse you?" asked the old lady in her soft, even voice.

"Oh, I've had quite a lot of experiences; and I went for a walk and met Poss. Who is Poss?"

The old lady laughed as she gave the jam a stir. "He's a young Hunter," she said. "Was Binjie there?"

"No; and he isn't coming either; he has work to do. I learnt that much. But who is Poss? And who is Binjie?

"He's a nicelooking young fellow, isn't he? His father has a small station away among the hills, and Poss and

Binjie help him on it. Those are only nicknames, of course. Poss's name is Arthur, and Binjie's is George, I

think. They're nice young fellows, but very bushified; they have lived here all their lives. Their father

well, he isn't very steady; and they like to get over here when they can, and each tries to come without the

other knowing it. Binjie will be here before long, I expect. They're great admirers of Miss Harriott, both of

them, and they come over on all sorts of ridiculous pretexts. Poor fellows, it must be very dull for them over

there. Fancy, week after week without seeing anyone but their father, the stationhands, and the sheep! Now

As she spoke, the tramp of a horse's hoofs was heard in the yard and, looking out, Miss Grant saw a duplicate

of Poss dismounting from a duplicate of Poss's horse. And Mrs Gordon, looking over her shoulder, said,

"Why do they call him Binjie?" asked Miss Grant, watching the new arrival tying up his horse. "What does it

"It's a blackfellow's word, meaning stomach," said the old lady. "He used to be very fat, and the name stuck

"No, he won't be back till dark," said the old lady. "Won't you let your horse go?"

"Well, I don't know if I can," replied the new arrival thoughtfully. "I've left Poss at home clearing the sheep

out of that big paddock at the Crossing. There's five thousand sheep, and no water there; I'll have to go back

and help him. I only came over to tell Hugh there were some of his weaners in the river paddock. I must go

"Poss is here, is he? Well, if that don't beat everything! And when we started to muster that paddock I went to

the top, and he went the other way, and he reckoned to be at it all day. He's a nice fellow, he is! I wonder

Binjie extended much the same greeting as Poss had done; and by dinnertime that evening or, as it is

always called in the bush, teatime they had all made each other's acquaintance, and both the youths were

At tea the talk flowed freely, and the two bush boys, shy at first, began to expand as Mary Grant talked to

them. Put a pretty girl and a young and impressionable bushman together, and in the twinkling of an eye you

Lightheartedly they consented to stay the night, in the hope of seeing Hugh, to deliver their message about

the weaners they seemed to have satisfactorily arranged the question of mustering. And when Miss Grant

said, "Won't your sheep be dying of thirst in that paddock, where there is no water?" both brothers replied,

"They always say that," said the old lady, "and generally stay three days. I expect they'll make it four, now

Gavan BLAKE, attorney and solicitor, sat in his office at Tarrong, opening his morning's letters. The office

was in a small weatherboard cottage in the "main street" of Tarrong (at any rate it might fairly claim to be the

main street, as it was the only street that had any houses in it). The front room, where he sat, was fitted up

with a table and a set of pigeonholes full of dusty papers, a leather couch, a small fireproof safe, and a

bookcase containing about equal proportions of law books and novels. A few maps of Tarrong township and

neighbouring stations hung on the walls. The wooden partition of the house only ran up to the rafters, and

over it could plainly be heard his housekeeper scrubbing his bedroom. Across the little passage was his

sittingroom, furnished in the style of most bachelors' rooms, an important item of furniture being a cupboard

where whisky was always to be found. At the back of the main cottage were servants' quarters and kitchen.

Behind the house, on a spare allotment, were two or three looseboxes for racehorses, a saddleroom and a

groom's room. This was the whole establishment. A woman came in every day to do up his rooms from the

hotel, where he had his meals. It was an inexpensive mode of life, but one that conduced to the drinking of a

good many whiskiesandsodas at the hotel with clients and casual callers, and to a good deal of card

playing and late hours. The racehorses, too, like most racehorses, ate up more money than they earned. So

that Mr Gavan Blake, though a clever man, with a good practice, always seemed to find himself hard up.

It was so on this particular morning. Every letter he opened seemed to have some reference to money. One,

from the local storekeeper, was a pretentious account embracing all sorts of items ammunition, stationery,

saddlery and station supplies (the latter being on account of a small station that Blake had taken over for a

bad debt, which seemed likely to turn out an equally bad asset). Station supplies, even for bad stations, run

into a lot of money, and the store account was approaching a hundred pounds. Then there was a letter from a

horsetrainer in Sydney to whom he had sent a racehorse, and though this animal had done such brilliant

gallops that the trainer had three times telegraphed him that a race was a certainty once he went so far as

to say that the horse could stop to throw a somersault and still win the race on each occasion it had always

come in among the ruck; and every time forty or fifty pounds of Blake's money had been lost in betting. For

Blake was a confirmed gambler, a heavy card player and backer of horses, and he had the contempt for other

people's skill and opinions which seems an inevitable ingredient in the character of brilliant men of a certain

He was a man of splendid presence, with strong features and clear bluegrey eyes the type of face that is

seen on the Bench and among the Queen's Counsel in the English Courts. He was quickwitted, eloquent, and

logical of mind. Among the Doyles and Donohoes he was little short of a king. Wild, uneducated, and

suspicious, they believed in him implicitly. They swore exactly the things that he told them to swear, spoke

or were silent according as he ordered, and trusted him with secrets which they would not entrust to their own

On this particular day, after opening the trainer's letter asking for cheque to pay training expenses (�50), and

one from a client, saying "I got your note, and will pay you when I get the wool money," he came upon a

letter that startled him. It was written in an oldfashioned, lady's hand, angular and spidery. It ran

"Miss Grant tells me that she owes her life to your bravery in saving her from the coach accident. It would

give me great pleasure if you would come and stay here next Saturday, as I suppose you will be passing down

Blake put the letter down and walked about his office for a while in thought. "invited to the old station?" he

"Might have written herself!" he muttered, as he turned the letter over to see if by chance Miss Grant had

written a line anywhere; then, laying it on one side, he took up carelessly a square businesslike envelope,

addressed to him in a scrawly, illiterate fist. The letter that he took out of it was a strange jewel to repose in

so rude a casket. It also was from Kuryong from Ellen Harriott, who had taken the precaution of

addressing it in a feigned hand so that the postmaster and postmistress at Kiley's Crossing, who handled all

station letters, would not know that she was corresponding with Blake. The letter was a great contrast to Mrs

Gordon's. It was a girl's love letter, a gushing, impulsive thing, full of vows and endearments; but the only

"And so the heiress has arrived at last and you saved her life! When you swam with her, didn't you feel

that you had the weight of a hundred thousand sovereigns on your back? For oh, Gavan dear, she is nice, but

she is very stolid! And so you saved her what luck for you! But you always have luck, don't you? And

don't you think that my love is the best bit of luck you have ever had! Everyone says you are making a

fortune hurry up and make it, for I am so anxious to get away out of this place, and we can have our trip

And now I am waiting for next Saturday. Fancy having you in the house all day long and in the evening! We

must slip away somewhere for just a little while, so that we can have each other all to ourselves. Hugh is still

worrying about some sheep that he thinks are stolen. He is always worrying about something or other, and

now that she has come I suppose he will be worse then ever. Now goodnight, dearest........

Blake read the letter, and threw it down carelessly on the table; then, leaning back in his chair, cut up a

pipeful of tobacco. He thought over his position with Ellen Harriott. There was a secret understanding

between them, a sort of informal affair born of moonlight rides and country dances. He had never actually

asked her to marry him, but he had kissed her as he had kissed scores of others, and the girl had at once taken

it for granted that they were to be engaged. It had not seemed such a bad thing for him at the time. He was

fond of her in a ballroomandmoonlightride kind of way, but there it stopped. Still, it was not a bad

match for him. The girl was a lady, with friends all over the district. He was rather near the borderline of

respectability, and to marry her would have procured him a position that he had little chance of reaching

otherwise. He had let things drift on, and the girl, with her fanciful ideas, was, of course, only too ready to

fall in with the suggestion of secrecy; it seemed such a precious secret to her. So now he was engaged while

still up to his neck in debt; but worse remained behind. In his business he had sums of money for investments

and for settlements of cases passing through his hands; and from time to tinle he had, when hard pushed, used

his clients' money to pay his own debts. Beginning with small sums, he had muddled along, meaning to make

all straight out of the first big case he had; and each time he had a big case the money seemed to be all spent

before he earned it. He was not exactly bankrupt, for he was owed a great deal of money, enough perhaps to

put him straight if he could get it in; but the mountain folk expected long credit and large reductions, and it

was pretty certain that he would never get even half of what he was owed. Therefore, he went about his

business with a sort of sword of Damocles hanging over his head and now the heiress had come, and he

His musings were cut short by a tap at the door; a long, gawky youth, with a budding moustache, entered and

slouched over to a chair. He was young Isaacstein, son of the Tarrong storekeeper, a wouldbe sportsman,

wouldbe gambler, wouldbe ladykiller, wouldbe everything, who only succeeded in making himself a

"Doing! By Gad, I'm broke. The old man won't give me a copper. What about Saturday? Are you going to the

"Yes. I've got a couple of cases there. And I've just got a letter from Mrs Gordon, asking me to stay the night

"Ho! My oath! Stop at Kuryong, eh? That's 'cause you saved the heiress? Well, go in and win. You won't

know us when you marry the owner of Kuryong. What's she like, Gav? Pretty girl, ain't she? Has she any

"Oh, don't get nasty. Only I thought you were a bit shook on the governess there what about that darnce at

"No, I could not " And this was the literal truth, for Cavan Blake had run himself right out of money,

and was living on credit not an enviable position at any time, and one doubly insupportable to a man of

his temperament. And again his thoughts went back to the girl he had saved, and he pondered how different

The court at Ballarook was over, and Gavan Blake turned his horses' heads in a direction he had never taken

before along the road to Kuryong. As he drove along, his thoughts were anything but pleasant. Behind

him always stalked the grim spectre of detection and arrest; and, even should a lucky windfall help to pay his

debts, he could not save tile money either to buy a practice in Sydney or to maintain himself while he was

building one up. He thought of the pitiful smallness of his chances at Tarrong, and then of Ellen Harriott.

What should he do about her? Well, sufficient unto the day was the evil thereof. He would play for his own

When he drove up, the family had gathered round the fire in the quaint, oldfashioned, lowceilinged

sittingroom; for the evenings were still chilly. The children were gravely and quietly sharpening

terrificlooking knives on small stones; the old lady had some needlework, while Mary and Ellen and Poss

and Binjie talked about horses, that being practically the only subject open to the two boys.

After a time Mrs Gordon said, "Won't you sing something?" and Mary sat down to the piano and sang to

them. Such singing no one there had ever heard before. Her deep contralto voice was powerful, flexible, and

obviously welltrained; besides which she had the great natural gift of putting "feeling" into her singing. The

children sat spellbound. The stationhands and houseservants, who had been playing the concertina and

yarning on the woodheap at the back of the kitchen, stole down to the corner of the house to listen; in the

stillness that wonderful voice floated out into the night. So it chanced that Gavan Blake, arriving, heard the

singing, stole softly to the door, and looked in, listening for a while, before anyone saw him.

The picture he saw was for ever photographed on his mind. He saw the quiet comfort and luxury for after

Tarrong it was luxury to him of the station drawingroom; caught the scent of the flowers and the

glorious tones of that beautiful voice; and, as he watched the sweet face of the singer, and listened to the

words of the song, a sudden fierce determination rose in his mind. He would devote all his energies to

winning Mary Grant for his wife; combative and selfconfident as he was by nature, he felt no dismay at the

difficulties in his way. He had been on a borderline long enough. Here was his chance to rise at a bound, and

As the song came to an end, he walked into the drawingroom and shook hands all round, Mary being

"You are very late," said the old lady. "Was there much of a Court at Ballarook?"

"Only the usual troubles. You know what those courts are. By the way, Miss Grant, I came over the famous

crossing place where we got turned out, and nearly had another swim for it. Martin Donohoe and his wife

"I'm sure I haven't finished thinking about it. I don't suppose you had to swim with anyone on your back this

"It was very lucky, indeed that you were there," put in Miss Harriott. "You are really quite the district

"My word," said Boss, "I've seen Hugh swim in to fetch a sheep, let alone a lady. You remember, Hugh, the

time those old ewes got swept down and one of 'em was caught on the head of a tree, and you went in"

"Oh, never mind about that," said Hugh. "Did Pat Donohoe lose anything out of the coach?"

"Only a side of bacon and a bottle of whisky. The whisky was for old Ned the possum trapper, and they say

that Ned walked fourteen miles down the river in hopes that it might have come ashore. Ned reckons he has

"What about going out after possums down the garden?" said Binjie. "Now, you youngsters, where are your

Everyone seemed to welcome the idea. There had been a sort of stiffness in the talk, and Gavan Blake felt

that a walk in the moonlight might give him a chance to make himself a little more at home with Mary Grant,

while Ellen Harriott had her own reasons for wanting to get him outside. With laughter and haste they all put

on hats and coats, for it had turned bitterly cold; then with earpiercing whistles the children summoned their

possuming dogs, who were dreaming happy hours away in all sorts of odd nooks, in chimneycorners, under

the table in the kitchen, under the bunks in the men's huts, anywhere warm and undisturbed. But at the

whistles each dog dashed out from his nook, tearing over everything in front of him in his haste not to be left

behind; and in three seconds half a dozen of them were whining and jumping round the children, waiting for

A majestic wave of the hand, and the order "Go and find him!" from the eldest of the children, sent a

hurricane of dogs yapping with excitement off to the creek, and the hunters followed at a brisk run. Gavan

Blake and Mary Grant trotted along together in the bright moonlight. Just in front were Ellen and Hugh, he

laughing at the excitement of the dogs and children, she looking over her shoulder and hoping to hear what

Blake was saying to the heiress. As a matter of fact, he was making the most of his chances, and before long

they were getting on capitally. Mary found herself laying aside her slow English way, and laughing and

joking with the rest. There is something intoxicating in moonlight at any time; and what with the moon and

the climate, and the breeze whistling through the gumbough, it was no wonder that even the staidlyreared

English girl felt a thrill of excitement, a stirring of the primeval instincts that civilisation and cultivation had

"When you go back to England, Miss Grant," said Blake, "you will be able to tell them that you have hunted

"Yes. And I can say I have been upset in a river and nearly drowned, too. I'm becoming quite an experienced

"Oh, no. We have no friends in England at all. My mother's people are nearly all living in India, and father

"I've only seen about a week of it. Do you know, it seems to me a more serious life than in England. Look at

Mrs Gordon, what a lot of people she has dependent on her. The stationhands and their wives, all come to

her. In England she might visit them and give them tracts and blankets, but here what they want is advice and

"Yes. She is a fine old lady, isn't she? A real character. You will be sure to like her."

"Yes. I think I shall be very happy here. Father is anxious I should like this place, as he may come up here to

live, and I'm sure I shall like it. You see, there is work to do here. Miss Harriott and Mrs Gordon are at work

from daylight till dark; what with the children, the house, the store and visitors, there really isn't time to feel

lonely. Don't you think people are much happier when they have a lot to do? Do you live"

"I live in two rooms and get my meals at an hotel, Miss Grant. I have never had any home life. I never knew

A dog barked furiously in the distance, and the others rushed to join him from all directions, yelping and

squealing with excitement. The whole party set off at a run, amid cheers and laughter.

"One of the dogs has found a possum up a tree, and the children will try to get him down. Come on! Mind

where you go. The black shadows are very hard to judge, and sometimes a log or a bush is hidden in them.

There goes Boss over a log," he added, in explanation of a terrific crash and a shout of laughter from the

"It's Thomas Carlyle has found one," she said, "and he never barks when the possums are up big trees. He

knows we can't get them then, so he only looks in the saplings. The other dogs find them in the big trees, but

A sharp run brought the party to the foot of a small tree, surrounded by a circle of dogs, all sitting on their

tails and staring with whimpers of anxiety up to the topmost branches, where a small furry animal was

perched. Mary Grant, under Blake's directions, got the animal silhouetted against the moon, and saw clearly

enough the sharp nose, round ears, plump body, and prehensile tail of the unfortunate creature who, as Poss

Blake turned to Mary. "Do you want to stop and see it killed?" he said. "It's rather a murderous business. The

possum has no chance. One of the boys will go up the tree and shake the branch till the possum falls off, and

"No, I don't think I would like to see it. I have seen so many things killed since I came here. Let us walk back

"I'll tell Gordon. Gordon," he said, "Miss Grant doesn't care to see the massacre. We will walk back towards

"Why, Miss Harriott!" said Poss in astonishment, "You've seen lots of 'em killed. Native cats, too. Watch me

"No, no, I'll go back, too. I don't feel like killing anything tonight. You come back too, Hugh."

So the four walked back together, and as Blake had monopolised Mary on the way out, she now put herself

beside Hugh, and the others walked behind. Hugh and Mary soon began to talk, but the other pair walked in

silence for a while. Then Ellen Harriott said in a low voice, "Go a little slower, Gavan. Let them get away."

As they passed under the dense shadows of a huge wildapple tree, Ellen stopped and, turning to Blake, held

"Gavan, Gavan!" she said. "I was wondering when I would ever get a chance to speak to you. To think of you

Gavan Blake kissed her. It was almost an effort to him at first, as his mind and heart were on fire with the

"My darling, my darling!" she said. "All the while you were walking with that girl, I knew you were dying to

They stopped for a little while, and then moved on after the others, pausing now and again in the shadows.

The girl poured out all her artless tale how she had been awake night after night, waiting for the day he

should come. Then she told him how the heiress had praised his pluck and strength. "And oh! Gavan, I was

Thus she rattled on, while he, because it was his nature, found it no trouble to reply in kind, with a good

imitation of sincerity. On such a night, with such a girl clinging to him, it would have been a very poor

specimen of a man who could not have trumped up a sort of enthusiasm. But in his heart he was cursing his

luck that just as chance had thrown the heiress in his way, and put her under an obligation to him, he was held

to his old bargain the bargain that he had made for position's sake, and which he would now have liked to

It would be wearisome to record their talk, all the way up to the house. The girl impetuous, hotblooded,

excitable poured out her lovetalk like a bird singing. Happiness complete was hers for the time; but

Hugh and Mary, walking on ahead, knew nothing of the love scenes just behind them. They talked of many

things, of the moonlight and the river and the scent of the flowers, but all the time Hugh felt diffident and

tonguetied. He had not the glib tongue of Gavan Blake, and he felt little at ease talking commonplaces.

Mary Grant thought he must be worried over something, and, with her usual directness, went to the point.

"Oh no! Goodness, no! Why he is fifty times better than most of the people that come here. It just happens we

"I'm glad of that. I have asked him to come out again. He seems to know Miss Harriott quite well, though he

"Yes, he met Miss Harriott at some of the race balls, I think. She is a queer girl, full of fancies."

"She seems a very quiet sort of girl to me," said Miss Grant. But if she could have known what was going on

On Monday, Hugh, Poss, and Binjie had to go out to an outlying paddock to draft a lot of stationsheep from

a mob of travellingsheep, As this meant a long, hard job, the three breakfasted by candlelight a good old

fashion, this, but rather forgotten lately and Blake also turned out for early breakfast, as he wanted to get

his drive to Tarrong over while the weather was cool. Of the womenfolk, Ellen alone was up, boiling eggs,

and making tea on a spiritlamp; laughing and chattering meanwhile, and keeping them all amused; while

outside in the frosty dawn, the stable boy shivered as he tightened the girths round the ribs of three very

touchy horses. Boss and Binjie were each riding a station horse to "take the flashness out of him", and

Binjie's horse tried to buck him off, but might as well have tried to shed his own skin; so he bolted instead,

and disappeared with a snort and a rattle of hoofs over the hill. The others followed, with their horses very

After they had gone, Ellen Harriott and Blake were left alone in the breakfastroom. Outside, the heedless

horseboy was harnessing Blake's ponies; but inside no one but themselves was awake, and as he finished his

breakfast, Ellen stepped up to the table and blew out the two candles, leaving the room in semidarkness. She

caught his hand, and he drew her to him. It was what she had been waiting for all night. She had pictured a

parting, which was to be such sweet sorrow. Blake had also pictured it, but in quite a different way.

He was determined to make an end of his engagement (or entanglement, whichever it could be called), and

yet when the chance came he almost put it off; but the thought of what exposure and disgrace would mean, if

He stroked her hair for a while in silence, and then, with a laugh, said, "We'll have to give up this sort of

She hardly knew what he meant. Having lived so long in a fool's paradise, she could not realise that her world

"We'll have to be proper in future," he said. "I've had the most fiendish run of bad luck lately, and it's just as

well there never was any engagement between us. It would have had to come to nothing."

She drew back, and looked at him with frightened eyes. He had great power over her this big, masterful

man, whom she had looked upon as her lover; and she could not believe that a little trouble about money

could really make any difference to him. She believed him able to overcome any such difficulty as that of

"Done, little girl? You've done nothing. It's all my fault. I've lost heart over things lately, and it will only

"Wait! To be stuck in Tarrong all my life among these people, and up to my neck in debt! No, little woman,

as soon as ever I can get things squared up, I'm off out of this, and I dare say we'll never see each other again.

It seemed almost incredible to her that a man could so throw up the fight; and then a thought flashed into her

"Miss Grant!" he said, "I have only seen her twice that day on the coach and last night." She seemed to

study the question, still holding his hands, and looking up into his face. The light in the room was stronger,

"So we must say 'goodbye!'" she said. "Just because you are short of money. Gavan, would have thought

more of you had you told me you were tired of me and were going in for the other girl. I think I could have

respected you at any rate; but to sneak out on the story of not being able to afford it"

His face darkened, and he began to speak, but she stopped him, and went on in a passionless sort of voice.

"Someone is coming," she said, "and we must say goodbye; and since you wish it, it is'goodbye'. But I'm not

a child, to change my fancies in a day, so I won't promise to forget. And I think you have treated me very

badly, so neither will I promise to forgive. I had set my heart on you, Gavan. You seemed to me but there,

"No, don't interrupt me. It is the last talk together we shall have. I suppose I can go governessing, or nursing,

to the end of the chapter. It seems a dreary outlook, doesn't it? Now go, and remember that I do not forgive

easily. I had built such castles, Gavan, and now" She slipped quietly from the room, and was gone.

Gavan Blake drove home, feeling a trifle uneasy. He had expected some sort of outburst, but the curious way

"She won't stick a knife in herself, I suppose," he mused. "Just like her to do something unusual. Anyway, she

has too much pride to talk about it and the affair had to come to an end sooner or later."

And feeling that if not "on with the new love", he was, at any rate, satisfactorily "off with the old". Blake

drove his spanking ponies off to Tarrong, while Ellen Harriott went about her household work with a face as

inscrutable and calm as though no stone had ruffled the millpond of her existence.

For the next couple of weeks, affairs at Kuryong flowed on in usual station style. A saddlehorse was

brought in for Miss Grant, and out of her numerous boxes that young lady produced a Bond Street outfit that

fairly silenced criticism. She rode well too, having been taught in England, and she, Poss, Binjie and Hugh

had some great scampers after kangaroos, halfwild horses, or anything else that would get up and run in

front of them. She was always so fresh, cheerful, and ready for any excitement that the two boys became

infatuated in four days, and had to be hunted home on the fifth, or they would have both proposed. Some days

she spent at the homestead housekeeping, cooking, and giving out rations to swagmen the wild,

halfcrazed travellers who came in at sundown for the dole of flour, tea and sugar, which was theirs by bush

custom. Some days she spent with the children, and with them learnt a lot of bush life. It being holidaytime,

they practically ran wild all over the place, spending whole days in long tramps to remote parts in pursuit of

game. They had no "play", as that term is known to English children. They didn't play at being hunters. They

were hunters in real earnest, and their habits and customs had come to resemble very closely those of savage

With them Mary had numberless new experiences. She got accustomed to seeing the boys climb big trees by

cutting steps in the bark with a tomahawk, going out on the most giddy heights after birds' nests, or dragging

the possum from his sleepingplace in a hollow limb. She learned to hold a frenzied fox terrier at the mouth

of a hollow log, ready to pounce on the kangaroo rat which had taken refuge there, and which flashed out as

if shot from a catapult on being poked from the other end with a long stick. She learned to mark the

hidingplace of the young wild ducks that scuttled and dived, and hid themselves with such supernatural

cunning in the reedy pools. She saw the native companions, those great, solemn, grey birds, go through their

fantastic and intricate dances, forming squares, pirouetting, advancing, and retreating with the solemnity of

professional dancingmasters. She lay on the riverbank with the children, gun in hand, breathless with

excitement, waiting for the rising of the duckbilled platypus that quaint combination of fish, flesh and

fowl as he dived in the quiet waters, a train of small bubbles marking his track. She fished in deep pools

for the great, sleepy, hundredpound codfish that sucked down bait and hook, holusbolus, and then were

hauled in with hardly any resistance, and lived for days contentedly, tethered to the bank by a line through

In these amusements time passed pleasantly enough, and by the time schoolwork was resumed Mary Grant

Of Hugh she at first saw little. His work took him out on the run all day long, looking after sheep in the

paddocks, or perhaps toiling day after day in the great, dusty draftingyards. In the cool of the afternoon the

two girls would often canter over the four miles or so of timbered country to the yards, and wait till Hugh had

finished his day's work. As a rule, Poss or Binjie, perhaps both, were in attendance to escort Miss Harriott,

with the result that Hugh and Mary found themselves paired off to ride home together. Before long he found

himself looking forward to these rides with more anxiety than he cared to acknowledge, and in a very short

Any man, being much alone with any woman in a country house, will fall in love with her; but a man such as

Hugh Cordon, ardent, imaginative, and very young, meeting every day a woman as beautiful as Mary Grant,

was bound to fall a victim. He soon became her absolute worshipper. All day long, in the lonely rides through

the hush, in the hot and dusty hours at the sheepyards, through the pleasant, lazy canter home in the cool of

the evening, his fancies were full of her her beauty and her charm. It was happiness enough for him to be

near her, to feel the soft touch of her hand, to catch the faint scent that seemed to linger in her hair. After the

day's work they would stroll together about the wonderful old garden, and watch the sunlight die away on the

western hills, and the long strings of wild fowl hurrying down the river to their nightly haunts. Sometimes he

would manage to get home for lunch, and afterwards, on the pretext of showing her the run, would saddle a

horse for her, and off they would go for a long ride through the mountains. Or there were sheep to inspect, or

For the present he made no sign; he was quite contented to act as confidant and adviser, and many a long talk

they had together over the various troubles that beset the manager of a station.

It would hardly be supposed that a girl could give much advice on such matters, and at first her total

ignorance of the various difficulties amused him; but when she came to understand them better, her cool

commonsense compelled his admiration. His temperament was nervous and excitable, and he let things fret

him. She took everything in a cheery spirit, and laughed him out of his worries. One would not expect to find

many troubles in rearing sheep and selling their wool; but the management of any big station is a heavy task,

The sheep themselves, to begin with, seem always in league against their owners. Merinos, though apparently

estimable animals, are in reality dangerous monomaniacs, whose sole desire is to ruin the man that owns

them. Their object is to die, and to do so with as much trouble to their owners as they possibly can. They die

in the droughts when the grass, roasted to a dull white by the sun, comes out by the roots and blows about the

bare paddocks; they die in the wet, when the long grass in the sodden gullies breeds "fluke" and "bottle" and

all sorts of hideous complaints. They get burnt in bush fires from sheer malice, refusing to run in any given

direction, but charging round and round in a ring till they are calcined. They get drowned by refusing to leave

flooded country, though hunted with frenzied earnestness. It was not the sheep so much as the neighbours

whose depredations were drawing lines on Hugh Gordon's face. "I wouldn't care," he confided to Miss Grant,

"if they only took a beast or two. But the sheep are going by hundreds. We mustered five hundred short in

one paddock this month. And there isn't a Doyle or a Donohoe cow but has three calves at least, and two of

He dared not prosecute them. No local jury would convict in face of the hostility that would be aroused. They

had made "alibis" a special study; the very judges were staggered by the calmness and plausibility with which

A big station with a lot of hostile neighbours is like a whale with the killers round it; it is open to attack on all

sides, and cannot retaliate. A match dropped carelessly in a patch of grass sets miles of country in a blaze.

Hugh, as he missed the stock, and saw fences cut and grass burnt, could only grind his teeth and hope that a

lucky chance would put some of the enemy in his power. To Mary it seemed incredible that in the nineteenth

century people should be able to steal sheep without suffering for it; and Hugh soon saw that she was a true

daughter of William Grant, as far as fighting was concerned. She listened with set teeth to all stories of

depredation and trespass, and they talked over many a plan together. But though they became quite friendly

their intimacy seemed to make no progress. To her he was rather the employee than the friend. In fact he did

not get on half so far as did Gavan Blake, who came up to Kuryong occasionally, and made himself so

agreeable that already his name was being coupled with that of the heiress. Ellen Harriott always spoke to

Blake when he came to the station, and gave no sign of jealousy at his attentions to Mary Grant; but she was

waiting and watching, as one who has been a nurse learns to do. And things were in this state when an

When Hugh came home one day with his face, as usual, full of trouble, Mary began to laugh him out of it.

"Well, Mr Hugh, which is it today the Doyles or the Donohoes? Have they been stealing sheep or

"Oh, it's all very well for you to laugh," he said; "you don't understand. Some of that gang up the river went

into the stud paddock yesterday to cut down a tree for a bee's nest, and left the tree burning; might have set

the whole run forty thousand acres of dry grass in a blaze. Then they drove their dray against the gate,

knocking it sideways, and a lot of the stud sheep got out into the other paddock, and I'll have to be off at

"Why don't you summon the wretches, and have them put in gaol, or go and break their gates, and cut down

"I daren't simply daren't. If I summoned one of them, I'd never have dry grass but there'd be fires. I'd

never have fat sheep but there'd be dogs among 'em. They ride all over the run; but if a bird belonging to the

station flew over one of their selections they'd summon me for trespass. There's no end to the injury a spiteful

"Oh, it's part of the management of a station to get on with your neighbours. Never quarrel if you can help it.

"Well," she said, "I should like to have a look at those desperate neighbours I hear so much about. Red Mick

Donohoe rode past the other day on such a beautiful horse, and he opened the gate for us, and asked if he

"Very well," he said. "We'll go for a ride up that way tomorrow afternoon. We might find Red Mick killing

some of our sheep, and you can go into the box as the lady detective. If you'll only sing him into gaol, the

Next afternoon they cantered away up the river towards the mountains. Poss and Binjie had long ago laid

their dearest possessions at her feet, begging her to ride them horses so precious that it had hitherto been

deemed sacrilege to put a sidesaddle on them. She had the divine gift of "hands", and all manner of

excitable, pulling horses went quietly and smoothly under her management. Her English training had taught

her to ride over jumps, and she was very anxious to have a try at postandrail fences.

After much pressing, Hugh had this day allowed her to try Obadiah, Binjie's celebrated show jumper, an

animal that could be trusted to jump anything he could see over; so during their ride to the habitat of the

Donohoes they left the regular track, and followed one of the fences for a mile or two, looking for a suitable

place to try the horse. No good place offered itself, as the timber was thick, and the country so rugged that

she would have had to ride at a stlffgostandrail either up or down a steep slope. Loitering along, far off the

track, they crossed a little ridge where stringybark trees, with an undergrowth of bushes and saplings, formed

"Hold this horse a minute, please," he said. "There has been a mob of sheep driven here."

"All about here," he said, pointing to the ground. "Don't you see the tracks? Hundreds of em. But I can't see

what they were up to. There's no place they could get'em out without cutting the wires, and the fence is sound

enough. Good heavens, see it now! Well, that's smart," he continued, leaning against a post and giving it a

"What have they done? I don't understand. How have they got the sheep through without breaking the fence?"

"They've dug up four or five posts," he said, kicking over some red earth with his foot, "laid that piece of

fence flat on the ground, driven the sheep over it, and then put the fence up again. No wonder we are missing

sheep! Two or three hundred have gone out here! Here's a chance at last the chance I've been waiting for

all these years! What a lucky thing we came here! And now, Miss Grant," he said, remounting, "we won't

have any jumping today. I'll have to follow these tracks till I come on the sheep somewhere, if it's in Red

Mick Donohoe's own yard. Do you think you can find your way back to the homestead?"

"To tell them to send Poss and Binjie after me. I don't expect they've gone home yet. I want a witness with

me when I catch Red Mick with these sheep, or else fifty of his dan will swear that he has been in bed for six

"Then," she said firmly, gathering up the reins in her daintily gloved hands as she spoke, "I'm going with you.

"No, no, no," said Hugh, "that won't do. There may be a row. It's a rough sort of place, and a rough lot of

people. Now look here, Miss Grant, oblige me and go home. The horse will take you straight back."

Her eyes glowed with excitement. "Please let me come," she said. "You don't know how much I want to

He argued and expostulated and entreated. He knew well enough there was a good deal of risk in the matter,

and he tried hard to make her go back. But she was determined to go with him, and the argument ended in the

only possible manner she went. She promised to do exactly what she was told, to keep out of the way if so

So off they went through the scrub on the track of the sheep, plain as print to the young bushman, although

invisible to his companion. They rode at a walk for the most part, for fear of being heard. Now and again,

when they could see for a good distance ahead, they let the horses canter; Hugh riding in front, she, like a

damosel of old, in assumed submission a few lengths behind, and thoroughly enjoying the adventure.

Of course she could not keep silence long, and after a while she drew alongside, and whispered, "Do you

"I hope so. But it's a very curious thing; there has been a dog after these sheep see, there's his track,"

pointing to footprints plainly marked in wet sand "but no track of man or horse to be seen. By Jove, look

They had come to the crest of a small hill, and were looking down a long valley. To right and left of them

towered the blue, rugged peaks; straight in front the valley opened out, and they got a fairly clear view for a

mile or more. About half a mile ahead, travelling in a compact mass down the valley, was a mob of some two

or three hundred sheep. At their heels trotted two sheepdogs of the small wiry breed common in the

mountains. Hugh looked about to see who was in charge of them; but no one was visible. The dogs were

taking the sheep along without word or sign from anyone, hurrying them at a good sharp pace, each keeping

on his own flank of the mob, or occasionally dropping behind to hurry up the laggards.

It was a marvellous exhibition of sagacity. They came to a place where it was necessary to turn sharply to the

right to cross a small creek; one of the dogs shot forward, and sent the leading sheep scurrying down the

bank, while the other fell back a few yards and prevented the mob turning back. After a moment's hesitation

the sheep plunged into the shallow water, splashed across the creek, and set off again in their compact march

down the valley, urged and directed by their silent custodians who paused to lap a few mouthfuls of water,

"Look at that," said Hugh, in open admiration. "Isn't that wonderful? Those are Red Mick's dogs. I knew they

were good dogs, but this is simply marvellous, isn't it? What are we to do now? If Itake the sheep from them

they'll run home, and I can't prosecute Red Mick because they picked up a mob of sheep."

"Oh, but he must be near them somewhere," said Mary, to whom the whole affair appeared uncanny. "They

"Oh, of course, he started them. Once he got the sheep out of the paddock, he started the dogs for home, and

rode off. You see his plan. If anyone finds the dogs with them, of course he had nothing to do with it.

Sheepdogs will often go into a paddock, and bring a mob of sheep up to the yard on their own account. It's an

instinct with them. Look at those two now, forcing the sheep over that bad crossing. Isn't it wonderful?"

"Well," she said, triumphantly, "what about the fence? They couldn't dig up that."

"Oh, Red Mick did; but who's to prove it? He'll swear he never was near the fence, and that his dogs picked

up these sheep and brought them home on their own account. The jury would find that I dug up my own

fence, and they'd acquit Red Mick, and give him a testimonial. No, I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll cut across

the range, and sneak up as near Red Mick's as we can. Then we'll hide and watch his house; and when the

dogs come up, if he takes the sheep from them, or starts to drive them anywhere, we've got him. Once he

takes charge of those sheep he's done. Of course there may be a bit of trouble when we spring up and accuse

No sooner said than done. They set their horses in motion, and went at a steady trot for a mile or so, crossing

the valley at right angles, over a sharp rise and down a small hill, till Hugh again pulled up.

"There's Red Mick's homestead," he said, pointing to a speck far away down a gully. "The sheep will come

up the creek, because it is the smoothest track. Now, we must tie our horses up here, sneak down the creek

They tied their horses up in a clump of trees, and made the rest of the journey on foot, hurrying silently for

half a mile down the bed of the creek, hidden by its steep banks. Here and there, to escape observation, they

had to walk in the water, and Hugh, looking round, saw his companion wading after him, with face firmset

He laughed silently at the girl's flushed and excited face. As he reached out to help her over some fallen

timber, she took his hand with a firm grip that set his nerves tingling. They pushed on until almost abreast of

Red Mick's dwelling; then Hugh, standing on a projecting stump, peered over the high bank to see how the

land lay, while his companion sat down and watched his movements with wide open eyes.

He saw the cottage drowsing in the bright afternoon sunlight. It was a picturesque little building, made of

heavy redgum slabs, with a bark roof; the windows were merely square holes cut in the slabs, fitted with

heavy wooden covers that now hung open, giving a view of the interior. In one room could be seen a rough

dresser covered with plates and dishes, and a saddle hung from a tiebeam; in the other there was a rough

plank bed with blue blankets. The door was shut, and there was no sign of life about the place. There was no

garden in front of the house, merely the bare earth and a dustheap where ashes were thrown out, on which a

At the back was a fairsized garden, with fine, healthylooking trees; and about a quarter of a mile away was

the straggling collection of barkroofed sheds and corkscrewlooking fences that served Red Mick as

shearingsheds for his sheep, and drafting and branding yards for his cattle and horses. After a hurried survey

Hugh dropped lightly down into shelter, and whispered, "There's no one moving at all. There's a newly fallen

tree about a hundred yards down the creek; we'll get among its branches and watch."

They crept along the creek until opposite the fallen tree; there Hugh scaled the bank and pulled Mary up after

him. Silent as shadows, they stole through a little patch of young timber, and ensconced themselves among

the fragrant branches. The grass was long where the tree had fallen, and this, with the green boughs, made a

They settled close together and peered out like squirrels, first up at the house, then down the valley for the

arrival of the sheep. Both were shaking with excitement she at the unwonted sensation of attacking a

criminal in his lair, and he with anxiety lest some unlucky chance should bring his plan to nought, and make

"There is no one about," he whispered. "I expect Red Mick has told the family to keep indoors, so that they

She pressed his arm in answer, gave a low laugh, and pointed down the flat. There, far away among the trees,

they saw the white phalanx of the approaching sheep, and the little lean dogs hunting them straight towards

Still no sign from Red Mick. No one stirred about the place; the fowls still fluttered in the dust, and a

dissipatedlooking pet cockatoo, perched on the woodheap repeated several times in a drowsy tone,

"Goodbye, Cockie! Goodbye Cockie!" Then the door opened, and Red Mick stepped out.

He was the acknowledged leader of the DoyleDonohoe faction in all matters of cunning, and in all raids on

other folks' stock; and not only did he plan the raids, but took a leading part in executing them. He was the

finest and most fearless bush rider in the district, and could track like a blackfellow. If he left a strange camp

at sundown, and rode about the bush all night, he could at any time go back straight across country to his

starting point, or to any place he had visited during his wanderings. Such bushmanship is a gift, and not to be

learnt. If once he saw a horse, he would know it again for the rest of his life fat or lean, sick or well.

In appearance he was a tall, lanky, largehanded, slabsided cornstalk, about thirtyfive years of age, with a

huge red beard that nearly covered his face, and a brickdust complexion variegated with large freckles. His

legs were long and straight; he wore tightfitting white moleskin trousers, a coloured Crimean shirt, and a

Miss Grant felt almost sorry for this big, simplelooking bushman, who came strolling past their

hidingplace, his eyes fixed on the sheep, and his hands mechanically occupied in cutting up tobacco. Behind

him gambolled a halfgrown collie pup, evidently a relative of the dogs in charge of the sheep.

They brought the sheep up to a little corner of land formed by a sharp bend of the creek, then stopped,

squatting on their haunches as sentinels, and the sheep, fatigued with their long, fast run, settled in under the

trees to get out of the sun. Behind the sheep, Hugh caught a glimpse of two horsemen coming slowly up the

"Look! Here's Mick's nephews," he whispered, "come to take the sheep away. By George, we'll bag the whole

The crisis approached. Miss Grant, with strained attention, saw Red Mick strike a match, and light his pipe.

Strolling on towards the sheep, he passed about thirty yards from where they lay hidden. Already she was

thinking how exciting it would be when they rose out of the bushes, and faced him in quite the best "We are

But they had to reckon with one thing they had overlooked, and that was the collie pup. That budding genius,

blundering along after his master, suddenly stopped, turned towards the fallen tree, and sniffed the air. Then

he ran a few steps towards them, and stopped, his ears pricked and his eyes fixed on the tree; barked sharply,

The puppy came forward again, quite close to the tree this time, and barked sharply. "Good pup," said Mick,

Thus encouraged, the puppy darted forward barking, and Red Mick stopped leisurely, picked up a large stone,

and sent it crashing among the branches. It passed between Hugh and Miss Grant, and came near enough to

stunning one or other of them. They jumped to their feet hurriedly, and without dignity climbed out of the

branches, and advanced on Red Mick, while the puppy ran yelping behind his master.

It is only reasonable to suppose that Mick was somewhat astonished at the apparition. He could scarcely have

expected his shot to disturb two such fine birds from such an extraordinary nest; but before they had

extricated themselves from the branches his face had assumed the stolid, cowlike, unintelligent look which

had so often baffled judges and Crown Prosecutors. He was bland and childlike as Bret Harte's Chinee.

He spoke as if he were quite accustomed to unearthing young couples out of trees. His voice had a sort of "I

"Fall! No!" snapped Hugh, whose temper was gradually rising as the absurdity of the situation dawned on

him. "We haven't had a fall. We ran the tracks of a lot of our sheep from the big paddock, and here they are

"Is thim your sheep?" said the bland Mick, surprised. "I wuz wondherin' whose sheep they wuz, comin' up the

flat. I knew they wuzn't travellin' sheep,'cause of gettin' no notice, an me bein' laid up in the house this two

"Oh, that's all very fine, Mick Donohoe?" said the young man angrily. "Your own dogs have brought them

Red Mick laughed gaily. "Ah, thim dogs is always yardin' up things. They never see a mob of sheep, but

they'll start to dhrive 'em some place. When I was travellin' down the Darlin', goin' through Dunloe station, in

one paddock I missed th' old slut, and when I see her again, she had gethered fifteen thousand sheep, and was

bringin' 'em after me. But, Lord bless your heart, Mr Hugh," he added with a comforting smile, "she wouldn't

hurt a hair of a sheep's head, nor the young dog ayther. Them sheep'll be all right. Sorra sheep ever she bit in

"I'll tell you where they gathered them," said Hugh. "The fence of our paddock was dug up, and the sheep

were run out, and then the fence was put up again. That's how they gathered them."

"The fence wuz dug up! Ah, look at that now. Terrible, ain't it. An' who done it, do ye think? Some of them

carriers, I expect, puttin' their horses in unbeknownst to you. I'll bet 'twas them done it. Or, perhaps," he

added, with an evident desire to assist in solving the difficulty, "perhaps the wind blew it down."

"Well it does blow terrible hard sometimes in these parts," said Red Mick, shaking his head dolefully; "look

at me crop of onions I planted the wind blew 'em out of the ground, and hung 'em on the fence. But wait

"No, we won't wait," said Hugh angrily. "We will be off home now, and send a man for them. And I advise

you to be very careful, Mick Donohoe, for I have my own idea who dug up that fence."

"Well, you don't suppose that I done it, do you?" said Red Mick. "I've been in the house this three days.

Besides, I wouldn't steal my brotherinlaw's sheep, anyhow. Won't ye come up, and have a dhrink of tea

"No, thank you," said Hugh stiffly. "Come along, Miss Grant." And they marched off towards the horses.

"It beats all who could have took them posts down, doesn't it?" said Mick. "I'd offer a reward, if I was you.

Them fellows about here would steal the eyes out of your head. Good day to ye, Mr Hugh."

And the cockatoo added, "Goodbye, Cockie," in a sepulchral voice, as they trudged off, smitten hip and thigh.

Hugh was suffering intensely at his defeat, and when Mary Grant said, "I suppose you will have him put in

gaol at once?" he muttered that he would have to think it over. "It wouldn't do to prosecute him and fail, and

Hugh started. "Did he say that? Well, he he must have wanted to make out that he did not know whose

sheep they were": but he thought to himself, "Is Red Mick going to bring up that old scandal?"

Mick, as he watched them go, winked twice to himself, and then stooped and patted the head of the collie

pup. The other dogs, in answer to a silent wave of his hand, had slunk off quietly. The riders had disappeared.

It had been a narrow escape, and Red Mick knew it; and even as things had turned out, there was still ample

On the way back to the homestead Hugh began to talk of the chance of a conviction, and the delight it would

be to give Mick seven years, but his ideas were disturbed by thoughts of Mick's face as he said, "Why should

I steal my brotherinlaw's sheep?" He looked at the girl alongside him, and prayed that the old story might

The question whether Mick Donohoe should be prosecuted was not likely to be prejudiced by his claim of

kinship. Billy the Bully would as soon prosecute his own brotherinlaw as anybody else sooner, in fact.

So Hugh, having reached home very crestfallen and angry, wrote a full account of the affair in his report of

Grant's reply was brief and to the point; he seldom wrote letters, always telegraphing when possible. On this

occasion the telegram said, "Prosecute at once; offer reward informers" which, leaking out (as telegrams

frequently did at the local office) put Red Mick considerably on the qui vive. The old man actually paid him

the compliment of writing a letter about him later on, saying that it would be a good thing to prosecute it

would give Red Mick a good scare, even if it didn't get him into gaol. Circumstances, no doubt, justified a

But that gentleman was not without resource; an anonymous letter arrived for Hugh by the mailboy, a dirty,

"Mr Gordon i herd you was gone to summons Michael Donohoe for sheep stealing. You better bewar there is

some seen you and that girl in the bush you will get a grate shown up and her two."

This precious epistle was signed "A Friend", and on first reading it Hugh laughed heartily; but the more he

thought it over the less he liked it. It was all very well to put Red Mick in the dock, but it was evident that

part of the defence would be, "How came you to be under the boughs of a fallen tree with an attractive young

woman when Red Mick's dogs came up with the sheep?" At the very least they would look ridiculous; and

the unknown correspondent who promised them a "grate shown up" would probably take care that the story

was as highly coloured as possible. He shuddered to think what the Donohoes would say, and heartily wished

He fretted for some hours, and then decided to talk it over with the girl herself. He did not care to let Red

Mick think that the anonymous letter had stopped the prosecution; at the same time, he was determined to do

nothing that would cause Miss Grant the least annoyance. He opened the discussion that evening while

"Well, the trouble is this: I've got an anonymous letter from Red Mick or some of his people, saying that they

are going to give you and me a great showingup about being hidden in the tree together."

"Well, of course, they will talk about our being in the tree together and all that kind of thing, you

know. They will make things as unpleasant for us as they can. They may want you to give evidence, and all

She froze into dignity at once. "I certainly shouldn't like it," she said. "About being in the tree, that does not

matter, of course, but I hope you will keep my name out of the affair altogether. I must ask you to do that for

Then he rushed on his fate. Many a time he had pictured how he would wait till they were alone together in

the garden on some glorious moonlit night, and he would take her hand, and tell her how much he loved her;

and now, seeing the girl standing before him flushed with insulted dignity, he suddenly found himself

gasping out, in what seemed somebody's else's voice, "Couldn't we look here, Miss Grant, won't you be

"No, no; let me go; let me go," she said. Then the colour came back to her face, and she drew herself up, and

"I thank you very much for what you have just said. But I really think that I shall be able to put up with

anything these people may choose to say about me. It won't hurt me, and I shouldn't like you to sacrifice

yourself to save me from the talk of such people. Let us go back to the house, please."

He stared helplessly at her, and could not find his voice for a moment. At last he blurted out: "It's not because

of that. I don't care about them any more than you do. Don't think it's that, Miss Grant. Why"

"Let us go back to the house, please," she said quietly, "and don't say anything more about it. And whatever

happens, I must ask you to keep my name out of the affair altogether. You'll do that, won't you? Let us go

They walked back in silence. He looked at her once or twice, but her face was stern and rigid, and she would

not give him even one glance. At the door she gave him her hand, with a matteroffact "I will say

goodnight now," and disappeared into her room, where she threw herself on the bed and sobbed bitterly; for

the truth was that she was very, very fond of him. She, too, had built her little castles in the air as to what she

would say and do when he put the momentous question. Girls do foresee these things, somehow; although

She had pictured him saying all sorts of endearing things, and making all sorts of loving protestations; and

now it had come to this she had been asked as if it were merely a matter of avoiding scandal. It was too

great a shock. She lay silently crying, while Hugh, his castles in the air having crumbled around him, was

His thoughts were anything but pleasant. What a fool he had been, talking to her like that! Making it look as

if he had only proposed to her because he ought to protect her good name! Why hadn't he spoken to her

before in the tree, on the ride home, any other time? Why hadn't he spoken differently? To him the refusal

seemed the end of all things. He thought of asking Mr Grant to give him the management of the most

outback place he had, so that he could go away and bury himself. He even thought or resigning his position

altogether and going to the goldfields. Red Mick and his delinquencies seemed but small matters now; and,

after what had passed, he must, of course, see that Miss Grant was not dragged into the business. So he sat

The letter took a great deal of thinking over. It had got about the station that Red Mick had at last been caught

in flagrante delicto; the housecook has told the cook at the men's hut, and he had told the mailman, who

stopped on the road to tell the teamsters ploughing along with their huge waggons to Kiley's Crossing; they

told the publican at Kiley's, and he told everybody he saw. The children made a sort of play out of it, the

eldest boy personating Red Mick, while two of the younger ones hid in a fallen tree, and were routed out by

Thomas Carlyle. The stationhands were all excitement; the prospect of a big lawcase was a real godsend to

them. To drop the matter would be equivalent to a confession of defeat, but, after what had passed, Hugh had

no option. So he told Mr Grant that, on thinking it over, he did not consider it advisable to go on with the case

against Red Mick; Miss Grant would have to go into the box to give evidence, which would be very

Poor Hugh! He was too honourable to give any false reason, and too shy to tell the whole truth. If he had said

that there was no hope of a conviction, it would have been all right. But consideration for the feelings of

anyone, even his own daughter, was to Billy the Bully quite incomprehensible, and he wrote back, on a

This put Hugh in a frightful dilemma. He had no trouble whatever in making up his mind to disobey the

order, as he was bound to stand by his promise to Miss Grant. But what answer should he send to her father?

He was in a reckless mood, but he knew well enough that Grant would order him off the place, neck and

crop, if he dared to disobey; and he owed it to his mother and sister to avoid such a thing. The more he looked

at the position of affairs, the less he liked it. He wrote a dozen letters, and tore them up again.

He thought of making Red Mick a sporting offer of, say, a couple of hundred pounds, to disappear altogether

Mick could have arranged that easily enough. Then he thought of going down to see Mr Grant to explain;

but the more he thought of that the less he liked it. He worried and worried over it, and when he went to bed

he lay awake thinking about it. He fell into dozes, and dreamt that Mr Grant had turned him off the place, and

had made Red Mick manager, and that Miss Grant was going to marry Red Mick; then he woke with a start,

and heard through the darkness the rapid hoofbeats of a horse ridden at speed up the road from Kiley's, and

He went out and found in the yard one of the telegraph operators from Kiley's, on a smoking horse. "Very

important telegram, Mr Gordon," he said. "I borrowed the horse, and brought it over as fast as I could."

Hugh opened the envelope hurriedly. The operator struck a match and held it up while he read. The message

"William Grant died suddenly this morning. Pinnock taking charge of affairs; am making arrangements

Her father dead! The question of Red Mick and his prosecution became at once a matter of no moment. How

absurd his worry and vexation now seemed. On the other hand, what new complications might arise? All

these years the Gordons had lived on the assumption that Mr Grant would provide for them, without having

any promise or agreement from him; and, owing to the old man's violent temper, they had been in daily risk

of being ordered off the place. They had got used to this as people get used to living on the side of a volcano.

Her father dead! He could not bear to see her grief, and the thought of it made him determined to get away as

quickly as possible. Quietly he awoke his mother, and told her what had happened, and by dawn was well on

Now we must follow for a time the adventures of Charlie Gordon and the new chum, whom we left just

starting out for "far back", Charlie to take over a cattle station for Old Man Grant, and Carew to search for

Patrick Henry Considine. After a short sea journey they took train to a dusty backblocks township, where

Gordon picked up one of the many outfits which he had scattered over the country, and which in this case

consisted of a vehicle, a dozen or so of horses, and a black boy named Frying Pan.

They drove four horses in a low, Americanmade buggy, and travelled about fifty miles a day. Frying Pan

was invaluable. He seemed to have a natural affinity for horses. He could catch them anywhere and track

them if they got lost. Carew tried to talk to him, but could get little out of him, for he knew only the pidgin

English, which is in use in those parts, and said "No more" to nearly every question. He rode along behind the

loose horses, apparently quite satisfied with his own company. Every now and then he came alongside the

vehicle, and said "Terbacker". Charlie threw him a stick of the blackest, rankest tobacco known to the trade,

Once they saw him get off his horse near a lagoon, plunge his arm into a hole, and pull out a mudturtle, an

evilsmelling beast; this he carried for several miles over his shoulder, holding its head, and letting the body

swing at the end of the long neck a proceeding which must have caused the turtle intense suffering. After

a while his horse shied, and he dropped the turtle on the ground with a dull thud.

"No more," replied Frying Pan, carelessly. Then he grinned, and volunteered a remark. "Make that feller

plenty tired walk home again," he said. And this was his only conversation during a twohundredmile

At night they usually managed to reach a station, where the man in charge would greet them effusively, and

beg them to turn their horses out and stay a week or a year or two, just as long as they liked. They met

all sorts at these stations, from English swells to bushmen of the roughest. Sometimes they camped out,

putting hobbles on the horses, and spreading their blankets under the buggy on a bed of long grass gathered

As they got further out, the road became less and less defined, stations fewer, and everything rougher. They

left the sheepcountry behind them and got out into cattle land, where "runs" are measured by the hundred

square miles, and every man is a law unto himself. They left their buggy after a time, and pushed on with

packhorses; and after travelling about two hundred miles, came to the outer edge of the settled district, where

they stayed with two young Englishmen, who were living under a dray, and building their cattleyards

themselves the yards being a necessity, and the house, which was to come afterwards, a luxury. The diet

was monotonous meat "ad libitum", damper and tea. They had neighbours within sixty miles, and got

letters once in two months by riding that distance. "Stay here a while," they said to the travellers, "and take

"We're to take over the country Redman took up," said Charlie. "It joins you doesn't it?"

"Yes. See those far blue ranges? Well, we run to them on this side, and Redman's block runs to them on the

"The wild blacks," answered the Englishman. "They're bad out on those hills. You'll find yourselves in a nice

shop when you take that block over. There's a pretty fair humpy to live in, that's one thing. What do you call

"Good name, too," said the other. "it's not fit for any man. I wish you'd stop with us a while, but I suppose

"I suppose so," said Charlie. "We won't be there longer than we can help. Who's on the block now? Redman

"There's old Paddy Keogh there now greatest old character in the north. Lives there with his blacks and a

Chinaman. Regular oldestinhabitant sort of chap. Would have gone with Noah in the Ark, but he swore so

"He'd fire at you just as soon as look at you, I think," said the other. "But I don't fancy he wants to stay there

much. It's not the first time he's been broke, so I don't expect he'll take it very hard. Well, if you won't stay,

They resumed the weary journey, and after another two days' riding sighted away over the plain a small iron

house, gleaming in the setting sun. "Here we are!" said Charlie. "That's No Man's Land."

The arrival was not inspiring. They rode their tired horses up to the lowroofed galvanisediron house that

looked like a huge kerosenetin laid on its side, with a hole cut for a door and two holes for windows. There

was no garden and no fenced yard. It was stuck down in the middle of the wilderness, glaring forlornly out of

its windows at a wide expanse of dry grass and dullgreen bushes. Behind it was a small duplicate, which

served as kitchen and store. A huge buffalohead was nailed to a tree near by. In front was a rail on which

were spread ridingsaddles, pack saddles, hobbles, surcingles, pannikins, bridles, empty bags, and all manner

of horsegear; and roundabout were a litter of chips, an assortment of empty tins, bits of bullockhide, empty

cartridgecases, and the bare skulls of three or four bullocks, with neat bulletholes between the eyes.

Amidst this congenial debris roamed a herd of gaunt pigs, fierceeyed, quarrelsome pigs, that prowled

restlessly about, and ever and again returned disconsolately to the stinking carcasses of some large birds of

prey that had been thrown out in the sun. They were flatsided, longlegged, longnosed, and had large

bristling manes showed, in fact, every sign of reverting to the type of the original pig that yachted with

Noah. Living with them, in a state of armed neutrality, were three or four savagelooking cattle dogs, who

Charlie pulled up in front of the house, and cooeed. A Chinaman put his head out of the kitchen door, smiled

blandly, said "'Ello!" and retired. Gordon and Carew unsaddled the horses, put the hobbles on, and carried all

the gear into the house. By this time the Chinee had donned a dirty calico jacket, and began in silence to put

Just then a tramping of hoofs was heard; and looking out of the back door they saw, about two hundred yards

away, a large horseyard, over which hung a cloud of dust. Under the dust were signs of a struggle.

The cloud of dust shifted from place to place, and out of it came a medley of weird oaths, the dull thudding of

a waddy, and the heavy breathing of men and animals in combat. Suddenly a lithe, sinewy black boy, dressed

in a short blue shirt, bounded like a squirrel to the top of the fence and perched there; and through the mist

they saw a very tall old man, holding on like grim death to the end of a long rope, and being hauled about the

yard in great jumps by a halfgrown steer. Behind the steer another black boy dodged in and out, welting and

prodding it from time to time with a bamboo pole. Maddened by the blows, the steer would dash forward and

narrowly miss impaling the man on his horns; then, taking advantage of his impetus, the old man would try to

haul him into a smaller yard. Every time he got to the gate the steer yanked him out again by a series of

backward springs that would have hauled along a dromedary, and the struggle began all over again. The black

boy on the fence dropped down with the agility of a panther, took up the rope behind the old man, and pulled

"Hit him there, Billy! Whack him! Come on, you son of a cow! I'll pull you in if I have to pull your head off.

Charlie clambered up on the fence and sat there for a moment. The old man saw him, but evinced no surprise.

He just said, "Here, Mister Whoeveryouare, kitch hold of that rope. Their united forces were too much for

the steer," and he was hauled in by main strength under a fusillade of bamboo on his stern. Once in the small

yard, he abandoned the struggle, and charged wildly at his captors. The old man slipped nimbly to one side,

Gordon darted up the nearest fence, while Carew and the black boy got tangled up with the rope.

In the sauve qui peut which ensued, Carew pushed the black down on the ground right in front of the steer,

which immediately fell over him, and tangled him up more than ever. Then it turned on him with a roar of

rage, butted him violently, rolled him over and over in the dirt, knelt on him, bellowed in his ear, and

slobbered on him. It looked as if the boy must be killed. His mate dashed in with a bamboo, and welted and

whacked away without making any impression, till the animal of its own accord withdrew gloomily to a

corner of the yard, dragging the rope after it. Carew watched the prostrate boy in agonised suspense, hardly

daring to hope that he was alive. With a gasp of satisfaction he saw him rise to his feet, rub some of the dirt

off his face, and look round at the steer. Then he gave his shirt a shake and began to brush himself with his

Now all hands seized the rope again; in a trice the bullock was hauled up against the fence, thrown to the

ground, and held there while the old man sawed off the point of one horn, which was growing into the

animal's eye. When the job was done he straightened himself up, and through the covering grime and dust

He had a long, red nose, a pair of bright hazel eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard and moustache hiding all the

lower part of his face. On his head was a shapeless felt hat, from which a string passed under his nose. His

arms were hairy and baboonlike; his long thin legs seemed intended by Nature to fit the sides of a horse. He

wore tweed pants, green with age, and strapped on the inside with a lightercoloured and newer material;

also a very dirty coloured cotton shirt, open in front, and showing a large expanse of hairy chest. His voice

was husky from much swearing at profligate cattle, and there was a curious nasal twang in his tone, an

Charlie introduced himself. "My name's Gordon," he said, "and this is a friend of mine. We've come to take

"You're welcome to it, Mister," said the old man promptly. "It's about broke me, and if you don't look out it'll

break you. Any man that gits this place will hump his swag from it in five years, mark me! Come on down to

the house," he continued, picking up the rope and other gear lying about the fence. "Now, you boys, let that

steer out, and then go and help the gins bring the cattle in. Look lively now, you tallowfaced crawlers.

"Ha! That'll do. That's the real Mackay," said the veteran, slouching along at a perceptibly quicker gait.

"But, look, see here now, Mister!" he continued, anxiously, "you didn't let Ah Loy get hold of it, did you?

"That's him," said the old man. "That's him! He don't savvy much English. He knows all he wants, though.

He can lower the rum with any Christian ever I see. It don't do to let him get his hands on a bottle of anythink

in the spirit line. It'll come back halfempty. Now then, cook," he roared, seating himself at the rough slab

table, and drumming on it with a knife, "let's have some grub, quick, and you'll get a nip of rum. This new

boss b'long you, you savvy. All about station b'long him. I go buffalo shooting. Me stony broke. Poor fellow

me! Been fifteen years in this Godforgotten country, too," he said reminiscently, placing his elbows on the

table, and gazing at the wall in front of him. "Fifteen years livin' mostly with the blacks and the Chineymen,

and livin' like a black or a Chineyman, too. And what have I got to show for it? I've got to hump my bluey

"Oh, I came out here with a big mob of cattle," said the old man, filling his pipe, as Ah Loy placed some tin

plates, a tin dish, and a bottle of Worcester sauce on the table, and withdrew to the kitchen for the provender.

"I lived here, and I spent nothing, and I let 'em breed. I just looked on, and let 'em breed. Oh, there was no

waste about my management. I hadn't an overseer at two pounds ten a week, to boss a lot of flash stockmen at

two pounds. I jest got my own two gins and three good black boys, and I watched them cattle like a blessed

father. I never saw a stranger's face from year's end to year's end. I rode all over the face of the earth, keepin'

track of 'em. I kep' the wild blacks from scarin''em to death, and spearin' of'em, as is their nature to, and I got

"Somethin' like that, Mister. I did let off a rifle a few times, and I dessay one or two poor ignorant

blackfellercountrymen that had been fillin' my cattle as full of spears as so many hedgehogs I dessay

they got in the road of a bullet or two. They're always gettin' in the road of things. But we don't talk of

shootin' blacks nowadays! These parts is too civilised it's risky. Anyhow, I made them blacks let my cattle

alone. And I slaved like a driven nigger, day in and day out, brandin' calves all day long in the dust, with the

sun that hot, the brandin' iron 'ud mark without puttin' it in the fire at all. And then down comes the tick, and

kills my cattle by the hundred, dyin' and perishin' all over the place. And what lived through it I couldn't sell

anywhere, because they won't let tickinfested cattle go south, and the Dutch won't let us ship 'em north to

Java, the wretches! And then Mr Grant's debt was over everything; and at last I had to chuck it up. That's how

While he was delivering this harangue, Carew had been taking notes of the establishment. There was just a

rough table, three boxes to sit on, a meat safe, a few buckets, and a rough set of shelves, supporting a dipper,

and a few tin plates, and tins of jam, while in the corner stood some rifles and a doublebarrelled gun.

Certainly the owner of No Man's Land had not lived luxuriously. A low galvanisediron partition divided the

house into two rooms, and through the doorway could be seen a rough bunk made of bags stretched on

As the old man finished speaking, Ah Loy brought in the evening meal about a dozen beautifully tender

roast ducks in a large tin dish, a tin plate full of light, delicatelybrowned cakes of the sort known as

"puftalooners", and a huge billy of tea. There were no vegetables; pepper and salt were in plenty, and

Worcester sauce. They ate silently, as hungry men do, while the pigs and cattle dogs marched in at the open

"Bit off, Mister. The dogs bit them off. They've got the ears pretty well chawed off 'em too."

Just then a pig and a dog made a simultaneous rush for a bone, and the pig secured it. The dog, by way of

revenge, fastened on to the pig, and made him squeal like a locomotive engine whistling. The old man kicked

"You ain't eatin', Mister," he said, forking a duck on to Carew's plate with his own fork. "These ducks is all

right. They're thick on the lagoon. The Chow only had two cartridges, but he got about a dozen. He lays down

and fires along the water, and they're floatin' very near solid on it. But here s the cattle comin' up."

Looking out of the door, they saw about two hundred cattle coming in a long, stringing mob up the plain,

driven by four black figures on horseback. As they drew near the yards, several cattle seemed inclined to bolt

away; but the sharp fusillade of terrific whips kept them up to the mark, and, after a sudden halt for a few

minutes, the mob streamed in through the gates. A number of rails were put in the posts, and made fast with

pegs. The riders then remounted, and came cantering and laughing down to the homestead. All four were

Aboriginals, two were the boys that had been seen at the yard. The two new boys were dressed in moleskins,

cotton shirts, and soft felt hats, and each had a gaudy handkerchief tied round his throat.

One was light, wiry, and graceful as a gazelle a very handsome boy, the embodiment of lightness and

activity. The other was short and squat, with a broad face. Both grinned lightheartedly as they rode up, let

their horses go, and carried their saddles on to the verandah, without bothering about the strangers.

"Those are nicelooking boys," said Carew. "I mean the two new boys just coming in."

"New boys!" said the old man. "Them! They're my two gins. And see here, Mister, you'll have to keep off

hangin' round them while you're camed here. I can't stand anyone interferin' with them. If you kick my dorg,

or go after my gin, then you rouse all the monkey in me. Those two do all my cattle work. Come here,

Maggie," he called, and the slight "boy" walked over with a graceful, easy swing.

"This is new feller?" he said, introducing Carew, who bowed gracefully. "He b'long Sydney. You think him

"Yowi," said the girl laughing. "He nice feller. You got 'em matches?" she said, beaming on Carew, and

pulling a black pipe out of her trousers' pocket. "Big fool that Lucy, drop 'em matches."

"They've been out all day with the cattle," said the old man. "I've got a lot of wild cattle in that there mob. I

go out with a few quiet ones in the moonlight, and when the wild cattle come out of the scrubs to look at 'em

we rush the whole lot out into the plain. Great hands these gins are just as good as the boys."

"Good Lord!" said Carew, looking at the two little figures, who had now a couple of ducks each, a

puftalooner or two, and a big pannikin of tea, and were sitting on the edge of the verandah eating away with

"Minding them lest the wild ones should clear out. They dropped their matches somehow; that's what fetched

'em home early. They'll have to sleep on the verandah tonight. We'll make that their boodore, as they say in

The dark was now falling; the sunlight had left long, faint, crimson streaks in the sky. The air was perceptibly

cooler, and flights of water fowl hurried overhead, making their way to the river. The Chinaman lighted a

slushlamp, by whose flickering light Charlie produced from his swag a small bundle of papers, and threw

"We might as well get our business over, Keogh," he said. "i've got the paper here for you to sign, taking over

He pored over the document, muttering as he read it. "Your name'll have to be filled in, and there's a blank

"I don't know so much about that," said Charlie. "I don't think, if a man has a mortgage over a place, that he

can take it in his own name. That fool Pinnock didn't tell me. He was too anxious to know how we got on

with the larrikins to give me any useful information. Anyhow, I'll fill in my own name for all the block is

"I don't care," said the old man indifferently, "I'll transfer my interest to anyone you like. I'm done with it. I'm

signing away fifteen of the best years of my life. But my name ain't Keogh, you know, though I always went

by that. My father died when I was a kiddy, and my mother married again, so I got called by my stepfather's

name all my life. This is my right name, and it's a poor man's name today." And as the two men bent over

him in the light of the flickering slushlamp, he wrote, with stiff, uncertain fingers, "Patrick Henry

For a few seconds no one spoke. Carew and Gordon stared at the signature, and then looked at each other.

The newlyfound Considine looked at his autograph in a critical way, as if not quite sure he had spelled it

"There y'are," he said, "There's my right, title and intrust in all this here block of land, and all the stock what's

on it; and if you're ever short of a man to look after the place in the wet season I'll take the job. I might be

"I think it's quite likely you won't want any job from me," said Charlie. "I'll be asking you for a job yet. Are

"My name? O' course it's my name. My father was billiardmarker at Casey's Hotel, Dandaioo," said the old

man with conscious pride. "A swell he had been, but the booze done him up, like many a better man. He used

"Where did he write to?" asked Carew, looking at the uncouth figure with intense interest. "Do you know

"Yairs. He wrote to William Considine. That was his father's name. His father never sent any money, though.

Carew dashed out to his saddle, hurriedly unstrapped a valise, and brought in a small packet of papers.

"Here you are," he said, opening one, and showing it to Gordon. "Those are the names, Patrick Henry

Considine, son of William Patrick Considine. Entitled under his grandfather's will by Jove, do you know

"A lot of money left you. In England. Any amount of it. If you are the right man, you're rich, don't you know.

"Oh, a great deal. Thousands and thousands. Your grandfather left it. No one knew for certain where you

"I'm alive all right, I believe," said Considine, staring hard at them. "But look, Mister you aren't trying to

"Yes, it's straight," said Charlie. "You'll have to go to England to make your claim good, I expect. It's straight

For some time the bushman smoked in silence, looking at each man in turn, perhaps expecting them to laugh.

He muttered once or twice to himself under his breath. Then he turned on Gordon again.

"Now, look here, Mr Gordon, is this square? Because, if it ain't, it'll be a poor joke for some of you!"

"Man alive, why should we want to fool you? What good could it do us? It's all right."

"Well, if it's all right, we'll all have a drink on it. Here, Maggie, Lucy, Billy, come here. Get it pannikin. You

won't mind me treatin' 'em with your rum, I suppose, Mister?" he said, turning to Gordon. "I don't come in for

a fortune every day, you know, and there ain't a drop of lush in the place, only yours."

"Come on, Lucy. Come on, Maggie. Where's Ah Loy? Watch their faces, Mister, it's as good as a play. Now

then, ladies, I bin poor fella longa teatime, now rich feller longa bedtime. You savvy?"

The gins grinned uncomprehendingly, but held out their pannikins, and into each he poured a threefinger nip

of raw overproof rum that would have burnt the palate of Satan himself. They swallowed it neat, in two or

three quick gulps. The tears sprang to their eyes, and they contorted their faces into all sorts of shapes; but

"My word, that strong feller, eh?" said Considine. "Burn your mouth, I think it. Now then, Ah Loy, how

Ah Loy peered into the tin pannikin with a dejected air, and turned it on one side to show that there wasn't

"Here y'are then," said his boss. "Have a bit more. We don't come in for a fortune every day. Watch him take

Ah Loy put the fiery spirit to his lips, and began to drink in slow sips, as a connoisseur sips port wine.

The Chinee sipped away, pausing to let the delicate fluid roll well into the tender part of his mouth and throat.

"Welly stlong!" he said at last; but he finished the lot. The two black boys had their share, and retired again to

their camp. Then the three white men sat out in front of the house on some logs, smoking, and looking at the

Considine had fifty questions to ask, and the more Carew tried, the more helpless it was to explain things to

"Yes," replied Carew. "Beautiful old place. Old oaks, and all that sort of thing. You'll like it, I'm sure. Used to

"Ha!" said Considine with contempt. "I don't think much of this huntin' they have in England. Why, I knew a

chap that couldn't ride in timber a little, and he went to England and hunted, and d'you know what he said?

He said he could have rode in front of the dogs all the way, if he'd have liked. But the owner of the dogs

"I suppose could take Maggie and Lucy there," he went on, looking doubtfully at his hearers. "They wouldn't

mind a chap havin' a couple of black lady friends, would they? Yer see, they've stuck with me well, those two

gins, and wouldn't like to leave 'em behind. They'd get into bad hands. They're two as good handy gins as

there is in the world. That little fat one you start her out with a bridle and enough tobacker after lost

horses, and she'll foller'em till she gets 'em, if it takes a week. Camps out at night anywhere she can get water,

and gets her own grub lizards and young birds, and things like that. There ain't her equal as a

horsehunter in Australia. Maggie ain't a bad gin after horses, but if she don't find 'em on the first day, she

won't camp out 'cause she gets real frightened. I'd like to take 'em with me, yer know."

As he spoke the two moleskintrousered, cottonshirted little figures passed in front of the hut. "There they

go," he said. "Two real good gins. Now, as man to man, you wouldn't arst me to turn them loose, would

"Well, of course," he said at last, "they'd put up with a good deal from you, bein' an Australian, don't you

know. Fashion just now to make a lot of fuss over Australian chappies, whatever they do. But two black

women rather a large order. You might get married over there, and then these two black ladies"

He was interrupted by a startled exclamation from Considine. "Married!" he said. "Married! forgot all about

"Lubra, no! A hottempered faggot of a woman I met at Pike's pub. I lived with her three weeks and left her

"Differences? No! We had fights plenty fights. You see, it was this way. I hadn't long got these two gins;

and just before the rains the wild geese come down in thousands to breed, and the blacks all clear out and

camp by the lagoons, and kill geese and eat eggs and young ones all day long, till they near bust. It's the same

every year when the wild geese come the blacks have got to go, and it's no use talkin'. So I was slavin'

away here out all day on the run with the cattle and one night I comes home after being out three days,

and there at the foot of the bunk was the two gins' trousers and shirts, folded up; they'd run away with the

"So I goes after 'em down the river to the lagoons, and there was hundreds of blacks; but these two beauties

had heard me coming, and was planted in the reeds, and the other blacks, of course, they says, 'No more'

when I arst them. So there I was, lonely. Only me and the Chinaman here for two months, cause his gin had

gone too. So one day I ketches the horses, and off I goes, and travels for days, till I makes Pike's pub, and

"It seems from what I heard afterwards that she'd just cleared out from some fellow she'd been livin' with for

years had a quarrel with him. Anyhow, I hadn't seen a white woman for years, and she was a fine lump of

a woman, and I got on a bit of a spree for a week or so, you know halftight all the time; and it seems

some sort of a parson a mish'nary to the blacks chanced along and married us. She had her lines and

everything all right, but I don't remember much about it. So then I'm living with her for a bit; but I don't like

her goin's on, and I takes the whip to her once, and she gets snakeheaded to me, and take up an axe; and

then one day comes a black from this place and he says to me, he says, 'Old man,' he says, 'Maggie and Lucy

come back.' So then I says to my wife, 'I'm off back to the run,' I says, 'and it's sorry I am that ever I married

you.' And she says, 'Well, I'm not goin' out to yer old run, to get eat up with musketeers.' So says I, 'Please

yourself about that, you faggot,' I says, 'but I'm off.' So off I cleared, and I never seen her from that day till

this. I married her under the name of Keogh, though. Will that make any difference?"

This legal problem kept them occupied for some time; and, after much discussion, it was decided that a

Then weariness, the weariness of openair, travelling, and hard work, settled down on them, and they made

for the house. On the verandah the two gins lay sleeping, their figures dimly outlined under mosquito nets;

the dogs crouched about in all sorts of attitudes. Considine turned in all standing in the big rough bunk, while

Carew and Gordon stretched their blankets on the hard earth floor, made a pillow of their clothes, and lay

down to sleep, after fixing mosquito nets. Gordon slept as soon as he touched the blankets, but Carew

tumbled and tossed. The ground was deadly hard. During the journey Frying Pan had got grass for their beds;

here he had not been told to get it, and it would have looked effeminate to ask for grass when no one else

seemed to want it. The old man heard him stirring and rolling, and sat up in his bunk. "What's up, Mister?" he

"Not too easy," said the Englishman. "Always seems to be a deuced hard place just under your hip, don't you

"I'll put you right in a brace of shakes," said Considine. "I've got the very thing to make a soft bed. Half a

He went out to the back of the house and returned with a dry white bullockhide, as rigid as a sheet of iron.

Carew found the hide nearly as hard as the bare floor, but he uttered profuse thanks, and said it was quite

comfortable; to which the old man replied that he was sure it must be, and then threw himself back on his

Carew awoke next morning to find that it was broad daylight, and the horses had been run in, caught, and

saddled, all ready for a start to the run. Breakfast was soon disposed of, and the cavalcade set out. Naturally,

the old man had heaps of questions to ask about his inheritance, and made the Englishman ride alongside

"If I go to England after this money, Mister, I suppose they won't be handin' me out ten years for perjury,

"Ha! Well, now they've got me they mightn't like me, don't you see? I never took no stock in them

unclaimedmoney fakes. I never see any money goin' beggin' yet, long as I've lived, but what some chap had

"It's me wife I'm troublin' about. I'm no dandy, Goodness knows, but if people'll let me alone I'll let them

alone, and I don't interfere with anyone. But if old Peg turns up, she'll want to be right in front of the

percession. If she follows me, I'll realise everything by public auction, unreserved sale, for spot cash, and I'll

sneak back here to a place I knows of, where there's no trooper can find me. I ain't goin' halves with that

woman, I tell you. She wouldn't stick to me if I was poor, and I ain't goin' to take her up again now. You'd

"There's a mob of cattle, Gordon," he went on, changing the subject quickly; "let's ride up here, while the

boys bring 'em into camp." And off they went at a canter, leaving the question of his social prospects in

The ceremony of taking delivery lasted some days, Considine's signature to the deed of transfer being only

the first step. This long document, prepared in Sydney, kept them going in literature for about a week; and

they were delighted to find that, through the carelessness of a clerk, in one part of the deed there figured "one

They rode out, day after day, through interminable stretches of dull timbered country, or over blazing plains

waving with long grass. Here they came on mobs of halfwild cattle, all bearing the same brand, a huge RL5.

These were not mustered into a yard or counted, except roughly. Gordon was not completing a purchase, but

simply taking over what were there many or few, good or bad, he could only take what he found.

Miles and miles they rode, always in the blazing heat, camping for a couple of hours in the middle of the day.

To the Englishman it seemed always the merest chance that they found the cattle, and accident that they got

home again. At rare intervals they came upon substantial musteringyards, where the calves were brought for

branding; near these a rough hut had been constructed, so that they could camp there at night, instead of

They always slept out of doors. In the intense heat it was no hardship, and the huts, as a rule, fairly jumped

with fleas. Once they camped alongside a big lagoon, on whose surface were huge pink and blue waterlilies

and rushes, and vast flocks of wild fowl. After the stretches of blazing plain and dull timber this glimpse of

water was inexpressibly refreshing. On their way back they struck new country, great stretches of almost

impenetrable scrub, tropical jungle, and belts of bamboo. In this cover wild cattle evidently abounded, for

"There should be a terrible lot of wild cattle here," said Charlie. "Don't you ever get any out of the scrubs?"

"Oh, yes, we moonlight for 'em," said Considine. "We take coachers out. We have a very fair coaching mob.

Some of our coachers are as quick as racehorses, and they'll hustle wild cattle away from the scrub just as if

"Carts, no. The way we get wild cattle hereabouts is to take out a mob of quiet cattle, what we call coachers,

and let 'em feed in the moonlight alongside the scrub, while we wait back out o' the road and watch 'em.

When the wild cattle come out, they run over to see the coachers, and we dash up and cut 'em off from the

scrub, and hustle 'em together into the open. It's good sport, Mister. We might try a dash at it, if you like,

When they got back that evening, Carew was so deadtired that he wished the wild cattle expedition at

Jericho. But Considine and Charlie were in great form, directing, arguing, and planning the expedition. One

of the black boys rode out, and returned driving a big mob of horses that dashed into the yard at full gallop.

The gins and the black boys caught fresh mounts out of these and started away, driving some fifty head of

cattle selected from a mob that made their headquarters within a few miles of the house. Most of them were

old stagers, and strung away in the evening quite tranquilly, while the blacks, always smoking, rode listlessly

"No good givin' you one, Mister," he said to Carew. "You'd hang yourself with it most likely. I've got a rare

good horse for you old Smoked Beef. He'd moonlight cattle by himself, believe. You'd better have a

"What for?" asked Carew, as Considine produced three very heavy navy revolvers and a bag of cartridges.

"To shoot any beast that won't stay with the mob. Some of 'em won't be stopped. They have to go. Well, if

one goes, the rest keep trying to follow, and no forty men will hold 'em back. You just keep your eyes open,

and if a beast breaks out in spite of the whips, you shoot him if the blacks tell you. See?"

"Shoot him any place. In the earhole, or the shoulder, or the ribs, or the flank. Any place at all. Shoot him all

over if you like. One or two bullets don't hurt a beast. It takes a leadmine to kill some of 'em."

"No, I don't never trust no blacks with firearms. One boy knifes well, though. Races alongside and knifes

This seemed a fairly difficult performance; while the Englishman was wondering how it would be carried out,

they made a start. They rode mile after mile in the yellow moonlight, until they discerned a mob of cattle

feeding placidly near some big scrub. They whistled to the blacks, and all rode away down wind to a spot on

Here they dismounted and waited, Considine and Charlie talking occasionally in low tones, while the blacks

sat silent, holding their horses. Carew lay down on the long dry grass and gazed away over the plain. His

horse stood over him with head down, apparently sleeping. Far away under the moon, in vague patches of

light and shade, the cattle were feeding. Hours seemed to pass, and Carew almost fell asleep.

Suddenly a longdrawn bellow, the angry challenge of a bull, broke the silence. A mob of wild cattle were

evidently coming along the edge of the scrub, and had caught scent of the strangers. Again the bull roared;

there is no animal on earth with so emphatically warlike a note as the wild bull when advancing to meet a

strange mob. The quiet cattle answered with plaintive, longdrawn lowings, and the din became general as

"Let 'em get well mixed up," said Considine quietly, tightening his girths, and swinging into the saddle.

Everyone followed his example. Carew was shaking with excitement. Angry bellowing now arose from the

cattle, which were apparently horning one another such being their manner of greeting.

Considine said, "There's a big lot there. Hope to blazes we can hold 'em. Are you ready, Mister?"

"Come on, then. We'll sneak up slowly at first, but once I start galloping let your horse go as fast as he likes,

They started slowly in Indian file, keeping well in the shadow of the scrub. The horses picked their way

through the outlying saplings and bushes, until suddenly Considine bent forward on his horse's neck, and

What a ride that was! The inexperienced reader is apt to imagine that because a plain is level, it is smooth, but

The rain washes away the soil from between the tussocks, which stand up like miniature mountains; the heat

cracks the ground till it opens in crevices, sometimes a foot wide and a yard or two deep; fallen saplings lie

hidden in the shadows to trip the horse, while the stumps stand up to cripple him, and over all is the long

grass hiding all perils, and making the horse risk his own neck and his master's at every stride.

They flew along in the moonlight, Considine leading, Charlie next, then the two black boys, and then Carew,

with a black gin on each side of him, racing in grim silence. The horses blundered and "pecked", stumbled,

picked themselves up again, always seeming to have a leg to spare. Now and again a stump or a gaping crack

in the ground would flash into view under their very nose, but they cleared everything stumps, tussocks,

In less time than it takes to write, they were between the mob and the scrub; at once a fusillade of whips rang

out, and the men started to ride round the cattle in Indian file. The wild ones were well mixed up with the

tame, and hardly knew which way to turn. Carew, cantering round, caught glimpses of them rushing hither

and thither small, wiry cattle for the most part, with big ears and sharp, spearpointed horns. Of these

there were fifty or sixty, as near as Considine could judge three or four bulls, a crowd of cows and calves

and halfgrown animals, and a few old bullocks that had left the station mobs and thrown in their lot with the

By degrees, as the horses went round them, the cattle began to "ring", forming themselves into a compact

mass, those on the outside running round and round. All the time the whips were going, and the shrill cries of

the blacks rang out, "Whoa back! Whoa back, there! Whoa!" as an animal attempted to break from the mob.

They were gradually forcing the beasts away from the scrub, when suddenly, in spite of the gins' shrill cries,

some of the leaders broke out and set off up the plain; with the rush of a cavalry charge the rest were after

them, racing at full speed parallel with the edge of the scrub, and always trying to make over towards it.

Old Considine met this new development with Napoleonic quickness. He and the others formed a line parallel

with the course of the cattle, and raced along between them and the timber, keeping up an incessant fusillade

with their whips, while the old man's voice rang out loudly in directions to the blacks behind.

In the first rush the quiet cattle had dropped to the rear, but the blacks set about them with their whips; and, as

they were experienced coachers, and had been flogged and hustled along in similar rushes so often that they

knew at once what was wanted, they settled down to race just as fast as the wild ones. As the swaying,

bellowing mass swept along in the moonlight, crashing and trampling through the light outlying timber, some

of the coachers were seen working their way to the lead, and the wild cattle having no settled plan, followed

them blindly. Considine, on his black horse, was close up by the wing of the mob, and the others rode in line

"Crack your whips!" he yelled. "Crack your whips! Keep'em off the scrub! Go on, Billy, drive that horse

Like a flash one of the black boys darted out of the line, galloped to the head of the cattle, and rode there,

pursued by the flying mob, the cracks of his heavy stockwhip sounding above the roar of hoofs and the

bellowing of the cattle. Soon they steadied a little, and gradually sobered down till they stopped and began to

"That was pretty pure, eh, Mister?" roared Considine to Carew. "Ain't it a caution the way the coachers race

with 'em? That old baldface coacher is worth two men and a boy in a dash like this."

Suddenly an old bull, the patriarch of the wild herd, made towards one of the gins, whose shrill yells and

whipcracking failed to turn him. Considine dashed to her assistance, swinging his whip round his head.

"Whoa back, there! Whoa back, will you!" he shouted. The bull paused irresolute for a second, and

halfturned back to the mob, but the sight or scent of his native scrub decided him. Dropping his head, he

charged straight at Considine. So sudden was the attack that the stockhorse had barely time to spring aside;

but, quick as it was, Considine's revolver was quicker. The bull passed bang! went the revolver, and bang!

bang! bang! again, as the horse raced alongside, Considine leaning over and firing into the bull's ribs at very

The other cattle, dazed by the firing, did not attempt to follow, and at the fourth shot the bull wheeled to

charge. He stood a moment in the moonlight, bold and defiant, then staggered a little and looked round as

though to say, "What have you done to me?" Bang! went the revolver again; the animal lurched, plunged

"There, you swab," said the old man, "that'll larn you to break another time." Then he took once more his

place in the patrol round the mob. They circled and eddied and pushed, always staring angrily at the riders.

Suddenly a big, red bullock gave a snort of defiance, and came out straight towards Carew. He stopped once,

shook his head ominously, and came on again. One of the gins dashed up with the whip; but the bullock had

"Choot him, that feller!" screamed the gin to Carew. "You choot him! He bin yan away! No more stop! Choot

Carew lugged out his revolver, and tried to pull his horse to a standstill, but the wary old veteran knew better

than to be caught standing by a charging bullock; just as Carew fired, he plunged forward, with the result that

the bullet went over the mob altogether, and very nearly winged Charlie, who was riding on the far side. Then

the bullock charged in earnest; and Carew's horse, seeing that if he wished to save human life he must take

matters into his own hands, made a bolt for it. Carew halfturned in the saddle, and fired twice, only making

the black boys on the far side cower down on their horses' necks. Then the horse took complete charge, and

made off for the scrub with the bullock after him, and every animal in the mob after the bullock.

Nothing in the world could have stopped them. Considine and Charlie raced in front, alongside Carew,

cracking their whips and shouting; the blacks flogged the coachers up with the wild cattle; but they held on

their way, plunged with a mighty crash into the thick timber, and were lost. No horseman could ride a

hundred yards in that timber at night. Coachers and all were gone together, and the dispirited hunters gathered

"I'm afraid I made rather a mess of things, don't you know," said the Englishman. "I thought I hit him the

"I think you done very well to miss us! I heard one bullet whiz past me like a scorpyun. Well, it can't be

helped. Those old coachers will all battle their way home again before long. Gordon, I vote we go home.

They're your cattle now, and you'll have to come out again after em some day, and do a little more shootin'.

As they jogged home through the bright moonlight, they heard loud laughter from the blacks, and Carew,

looking back, found the fat gin giving a dramatic rehearsal of his exploits. She dashed her horse along at a

great pace, fell on his neck, clutched wildly at the reins, then suddenly turned in her saddle, and pretended to

fire pointblank at the other blacks, who all dodged the bullet. Then she fell on the horse's neck again, and so

This made the Englishman very morose. He was quite glad when Charlie said he had seen enough of the

cattle, and they would all start next day for civilisation Charlie to resume the management of Mr Grant's

stations, Carew to go with him as "colonial experiencer", and Considine to start for England to look after his

The black boys went in with them to Pike's store to take back supplies on the packhorse. They travelled over

the same country that they had seen coming up; the men at the stations greeted them with the same

hospitality. Nothing was said about Considine's good fortune. It was thought wise to be silent, as he didn't

They left the gins at the blacks' camp, which they chanced on by a riverside. The camp was a primitive affair,

a few rude shelters made by bending bamboo sticks together and covering them with strips of paper bark.

Here the sable warriors sat and smoked all day long, tobacco being their only civilised possession. Carew was

very anxious to look at them, a development of curiosity that Considine could not understand.

"Most uninteresting devils, I call 'em," he said. "They're stark naked, and they have nothing. What is there to

Having parted with Maggie and Lucy, they pushed onwards, the old man beguiling the time with

disquisitions on the horsehunting capabilities of his gins, whom he seemed really sorry to leave. As they got

"See here, Mister," he said at last, "my wife's here, I expect, and if she gets wind of this, I'll never get rid of

her. The only thing to do is to slip away without her knowing, and she might never hear of it. I won't go into

the place at all. I'I1 go on and camp down the creek, and get the coach there after it leaves the town, and she'll

The town of "Pike's" consisted of a hotel, a store, a postoffice, a private residence, and coachstables; these

were all combined in one establishment, so the town couldn't be said to be scattered. Pike himself was

landlord of the "pub", keeper of the store, officer in charge of the postoffice, owner of the private residence,

holder of the mail contract, and proprietor of the coachstables. Behind him was only wilderness and "new"

Nobody ever saw him at home. Either he was on the road with a bullockteam, bringing up supplies for the

hotel and store, or he was droving cattle down on a six months' journey to market; or he was away looking at

new country, or taking supplies out to men on the halfprovisioned stations of the "outerback"; or else he

was off to some new mining camp or opalfield, to sell a drayload of goods at famine prices.

When Charlie and Carew rode up to the store they did not see Pike, nor did they expect to see him. By some

mysterious Providence they had arrived the very day the coach started on its monthly trip down to Barcoo;

and in front of the hotel were congregated quite a number of people Pike's wife and his halfwild

children, a handful of bushmen, stationhands, opal miners, and whatnot, and last, but not least, a fat lady of

She was a fine "lump" of a woman, with broad shoulders, and nearly the same breadth all the way down to

her feet. She wore a rusty black dress, which fitted perilously tight to her arms and bust; on her head was a

lopsided, dismantled black bonnet with a feather a bonnet that had evidently been put away in a drawer

and forgotten for years. Any want of colour or style in her dress was amply made up for by the fact that she

positively glowed with opals. Her huge, thick fingers twinkled with opal rings; from each of her ears there

dangled an opal earring the size of a florin; her old dress was secured round her thick, muscular neck by a

brooch that looked like an opal quarry, and whenever she turned to the sun she flashed out rays like a

Her face was fat and red, full of a sort of goodhumoured ferocity; she moved like a queen among the

bystanders, and shook hands gravely with each and all of them. She was hot, but very dignified. Evidently

she was preparing to start in the coach, for she packed into the vehicle with jealous care a large carpetbag of

garish colouring that seemed to harmonise well with the opals. While she was packing this away, Charlie and

Carew went into the store, and bought such supplies as were needed for the establishment at No Man's Land.

Gordon took the opportunity to ask the shockheaded old storekeeper, Pike's deputy, some questions about

the lady, who was still scintillating between the coach and the house, carrying various small articles each trip.

"Don't yer know 'er?" said the man, in much the same tone that Bret Harte's hero must have used when he

"Don't yer know 'er?" he repeated, pausing in his task of scooping some black cockroachy sugar from the

bottom of a bin. "That's the Hopal Queen! She's hoff South, she is. Yer'll be going in the coach, will yer?"

"Yes," said Charlie. "We're going in the coach. There's no extra fare for travelling with such a swell, is there?

"Ho, blokes gives 'em to 'er, passin' back from the hopal fields. In the rough, yer know! Hopal in the rough,

well, it's 'ard to tell what it'll turn out, and they'll give 'er a 'unk as sometimes turns out a fair dazzler. She's a

hayone judge of it in the rough, too. If she buys a bit of hopal, yer bet yer life it ain't a bad bit when it's cut.

"No," said Charlie. "The black boy is here for them. He's going to take them back with him."

"What, Keogh's black boy! Well, I don't know as Pike'll stand old Paddy Keogh any longer. Paddy's 'ad a

dorg tied hup 'ere" (i.e., an account outstanding) "this two years, and last time Pike was 'ome 'e was reck'nin'

"They're not for Keogh," said Charlie. "They're for me. I've taken Keogh's block over."

"Well, but y'aint goin' to tie hup no dorg on us for 'em, are yer? s'pose it's all right, though?"

"Right, yes," said Gordon. "It's for Mr Grant, Old Man Grant you've heard of Grant of Kuryong?"

"Never 'eard of him," said the aged man, "but it makes no hodds. Pay when yer like. Yer'd better git on the

coach, for I see the Hopal Queen's ready for a start. Yer'll know her all right before long, I bet. Some of the

fellers from round about 'as come in to give her a sendoff like. There's the coach ready; yer'd better git

aboard, and yer'll hear the the sendoff like. Young Stacy out there reckons 'e's going to make a speech."

Charlie and Carew climbed upon the coach. The fat lady kissed Pike's wife and children with great solemnity.

"Goodbye, Alice! Goodbye, Nora darlin'," she said. Then she marched in a stately way towards the vehicle,

with the children forming a bodyguard round her. A group of men hung about uneasily, looked sheepish, and

waved large, helpless red hands, till a young fellow about seven feet high who looked more uneasy and

had even larger hands than the rest was hustled forward, and began to mutter something that nobody could

"Speak up, George," said a friend. The young man raised his voice to a shout, and said:

As he spoke he ran two or three paces forward towards a stump, meaning, no doubt, to get on it and lead the

cheering; but, just as he was going to jump, a wretched little mongrel that had been in and out among the

people's feet made a dash at him, fixed its teeth in the calf of his leg, and ran away howling at its own

"Well, what did he bite me for, then?" said the giant, speaking out now in a voice that could be heard half a

The Opal Queen, snorting like a grampus, climbed into the coach; the driver cracked his whip, and off they

went, leaving the audience spellbound, and the gigantic young man rubbing his leg. Soon Pike's faded away

in the distance. As the coach jolted along, Carew and Charlie on the box seat occasionally peered in at the

About two miles out of town, Considine, with all his earthly belongings in a small valise, stopped the coach

"Have a look inside," said Charlie. "There's a woman in there looks rather like the lady you were talking

Considine looked in. Then he sank back in his seat, with a white face. "By Heavens!" he said, "it's my wife."

"This is funny," said Charlie. "Wonder what she's after. She must have heard, somehow. She'll never lose

Here the driver struck into the conversation. "See her inside?" he said, indicating the inside passenger with a

nod of his head. "She's off to Sydney, full rip. She reckons her husband's dead, and she's came in for a

"Oh, she reckons he's dead, does she?" said Charlie carelessly. "Didn't know she had a husband."

"Ho, yes," said the driver. "She came up here passin' by the name of Keogh, but it seems that ain't her

"Oh, indeed! Do you happen to have heard what her husband's name is? And when did he die?"

"I never heard the noo husband's name," replied the driver. "Keogh was her name. I dessay if I arst her she'd

"No," said Considine firmly. "Don't annoy her at all. Leave well alone, young feller. What odds is it to you

"No," said the driver dispassionately. "it's no odds to me, nor yet to you, I don't suppose. She's in for a real

big thing, I believe. A telegram came to the telegraph station after I left last trip, and young Jack Sheehan, he

brought it on after me rode a hundred miles pretty well, to ketch me up. He reckoned she was coming in

for a hundred thousand pounds. I wouldn't mind marryin' her meself, if it's true; plenty worselooking sorts

"Marry her, and be blowed," said that worthy, sociably; and the driver stiffened and refused to talk further on

Meanwhile the three discussed the matter in low tones. It was practically impossible that anyone could have

heard of the identity of Keogh with the missing Considine. How then had the story got about that her husband

was dead, and that she had come into money? She must have seen Considine get on the coach, but she had

made no sign. Their astonishment was deeper than ever when the coach stopped for a midday halt. It was

quite impossible for Considine to conceal himself. The house, where the coach changed horses, was a

galvanisediron, oneroomed edifice in the middle of a glaring expanse of treeless plain, in which a quail

could scarcely have hidden successfully. It was clear that Considine and his wife would have to come face to

Carew and Charlie looked expectantly at each other, and clambered down quickly when the coach stopped.

Considine descended more slowly; straightening his figure and looking fixedly before him, he marched up to

His wife got leisurely out of the coach, put on her bonnet, and walked straight over to him; then she looked

him full in the face for at least three seconds, and passed by without a sign of recognition.

The three men looked at each other. "Well, this bangs all," said Considine. "She knew me all right. Why

didn't she speak? She's afraid I'll clear out, and she's shammin' not to know me, so's she'll have me arrested as

soon as she sights a bobby. I know her. Perhaps I'd better offer her something to go back and leave me alone,

This was vetoed by a majority of two to one, and once more the coach started. They plodded away on the

weary, dusty journey, until the iron roofs and walls of Barcoo gleamed like a mirage in the distance, and the

Gordon tore it open, read it, and stood spellbound. Then he silently handed it to Carew. It was several weeks

old, and was from Pinnock, the solicitor. It read as follows "William Grant died suddenly yesterday. Will

made years ago leaves everything to his wife. Reported that he married Margaret Donohoe, and that she is

"That's lively!" he said. "He never married that woman; and, if he did, she died long ago."

As he spoke, the lady passenger, having had some talk with the hotel people, came over to him with a

beaming smile. "And ye're Charlie Gordon," she said with a mellifluous mixture of brogue and bush drawl.

"An' ye don't know me now, a little bit? Ye were a little felly when we last met. I'm Peggy Donohoe that was

Peggy Grant now, since I married poor dear Grant that's dead. And, sure, rest his sowl!" here she

sniffed a little "though he treated me cruel bad, so he did! Ye'll remember me brother Mick Mick with

"Yes," said Charlie, slowly and deliberately, "I remember him well; and you too. And look here, Peggy

Donohoe or Peggy Keogh, whichever you call yourself you and Red Mick will have the most uphill

fight you ever fought before you get one sixpence of William Grant's money. Why, your real husband is here

He turned and pulled Considine forward, and once more husband and wife stood face to face. Considine, alias

Keogh, smiled in a sickly way, tried to meet his wife's eyes, and failed altogether. She regarded him with a

"Him!" she said. "Him me husban'! This old crockerdile? I never seen him before in me life."

A look of hopeless perplexity settled on Considine's features for a moment, and then a ray of intelligence

"I never seen this man before in me life. Did I? Speak up, now, and say, did I?"

Considine hesitated for a moment in visible distress. Then, pulling himself together, and looking boldly from

"Now that you mention it, ma'am, I don't think as ever you did. I must ha' made some mistake."

"There y'are," she said, "what did I tell ye? Husban'? He's no husban' o' mine. Ye're makin' a mistake,

Charlie looked after the retreating bushman, and back at the good lady who was beaming at him.

"Don't call me Charlie," he said. "That old man has come in for a whole lot of money in England. His name is

Considine, and he pretends he isn't your husband so that he can get the money and leave you out of it. Don't

you be a fool. It's a lot better for you to stick to him than to try for William Grant's money. Mr Carew and I

"Och, look at that now! Said I was his wife! And his name was Considine, the lyin' old vaggybond. His

name's not Considine, and I'm not his wife, nor never was. Grant was my husban', and I'll prove it in a coort

of law, so I will!" Her voice began to rise like a southeasterly gale, and Charlie beat a retreat. He went to

Talking the matter over with Carew he got no satisfaction from the wisdom of that Solon. "Deuced awkward

Things were even more awkward when the coach drew up to start, and no sign of the old man could be found.

He had strolled off to the back of the hotel, and vanished as absolutely as if the earth had swallowed him.

The Chinese cook was well and truly crossquestioned, but relapsed into idiotic smiles and plentiful "No

savvees". A blackfellow, leafing about the back of the hotel, was asked if he had seen a tall, thin old man

with a beard going down the street. He said, "Yowi, he bin go longa other pub"; but as, on further

questioning, he modified his statement by asserting that the man he saw was young, short and very fat, no

heed was paid to his evidence it being the habit of blacks to give any answer that they think will please the

"He'll play us some dog's trick, that old fellow," said Charlie. "I can't wait here looking for him, though. I'll

find him when I want him if he's above ground. Now let's go on. Can't keep the coach waiting for ever while

Just as the coach was about to start a drover came out of the bar of the hotel, wiping his lips with the back of

his hand. He stared vacantly about him, first up the street and then down, looked hard at a post in front of the

hotel, then stared up and down the street again. At last he walked over, and, addressing the passengers in a

body, said, "Did any of you's see e'er a horse anywheres? I left my prad here, and he's gorn."

A bystander, languidly cutting up a pipeful of tobacco, jerked his elbow down the road.

"That old bloke took 'im," he said. "Old bloke that come in the coach. While yous was all talking in the pub,

he sneaks out here and nabs that 'orse, and away like a rabbit. See that dust on the plain? That's 'im."

The drover looked helplessly out over the stretch of plain. He seemed quite incapable of grappling with the

Then the natural stoicism of the bushman came to his aid, and he said, in a resigned tone, "Oh, well, anyways,

I s'pose s'pose he must have been in a hurry to go somewheres. I s'pose he'll fetch him back some time or

"You tell him," he said, "when he does fetch him back, that if I'd had a rifle, and had seen him sneaking off

like that he'd have wanted an ambulance before he got much farther. Tell him I'll find him if I have to hunt

The horses plunged into their collars; off went the coach into long stretches of dusty road, with the fat red

lady inside, and our two friends outside. And in course of time they found themselves once more in Sydney,

where they took the earliest opportunity to call on Pinnock, and hold a council of war against Peggy.

Within twentyfour hours after Peggy got back to her old home, it was known all over the mountains that she

meant business, and would make a claim on William Grant's estate. Rumour, of course, supplied all the

needful details. It was said, and even sworn to, that Peggy had her marriage lines put by in a big iron box,

ready to be produced at the proper time. Other authorities knew for a fact that she had no proofs, but that the

family at Kuryong were going to give her any sum from a thousand pounds to a million, to cancel her claim

As a matter of fact, none of those who talked knew anything whatever. Peggy confided in no one but Red

Mick, and that worthy had had enough legal experience of a rough and ready sort to know that things must be

kept quiet till the proper time. But by way of getting ready for action Red Mick and his sister one fine

morning rode up to Cavan Blake's office to consult him as to what they should do.

Blake was not at all surprised to see them. He, of course, had heard all the rumours that were afloat, and knew

that if Peggy brought forward any claim he would be asked to act for her professionally. He had not quite

decided whether he would act or not. In his hard commonsense mind he saw next to no possibility of Peggy

having a bon fide case. He did not suppose for a moment that William Grant would have run his neck into a

bigamy noose; and it would put the young lawyer in a very awkward position with Mary Grant if, after saving

her life and posing as her friend, he carried on a blackmailing suit against her. At the same time, he felt that it

could do no harm to either side to investigate Peggy's case; there might be awkward things that he could help

to suppress. So with expectancy and not a little amusement he saw his clients ride up and tie their horses to

the fence outside his office, and watched Peggy straighten her ruffled plumage before entering.

They came in at the door with a seriousness worthy of the occasion. Peggy heaved a subdued sigh and settled

By virtue of his relationship Mick was privileged to call his brilliant nephew by his Christian name. To the

In the bush no one would think of introducing discussion without a remark about the weather.

"Jist a few drops," said Red Mick gloomily. "Do us no good at all. Things is looking terrible bad, so they are.

But we want to see ye" and here he dropped his voice, rose, and cautiously closed the door "Peggy

here, Mrs Grant, d'ye see," Mick got the name out without an effort "she wants to see ye about making

a claim on the estate. 'Tis time she done somethin'. All these years left to shift for herself"

Here Blake broke in on him. He meant to probe Peggy's case thoroughly, and knew that it would be no easy

matter to get at the truth while she had Red Mick alongside to prompt her. He had not dealt with the mountain

folk for nothing, and handled his clients in a way that would astonish a more conservative practitioner.

"Mick," he said, "you go over to Isaacstein's store and wait till I send for you."

Blake blazed up. He knew that he must keep his ascendancy over these wild people by force of

"You heard what I said," he thundered, turning fiercely on Peggy. "You want this and you want that! It's not

what you want, it's what I want! You do what you're told. If you don't I won't help you. Mick, you go over

Peggy, still inclined to be defiant, settled herself in her chair. She had battled in north Queensland so long

that she neither feared nor respected anybody; but her native shrewdness told her she had all to gain and

"Now, Peggy," he said, "do you want to make a claim against William Grant's estate?"

"No, you won't tell me anything. I'll tell you. If you are to have any hope of succeeding in this case, you must

furnish me with the name of the priest or parson who married you, the place where you were married, and the

date. It must be a real priest or parson, a real place, and a real date. It's no use coming along with a story of a

marriage by a parson and you've forgotten his name, at a place you can't remember where it was, and a date

that's slipped your memory. You must have a story to tell, and it must hold water. Now, can you tell such a

"No, you can not. You must out with it here and now. Listen to me, Peggy," he went on, sinking his voice

suddenly and looking hard at her. "I've got to know all about this. It's no use keeping anything back. Were

"Yis. I was married twentyfive years ago at a place called Pike's pub, out in the NeverNever country."

"Sorra one of me knows. He give us each a bit of paper our marriage lines. 'Twas written in pencil. He had

no ink in the place, and he had no books wid him. He tore the sheet of paper and give us each half, wid the

writing on it; his horses got stole and he had to camp there. He stayed round wid Pike and the blacks till he

"I sint mine down to Mick to keep for me jist a bit of paper written in pencil it was and it got lost some

"Out this side of the opalfields. It's wild and rough now, but what it was then well 'twas more like a

"Look here, Peggy," he said. "You have given the place, the date, the name of the parson, and everything.

Now you know that if you are telling a lie it will be easily found out. They will soon find out if there was

such a missionary, and if he was up there at the time, and if Mr Grant was up there; and if you are caught out

"Yis. He was up driving the buggy and horses for Grant. He can swear to the wedding."

Blake sat back in his chair and looked at her. "Do you mean to tell me," he said, "that you can show me a

Peggy looked doggedly down at the floor and said, in the tones of one who is repeating the burial service or

Blake was puzzled. He had known the mountain folk all his life, and knew that for uneducated people or

perhaps because they were uneducated people they were surprisingly clever liars. But he never dreamt

that any of them could hoodwink him; so he put Peggy once more through the whole story, made her describe

all her actions on the day of the wedding, where she stood, where the witness stood, what the parson said,

what her husband said. He went through the whole thing, and could see no flaw in it. He knew that Peggy

would not scruple to lie to him; but, with the contempt of a clever man, he felt satisfied that he could soon

upset any concocted story. This story seemed to hold water, and the more he crossexamined her the more

sure he was that there was something genuine about it; at the same time, he was sure that it was not all

"I'll do whatever you say," said Peggy, rising. "'Tis for you to say what I ought to do.'Tis not for the like of

"Leave it to me," said Blake. "I'll do what is best for you. Send Martin Doyle in to see me, Martin that was

the witness. And about this copy of the certificate, tell Mick to bring it in here. Now you go home, and don't

you say to one living soul one word of what has passed in here. Tell them you are going on with the case, but

And the cowed and flustered Peggy hurried away to join her brother, who was far too wise to ask questions.

After his clients had gone, Gavan Blake sat for half an hour almost dazed. If Peggy's story was true, then

Mary Grant was an outcast instead of a great heiress. And while he had become genuinely fond of her (which

he never was of Ellen Harriott), he had no idea of asking her to share his debts with him. He puzzled over the

affair for a long time, and at last his clear brain saw a way out of all difficulties. He would go over to the old

station, put the whole case before Mary Grant, and induce her for peace's sake to give Peggy money to

withdraw her claim. Out of this money he himself would keep enough to pay all his pressing debts. He would

be that much to the good whatever happened, and afterwards would have an added claim on Mary Grant's

sympathies for having relieved her of a vast lawsuit in which her fortune, and even her very name, were

This plan seemed to him the best for all parties for himself especially, which was the most important

thing. If he could get a large sum to settle the case, he could make Peggy give him a big share for his trouble,

and then at last be free from the haunting fear of exposure and ruin. He felt sure that he was doing quite right

Again and again he ran over Peggy's case in his mind, and could see no flaw in it. In the old days haphazard

marriages were rather the rule than the exception, and such things as registers were never heard of in farout

places. His trained mind, going through the various questions that a crossexaminer would ask, and

supplying the requisite answers, decided that, though it might seem a trifle improbable, there was nothing

contradictory about Peggy's story. A jury would sympathise with her, and the decisions of the Courts all

leaned towards presuming marriage where certain circumstances existed. By settling the case he would do

Mary Grant a real kindness. And afterwards well, she would probably be as grateful as when he had saved

her life. He saw himself the hero of the hour: ever prompt to decide, he saddled a horse, and at once rode off

While Gavan Blake was conferring with his clients, a very different sort of conference was being held at

Kuryong. The return of Charlie Gordon, accompanied by Carew, had been voted by common consent an

occasion for holiday; and although, according to theory, a bush holiday is invariably spent in

kangaroohunting, yet the fact is that men who are in the saddle from daylight to dark, from weekend to

weekend, generally spend a holiday resting legs that are cramped from the saddle, and arms that ache from

Thus it was that, on the holiday at Kuryong, the Bachelors' Quarters two large dormitorylike rooms that

opened into one another were full of athletic male figures sprawling on the beds, smoking black pipes all

day, and yarning interminably. The main topic of conversation was Peggy's claim against the estate. They had

all heard the rumours that were going round; each had quietly been trying to find out what Peggy had to go

on, and this powwow was utilised for the purpose of comparing notes. They had one advantage over Gavan

On one bed lay Pinnock, who had come up to make arrangements for carrying on the station till the will was

proved. On another bed sprawled Carew, who, by virtue of his trip out back, was looked upon as a bit of an

oracle by Poss and Binjie, who had never been further than the mountains. Poss and Binjie had dragged an

old couch out of the next room and were stretched on that, listening to the talk, and occasionally throwing in

a word of such wisdom as they had. Hugh sat in an armchair by the window, smoking and dreaming.

Poss's voice cut knifelike through a cloud of tobacco smoke. He spoke as one on the defensive.

Charlie Gordon's cold drawl interrupted the youth. "It's all rot," he said. "Briney Donohoe told you what

does he know about it? You two boys and Hugh have been stuck at home here so long, you believe anything.

I tell you, they'll do nothing. It's all talk, just to make themselves big people. They have nothing to do just

now, so it comes in handy as an excuse to ride from one selection to another all day long and leave our gates

open. We have Peggy's measure, haven't we, Carew? That longlost relation of yours, old Considine!"

"I wish you did have him," said the lawyer. "He might come in very handy. With a big property like this to go

Poss took heart at finding himself supported by this new champion. "Yes," he said. "Red Mick and Peggy are

down at Gavan Blake's today. I saw their horses hanging up outside as I came through. And Briney Donohoe

"What do you think, Carew?" said Charlie, cutting Briney Donohoe off again. "Don't you think that old

"Sure he was," said the Englishman. "Never saw a fellow in such a funk in my life."

"Bold as brass! I thought she was going to kiss Charlie there, when she found out who he was."

Pinnock laughed. "Funny thing," he said, "a woman like Peggy having the chance to choose between two

fortunes. Pity we couldn't induce her to take the old bushman and be done with it. How much money has he

"Oh, plenty of money. But of course there's an old place to keep up, and the death duties are very heavy. Very

Charlie Grdon turned to Pinnock. "What you ought to do," he said (the farout man who has to shift for

himself is always quite sure he can settle all difficulties better than those whose profession it is), "what you

ought to do," he repeated, "is to send someone to Peggy and tell her not to be such a fool. Tell her to stick to

"Well, suppose you go and do it. You know the lady better than anyone here, seemingly. But if she has been

"I don't think much of Blake takin' up the case," said Binjie, "after the old lady asked him here. It's doing the

blacksnake act, I call it. I don't suppose he'll come here any more after this."

Hugh still sat looking out of the window, smoking silently. "Here comes Blake now, anyhow," he said. "He's

"Wants to see me, I expect," said Pinnock. "We'll know all about it now. Must have heard I was here, and is

come to declare war or sue for peace. Someone had better go and meet him, I suppose."

"Dashed if I'll go," said Boss. "I don't care about a chap that doesn't act white. I saw Red Mick's and Peggy's

"Let him go round to the front," said Hugh, "and then he can ask the servants for whoever he wants. If we go

The approach to houses in the bush is generally by way of the yard where the horses arrive, and it is very

unusual for anyone, except a stranger making a formal visit, to be allowed to find their way round to the

Blake rode up and gave his horse to the horseboy. "Put him in the stable for a while," he said. "I may want

"I have come to see Miss Grant on very important business," he said when the old lady came in. "Would you

The old lady was in a quandary. She had heard all the rumours that were going about, but she knew that they

had been kept from Mary Grant, and she thought that if Blake meant to talk business he might shock or startle

"Mr Pinnock the lawyer is here," she said. "Perhaps you had better see him. Miss Grant does not know "

"I am come as a friend of Miss Grant's, Mrs Gordon," he said. "But, if Mr Pinnock is here, perhaps it would

"If you will go into the office I will send him in there," and the old lady withdrew to talk of commonplace

Soon the two lawyers faced one another over the office table, and Blake got to business at once.

"Mr Pinnock," he said, "I am asked to act for Margaret Donohoe, or Margaret Grant as she claims to be; and I

want you to believe that I am seriously telling you what I believe to be the truth, when I say that Miss Grant

"Why should she pay one penny? What proofs have you? It looks to me, with all respect to you, Mr Blake,

"If it were blackmail," said Blake quietly, "do you think that I would be here, giving you particulars of the

case? I tell you, man, I am ready now to give you all particulars, and you can soon see whether to advise a

"Fire away, then," said Pinnock. "it will take a lot to convince me, though, and so I tell you."

Blake gave him the particulars gleaned from Peggy. "I have examined and crossexamined and

Pinnock listened with an immovable face, but his mind was working like lightning. As the name of the

missionary and Pike's Hotel were mentioned, he remembered that he had seen these very names on the butts

of Grant's cheque books. Getting Blake to excuse him for a moment, he hurried to his room and pulled out a

bundle of cheque butts. The best diary of many a man is found in his cheque butts. There he saw on the very

date mentioned by Blake, cheques drawn to "Self and P.", also one drawn to "Pike accommodation", and one

simply to the name of Nettleship for five pounds. Of course it was quite possible that the latter was only a

donation to charity, such as old Bully was occasionally very free with; but, taken together, the whole lot made

Blake's story look unpleasantly probable. Pinnock whistled to himself as he tied the bundle up again. "Case of

When he faced Blake again, he had pulled the mask of professional stolidity over his features; also he lied

"I can see nothing to corroborate this story," he said; "but it may be that Miss Grant would rather pay a few

pounds than have the unpleasantness of a trial. I will get her in and ask her if you like, but I don't think it will

They were holding their conference in the office. Outside, the station was dozing in the sun. The house dog

slept in the yard, and a stray wild pigeon had come down into the quadrangle, and was picking at some grain

that was spilt there. From the garden came the shouts of the children and the happy laughter of Mary Grant.

"There she is now," said Pinnock. "Hadn't I better get her to come in and get the thing over?"

He went out, and came back very soon. "Mrs Gordon and Miss Grant are coming," he said. "She said she

Before long they came in and sat down. Mary Grant had no idea what she was wanted for. She greeted Blake

with a glad smile, and waited to hear what Pinnock had to say. It did not take the lawyer long to put the story

before her: but it was some time before she could understand it. Nothing so tragic had ever entered her life

"It is very terrible for you for us all, dear," she said. "You must listen to what Mr Pinnock says, and make

Again Pinnock went through the case. As a full understanding broke in on her, she drew herself up; the look

of distress and perplexity left her face, and her eyes were full of scorn and anger.

"I advise you to give me power to act for you in the matter as I think best," said Pinnock, who saw that

matters were likely to slip beyond his control. "From what Mr Blake tells me, I daresay this woman can give

you a lot of trouble and annoyance. Whatever you pay her, you won't miss the money. You will save the

family here from being turned out; you will avoid scandal; and if there should be any foundation for Mr

"My dear, I don't advise at all. Don't consider us in the matter at all. It is for you to say."

"Then I will pay nothing. It is a cruel, infamous, wicked slander. These poor, ignorant people don't know

what they are doing. Sooner than pay one penny in compromise, I will walk off this station a pauper. God

will not let such villainy win. Mrs Gordon, surely you don't think that I ought to blacken my father's and

Here Pinnock broke in on her speech. "But if they should manage to produce evidence"

"Let them produce it, and let the judge believe it if he likes. You and I and everybody know that it is a lie;

even if they win the case, it is still a lie. I will pay nothing not one halfpenny. My mother's name is more

than all the money in the world, and I will not blacken it by compromises. Mr Pinnock, the case is to be

fought out, and if we lose we shall still know that justice is on our side; but if we pay money"

"I think you are quite right, my dear. You put us all to shame for even thinking of it."

"I am very sorry, Mr Blake," the girl went on, "very sorry indeed that you should have come here on such an

errand. You saved my life, and if I could pay you for that I would; but this offer is an insult, and I hope that

you will never come here again. Whether I am turned out of the old station or not, I hope that you will never

come here again." And with that the two ladies walked out, leaving the lawyers looking at each other.

"I am afraid, Mr Blake," said Pinnock at last, "that we have lost any hope we might ever have had of settling

But Blake, as he rode homewards, felt that he had lost for ever a much higher hope. He had played for a high

stake on two chances. One of them had failed him. There remained only the chance of pulling Peggy's case

through; and he swore that if hard work, skill, and utter unscrupulousness could win that case, it should be

While they were waiting for the great case to come on a sort of depression seemed to spread itself over the

station. The owner was mostly shut up in her room with her thoughts; the old lady was trying to comfort her,

and Ellen Harriott, with sorrow always at her heart, went about the household work like an automaton. No

wonder that as soon as breakfast was over all the men cleared out to work on the run. But one day it so

happened that Carew did not go out with the others. The young Englishman was a poor correspondent, and

had promised himself a whole quiet day to be spent in explaining by letter to his people at home the

mysterious circumstances under which he had found and lost Patrick Henry Considine. Ellen Harriott found

him in the office manfully wrestling with some extra long words, and stopped for a few minutes' talk. She

had a liking for the young Englishman, and any talk was better than to be left alone with her thoughts.

"These are bad times for the old station, Mr Carew," she said. "We don't know what is going to happen next."

Carew was not going to haul down the flag just yet. "I believe everything'll come all right in the long run,

don't you know," he said. "Never give up first hit, you know; see it out eh, what?"

"I want to get away out of this for a while," she said. "I am run down. I think the bush monotony tells on

women. I don't want anyone to fall sick, but I do wish I could get a little nursing to do again just for a

Is there anything in telepathy? Do coming events sometimes send warnings on ahead? Certain it is that, even

as she spoke, a rider on a sweating horse was seen coming at full speed up the flat; he put his horse over the

sliprails that led into the house paddock without any hesitation, and came on at a swinging gallop.

"What is this?" said Ellen Harriott, "more trouble? It is only trouble that comes so fast. Why, it is one of Red

Mick's nephews!" By this time the rider was up to them; without dismounting he called out "Miss! Please,

Miss! There's been an accident. My uncle got run agin a tree and he's all smashed in the head. I'm off to the

Doctor now; I'll get the Doctor here by tomorrow night, and would you go out and do aught you can for

Mick? There's no one out there but old Granny, and she's helpless like. Will you go?"

"I'm afraid he's killed, Miss. I found him. He'd been out all night and the side of his head all busted. After a

dingo he was I seen the tracks. Coming back from Gavan Blake's he must'a' seen the dorg off the track,

and the colt he was on was orkard like and must have hit him agen a tree. The colt kem home with the saddle

under his belly, and I run the tracks back till I found him. Will you go out, Miss?"

"Yes," said Ellen, "I will go. And you hurry on now, and get the Doctor. Tell the Doctor I've gone out there."

Like an arrow from the bow the young fellow sent his big thoroughbred horse across the paddocks, making a

bee line over fences and everything for Tarrong, while Ellen Harriott hurried in to pack up a few things.

"Can I help you at all?" said Carew, following her into the house. "I'd like to be some use, don't you know;

"You will be a lot of use if you will come out with me. I shall want someone to drive the trap out, and I may

"Yes, and it's about the first time my strength has even been of any use to anybody. I will go and get the trap

Hurriedly they packed food and blankets into the light buggy, and set off. Miss Harriott knew the tracks well,

and the buggy fairly flew along till they came up the flat to Red Mick's. As they drew near the hut a noise of

"No," Ellen Harriott listened for a second. "No," she said, "he is delirious. That is the old woman crying.

Hurry up, Mr Carew take the horse out of the buggy and put him in the stable, and then come in as

Leaving Carew to unharness the horse, she went inside. In the inner room, on a bunk, lay Red Mick. Eye,

nose, forehead, and mouth were all one unrecognisable lump, while fragments of bark and splinters still stuck

to the skin. In the corner sat the old mother, crying feebly. Disregarding the old woman, Ellen made a swift

examination of Mick's injuries, but as soon as he felt her touch on his face he sprang to his feet and struck at

Just as he did so, Carew rushed in and threw his arms round the madman. In that grip even Red Mick had no

"Just hold him quiet," said Ellen, "till I have a look" and she rapidly ran her fingers over the wound. "Very

bad. I think there must be a bit of the skull pressing on the brain. We can't do much till the Doctor comes. I

think he will be quiet now. Will you make a fire and boil some water, so that I can clean and dress the

wound? That will ease him a little. And get the blankets in; we can make up some sort of place on the floor to

sleep. One of us will have to watch all night. Granny, you must go to bed, do you hear? Come and sit by

By degrees they got things shipshape put the old woman to bed, and cleaned and dressed Mick's wounds.

Then they settled down for the long night in the sickroom. A strange sickroom it was; but many a hospital

is less healthy. Through wide cracks between the slabs there came in the cool, fresh air that in itself is worth

more than all the medicines in the pharmacopoeia. The patient had sunk into an uneasy slumber when Ellen

"You go and lie down now," she said, "in the other room, on the sofa. I will call you if I want you. Get all the

sleep you can, and in a couple of hours you can take my place. He may talk, but don't let that disturb you. I

"Mind you do," said the Englishman. "I sleep like a blessed top, you know. Sleep anywhere. Well, goodnight

He threw himself on the couch in the inner room, and before long a titanic snore showed that he had not

Ellen Harriott sat by Red Mick's bedside and thought over the events of the last few weeks. As she thought

she halfdozed, but woke with a start to find her patient broad awake again and trying to get at something

that was under his bunk. Quietly she drew him back, for his struggles with Carew had left him weak as a

"The paper," he said, "for the love of God, the paper. I have to take it to Gavan. 'Twill win the case. The

She tried to pacify him, but nothing would do but that she should get the mysterious paper. At last, to humour

him, she dived under the bunk and found an iron campoven, and in it a single envelope. Just to see what was

exciting him she opened the envelope, and found a crumpled piece of paper which she read over to herself. It

was the original certificate of the marriage between Patrick Henry Keogh and Margaret Donohoe; if Ellen

had only known it, she held in her hand the evidence to sweep away all her friend's troubles. It so happened,

however, that it conveyed nothing to her mind. She had heard much about Considine, but not a word about

Keogh, and the name "Margaret Donohoe" did not strike her halfasleep mind as referring to Peggy. She put

the paper away again in the campoven; then, feeling weary, she awoke Carew and lay down on the couch

Next morning the Doctor arrived with a trail of Red Mick's relations after him; among them they arranged to

take him into Tarrong to be operated on, and Ellen Harriott and Carew drove back to Kuryong feeling as if

As they drove along she wondered idly which of Red Mick's innumerable relatives the paper referred to, and

why Mick was so anxious about it; but by the time they arrived home the matter passed from her mind,

except that she remembered well enough what was written on the oddlooking little scrap.

"I will give you a certificate as a competent wardsman if ever you want one," she said to Carew as he helped

"You'd have managed somehow, I'll bet," he said, looking at the confident face before him. "Quite a bit of

Who does not remember the first exciting news of the great Grant v. Grant will case? The leading Q.Cs

watched eagerly for briefs; juniors who held even the smallest briefs in connection with it patronised their

fellows, and explained to them intricate legal dodges which they themselves had thought out and "pumped

into" their learned leaders. "Took me a doose of a time to get him to see it, but I think he has got it at last,"

they used to say. The case looked like lasting for years, for there would be appeals and counterappeals,

references, inquiries and what not; and in getting ready for the first fight the lawyers on each side worked like

Blake let it be known among the clans that he was going to fight the case for Peggy, and that there was going

to be a lawsuit such as the most veteran campaigners of them all had never even dimly imagined a lawsuit

with the happiness of a beautiful woman and the disposal of a vast fortune at stake. Word was carried from

selection to selection, across trackless mountain passes, and over dangerous river crossings, until even Larry,

the outermost Donohoe, heard the news in his rocky fastness, miscalled a grazing lease, away in the gullies

under the shadows of Black Andrew mountain. By some mysterious means it even reached Briney Doyle,

who was camped out near the foothills of Kosciusko, running wild horses into trapyards. This occupation had

taken such hold on him that he had become as wild as the horses he pursued, and it was popularly supposed

that the other Doyles had to go out with horses to run him in whenever they wanted him.

Peggy brought in the copy of her marriage certificate, an old and faded piece of paper which ran, "This is to

certify that I, Thomas Nettleship, duly ordained clergyman of the Church of England, have this day

solemnised a marriage between William Grant, Bachelor, and Margaret Donohoe, Spinster."

The name of Pike's Hotel and the date were nearly illegible, but there the document was; and though it was

not the original certificate, it was pretty clear that Peggy could never have invented it. Its production made a

He had crossexamined all the witnesses, had checked their accounts by each other, had followed William

Grant's career at that time, had got on to the history of the bush missionary; and everything fitted in. Martin

Doyle Black Martin's son Martin was letterperfect in his part. Peggy could give the details of the

ceremony with unfaltering accuracy fifty times a day if need be, and never contradict herself. So at last he

On the other side there was trouble in the camp no witnesses could be found, except Martin Doyle, and he

was ready to swear to the wedding. At last it became evident that the only chance of overthrowing Peggy's

The influence of the Chief of Police was brought to bear, and many a weary mile did the troopers of the Outer

Back ride in search of the missing man. One of them followed a Considine about two hundred miles across

country, and embodied the story of his wanderings in a villainously written report; brief and uncouth as the

narrative was, it was in itself an outline picture of bush life. From shearers' hut to artesian borers' camp, from

artesian well to the opalfields, from the opalfields to a goldrush, from the goldrush to a mailcoach

stable, he pursued this Considine, only to find that, "The individual was not the same."

Things looked hopeless for Mary Grant, when help came from an unexpected quarter. A letter written in a

rugged, forcible fist, arrived for Charlie Gordon from a young fellow named Redshaw, once a stationhand

on Kuryong, who had gone out to the backcountry and was rather a celebrity in his way. His father was a

pensioner at the old station, and Redshaw junior, who was known as Flash Jack, evidently kept in touch with

"I hear from cannon the trooper that you want to find Keogh. When he left the coach that time, he went back

to the station and got his horses, and cleared out, and he is now hiding in Peeves's buffalo camp at the back of

"What's all this?" said Pinnock, when Charlie and Carew brought him the letter. "Who is J. Redshaw, and

"He means alias, don't you see? Alias Flash Jack. He is a man we used to have on the station, and his father

"It will be a good turn in earnest, if he puts you in the way of finding Considine," said the lawyer. "You will

have to send Hugh up. The old man knows you and Carew, and if he saw you coming he would take to the

woods, as the Yankees say. Even when you do get him the case isn't over, because the jury will side with

Peggy. They'll sympathise with her efforts to prove herself an honest woman. It isn't marrying too much that

will get her into trouble it's the other thing. But we have the date and place of her alleged marriage with

William Grant; and if this old Considine can prove, by documents, mind you, not by his own simple word

because it's a hundred to one the jury wouldn't believe him I say, if he can prove that she married him on

that very day and at that very place, then she's beaten. No one on earth could swallow the story of her

"Hugh can go," said Charlie. "He'll have to do his best this time. It all depends on getting hold of this

Considine, eh? Well, Hugh'll have to get him. If he fails he needn't show his face amongst us any more."

Mary Grant was called in and told the great news, and then Pinnock started out to find Hugh. But before the

Hugh did not see that he could be of any use in the case, and wanted to be quit of Kuryong for good. Seeing

Mary day after day, he had become more and more miserable as the days went by. He determined at last to go

away altogether, and, when once he had made up his mind, only waited for a chance to tell her that he was

"Miss Grant," he said, "if you don't mind, I think I will resign my management of this station. I will make a

start for myself or get a job somewhere else. You will easily get someone to take my place."

"I didn't expect this of you," she said bitterly. "The rats leave the sinking ship. Is that it?"

His face flushed a dull red. "You know better than that," he said. "I would stop if I could be of any use, but

Mary knew, as well as if he had told her, that what he wanted was to go where he could forget her and see

whether absence would break the chain; and triumph lit up her eyes, for it was pleasant even in the midst of

"Up north. I want someone to find that man Considine that your brother and Mr Carew met. You know how

"I will go anywhere and do my best to find anyone you want," he said; "When do you want me to start?"

"See Mr Pinnock and your brother about that. They will tell you all about it; and if you do manage to find this

man, why, you can talk about leaving after that if you want to. Will you go for me?"

"Yes. I will go, Miss Grant; and I will never come back till I find this man if he is alive."

"I know you will do all you can," she said, "but in any case, whether you find him or not come back

Before leaving Hugh was fully instructed what to do if he compassed the second finding of Considine. He

was to travel under another name, for fear that his own would get about, and cause the fugitive to make

Charlie was emphatic. "Go up and get hold of the old vagrant, and find out all about it. Don't make a mess of

it, whatever you do. Remember the old lady, and Miss Grant, and the youngsters, and all of us depend on you

in this business. Don't come back beaten. Don't let anything stop you. Get him drunk or get him sober

friendly or fighting but get the truth, and get the proofs of it. Choke it out of the old hound somehow."

Hugh said that he would, and departed, weighed down by responsibility, to execute his difficult mission. He

had to go into an untravelled country to get the truth out of a man who did not want to tell it; and the time

He travelled by sea to Port Faraway, a tropical sweltering township by the northern seas of Australia, and

when he reached it felt like one of the heroes in Tennyson's Lotus Eaters he had come "into a land

Reeves, the buffalo shooter, was a wellknown man, but to find his camp was another matter. No one seemed

Hugh interviewed a leading citizen at the hotel, and got very little satisfaction. He said, "I want to get out to

"Well," said the leading citizen, putting his feet up on the arms of his long chair and gasping for air, "Le's

"Hopkins'd know. Hopkins, the storekeeper. He sends out the supplies. Did you ask him?"

"Too hot to bustle round now," said the leading citizen lighting his pipe. What'll you have to drink? Have

Hugh thought it well to fall in with the customs of the inhabitants, so he had a stiff ginandwater at nine in

the morning, a thing he had never done, or even seen done, in his life before. Then he went over in the

blazing sunlight to the storekeeper, and asked whether he knew where Reeves's camp was.

"That I don't," said the storekeeper. "I sind out what they want by a Malay who sails a onemasted craft

round the coast, and goes up the river to their camp, and brings the hides back. They send a blackfellow to let

"Perhaps I could go out with the next lot of stuff," said Hugh. "When will they want it, do you think?"

"Well, they mightn't want any more. They might go on now till the wet season, and then they'll come in."

"Oh, a couple of months, likely. Perhaps three months. Perhaps there won't be none at all to speak of. What'll

"Oh, I have just had a drink, thanks. Fact is, I'm a bit anxious to get out to this camp. It's a bit important. You

"Lord knows! Anywhere! Might be on one river, might be on another. They'll come in in the wet season.

Better have a drink, anyhow. You must have something. What'll it be, square? Beer? Can't stand beer in this

"Oh, well," said Hugh desperately, "I'll have another square. Make it a light one. Do you think I can get

"Tommy Prince'd know, I expect. He was out in that country before. But he's gone with a bullockteam,

drawing quartz to the new battery at the Oriental. At least I saw him start out three weeks ago. Said he was in

"Perhaps he didn't start," said Hugh; "perhaps he put it off till after the wet season?"

"Well," said the storekeeper, meditatively, "he might, but I don't think he would. There's no one else, that I

know of, can find them for you. Lord knows where they are. They camp in one place till the buffalo are all

shot, and then they shift to new ground. Perhaps ten miles, perhaps thirty. Have another drink? What'll you

"No, not any more, thanks. About this Tommy Prince, now; if I can find him he might tell me where to go.

"Down at the Margaret is where he camps, but I think he's gone to the Oriental by this time sure to be.

That's about forty miles down past the Margaret. There was a fellow came in from the Margaret for supplies,

"Well, then, he'll go out next week, I expect, unless he gets on the drink. He's a terrible chap to drink."

"Lord knows. They'll have to send in after him. His mates'll be pretty starved by now, anyhow. He's been in

town, foolin' round that girl at the Royal this three weeks. He'll give you a lift out to the Margaret that's

"What is there out at the Margaret when I get there? Is it a town, or a station, or a mine? What is it?"

"Oh, it's not so bad. There's a store there, and a few mines scattered about. Mostly Chinese mines. The

storekeeper there's a great soaker, nearly always on the drink. Name's Sampson. He'll tell you where to find

Tommy Prince. Prince and his mates have a claim twelve miles out from there, and if Tommy ain't gone to

"Supposing Tommy's at his claim, twelve miles out," said Hugh, "how do I get out?"

"I dunno," said the storekeeper, who was getting tired of talking so long without a drink. "I dunno how you'll

Hugh walked out of the store in despair. He found himself engaged in what appeared to be an endless chase

after a phantom Considine, and the difficulties in his way seemed insuperable. Yet how could he go back and

tell them all at home that he had failed? What would they think of him? The thought made him miserable;

So he returned to his hotel, packed his valise, and set out to look for the packhorse man. He found him fairly

sober; soon bargained to be allowed to ride one of the horses, and in due course was deposited at the

Margaret a city consisting of one galvanisediron building, apparently unoccupied. His friend dismounted

and had a drink with him out of his flask. They kicked at the door unavailingly; then his mate went on into

The Margaret store was the only feature in the landscape a small building with a heap of empty bottles in

the immediate foreground, and all round it the grim bush, a vista of weird twisted trees and dull grey earth

with scanty grass. At the back were a well, a windlass, and a trough for water, round which about a hundred

goats were encamped. Hugh sat and smoked, and looked at the prospect. Byandby out of the bush came

two men, a Chinaman and a white man. The Chinaman was like all Chinamen; the white man was a fiery,

redfaced, redbearded, rednosed little fellow. The Chinee was dragging a goat along by the horns, the goat

hanging back and protesting loudly in semihuman screams; every now and again a black mongrel dog

would make sudden fiendish dashes at the captive, and fasten its teeth in its neck. This made it bellow louder;

but the Chinaman, with the impassibility of his race, dragged goat, dog, and all along, without the slightest

The white man trudged ahead, staring fixedly in front; when they reached the store he stared at Hugh as if he

were the Bunyip, but said no word. Then he unlocked the door, went in, and came out with a large knife, with

which he proceeded to murder the goat scientifically. The Chinee meanwhile bailed up the rest of the

animals, and caught and milked a couple of "nannies", while a patriarchal old "billy" walked fragrantly round

It was a truly pastoral scene, but Hugh took little interest in it. He was engrossed with the task of getting out

to the buffalo camp, finding Considine, and making him come forward and save the family. He approached

the white, or rather red man, who cocked a suspicious eye at him, and went on tearing the hide off the goat.

Hugh noticed that his hand trembled a good deal, and that a sort of foam gathered on his lips as he worked.

"My name is Lambton," said Hugh. "I want to go out to the buffalo camp. I want to find Tommy Prince, to

The man put the blade of the butcher's knife between his teeth, and stared again at Hugh, apparently having

some difficulty in focussing him. Then his lips moved, and he was evidently trying to frame speech. He said,

"Boo, Boo, Boo," for a few seconds; then he pulled himself together, and said, "Wha' you want?"

Here a twig fell to the ground just behind the man; he gave one bloodcurdling yell, dropped the knife, and

rushed past Hugh, screaming out, "Save me! Save me! They're after me! Look at 'em; look at 'em!" His hair

stood perfectly erect with fright, and, as he ran, he glanced over his shoulder with frightened eyes. He didn't

get far. In his panic he ran straight towards the well, banged his head against the windlass, and went

thundering down the twenty or thirty feet of shaft souse into the water at the bottom, where he splashed and

Hugh and the Chinaman ran to the welltop, Hugh cursing under his breath. Every possible obstacle that

could arise had arisen to block his journey; every man that could have helped him was away, or dead, or

otherwise missing; and now, to crown all, after getting thus far, he had apparently struck a prize lunatic, and

would have to stay in that awful desolation, perhaps for a week, with him and a Chinaman. Perhaps he would

have to give evidence on the lunatic's dead body, and even be accused of causing his death. All these

thoughts flashed through his mind as he ran to the wellhead. From the noise he made the man was evidently

not dead yet, and, looking down, he saw his eyes glaring up as he splashed in the water.

They had started to lower the bucket, when suddenly the yells ceased, a loud bubbling was heard, and looking

down they saw only a dim, round object above the water. Without an instant's delay Hugh put his foot in the

bucket and signed to the Chinee to lower him. Swiftly and silently he descended the well, jumped out of the

bucket, and grabbed the floating body of the drunkard with one hand, holding on to the rope with the other.

The man had collapsed, and was as limp as a rag. Hugh made the rope fast under his armpits, and gave the

Heavily the windlass creaked. Mightily the Chinee strained. The unconscious figure was drawn out of the

water and up the shaft, inch by inch. The weight of a man in wet clothes is considerably more than that of a

bucket of water, and it seemed a certainty that either the old windlass would break or the Chinaman's arms

give out. Slowly, slowly, the limp figure ascended the shaft, while Hugh supported himself in the water, by

gripping the logs at the side of the well, praying that the tackle would hold. The creaking of the windlass

ceased, and the ascending body stopped evidently the Chinee was pausing to get his breath.

He lowered himself in the water as far as he could, to deaden the blow in case of the fellow falling back on

him, and screamed encouragement, threats, and promises up the well. Suddenly from above came a new

The windlass recommenced its creaking, and the figure at the end of the rope continued its slow, upward

journey. Hugh saw the body hauled slowly to the top and grabbed by a strong hand; then it disappeared, and

the sunlight once more streamed, uninterrupted, down the shaft. The bucket came down again, and Hugh

clutched it and yelled out, "Haul away!" He could hear the men grunting above as they turned the handle.

When he had been hauled about fifteen feet there was a crack; the old windlass had collapsed, and he went

souse, feet first, into the water. He sank till he touched the bottom, then rose gasping to the surface. A head

appeared, framed in the circle of the well, and a slow, drawling colonial voice said:

"Well, hold on," said Hugh. "I believe I can get up." He braced his feet against one side of the well, and his

shoulders against the other, and so, working them alternately, he raised himself inch by inch. It is a feat that

requires a good man to perform, and the strain was very great. Grimly he kept at it, and drew nearer and

nearer to the top. Then, at last, a hand seized him; halfsick with overexertion, he struggled out and fell

gasping to the ground. For a minute or two the universe was turning round with him. The Chinee and the

strange white man moved in a kind of flicker, unreal as the figures in a cinematograph. Then all was blank for

When he came to, he was lying by the well with a bag under his head, and the strange white man was trying

"By Gord, Mister, it's lucky I happened to come along," said the stranger. "You an' Sampson'd ha' both been

drownded. That Chow couldn't haul him up. Dead beat the Chow was when I came. I jis' come ridin' up,

thinkin' to get a few pounds of onions to take out to the camp, and I see the Chow ahaulin' and ahaulin' at

that windlass like as if he was tryin' to pull the bottom out of the well. I rides up and sings out "What ho!

Chaney, what yer got?" And he says, "Ketch hold," he says, and that was all he could say; he was fair beat.

And then I heard you singing out, and I says to meself, "Is the whole popperlation of the Northern Territory

down this here well? How many more is there, Chaney?" I says. And then bung goes the old windlass, and

lucky it ketched in the top of the well; if it had fell down on the top of you, it'd ha' stiffened you all right. And

"What, Sampson? 'E's all right. Couldn't kill'm with a meataxe. He must ha' swallowed very near all the

water in that well. Me an' the Chow emptied very near two buckets out of him. He's dead to the world jes'

"I'm Tommy Prince," said the stranger. "I jist kem in from my camp today for them onions."

"You're just the man I was looking for," said Hugh, taking in the stranger with his eyes. "I want to get out to

peeves's buffalo camp, and I hear you're the only man who knows that country at all. Can you get time to

He waited for the reply with a beating heart. If this man failed him he saw nothing for it but to go back. The

stranger lit his pipe with the leisurely movements of a man who had never been in a real hurry in his life.

"Well, it's this way, boss, you see. I'm just startin' off in no end of a hurry to go and take a team of bullocks to

"Can't you put it off for a while?" said Hugh. "It's getting near the wet season."

"Well, I'd like to go with you, boss, but I couldn't chuck 'em over not rightly I couldn't." He stroked his

"Let's go in and get a drink," said Hugh. "I suppose there is some squareface inside."

The squareface settled it. They had one drink, and the stranger began to think less of the needs of the

Oriental. They had another, and he said he didn't suppose it'd matter much if the Oriental had to wait a bit for

their stone, and the bullocks were all over the bush and very poor, and by the time he got them together the

wet season would be on. They had a third, and he said that the Oriental had been hanging on for six months,

and it wouldn't hurt it to hang on for seven, and he wouldn't see a man like Hugh stuck.

So the shareholders in that valuable concern, the Oriental Mine, were kept in pleasing suspense for some

months longer, while the minemanager (whose salary was going on all the time) did nothing but smoke, and

write reports to the effect that "A very valuable body of stone was at grass, awaiting cartage to the battery,

when a splendid crushing was a certainty." Meanwhile Tommy Prince was gaily journeying down with Hugh

Prince, a typical moleskintrousered, cottonshirted, cabbagetreehatted bushman, soon fixed up all details.

He annexed the horses belonging to the store, sagely remarking that, as Hugh had saved their owner's life, he

could afford to let him have a few horses. He also helped himself to packsaddles, camping gear, supplies,

and all sorts of odds and ends not forgetting a couple of gallons of rum, mosquitonets made of cheese

cloth, blankets, and a rifle and cartridges. They fitted out the expedition in fine style, while unconscious

Sampson slept the sleep of the halfdrowned. The placid Chinese cook fried great lumps of goat for them to

eat, heedless of all things except his opiumpipe, to which he had recourse in the evening, the curious

dreamy odour of the opium blending strangely with the aromatic scent of the bush.

At daylight they started, and for three days rode through the wilderness, camping out at night, while the

horses with bells and hobbles grazed round the camp. Tommy Prince steered a course by instinct, guided as

By miles of trackless, worthless wilderness, by rolling open plains, by rocky ranges and stony passes, they

pushed out and ever further out, till at last, one day, Tommy said, "They ought to be hereabouts, some place."

So saying, he dropped a lighted match into a big patch of grass, and in a few seconds a line of fire half a mile

"They'll see that," said Tommy, "without the buff'loes have got 'em." So they camped for the day under a

huge banyanfig tree and awaited developments. About evening, away on the horizon, there arose an

"That's them," said Tommy. They climbed once more into their saddles, and set out. Just as the sun was

setting, they saw a singular procession coming towards them. In front rode two small, wiry, hardfeatured,

inexpressibly dirty men on big wellformed horses. They wore dungaree trousers, which had once been blue,

but were now begrimed and bloodstained to a dull neutral colour. Their shirts once coloured, but now

nearly black were worn outside the trousers, like a countryman's smock frock, and were drawn in at the

waist by broad leathern belts full of cartridges. Their faces were halfhidden by stubbly beards, and their

bright alert eyes looked out from under the brims of two as dilapidated felt hats as ever graced head of man.

Each carried a carbine between thigh and saddle. These were the buffalo shooters.

Behind them rode an elderly, grizzled man, whom Hugh had no difficulty in recognising as Keogh, or

Considine. Following him were some seven or eight packhorses, all heavily laden with hides. And behind the

Hugh's guide at once made himself welcome in his happygolucky style. He introduced Hugh as Mr

Lambton, from New South Wales. The buffalo shooters made him welcome after the fashion of their kind;

but Considine was obviously ] uneasy, and avoided him, riding with Tommy Prince for a while, and evidently

That night, when they got to the buffalo shooters' camp, Hugh opened fire on Considine. The veteran was in a

cheerful mood after his meal, and Hugh wanted to start diplomatically, thinking he might persuade him. If

that failed he would give him the summons; but he would start suaviter in modo>. When it came to the point,

"I'll tell you what I've come up here for, Considine," he said. "My name's Hugh Gordon, and I want to find

"Well, if that's what you come for, Mister," said the veteran, pulling a firestick out of the fire, and slowly

lighting his pipe, "if that's what you come for" puff, puff, puff "you've come on a wild goose chase. I

never knew no Peggy Donohoe in my life. My wife" puff "was a small, dark woman, named Smith."

"So I might have told him," assented the veteran. "Quite likely I did, but I must ha' made a mistake. A man

might easy make a mistake over a thing like that. What odds is it to you who I married, anyhow?"

"What odds? Why look here, Considine, it means that my old mother will be turned out of her home. That's

"Yairs, that's right enough, Mister," said the courteous Considine; "it's lots of odds to you, but what I ask you

is what odds is it to me? Why should I go and saddle myself with a shedevil just when I'm coming into a

"Well, if you want to do her a bad turn, come down and block her getting Mr Grant's estate."

"Yes, an' put her on to meself! What next? I tell you, Mister, straight, I wouldn't have that woman tied to me

for all the money in China. That English bloke said there was a big fortune for me in England. Well, if I have

to take Peggy Donohoe with it, it can stay. I'll live here with the blacks and the buffalo shooters, and I'll get

my livin' for meself, same as I got it all my life; but take on Peggy again I will not. Now, that's Domino

that's the dead finish. I won't go with you, and I won't give you no information. And I'm sorry too,'cause you

seem a good sort of a young feller but I won't do anything that'll mix me up with Peggy any more."

"Well, he told me to ask you to help us. He said to tell you that he particularly wanted you to give evidence if

"He said he would put the police on to a job about some cattle at Crossroads," said Hugh.

"He said that, did he?" he yelled. "The rotten informer! Well, you tell Flash Jack from me that where he can

put me away for one thing I can put him away for halfadozen; and if I go into gaol for a fivestretch he

Hugh felt that his mission had failed. He pulled out the summons as a last resource, and passed it to the old

"Victoria by the Grace of God," read the old man, by the flickering firelight. "Victoria by the Grace of God,

eh? Well, see here," he continued, solemnly putting the summons in the fire and watching it blaze, "if

Victoria by the Grace of God wants me, she can send for me send a coach and six for Patrick Henry

Considine, late Patrick Henry Keogh! And then I mightn't go! There'll be only one thing make me go where I

don't want to go, and that's a policemen at each elbow and another shovin' behind. I'd sooner do a fivestretch

than take Peggy back again. And that's the beginning and the end and the middle of it. And now I'll wish you

At grey dawn all the camp was astir. Hugh looked from under his mosquito net, and saw old Considine over

the fire, earnestly frying a large hunk of buffalo meat. He was without a trouble in the world as he turned the

hissing steak in the pan. Two black gins in brief garments a loin cloth and a villainously dirty

pyjamajacket each were sitting near him, languidly killing the mosquitoes which settled on their bare

legs. These were Maggie and Lucy, but they had degenerated with their surroundings. Tommy Prince was

oiling a carbine, and one of the shooters was washing his face at a basin formed by scratching a small hole in

The Chinese skinner was sitting on a log, rubbing a huge butcher's knife on a sharpening stone. Away up the

plain the horses, about thirty or forty in number, were slowly trooping into camp, hunted by a couple of

blackfellows, naked except for little grass armlets worn above the elbow, and sticks stuck through their noses.

When the horses reached the camp they formed a squadron under the shade of some trees, and pushed and

shoved and circled about, trying to keep the flies off themselves and each other.

Hugh walked over to Tommy Prince at his rifleoiling, and watched him for a while. That worthy, who was

evidently a true sportsman at heart, was liberally baptising with Rangoon oil an old and much rusted Martini

carbine, whose ejector refused to work. Every now and then, when he thought he had got it shipshape,

Tommy would put in a fresh cartridge, hold the carbine tightly to his shoulder, shut his eyes, and fire it into

space. The rusty old weapon kicked frightfully, after each discharge the ejector jammed, and Tommy ruefully

"Blast the carbine!" said Tommy. "It kicks upwards like; it's kicking my nose all skewwhiff."

"Don't put it to your shoulder, you fool," said one of the shooters; "it'll kick your head off. Hold it out in one

"No, it won't; you won't feel it at all," said the shooter. "Your arm will give to the recoil. Blaze away!"

"I'm going to have a blaze at some of these 'ere buff'loes," said Tommy gaily. "Bill's lent me a horse. They's

got a rifle for you, and one for the old man. We'll give them buff'loes hell today. Five rifles they'll think

"Well, but I want to get back," said Hugh. "We mustn't waste any time. What about the storekeeper's horses?"

"Ho! it'd never do to take them straight back again," said Tommy. "Never do. They must have a spell.

And Hugh, recognising that for all the good he could do he might just as well not hurry back again, resigned

himself to the inevitable, picked up his bridle, went into the shuffling herd of horses, and caught the one

pointed out to him. It was a big, rawboned, raggedhipped bay, a horse that would have been a gentleman

under any other conditions, but from long buffalo hunting had become a carelessgoing, loosejointed

ruffian, taking his life in his hands every day. He bit savagely at Hugh as he saddled him, and altogether

Breakfast was despatched almost in silence. The shooters knew vaguely that Hugh's visit was in some way

connected with Considine, and that Considine had refused to do what Hugh wanted. But the hospitality of the

buffalo camp is as the hospitality of the Arabs of old the stranger is made welcome whatever his business,

Hugh had little desire to talk on the subject of his visit, and Considine maintained a dogged silence. Tommy

Prince alone chatted away affably between large mouthfuls of buffalo beef, damper, and tea, airing his views

on all subjects, but principally on the fair sex. Meanwhile the blacks were catching the packhorses, and

sharpening their skinning knives. The two horses used by the shooters were brought over to the camp fire and

given a small feed each of muchprized maize and oats and bran, that had been brought round in the lugger

from Port Faraway with the camp supplies, landed on the riverbank twelve miles off, and fetched in on

"A little more beef, Mister? No? Well, all aboard for the Buffalo Brigade! That's your rifle by the tree. Put

this cartridgebelt on and buckle it real tight; if you leave it loose, when you start to gallop it will shake up

"I wouldn't if I was you. He's all right to race up to a buffalo, but that blind eye of his'll fetch him to grief

"No fear," said the old man obstinately, "the boco's one eye's worth any horse's two. Me an' the boco will be

Hugh clambered on to his rawboned steed, known as "Close Up", because he would go so close to the

buffaloes, and the procession started. The five white men rode ahead, all smoking with great enjoyment.

"I've heard a lot about this business," said Hugh, "but never hoped to see it. What are these Australian

buffaloes? I thought they were just humped cattle like those little Brahmin cattle."

"People reckon they're the Indian buffalo," said the bushman. "They were fetched here about fifty years ago

from Java just a few pair, and they were let go and went wild, and now they're all over the face of the

earth about here. We've shot six hundred of 'em just the two rifles in six months. It's not play, I tell

you, to shoot and skin six hundred and cure their hides in that time. We'll get a thousand this season."

"Not they. There's about eight thousand of 'em shot every year for their hides, and it's just like the ordinary

increase of a big cattle station. They're all over these plains, and for miles and miles away down the coast,

and in the jungles there's thousands of 'em. There's jungles here that are a hundred miles round, and no animal

but a buffalo will go into 'em. The blacks say that inside them there's big patches of clear plain, with grass

"Race right up alongside 'em, and put the carbine out with one hand, and shoot downwards into the loin.

That's the only way to drop 'em. You can shoot bullets into 'em by the hatful everywhere else, and they just

turn and charge; and while you are dodging round, first you huntin' the buffalo, and then the buffalo huntin'

you, the rest of the mob are out of sight. You must go right up alongside, close enough to touch 'em with the

barrel, and fire down so." He illustrated with the carbine as he spoke. "And whatever you do, don't pull

your horse about; he knows the game, if you don't. Never stop your horse near a wounded buffalo, either.

They make a rush as sudden as lightnin'. They look clumsy and big; but, my oath, a wounded one can hop

along something wonderful! They'll surprise you for pace any time; but most of all when they're wounded."

"Always," said the shooter, "and very often when they're not wounded they'll turn and charge if you've run

'em a long way. You want to look out, I tell you. They'll wheel very sudden, and if they ketch your llorse

they'll grind him into pulp. Pen, my mate here, had a horse killed under him last week horse we gave five

and twenty quid for, and that's a long shot for a buffalo horse. I believe in Injia they shoot 'em off elephants,

but that's 'cause they won't come out in the open like they do here. There's hundreds of toffs in England and

Injia'd give their ears for a day after these, you know. Hello! Look! See there!"

Far away out on the plain Hugh saw fifteen or twenty bluishgrey mounds in a line rising above the grass; it

was a herd of buffalo feeding. The animals never lifted their heads, and were curiously like a lot of railway

trucks covered with grey tarpaulin. It was impossible to tell which was head and which was tail. A short halt

was made while girths were tightened, cartridges slipped into place, and hats jammed on; they all mounted

and rode slowly towards the herd, which was at least half a mile off, and still feeding steadily. Everyone kept

"Fast asblazes. You've no idea how fast they are. They're the biggest takein there is. When they lift their

heads they'll stare for half a minute, and then they'll run. The moment they start, off you go. Watch 'em!

One of the blue mounds lifted a huge blackmuzzled head, decorated with an enormous pair of sickleshaped

horns that stretched right back to the shoulders. He stared with great sullen eyes and trotted a few paces

towards them; one after another, the rest lifted their heads and stared too. Closer drew the horsemen at their

steady, silent jog, the horses pricking their ears and getting on their toes as racehorses do at the start of a race.

The mob, with one impulse, wheeled, and set off at a heavy lumbering gallop, and the horses dashed in full

gallop after them. It was a ride worth a year of a man's life. Every man sat down to his work like a jockey

finishing a race, and the big stock horses went through the long grass like hawks swooping down on a flock

of pigeons. The men carried their carbines loaded, holding them straight up over the shoulder so as to lessen

The surface of the plain was level enough, but frightfully bad going; the sun had baked the black soil till great

gaping cracks, a couple of feet wide and ten feet deep, were opened in the ground. The buffaloes had

wallowed in the wet season and made round welllike holes that were now hard, dry pitfalls. Here and there a

treacherous, slimy watercourse wound its slinking way along, making a bog in which a horse would sink to

his shoulders; and over all these traps and pitfalls the long waving junglegrass drew a veil. Every now and

then belts of small bamboo were crossed, into which the horses dashed blindly, forcing their way through by

their weight. When they started the buffaloes had a lead of a quarter of a mile, and judging by their slogging,

laboured gallop, it looked as though the horses would run into them in half a mile; but on that ground the

buffaloes could go nearly as fast as the horses, and it was only after a mile and a quarter of hard riding that

they closed in on the mob, which at once split into several detachments. A magnificent old bull, whose horns

measured ten feet from tip to tip, dashed away to the right with six or seven cows lumbering after him. Hugh

and one of the shooters followed this lot. Another mob went away to the left, pursued by the other shooter

and Considine; while one old cow, having had enough running, suddenly wheeled in her tracks, and charged

straight at Tommy Prince, whose horse at once whipped round and carried his rider, with the old cow at his

tail, into a clump of bamboos. Hugh followed his mate as hard as he could, both horses feeling the pace, and

pecking and blundering every now and again in the broken ground. Once Hugh saw a buffalowallow

suddenly appear right under his horse's nose, and halfflinched, expecting a certain fall; but old "Close Up"

Just ahead of him the shooter, sitting down in his saddle, lifted his horse with a drive of the spurs, and came

right alongside the hindmost animal, a fat blue cow, which at once swerved at right angles; but the horse

followed her every movement, and drew up till horse and buffalo were racing side by side. Then without fuss

or hurry, up went the elbow of the rider and bang! the buffalo fell as if paralysed, shot through the loins. The

horse swung away from the falling animal as it crashed to the ground; and the shooter, still going at full

gallop, methodically ejected the used cartridge and put in another without losing his place at the tail of the

flying mob. The noise of the carbine made the mob divide, and Hugh found himself going full speed after

three that came his way. Wild with excitement, he drove Close Up after the nearest, and made ready to fire at

the right moment. The long gallop had winded him; his arm was almost numbed with the strain of carrying

Close Up, true to his name, made a dash at the nearest buffalo, and got close enough in all conscience; but

what with the jerking to and fro of the gallop, and the rolling gait and sudden swerves of the buffalo, and the

occasional blunderings of the horse in broken ground, Hugh never seemed to have the carbine pointed right.

Close Up, finding it did not go off when he expected, began to slacken pace and gallop in an undecided way.

It sounds easy enough to gallop up to an animal which you can beat for pace, but anyone who has ever tried

to lay a whip on the back of a bullock knows it is not so easy as it looks to get more than one or two clips

home. Hugh found the buffalo holding its own for pace, and every time he drew up it dodged before he could

make sure of hitting the loin. Cover seemed to be getting very near. At last he leaned out as far as he could,

held the rifle in one hand, and took a "speculator" at the flying buffalo. He hit it somewhere, but hadn't time

to see where; for, with a snort like a grampus, the beast wheeled in its tracks and charged so suddenly that old

Close Up only just dodged it by a yard or two. It rushed past him for a couple of hundred yards, and then

stopped. Hugh managed to eject the cartridge and load, and then cantered after the animal, which had started

again at a sullen trot, with the blood pouring from its flank. As he galloped up to administer the "coup de

gr ce", meaning to make no mistake about hitting the loin this time, the buffalo suddenly wheeled and

charged him again, and "Close Up" executed another hurried retreat. For a while they took it up and down

first buffalo hunting man, then man hunting buffalo while Hugh fired whenever he had the chance,

without seeming to discompose the brute at all. At last a lucky shot struck some vital spot inside; the beast

stopped, staggered, and fell dead without a sound. Hugh looked round. He was alone; his mate was just

visible far away over the plain, still following at full speed a blue mound that struggled doggedly on towards

the timber. The grey horse drew up to his quarry, the man leant forward, there was a sudden spurt of white

smoke, and the animal fell as if struck by lightning. It was very pretty to watch, and looked as simple as

shelling peas. The shooter rode over to Hugh, and congratulated him on his first kill.

"I got all that mob that came our way," he said, "seven of'em. Yours makes eight. There's Ben after some still,

and there's Tommy Prince back at the bamboos firing at something. Firing this way, too, damn him! Look at

Far away on the plain, like puppets in the distance, went the swiftly gliding figures of man and horse. In front

of them dimly seen objects tore through the grass; every now and again out went an arm, there was a spurt of

smoke, and another buffalo fell. The blacks and the Chinaman were away behind, gathered in a cluster,

skinning the first beast killed, while the packhorses cropped the grass and bit at the flies. Considine was

"Let's go back and see what Tommy is up to," said the shooter. "He's a hard case, is Tommy. If there's any

trouble about he'll get into it, or get somebody else into it. He'll wing one of us in a minute, the way he's

Suddenly the festive Tommy was seen to dash hurriedly out of the patch of bamboo, with the old original

buffalo cow so close to his horse's tail that, if the horse stumbled, the cow had him at her mercy.

"She'll have 'im!" yelled the shooter. "Good cow! Can't she steam? Come on, and let's see the fun!"

For a while it looked any odds on the cow; then she slackened pace, wheeled round, and bolted back to the

bamboos. They found Tommy very excited. He had used about eighteen cartridges, and had nothing to show

"That's the most underhand cow ever I seen!" said Tommy. "She runs into them there bamboos and pretends

she's going to run right clean through to Queensland, and when I go in after her, she wheels round and hunts

me for my life. Near had me twice, she did. Every time I fire the old carbine, it jams, and I have to get the rod

"She must have a leadmine in her already," said the shooter. "Mind she don't ketch you, Tommy."

Tommy went in, but couldn't find a sign of the cow. While they were talking she had slipped along the belt of

bamboos, and was then, no doubt, waiting for a chance to rush somebody. As no one cared to chance riding

on to her in that jungle, she escaped with the honours of war. The other shooter came up, having shot nine,

and reported that Considine had had a fall, his horse, not being used to the country, had plunged up to his

shoulders in a concealed buffalowallow, and turned right over on him. Luckily, the buffalo he was after was

well ahead, and did not turn to charge him, but he was very much shaken; when he came up, however, he

insisted on going on. They set to work to find the rest of the dead buffaloes no easy matter in that long

grass and all hands commenced skinning. This job kept them till noonday, when they camped under some

trees for their midday meal, hobbling the horses. Then they rested for an hour or two, packed the hides on the

packhorses (and heavily loaded they were, each hide weighing about a hundredweight), and went back to the

They were all riding together through a belt of timber, the blacks and the Chinaman being well up with the

Sure enough, a huge blue bull a regular old patriarch, that had evidently been hunted out of a herd, and

was camping by himself in the timber made a rush out of some thick trees, and set off towards a dense

jungle, that could be seen half a mile or so away. Hugh and Considine were nearest him, each with his rifle

ready, and started after him together, full gallop through the timber. The old man was evidently anxious to

make up for his morning's failure, and to take Hugh down a peg, for he set a fearful pace through the trees,

grazing one and gliding under the boughs of another as only a trained bushrider can. Hugh, coming from the

mountains, was no duffer in timbered country either, and the two of them went at a merry pace for a while.

The bull was puzzled by having two pursuers, and often in swerving from one or the other would hit a tree

with his huge horns, and fairly bounce off it. He never attempted to turn, but kept straight on, and they drew

on to him in silence, almost side by side, riding jealously for the first shot. Considine was on the wrong side,

and had to use the carbine on the near side of his horse; but he was undeniably a good rider, and laughed

grimly as he got first alongside, and, leaning over, prepared to fire. Then a strange thing happened. Before he

could fire, the buffalo bull tripped on a stump and fell on his knees, causing Considine's horse to shoot almost

past him. As the bull rose again, he sprang savagely sideways, bringing his huge head up from beneath, and

fairly impaled the horse on his horn. It gave a terrible scream, and reared over.

The old man never lost his nerve. Almost as he fell he fired down into the buffalo's shoulder, but the bullet

had no effect. Man and horse were fetched smashing to the ground, the man pinned under the horse's body.

The bull hesitated a second before hurling himself upon the two; and in that second Hugh jumped from his

horse, ran up, stood over the fallen man, holding out the rifle like a pistol with the muzzle an inch off the

bull's head and fired. A buffalo's skull is an inch and a half thick, solid bone, as hard as granite; but a Martini

carbine, sighted for a thousand yards, will pierce it like paper at short range. The smoke had not cleared away

when the huge beast fell to the ground within two feet of his intended victims. Hugh pulled Considine from

under the horse. The unfortunate beast struggled to his feet, with blood gushing from a terrible wound in the

The old man looked round him in silence. "Serve me damn well right," he said at last. "I ought to have got the

Not another word did he say, as he transferred his saddle to one of the blacks' horses. But in the camp, that

"I've got something for you," he said. "Here's the certificate of my weddin' with Peggy Donohoe. The parson

gev us each one. That ought to do you, oughtn't it? I'll come down with you, as soon as you like, and give all

the evidence you want. I'll chance how I get on with Peg. I'll divorce her, or poison her, or get shut of her

And off he stalked to bed, while Hugh talked long with Tommy Prince and the buffalo shooters of the best

way to get down to the wire and send the news of his success. He went to bed the happiest man south of the

line; and next day, saying goodbye to his hospitable friends, he started off with Considine and Tommy on the

As the day of the great case approached Blake got more restless and irritable. He had heard of Hugh's going

away to look for a witness; but Peggy and Red Mick, in their ignorance, had thought it best to keep all

knowledge of the Considine flaw from their lawyer a mistake that wiser people than they sometimes

make. Blake suspected nothing. He had more than once seen Mary Grant and Ellen Harriott in Tarrong, but

Well, he would see it out, and would yet make these people glad to crawl to him. Ellen Harriott he never

spoke to. However the case went and whoever won, she could be of no use to him, so he decided to include

her among his enemies; and though she went deathly white when she saw him she made no sign of

recognition. There was one thing, however, which he had to do before taking the case into Court, and that

was to secure a fair share of the spoil for himself. He had no intention of slaving at the case, perhaps for

years, for what he would get as costs. So, a week or two before the case was due to come on, he sent for

It was a hot summer day when Peggy came in. Out of doors there was a blinding glare, and the heat had

drawn the scent out of the unseasoned pine with which Tarrong was mostly built, till the air was filled with a

sort of incense. Peggy came in hot and shorttempered. The strain was beginning to tell on her nerves, and,

from a remark or two she let fall, Blake saw that she might be inclined to give trouble if not promptly brought

"The first thing is, how much am I going to get out of this case if I win it? That is the first thing. You don't

suppose I am going to spend time and money and fight this case through all the Courts in the land, and.get

nothing out of it, do you? How much am I to get? We'll settle that before we go any further."

"You'll ask nobody. Mick isn't Grant's widow, and you are of age, goodness knows. How much?"

"I want onethird of what you get. That'll leave you nearly a million of money. There will be well over a

million to divide. There will be a big lawsuit, and lots of appeals, and if I am to see it through it will cost a

great lot of money; so if I win I mean to make it pay me. That's my figure. Onethird. Take it or leave it."

Peggy wriggled about, but knew that she would have to give in. It was a reasonable proposal, as things stood;

but she did not like the way in which she had been bullied. She looked at Blake queerly.

"If we have to give ye a third, ye may as well know all about it. Ye'll be a partner like."

Blake stared at her. He could not guess what she was driving at. Peggy slowly drew out of a handbag a faded

piece of paper and handed it to him without a word. It was the original marriage certificate, the same that

Ellen Harriott had seen at Red Mick's. He unfolded it and spread it out on the table.

"I certify that I, Thomas Nettleship," he mumbled through the formula, then, sharply: "What's this name

"Yis," said Peggy, boiling up. "A long slabsided useless feller. He's gone to live wid the blacks. He'll never

For a few seconds Blake, the cool, audacious gambler, was dazed, in spite of his natural selfconfidence. He

saw how he had been duped. Peggy had married this other man, whoever he was, and had used the facts of

the real marriage to give her the details for her imaginary one, while in copying the certificate she had, with

All Blake's castles in the air, his schemes for revenge, his hopes of wealth, had vanished at one fell swoop.

"Patrick Henry Keogh" seemed to grin up at him out of the paper. His case had crumbled about his ears; his

defeat would be known all over the district, and nothing could much longer stave off the inevitable exposure

of his misappropriations. But he was a fighter all over, and he still saw a chance to pull things through.

He wasted no words on Peggy. "Go and get Mick to come here," he said, and Mick, still somewhat lopsided

"Mick," said Blake, "your sister has told me something very important that ought to have been told me

before. It's no good crying over spilt milk. There's still a chance. If Peggy and Martin tell the same story they

told me at first, they will win the case. This Keogh must be dead, or too frightened to show up. If you stick to

"Leave that to me," said Blake. "I'll see to that. I suppose no one knows the rights of this but you and Peggy!"

Mick and his sister rose. "We'll go on wid the case," said Mick. "But supposin' Keogh turns up?"

"You've got to take chances in this life," said Blake, "if you're after a million that doesn't belong to you. Will

"A million," said Mick. "Of course we'll go on wid the case. I daresay William Grant took the name of Keogh

that day he was married," and with this ingenious suggestion Mick took his sister home, leaving Blake alone

After his clients were gone Blake looked at the certificate for a long time, asking himself, "Shall I take the

risk or not?" He was about to do a criminal act, and though it was not his first, he flinched every time he

crossed the borderline. He lifted his hand, and hesitated; then he remembered his dismissal from Kuryong,

and caught sight of a dunning letter lying on his table. That decided him. The risk was worth taking. The

danger was great, but the stake was worth it. He took an eraser, made a few swift light strokes on the paper

over the almost illegible writing, and "Patrick Henry Keogh" disappeared; on the space that it had occupied

he wrote "William Grant," in faint strokes of a pencil. He had crossed the borderline of crime once more.

And now, after hauling the reader pretty well all over Australia from mountain station to outback holding,

from cattle camp to buffalo run we must ask him to take a seat in the Supreme Court at Sydney, to hear

Gavan Blake had made no effort towards compromise. He knew the risk he was running, but he had

determined to see it through. The love, the ambition, the hope that had once possessed him had turned to a

grim desperate hatred, and he would risk everything rather than withdraw the case. He kept Red Mick and

Peggy up to the mark with assurances that she was certain to win. Neither he nor they knew that Considine

had been found. Even the most respectable solicitors sometimes display acuteness, and the old man's return

had been kept secret by Pinnock, so that public opinion anticipated Peggy's victory.

At last came the day of trial. Every seat in the Court was filled, and a mass of the unwashed hung over the

gallery rail, gazing at the show provided for their entertainment. Mary Grant and Mrs. Gordon went into

Court at the suggestion of their leading Counsel, Bouncer, Q.C., who was nothing if not theatrical. He wanted

them there to see the overthrow of the enemy, and to lend point to his invective against the intruders who

were trying to take away their birthright. A small army of Doyles and Donohoes, who had come down for the

case, were hanging about dressed in outlandish garments, trying to look as if they would not tell a lie for

untold gold. The managing clerks were in and out like little dogs at a fair, hunting up witnesses, scanning the

jury list, arranging papers for production, and keeping a wary eye on the enemy. Punctually as the clock

struck ten, the Judge strutted into Court with as much pomp as a manofwar sailing into a small port;

depositing himself on the Bench, he glared round for a few seconds, and said to the associate, "Call the first

case," in a matteroffact tone, just as if he did not know what the first case was going to be. A little rustle

The case for Peggy was set forth by the great Jewish barrister, Manasseh, Q.C. He was famous for his skill in

enlisting the sympathies of the jury from the outset. He drew a moving picture of the sorrows of Peggy,

disowned by her husband's relatives, and the case proceeded so far that he had put the marriage certificate in

evidence when Blake, who had been away for a few minutes rushed into Court and touched Manasseh on the

Manasseh asked the Judge to excuse him for a moment while he conferred with his juniors and Blake. After a

short but excited conference he rose again and but first we must hear what had happened outside.

While all concerned were in Court listening to Manasseh, Considine had been smuggled into the witnesses'

room and, being bored and worried, had strayed into the verandah of the Court buildings. He had been hauled

into consultations with barristers, and examined and badgered and worried to death. The hard Sydney

pavements had made his feet sore. The city ways were not his ways, and the mere mental effort of catching

trains and omnibuses, and keeping appointments, and having fixed mealtimes, was inexpressibly wearing to

And what a dismal prospect he had before him! To go over to England and take up a position for which he

was wholly unfitted, without a friend who would understand his ideas, and in whom he could confide. Then

his thoughts turned to Peggy Peggy, squarebuilt, determined, masterful, capable; just the very person to

grapple with difficulties; a woman whose nerve a regiment of duchesses would fail to shake. He thought of

her many abilities, and admitted to himself that after all was said and done, if he had only been able to gratify

her wishes (and they did not seem so extravagant now) she would have been a perfect helpmate for him. His

mind went back to the weird honeymoon at Pike's pub, to the little earthenfloored dining room, with walls

of sacking and a slab table, over which Peggy presided with such force of character. He thought of the two

bushmen whom Peggy had nursed through the fever with rough tenderness; and then, turning suddenly, he

For a second neither spoke. Then Considine said, with an air of forced jauntiness, "Well, Peggy, you won't be

"I heard you was goin' to settle at Kiley's Crossin', lending money to the cockatoos."

This cleared the way tremendously. The gaunt bushman hitched himself a little nearer, and spoke in an

insinuating way. "I'm pretty tired of this case meself, I dunno how you feel about it."

"Tired!" said Peggy. "I'm wore out. Fair wore out," and she heaved a sigh like an elephant.

"Well, lookee here, Peggy I've got whips of stuff now, and I've got to go to England for it. You come

along o' me again, and we'll knock all this business on the head. Let the Gordons alone they're decent

young fellows, the both of 'em and come along o' me to England. That young English feller reckons we'd

It is the characteristic of great minds to think quickly, and act promptly. Peggy did both.

"Mick!" she said, calling to her brother in a sharp, authoritative voice: "Mick! I've been talking to Paddy here,

and we've reckoned we've had enough of this fooling, and we're off to England. You go in and tell old

FuzzyHead" (she meant the Judge) "that I'm tired of this case, and I ain't goin' on wid it. Come on, Paddy,

"Yes, and there's some tremenjus fine opals in a shop down this way I'll buy you!" said Considine, as they

At that moment Blake came out of Court, saw them, and stepped in front of Peggy.

Peggy had never quite forgiven his domineering at Tarrong, and turned on him with a snap.

"This is my 'usband," she said, "Mr Patrick Henery Considine. Him whose name is put down as Keogh on the

Then Blake knew that he had played and lost lost hopelessly, irretrievably. But there was yet something to

do to secure his own safety. He rushed back into Court, and whispered a few words to Manasseh; and

Manasseh, after the short conference we mentioned some pages back, rose and informed the Court that his

client withdrew her claim. Now, while Blake was out of Court, Mr Bouncer, Mary's counsel, had got from the

Judge's Associate the certificate that had been put in evidence. Ellen Harriott, sitting with Mary and Mrs

Gordon behind him, gave a little cry of surprise when she saw the paper. She touched Mr Bouncer on the

So Mr Bouncer rose as Manasseh sat down, with a smile of satisfaction on his face.

"I must object to any withdrawal, your Honour," he said. "My client's vast interests are still liable to be

assailed by any claimant. I wish your Honour to insist that the case be heard. A claim has been made here of a

most dastardly nature, and I submit that your Honour will not allow the claimants to withdraw without some

Mr Manasseh objected. He said that there was no longer any case before the Court; and Gavan Blake, white

to the lips, waited for the Judge's decision. As he waited, he looked round and caught the eye of Ellen

Harriott. Cool, untroubled, the heavylidded eyes met his, and he saw no hope there. She had neither

Now, it so happened that the Judge felt rather baulked at the sudden collapse of the big case, in which he

"I want to examine him as to how and when the name of William Grant got on that certificate. I have

evidence to prove that the name on it, only a few months ago, was that of Patrick Keogh."

"Ha, hum!" said the little Judge. "I don't see eh um that I can decide anything ah whatever.

Case is withdrawn. Ha, hum. But in the interests of justice, and seeing seeing, I say," he went on, warming

to his work as the question laid itself open before him, "that there is serious suspicion of fraud and forgery, it

would be wrong on my part to allow the case to close without some investigation in the interests of justice.

As to Mr Manasseh's objection, that the Court is functus officio so far as this case is concerned, I uphold that

contention; but, in exercise of the power that the Court holds over its officers, I consider that I have the power

and that I should exercise the power of putting the solicitor in the box to explain how this document

But while the little Judge was delivering his wellrounded sentences, Blake had slipped out of Court and

made off to his lodgings. He had failed in everything. He might perhaps keep out of gaol; but the blow to his

reputation was fatal. He had played for a big stake and lost, and he saw before him only drudgery and lifelong

He had reached his lodgings, halfturned at the door, and saw behind him the Court tipstaff, who had been

"All right. Wait till I run up to my room for some papers. I'll be down in a minute," and he ran upstairs.

The tipstaff waited cheerfully enough, until he heard the crack of a revolvershot echo through the passages

of the big boardinghouse. Then he rushed upstairs to find that Gavan Blake had gone before another

After the great case was over life at Kuryong went on its old round. Mary Grant, now undisputed owner, took

up the reins of government, and Hugh was kept there always on one pretext or another.

Considine and his wife stayed a while in the district before starting for England, and were on the best of terms

with the folk at the homestead, Peggy's daring attempt to seize the estate having been forgiven for her

Mary seemed to take a delicious pleasure in making Hugh come to her for orders and consultations. She

signed without question anything that Charlie put before her, but Hugh was constantly called in to explain all

sorts of things. The position was difficult in the extreme, although Peggy tried to give Hugh good advice.

"Sure, the girl's fond of you, Mr Hugh!" she said, "Why don't you ask her to marry you? See what a good

"I'll manage my own affairs, thank you," said Hugh. "It isn't likely I'm going to ask her now, when I haven't

got a penny." He was as miserable as a man could well be, and was on the point of leaving the station and

going back to the buffalo camp in search of solitude, when an unexpected incident suddenly brought matters

to a climax. A year had slipped by since William Grant's death, and the glorious spring came round again; the

river was bankhigh with the melting of the mountainsnows, the English fruittrees were all blossoming,

and the willows abud. One day the mailman left a large handbill, announcing the spring racemeeting at

Kiley's, a festival sacred, as a rule, to the Doyles and the Donohoes, at which no outsider had any earthly

In William Grant's time the handbill would have soon reached the fireplace; he did not countenance running

station horses at the local meetings. Under the new owner things were different. Charlie Gordon was spoiling

for a chance to run Revoke, a backblock purchase, against the locals, and suggested it in an offhand sort of

way while reading the circular. Hugh opposed the notion altogether. His opposition apparently made Miss

Grant determined to go on with the scheme, and she gave Charlie carte blanche in the matter.

When the raceday arrived, there was quite a merry party at the homestead. Carew was making himself very

attentive to Ellen Harriott, Mary was flirting very openly with Charlie Gordon, to Hugh's intense misery; and

it was whispered about the station that the younger brother would be deposed in favour of the elder.

Hugh did not want to go to the races, but Mary asked him so directly that he had no option.

It was a typical Australian spring day. The sky was blue, the air was fresh, the breeze made great, long,

rippling waves in the grass, and every soul in the place Mary in particular seemed determined to enjoy

Revoke, the station champion, came in first in his race, and was promptly disqualified for short weight, but

"I have been done," said the bushman. "Red Mick lent me the leadcloth, and helped me saddle up, and I

believe he took some lead out while we were saddling. It never dropped out. That I'm sure of."

"Oh, never mind, Mr Gordon! Forget it! There's your brother, Hugh, thinks we ought not to have come, and

now you are turning sulky. Why do all you Australian people amuse yourselves so sadly?"

"I don't know what you mean by sadly," said Charlie, huffed. "I think you ladies had better go home soon.

Things are likely to be a bit lively later on. They have got a door off its hinges and laid on the ground, and a

fiddler playing jigs, and the men and women are dancing each other down; it won't be long till there'll be a

Sure enough, they could see an excited crowd of people gathered round a fiddler, who was playing away for

dear life, and the yells and whoops told them that partisanship was running high. All the young "bloods" of

the ranges were there in their very best finery cabbagetree hat (welltilted back, and secured by a string

under the nose), gaudy cotton shirt, and tweed trousers of loud pattern, secured round the waist by flaring red

or green sashes. In this garb such as fancied themselves as dancers were taking their turns on the door. They

began by ambling with a sort of strutting walk once or twice round the circumscribed platform; then, with

head well back and eyes closed, dashed into the steps of the dance, each introducing varied steps and

innovations of his own, which, if intricate and neatly executed, were greeted with great applause. So it

happened that after Jerry the Swell, the recognised champion of the Doyles, had gone off with an extremely

selfsatisfied air, some adherents of young Red Mick, the opposition champion, took occasion to criticise

Jerry's performance. "Darnce!" they said. "Jerry the Swell, darnce! Why, we've got an old poley cow would

"Yairs," said young Mick, with withering emphasis. "Darnce! He can't darnce. I'll run, darnce, jump, or fight

Before the challenge could be accepted there was an unexpected interruption. Hugh had put the big trotting

mare in the light trap for Miss Harriott and Mary to drive home. "Gentle Annie" was used to racing, and

Hugh warned the girls to be careful in starting her, as she would probably be excited by the crowd, and then

turned back to pack up the racing gear and start the fourinhand with the children. As they were putting the

racing saddle, bridles, and other gear into the vehicle, Charlie, who had been fuming ever since his defeat,

caught sight of the missing leadbag. He picked it up without a word, and with a fierce gleam in his eye,

started over to the group of dancers, followed hurriedly by Carew. Just as young Mick was repeating his

challenge to run, jump, dance, or fight anybody in the district, Gordon threw the leadbag, weighing about

Red Mick staggered back a pace or two, picked up an empty bottle from the ground, and made a dash at

Gordon. The latter let out a vicious drive with his left that caught Mick under the ear and sent him down like

a bullock. In a second the whole crowd surged together in one confused m l e, everybody hitting at

everybody amid a Babel of shouts and curses. The combat swayed out on to the racecourse, where half a

dozen men fell over the ropes and pulled as many more down with them, and those that were down fought on

the ground, while the others walked on them and fought over their heads. Carew, who was quite in his

element, hit every head he saw, and knocked his knuckles to pieces on Black Andy Kelly's teeth. The fight he

put up, and the terrific force of his hitting, are traditions among the mountain men to this day. Charlie Gordon

was simply mad with the lust of fighting, and was locked in a deathgrip with Red Mick; they swayed and

struggled on the ground, while the crowd punched at them indiscriminately. In the middle of all this business,

the two ladies and Alick, the eldest of the children, had started Gentle Annie for home, straight down the

centre of the course. The big mare, hearing the yelling, and recognising that she was once more on a

racetrack, suddenly caught hold of the bit, and came sweeping up the straight fullstretch, her great legs

flying to and fro like pistons. Alick, who was sitting bodkin between the ladies, simply remarked, "Let her

head go!" as she went thundering into the crowd, hurling Doyles and Donohoes into the air, trampling Kellys

under foot and so out the other side, and away at a 2.30 gait for at least half a mile before the terrified girls

That ended the fight. The course was covered with wounded and disabled men. Some had been struck by the

mare's hoofs; others had been run over by the wheels; and a great demand for whisky set in, under cover of

No one was seriously hurt, except "Omadhaun" Doyle, who had been struck on the head by the big mare's

hoof. He lay very still, breathing stertorously, and Jerry the Swell took the trouble to come over to the

fourinhand,and inform them that he thought "Omadhaun" had got percussion of the brain, and that things

looked very "omnibus" for him. However, as soon as he could swallow whisky he was pronounced out of

danger, and the Kuryong party was allowed to depart in peace for home, glad enough to get away. But the

two girls were afraid to drive the big mare, as she was thoroughly roused after her dash in among the Doyles

and Donohoes, and was inclined to show a lot of temper. A hurried consultation was held, with the result that

Ellen Harriott and Alick were received into the fourinhand, while Hugh was entrusted with the task of

Now, a sulky is a vehicle built to accommodate two people only, and those two people have to sit fairly close

together. For a few miles they spun along in silence, Hugh being well occupied with steadying the mare.

From time to time he looked out of the corner of his eye at his companion; she looked steadily, almost

stolidly, in front of her. Then she began to tap on the floor of the sulky with her foot. At last she turned on

"Oh! you said we oughn't to go and race among those people. And you were right. It served them just right

"They wouldn't be much missed," said Hugh wearily. "They have started stealing the sheep again."

"Can't you catch them?" she said, with pretended asperity. "If you went out and hid in a fallen tree, don't you

Hugh looked at her to see if she were in earnest, but she looked straight in front again and said nothing, still

keeping up the slight tapping of her foot. He flushed a little, and spoke very quietly.

"I think I'll have to resign from your employment, Miss Grant. I don't care about stopping any longer; and I

will go out back and take up one of those twentythousandacre leases in Queensland. You might put Poss or

Binjie on in my place. They would be glad of a billet, and they might catch Red Mick for you."

"Do you really want to go?" she said, looking straight at him for the first time. "Why do you want to go?"

"Why?" he burst out. "Because I can't bear being with you and near you all day long, when I care for you, and

you don't care for me. I can't eat, or sleep, or rest here now, and it's time I was away. You might give me a

good character as a stationmanager," he went on grimly, "even though I can't catch Red Mick for you. I'll

She was looking down now. The sun had gone, and the stars were peeping out, and in the dusk he could catch

no glimpse of her face. There was silence for a few moments, then he went on talking, half to himself. "it's

best for me, anyhow. It's time I made a start for myself. I couldn't stay on here as manager all my life."

"How do you mean for anything else, Miss Grant? You don't want me for anything except as manager, do