diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/51209-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51209-0.txt | 18226 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 18226 deletions
diff --git a/old/51209-0.txt b/old/51209-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 40dfbb2..0000000 --- a/old/51209-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,18226 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Babes in the Bush, by Rolf Boldrewood - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Babes in the Bush - - -Author: Rolf Boldrewood - - - -Release Date: February 13, 2016 [eBook #51209] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BABES IN THE BUSH*** - - -E-text prepared by KD Weeks, MWS, and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by -Internet Archive/American Libraries (https://archive.org/details/americana) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive/American Libraries. See - https://archive.org/details/babesinbush00boldrich - - -Transcriber’s note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - Please see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text - for details regarding the handling of any textual issues - encountered during its preparation. - - - - - -BABES IN THE BUSH - - -[Illustration: Publisher's logo] - - -BABES IN THE BUSH - -by - -ROLF BOLDREWOOD - -Author of -‘Robbery Under Arms,’ ‘The Miner’s Right,’ ‘The Squatter’s Dream,’ -‘A Colonial Reformer,’ etc. - - - - - - - -London -Macmillan and Co., Limited -New York: The Macmillan Company -1900 -All rights reserved - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - -CONTENTS - - CHAPTER I - PAGE - - ‘FRESH FIELDS—AND PASTURES NEW’ 1 - - CHAPTER II - - THE FIRST CAMP 21 - - CHAPTER III - - THE NEW HOME 43 - - CHAPTER IV - - MR. HENRY O’DESMOND OF BADAJOS 59 - - CHAPTER V - - ‘CALLED ON BY THE COUNTY’ 77 - - CHAPTER VI - - AN AUSTRALIAN YEOMAN 93 - - CHAPTER VII - - TOM GLENDINNING, STOCK-RIDER 111 - - CHAPTER VIII - - MR. WILLIAM ROCKLEY OF YASS 125 - - CHAPTER IX - - HUBERT WARLEIGH, YR., OF WARBROK 139 - - CHAPTER X - - A PROVINCIAL CARNIVAL 149 - - CHAPTER XI - - MR. BOB CLARKE SCHOOLS KING OF THE VALLEY 161 - - CHAPTER XII - - STEEPLECHASE DAY 173 - - CHAPTER XIII - - MISS VERA FANE OF BLACK MOUNTAIN 189 - - CHAPTER XIV - - THE DUEL 204 - - CHAPTER XV - - THE LIFE STORY OF TOM GLENDINNING 220 - - CHAPTER XVI - - ‘SO WE’LL ALL GO A-HUNTING TO-DAY’ 238 - - CHAPTER XVII - - THE FIRST MEET OF THE LAKE WILLIAM HUNT CLUB 251 - - CHAPTER XVIII - - THE MAJOR DISCOVERS HIS RELATIVE 265 - - CHAPTER XIX - - BLACK THURSDAY 282 - - CHAPTER XX - - AN UNEXPECTED DEVELOPMENT 296 - - CHAPTER XXI - - A GREEN HAND 312 - - CHAPTER XXII - - INJUN SIGN 328 - - CHAPTER XXIII - - THE BATTLE OF ROCKY CREEK 339 - - CHAPTER XXIV - - GYP’S LAND 352 - - CHAPTER XXV - - BOB CLARKE ONCE MORE WINS ON THE POST 366 - - CHAPTER XXVI - - THE RETURN FROM PALESTINE 387 - - CHAPTER XXVII - - THE DUEL IN THE SNOW 401 - - - - - CHAPTER I - ‘FRESH FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW’ - - -‘What letter are you holding in your hand all this time, my dear?’ said -Captain Howard Effingham to his wife during a certain family council. - -‘Really, I had almost forgotten it. A foreign postmark—I suppose it is -from your friend Mr. Sternworth, in Australia or New Zealand.’ - -‘Sternworth lives in New South Wales, not New Zealand,’ returned he -rather testily. ‘I have told you more than once that the two places are -a thousand miles apart by sea. Yes! it is from old Harley. When he was -chaplain to our regiment he was always hankering after a change from -routine duty. Now he has got it with a vengeance. He was slightly -eccentric, but a better fellow, a stauncher friend, never stepped.’ - -‘Don’t people go to Australia to make money?’ asked Rosamond Effingham, -a girl of twenty, with ‘eldest daughter’ plainly inscribed upon her -thoughtful features. ‘I saw in a newspaper that some one had come home -after making a fortune, or it may have been that he died there and left -it to his relatives.’ - -‘Sternworth has not made a fortune. He is not the man to want one. -Still, he seems wonderfully contented and raves about the beauty of the -climate and the progress of his colony.’ - -‘Let me read his letter out,’ pleaded the anxious wife softly, and, with -a gesture of assent, the father and daughter sat expectant. - -Mrs. Effingham had the gift of reading aloud with effect, which, with -that of facile, clear-cut composition, came to her as naturally as the -notes of a song-bird, which indeed her tuneful voice resembled. - -‘The letter is dated from Yass—(what a funny name! a native one, I -suppose)—in New South Wales, and June the 20th, 1834. Nearly six months -ago! Does it take all that time to come? What a long, long way off it -must be. Now then for the contents. - - -‘MY DEAR EFFINGHAM—I have not written for an age—though I had your last -in reply to mine in due course—partly because, after my first -acknowledgment, I had nothing particular to say, nor any counsel to -offer you, suitable for the situation in which you appear to have landed -yourself. When you were in the old regiment you were always a bad -manager of your money, and the Yorkshireman had to come to your -assistance with his hard head more than once. I thought all that sort of -thing was over when you succeeded to a settled position and a good -estate. I was much put out to find by your last letter that you had -again got among the shallows of debt. I doubt it is chronic with you. -But it is a serious matter for the family. If I were near you I would -scold you roundly, but I am too far off to do it effectually. - -‘My reason for writing now—for I am too busy a man to send the -compliments of the season across the globe—is that a tempting investment -in land—a perfect gift, as the phrase is—has come to my knowledge. - -‘Now, I am not hard-natured enough to tempt you to come here with your -amiable wife, whose praises, not always from yourself, I have often -heard—[really, my dear, I had no idea you paid me compliments in your -letters to your friends]—and your tenderly nurtured family; that is, if -you can retain your position, or one in any way approaching it. But I -know that the loss of fortune in the old country entails a more complete -stripping of all that men hold dear, than in this new land, where -aristocratic poverty, or rather, scantiness of money, is the rule, and -wealth, as yet, the exception. - -‘I cannot believe that you are _totally_ without means. Here, cash is at -a premium. Therefore, if you have but the shreds and fragments of your -fortune left, you may still have capital available from the wreck -sufficient to make a modest venture, which I shall explain. - -‘A family long resident near this rising town—say forty or fifty miles -distant—have been compelled, like you, to offer their estate for sale. I -will not enter into the circumstances or the causes of the step. The -fact that we are concerned with is, that a valuable property—as fair -judges consider it—comprising a decent house and several thousand acres -of good land, may be bought for three or four thousand pounds. - -‘I do not hide from you that many people consider that the present bad -times are likely to last, even to become more pressing. _I_ fully expect -a reaction. If you can do better in any way I do not ask you for one -moment to consider this matter, much as I should like to see my old -comrade and his family here. - -‘But if otherwise, and the melancholy life of the ruined middle-aged -Briton stares you in the face, I say boldly, do not go to Boulogne, or -other refuge for the shady destitute, where a man simply counts the days -which he must linger out in cheap lodgings and cheese-paring idleness, -but come to Australia and try a more wholesome, more manly, if -occasionally ruder life. I know what you home-keeping English think of a -colony. But you may find here a career for your boys—even suitable -marriages for your girls, whose virtues and accomplishments would -doubtless invest them with distinction. - -‘If you can get this sum together, and a few hundreds to have in your -pocket at landing, I can guarantee you a livelihood—you know my caution -of old—with many of the essentials, God forbid I should say _all_, of -“the gentle life.” Still, you may come to these by and by. The worst of -my adopted country is that there is a cruel uncertainty of seasons, at -times sore on man and beast. That you must risk, like other people. If -you come, you will have one friend here in old Harley Sternworth, who, -without chick or child, will be proud to pour out whatever feelings of -affection God has given him, into the lap of your family. If you decide -on coming, send a draft for three thousand pounds payable to my order at -once. I will manage the rest, and have Warbrok ready to receive you in -some plain way on your arrival. So farewell for the present. God bless -you and yours, says your old friend, - - HARLEY STERNWORTH.’ - - -As the letter disclosed this positive invitation and plan of emigration -which, whether possible or impossible, was now brought into tangible -form, the clasp in which lay the father’s hand and the daughter’s -slightly tightened. Their eyes met, their faces gradually softened from -the expression of pained endurance which had characterised them, and as -the clear tones of the reader came to an end, Rosamond, rising to her -feet, exclaimed, ‘God has sent us a friend in our need. If we go to this -far land we may work together and live and love undivided. But oh, -mother, it breaks my heart to think of _you_. We are young, it should -matter little to us; but how will you bear to be taken away from this -pleasant home to a rude, waste country, such as Australia must be?’ - -‘My darling,’ said the matron, as she folded the letter with an -instinctive habit of neatness, and handed it to her husband, ‘the -sacrifice to me will be great, far greater than at one time I should -have thought it possible to bear. But with my husband and children are -my life and my true dwelling-place. Where they are, I abide thankfully -to life’s close. Strength, I cannot doubt, will be given to us all to -bear our—our——’ - -Here the thought, the inevitable, unimaginable woe of quitting the loved -home of youth, the atmosphere of early friendship, the intertwining ties -of relationship, completely overcame the courage of the speaker. Her -eyes overflowed as, burying her face in her husband’s arms, which were -opened to receive her, she wept long and silently. - -‘How could we think of such a thing, my darling, for one moment?’ said -Effingham. ‘It would kill you to part, at one blow, from a whole -previous existence. I hardly foresaw what a living death it would be for -you, more than all, to leave England _for ever_. There is a world of -agony in that thought alone! I certainly gave Sternworth a full account -of my position in my last letters. It was a relief. He has always been a -true friend. But he has rashly concluded that we were prepared to go to -his wild country. It would be your death-blow, darling wife; and then, -what good would our lives be to us? Some of our friends will help us, -surely. Let us live quietly for a year or two. I may get some -appointment.’ - -‘It relieves my bursting heart to weep; yet it will fit me for future -duty. No, Howard, we must not falter or draw back. You can trust, I -know, in Mr. Sternworth’s practical wisdom, for you have a hundred times -told me how far-seeing, shrewd, and yet kindly he was. In his plan there -is the certainty of independence; together we can cheer each other when -the day’s work is done. As for living in England, trusting to the -assistance of friends, and the lingering uncertainty of a provision from -the Government, I have seen too many families pitiably drifting towards -a lower level. There is no middle course. No! Our path has been chosen -for us. Let us go where a merciful Providence would seem to lead us.’ - -The fateful conference was ended. A council, not much bruited about, but -fraught with momentous results to those yet unborn, in the Effingham -family, and it may be to other races and sections of humanity. Who may -limit the effects produced in the coming time, by the transplantation of -but _one_ rarely endowed family of our upward-striving race? - -Nothing remained but to communicate the decision of the high contracting -parties of the little state to the remaining members. The heir was -absent. To him would have been accorded, as a right, a place in the -parliament. But he was in Ireland visiting a college chum, for whom he -had formed one of the ardent friendships characteristic of early -manhood. Wilfred Effingham was an enthusiast—sanguine and -impulsive—whose impulses, chiefly, took a good direction. His heart was -warm, his principles fixed. Still, so sensitive was he to the -impressions of the hour, that only by the sternest consciousness of -responsibility could he remain faithful to the call of duty. - -Devoted primarily to art and literature; sport, travel, and social -intercourse likewise put in claims to his attention and mingled in his -nature the impulses of a refined Greek with the energy and self-denial -of his northern race. - -It must be confessed that these latter qualities were chiefly in the -embryonic stage. So latent and undeveloped were they, indeed, that no -one but his fond mother had fully credited his possession of them. - -But as the rounded limbs of the Antinous conceal the muscles which -after-years develop and harden, so in the graceful physique and -sensitive mind of Wilfred Effingham lay hidden powers, which, could he -have foreseen their future exercise, would have astonished no one more -than himself. Such was the youth recalled from his joyous revel in the -Green Isle, where he had been shooting and fishing to his heart’s -content. - -A letter from his mother first told that his destiny had been changed. -In a moment he was transformed. No longer was he to be an enjoyer of the -hoarded wealth of art, letters, science, sitting on high and choosing -what he would, as one of the gods of Olympus. His lot, henceforth, would -be that of a toiler for the necessaries of life! It was a shrewd blow. -Small wonder had he reeled before it! It met him without warning, -unsoftened, save by the tender pity and loving counsel so long -associated with his mother’s handwriting. The well-remembered -characters, so fair in delicate regularity, which since earliest -schooldays had cheered and comforted him. Never had they failed him; -steadfast ever as a mother’s faith, unfailing as a mother’s love! - -Grown to manhood, still, as of old, he looked, almost at weekly -intervals, for the missive, ever the harbinger of home love, the herald -of joy, the bearer of wise counsel—never once of sharp rebuke or -untempered anger. - -And now—to the spoiled child of affection, of endowment—had come this -message fraught with woe. - -A meaner mind, so softly nurtured, might have shrunk from the ordeal. To -the chivalrous soul of Wilfred Effingham the vision was but the summons -to the fray, which bids the knight quit the tourney and the banquet for -the stern joys of battle. - -His nature, one of those complex organisms having the dreamy poetic side -much developed, yet held room for physical demonstration. Preferring for -the most part contemplation to action, he had ever passed, apparently -without effort, from unchecked reverie and study to tireless bodily toil -in the quest of sport, travel, or adventure. Possessed of a constitution -originally vigorous, and unworn by dissipation, from which a sensitive -nature joined with deference to a lofty ideal had hitherto preserved -him, Wilfred Effingham approached that rare combination which has ere -now resulted, under pressure of circumstance, in the hero, the poet, the -warrior, or the statesman. - -He braced himself to withstand the shock. It was a shrewd buffet. Yet, -after realising its force, he was conscious, much to his surprise, of a -distinct feeling of exaltation. - -‘I shall suffer for it afterwards,’ he told his friend Gerald O’More, -half unconsciously, as they sat together over a turf fire which glowed -in the enormous chimney of a rude but comfortable shooting lodge; ‘but, -for the soul of me, I can’t help feeling agreeably acted upon.’ - -‘Acted upon by what?’ said his companion and college chum, with whom he -had sworn eternal friendship. ‘Is it the whisky hot? It’s equal to John -Jameson, and yet it never bothered an exciseman! Sure that same is -amaylioratin’ my lot to a degree I should have never believed possible. -Take another glass. Defy Fate and tell me all about it. Has your father, -honest man, discovered another Roman tile or Julius Cæsar’s -tobacco-pouch? [the elder Effingham was an antiquarian of great -perseverance], or have ministers gone out, to the ruin of the country, -and the triumph of those villains the radicals? ’Tis little that ever -happens in that stagnant existence that you Saxons call country life, -barring a trifle of make-believe hunting and shooting. Sure, didn’t me -uncle Phelim blaze away into a farmer’s poultry-yard in Kent for -half-an-hour, and swear (it was after lunch) that he never saw pheasants -so hard to rise before.’ - -Thus the light-hearted Irishman rattled on, well divining, for all his -apparent mirth, that something more than common had come in the letter, -that had the power to drive the blood from Wilfred’s cheek and set -Care’s seal upon his brow. That impress remained indelible, even when he -smiled, and affected to resume his ordinary cheerfulness. - -At length he spoke: ‘Gerald, old fellow! there is news from home which -most people would call bad. It is distinct of its kind. We have lost -everything; are ruined utterly. Not a chance of recovery, it seems. My -dear mother bids me understand _that_ most clearly; warns me to have no -hope of anything otherwise. The governor has been hard hit, it seems, in -foreign bonds; Central African Railways, or Kamschatka telegraph -lines,—some of the infernal traps for English capital at any rate. The -Chase is mortgaged and will have to go. The family must emigrate. -Australia is to be the future home of the Effinghams. This appears to be -settled. That’s a good deal to be hid in two sheets of note-paper, isn’t -it?’ And he tossed up the carefully directed letter, caught it as it -fell, and placed it in his pocket. - -‘My breath is taken away; reach me the whisky, if you wish to save my -life, or else it will be——’ (prompt measures were taken to relieve the -unfortunate gentleman, but without success). ‘Wilfred, me dear fellow, -do you tell me that you’re serious? What will ye do at all, at all?’ - -‘Do? What better men have had to do before now. Face the old foe of -mortals, Anagkaia, and see what she can do when a man stands up to her. -I don’t like the idea any the worse for having to cross the sea to a new -world, to find a lost fortune. After all, one was getting tired of this -sing-song, nineteenth century life of fashionable learning, fashionable -play, fashionable work—everything, in fact, regulated by dame Fashion. I -shall be glad to stretch my limbs in a hunter’s hammock, and bid adieu -to the whole unreal pageant.’ - -‘Bedad! I don’t know. I’d say the reality was nearer where we are, with -all the disadvantages of good dinners, good sport, good books, and good -company. But you’re right, me dear fellow, to put a bold face on it; and -if you have to take the shilling in the divil’s regiment, sure ye’ll die -a hero, or rise to Commander-in-Chief, if I know ye. But your mother, -and poor Miss Effingham, and the Captain—without his turnips and his -justice-room and his pointers and his poachers, his fibulæ and -amphoræ—whatever will he do among blackfellows and kangaroos? My heart -aches for ye all, Wilfred. Sure ye know it does. If ye won’t take any -more potheen, let us sleep on it; and we’ll have a great day among the -cocks, if we live, and talk it over afterwards. There never was that -sorrow yet that ye didn’t lighten it if ye tired your legs well between -sun and sun!’ - -With the morrow’s sun came an unwonted calm and settled resolve to the -soul of Wilfred Effingham. Together, gay, staunch Gerald O’More and he -took the last day’s sport they were likely to have for many a day. The -shooting was rather above than under the average, as if the ruined heir -was willing to show that his nerves had not been affected by his -prospects. - -‘I must take out the old gun,’ he said, ‘and keep up my shooting. Who -knows but that we may depend upon it for a meal now and then in this New -Atlantis that we are bound for. But one thing is fixed, old fellow, as -far as a changeable nature will permit. I shall have to be the mainstay -of my father’s house. I must play the man, if it’s in me. No more -dilettantism, no more mediæval treasures, no more tall copies. The -present, not the past, is what we must stand or fall by. The governor is -shaken by all this trouble; not the best man of business at any time. My -dear mother is a saint _en habit de Cour_; she will have to suffer a -sea-change that might break the hearts of ordinary worldlings. Upon -Rosamond and myself will fall the brunt of the battle. She has prepared -herself for it, happily, by years of unselfish care and thought. I have -been an idler and a loiterer. Now the time has come to show of what -stuff I am made. It will mean good-bye to you, Gerald O’More, fast -friend and _bon camarade_. We shall have no more shooting and fishing -together, no more talk about art and poetry, no more vacation tours, no -more rambles, for long years—let us not say for ever. Good-bye to my old -life, my old Self! God speed us all; we must arm and away.’ - -‘I’d say you might have a worse life, Wilfred, though it will come hard -on you at first to be shooting kangaroos and bushrangers, instead of -grouse and partridges, like a Christian. But we get used to everything, -I am told, even to being a land-agent, with every boy in the barony -wondering if he could tumble ye at sixty paces with the ould duck gun. -When a thing’s to be done—marrying or burying, standing out on the sod -on a foggy morning with a nate shot opposite ye, or studying for the -law—there’s nothing like facing it cool and steady. You’ll write me and -Hallam a line after you’re landed; and we’ll think of ye often enough, -never fear. God speed ye, my boy! Sure, it’s Miss Annabel that will make -the illigant colonist entirely.’ - -The friends parted. Wilfred lost no time in reaching home, where his -presence comforted the family in the midst of that most discouraging -state of change for the worse, the packing and preparing for departure. - -But he had utilised the interval since he left his friend by stern -self-examination, ending in a fixed, unalterable resolve. His mother, -his sisters, and his father were alike surprised at his changed bearing. -He had grown years older in a week. He listened to the explanation of -their misfortune from his father with respectful silence or short, -undoubting comment. He confirmed the decision to which the family -counsel had arrived. Emigration to Australia was, under the -circumstances, the only path which promised reparation of the fortunes -of the house. He carefully read the letter from Mr. Sternworth, upon -which their fate seemed to hang. He cheered his mother by expressing -regret for his previous desultory life, asking her to believe that his -future existence should be devoted to the welfare of all whom both held -so dear. - -‘_You_ have never doubted, my dearest mother,’ he said, ‘but that your -heedless son would one day do credit to his early teaching? I stand -pledged to make your words good.’ - -The arrival of the heir, who had taken his place at his father’s right -hand in so worthy a spirit, seemed to infuse confidence into the other -members of the family. Each and all appeared to recognise the fact that -their expatriation was decided upon, and while lamenting their loved -home, they commenced to gather information about their new abode, and to -dwell upon the more cheering probabilities. - -The family was not a small one. Guy Effingham was a high-spirited -schoolboy of fourteen, whose cricket and football engagements had -hitherto, with that amount of the humanities which an English public -schoolboy is compelled to master, under penalties too dire for -endurance, been sufficient to fill up his irresponsible life. It was -arranged that he was to remain at school until the week previous to -their departure. His presence at home was not necessary, while his -mother wished him to utilise the last effective teaching which he was -likely to have. To her was committed the task of preparing him for his -altered position. Two younger daughters, with a boy and girl of tender -years, the darlings of the family, completed the number of the -Effinghams. The third daughter, Annabel, was the beauty of the family. A -natural pride in her unquestioned loveliness had always mingled with the -maternal repression of all save the higher aims and qualities which it -had been the fond mother’s life-long duty to inculcate. Annabel -Effingham had received from nature the revival of the loveliness of some -ancestress, heightened and intensified by admixture of family type. She -was fair, with the bright colouring, the silken hair, the delicate -roseate glow which had long been the boast of the women of her mother’s -family—of ancient Saxon blood—for many generations. But she had -superadded to these elements of beauty a classical delicacy of outline, -a darker shade of blue in the somewhat prouder eye, a figure almost -regal in the nobility of carriage and unconscious dignity of motion, -which told of a diverse lineage. Beatrice, the second daughter of the -house, had up to the present time exhibited neither the strong -altruistic bias which, along with the faculty of organisation, -characterised Rosamond, nor the universally confessed fascination which -rendered Annabel’s path a species of royal progress. Refined, -distinguished in appearance, as indeed were all the members of the -family, she had not as yet developed any special vocation. In her -appearance one saw but the ordinary traits which stamp a highly cultured -girl of the upper classes. She was, perhaps, more distinctly literary in -her tastes than either of her sisters, but her reserved habits concealed -her attainments. For the rest, she appeared to have made up her mind to -the inevitable with less apparent effort than the other members of the -family. - -‘What can it avail—all this grieving and lamenting?’ she would say. ‘I -feel parting with The Chase, with our relations and friends—with all our -old life, in fact—deeply and bitterly. But that once admitted, what good -end is served by repeating the thought and renewing the tears? Other -people are ruined in England, and have to go to Boulogne and horrid -continental towns, where they lead sham lives, and potter about, unreal -in everything but dulness and poverty, till they die. We shall go to -Australia to _do_ something—or not to do it. Both are good in their way. -Next to honest effort I like a frank failure.’ - -‘But suppose we _do_ fail, and lose all our money, and have nothing to -eat in a horrid new country,’ said Annabel, ‘what _will_ become of us?’ - -‘Just what would become of us here, I suppose; we should have to -work—become teachers at a school, or governesses, or hospital nurses; -only, as young women are not so plentiful in Australia as in England, -why, we should be better paid.’ - -‘Oh, but here we know so many people, and they would help us to find -pleasant places to live in,’ pleaded Annabel piteously. ‘It does seem so -dreadful to be ten thousand miles away from your own country. I am sure -we shall starve!’ - -‘Don’t be a goose, Annabel. How can we starve? First, we have the chance -of making money and living in plenty, if not in refinement, on this -estate that papa is going to buy. And if that does not turn out a -success, we must find you a place as companion to the Governor-General’s -wife, or as nursery governess for _very_ young children. I’ll become a -“school marm” at Yass—that’s the name—and Rosamond will turn dressmaker, -she has such a talent for a good fit.’ - -‘Oh dear, oh dear! don’t talk of such dreadful things. Are we to go all -over the world only to become drudges and work-women? We may as well -drown ourselves at once.’ - -‘My child! my child!’ said a gentle voice. ‘What folly is this? What are -we, that we should be absolved from the trials that others have to bear? -God has chosen, for His own good purpose, to bring this misfortune upon -us. He will give us strength to bear it in a chastened spirit. If we do -not bear it in a resigned and chastened spirit, we are untrue to the -teaching which we have all our lives affected to believe in. We have all -our part to perform. Let us have no repining, my dearest Annabel. Our -way is clear, and we have others to think of who require support.’ - -‘But you _like_ to be miserable, you know, mother; you think it is God’s -hand that afflicts you,’ sobbed the desponding spoiled child. ‘I can’t -feel that way. I haven’t your faith. And it breaks my heart; I shall -die, I shall die, I know.’ - -‘Pray, my darling, pray for help and grace from on high,’ continued the -sweet, sad tones of the mother, as she drew her child’s fair head upon -her lap, and passed her hand amid ‘the clustering ringlets rich and -rare,’ while Beatrice sat rather unsympathetically by. ‘You will have me -and your sisters to cheer you.’ Here the fair disconsolate looked -distrustfully at Beatrice. - -By degrees the half-mesmeric, instinctive influence of the loved -mother’s pitying tones overcame the unwonted fit of unreason. - -‘I will try and be good,’ she murmured, looking up with a soft light in -her lovely eyes, ‘but you know I am a poor creature at best. You must -bear with me, and I will help as much as I can, and try to keep from -repining. But, oh, my home, my home, the dear old place where I was -born. How dark and dreary do this long voyage and journey seem!’ - -‘Have we not a yet longer voyage, a more distant journey to make, my own -one?’ whispered the mother, in accents soft as those with which in times -gone by she had lulled the complaining babe. ‘We know not the time, nor -the hour. Think! If we do not prepare ourselves by prayer and faith, how -dark _that_ departure will appear!’ - -‘You are always good and kind, always right, mother,’ said the girl, -recovering her composure and assuming a more steadfast air. ‘Pray for -me, that I may find strength; but do I not know that you pray for all of -us incessantly? We ought—that is—I ought to be better than I am.’ - -Among the lesser trials which, at the time of his great sorrow, -oppressed Howard Effingham, not the least was the necessity for parting -with old servants and retainers. He was a man prone to become attached -to attendants long used to his ways. Partly from kindly feeling, partly -from indolence, he much disliked changing domestics or farm labourers. -Accustomed to lean against a more readily available if not a stronger -support than his own, he was, in most relations of life, more dependent -than most men upon his confidential servants. - -In this instance, therefore, he had taken it much to heart that his -Scotch land-steward, a man of exceptional capacity and absolute personal -fidelity, having a wife also, of rare excellence in her own department, -should be torn from him by fate. - -Backed up by his trusty Andrew, with his admirable wife, he felt as if -he could have faced all ordinary colonial perils. While under Jeanie -Cargill’s care, his wife and daughters might have defied the ills of any -climate, and risked the absence of the whole College of Physicians. - -Andrew Cargill was one of those individuals of strongly marked -idiosyncrasy, a majority of whom appear to have been placed, by some -mysterious arrangement of nature, on the north side of the Tweed. -Originally the under-gardener at The Chase, he had risen slowly but -irresistibly through the gradations of upper-gardener and under-bailiff -to the limited order of land-steward required by a moderate property. He -had been a newly-married man when he formed the resolution of testing -the high wages of the Southron lairds. His family, as also his rate of -wages, had increased. His expenses he had uniformly restricted, with the -thoroughness of his economical forefathers. He despised all wasteful -ways. He managed his master’s affairs, as committed to his charge, with -more than the rigorous exactitude he was wont to apply to his own. -Gaining authority, by the steady pressure of unrelaxing forecast habit -of life, he was permitted a certain license as to advice and implied -rebuke. Had Andrew Cargill been permitted to exercise the same control -over the extra-rural affairs that he was wont to use over the -farm-servants and the plough-teams, the tenants and the trespassers, the -crops and the orchards, the under-gardeners and the pineries, no -failure, financial or otherwise, would have occurred at The Chase. - -When the dread disaster could no longer be concealed, it is questionable -whether Mr. Effingham felt anything more acutely than the necessity -which existed of explaining to this faithful follower the extent, or -worse, the cause of his misfortune. He anticipated the unbroken silence, -the incredulous expression, with which all attempts at favourable -explanation would be received. Open condemnation, of course, was out of -the question. But the mute reproach or guarded reference to his master’s -inconceivable imbecility, which on this occasion might be more strongly -accented than usual, would be hard to endure. - -Mr. Effingham could not depute his wife, or one of the girls, to convey -the information to the formidable Andrew. So he was fain to pull himself -together one morning, and go forth to this uncompromising logician. -Having briefly related the eventful tale, he concluded by dispensing -with his faithful servant, as they were going to a new country, and very -probably would never be able to employ servants again. - -Having thrown down the bombshell, the ‘lost leader’ looked fixedly at -Andrew’s unmoved countenance, and awaited the particular kind of -concentrated contempt which he doubted not would issue forth. - -His astonishment was great when, after the hurried conclusion, ‘I shall -miss you, Andrew, you may be sure, more than I say; and as for Jeanie, I -don’t know how the young ladies and the mistress will get on without -her,’ the following words issued slowly and oracularly from Andrew’s -lips:— - -‘Ye’ll no miss me ava, Maister Effingham. Dinna ye think that it’s a’ -news ye’re tellin’ me. I behoved just to speer a bit what garred the -puir mistress look sae dowie and wae. And the upshot o’ matters is that -I’m gaun wi’ ye.’ - -‘And your wife and children?’ - -‘Ye didna threep I was to leave them ahint? Andra’ Cargill isna ane o’ -thae kind o’ folk, sae just tak’ heart, and for a’ that’s come and gane -ye may lift up your heid ance mair; it’s nae great things o’ a heid, as -the auld wife said o’ the Deuk’s, but if Botany Bay is the gra-and -country they ca’ it, and the book-writers and the agents haena been -tellin’ the maist unco-omon set o’ lees, a’ may gang weel yet.’ - -‘But what’s put this in _your_ head, of all people in the world, -Andrew?’ queried his master, becoming bold, like individuals, or -corporate bodies, of purely defensive ideas, after observing tokens of -weakness in the besieging force. - -‘Weel, aweel, first and foremost, Laird, ye’ll no say that we haena -eaten your bread and saut this mony a year; there’s been neither stint -nor stay till’t. I hae naething to say against the wage; aiblins a man -weel instructed in his profession should aye be worthy o’ his hire. -Jeanie has been just spoiled by the mistress—my heart’s sairvice to her -and the young leddies—till ilka land they were no in, wad be strange -eneugh to her, puir body. And the lang and short o’ the hail matter is, -that we loe ye and your bonnie lads and lassies, Laird, sae weel that we -winna be pairted frae ye.’ - -As Mr. Effingham grasped the hand of the staunch, true servitor, who -thus stood by him in his need, under whose gnarled bark of natural -roughness lay hid so tender and true a core, the tears stood in his -eyes. - -‘I shall never forget this, Andrew,’ said he; ‘you and Jeanie, old -friend, will be the comfort of our lives in the land over-sea, and I -cannot say what fresh courage your determination has given me. But are -you sure it will be for your own advantage? You must have saved money, -and might take a farm and live snugly here.’ - -‘I was aboot to acquent ye, Laird,’ said the conscientious Scot, too -faithful to his religious principles to take credit for a -disinterestedness to which he felt but partially entitled. ‘Ye’ll see, -Laird, for ye’re weel acquent wi’ the Word, that the battle’s no always -to the strong, nor the race to the swift. Ye’ll ken that, frae your ain -experience—aweel, I winna just say that neither’—proceeded Andrew, -getting slightly involved between his quotations and his determination -to be ‘faithful’ to his erring master, and by no means cloaking his sins -of omission. ‘I’ll no say but what ye’ve been lettin’ ither folks lead -ye, and throw dust in ye’re een in no the maist wiselike fashion, as nae -doot ye wad hae dune wi’ the tenants, puir bodies, gin I had letten ye. -But touchin’ my ain affairs, I haena sae muckle cause to brag; for maybe -I was unco stiff-necked, and it behoved to chasten me, as weel’s -yersell; I hae tint—just flung awa’—my sma’ scrapin’s and savin’s, these -saxteen years and mair, in siccan a senseless daft-like way too!’ - -Here Andrew could not forbear a groan, which was echoed by an -exclamation from his master. - -‘I am sincerely grieved—astonished beyond expression! Why, Andrew, -surely _you_ have not been dabbling in stocks and foreign loans?’ - -‘Na—nae ga-amblin’ for _me_, Laird!’ replied Andrew sourly, and with an -accentuation which implied speedy return to his ordinary critical state -of mind; ‘but if I had minded the Scripture, I wadna hae lost money and -faith at one blow. “Strike not hands for a surety,”’ it saith, ‘but I -trusted Geordie Ballantyne like a brither; my ain cousin, twice removed. -He was aboot to be roupit oot, stock and lock, and him wi’ a hoosefu’ o’ -weans. I just gaed surety to him for three hunder pound!’ - -‘You were never so mad—a prudent man like you?’ - -‘And he just flitted to America, fled frae his ain land, his plighted -word, and left me to bear the wyte o’t. It’s nae use greetin’ ower spilt -brose. The money’s a’ paid, and Andra’ Cargill’s as puir a man’s when he -cam’ to The Chase, saxteen years last Michaelmas. Sae, between the -heart-break it wad be to pairt wi’ the family, and the sair heart I hae -gotten at pairtin’ wi’ my siller, the loss o’ a friend—“mine own -familiar freend,” as the Psawmist says—as weel’s the earnings o’ the -maist feck o’ my days, at ae blast, I hae settled to gang oot, Laird, to -Austra-alia, and maybe lay oot a wheen straight furrows for ye, as I did -lang syne on the bonnie holms o’ Ettrick.’ - -Here Andrew’s voice faltered, and the momentous unprecedented -conversation ended abruptly. - -The unfeigned delight with which his wife and daughters received the -news did much to reconcile Mr. Effingham to his expatriation, and even -went far to persuade him that he had, in some way, originated the whole -idea. Nor was their satisfaction unfounded. Andrew, with all his -apparent sternness and occasional incivility, was shrewd, capable, and -even versatile, in the application of his industry and unerring common -sense to a wide range of occupations. He was the ideal colonist of his -order, as certain to succeed in his own person as to be the most helpful -and trustworthy of retainers. - -As for Jeanie, she differed from her husband in almost every respect, -except in the cardinal virtues. She had been a rustic celebrity in her -youth, and Andrew occasionally referred still, in moments of unbending, -to the difficulties of his courtship, and the victory gained over a host -of rival suitors. She still retained the softness of manner and -tenderness of nature which no doubt had originally led to the -fascination of her masterful, rugged-natured husband. - -For the rest, Jean Cargill had always been one of those servants, rare -even in England, the land of peerless domestics, whose loving, unselfish -service knew no abatement in sickness and in health, good fortune or -evil hap. Her perceptive tastes and strong sense of propriety rendered -her, as years rolled on, a trusted friend; an infinitely more suitable -companion for the mistress and her children, as she always called them, -than many a woman of higher culture. A tireless nurse in time of -sickness; a brave, clear-headed, but withal modest and cautious, aid to -the physician in the hour of peril. She had stood by the bedstead of -more than one member of the family, in the dark hour, when the angel of -death waited on the threshold of the chamber. Never had she slackened or -faltered, by night or day, careless of food or repose till the crisis -had passed, and the ‘whisper of wings in the air’ faded away. - - -Mrs. Effingham, with all her maternal fondness and devotion, had been -physically unable at times to bear up against the fatigue of protracted -watching and anxiety. She had more than once, from sheer bodily -weakness, been compelled to abandon her post. But to Jeanie Cargill, -sustained by matchless love and devotion, such a thing had never -occurred. At noon or midnight, her hand was ever ready to offer the -needful food, the vital draught; her ear ever watchful to catch the -faint murmur of request; her eye, sleepless as a star, was ever -undimmed, vigilant to detect the slightest change of symptom. Many -nurses had been heard of, seen, and even read of, in the domestic -circles of Reigate, but in the estimation of every matron capable of -giving an opinion, Jeanie Cargill, by countless degrees of comparison, -outshone them all. - -That night, when Mrs. Effingham, as was her wont, sought relief from the -burden of her daily cares, and the crowding anxieties of the morrow, -‘meekly kneeling upon her knees,’ it appeared to her as if in literal -truth the wind had been tempered to the shorn lamb. That terrible travel -into the unknown, the discomforts and dangers of the melancholy main, -with the dreary waste of colonial life, would be quite different -adventures, softened by the aid and companionship of everybody’s ‘dear -old Jeanie.’ Her patient industry, her helpful sympathy, her matchless -loyalty and self-denial, would be well-springs of heaven-sent water in -that desert. Andrew’s company, though not socially exhilarating, was -also an invigorating fact. Altogether, Mrs. Effingham’s spirits -improved, and her hopes arose freshly strengthened. - -No sooner was it settled that Andrew and his fortunes were to be wafted -o’er the main, in the vessel which bore the Effingham family, than, with -characteristic energy, he had constituted himself Grand Vizier and -responsible adviser. He definitely approved of much that had been done, -and counselled still further additions to the outfit. Prime and -invincible was his objection to leave behind a certain pet ‘Jersey coo,’ -‘a maist extraordinar’ milker, and for butter, juist unco-omon. If she -could be ta’en oot to thae parts, she wad be a sma’ fortune—that is, in -ony Christian land where butter and cheese were used. Maybe the -sea-captain wad let her gang for the value o’ her milk; she was juist in -the height o’t the noo. It wad be a sin and a shame to let her be roupit -for half price, like the ither kye, puir things.’ - -Persistent advocacy secured his point. Daisy had been morally abandoned -to her fate; but Wilfred, goaded by Andrew’s appeals, had an interview -with the shipping clerk, and arranged that Daisy, if approved of, should -fill the place of the proverbial milch cow, so invariably bracketed with -the ‘experienced surgeon’ in the advertisements of the Commercial -Marine. Her calf also, being old enough to eat hay, was permitted to -accompany her. - -Andrew also combated the idea that the greyhounds, or at least a pair, -should be left behind, still less the guns or fishing-rods. - -‘Wasna the Laird the best judge of a dog in the haill country-side, and -no that far frae the best shot? What for suld he walk aboot the woods in -Australia waesome and disjaskit like, when there might be kangaroos, or -whatna kind o’ ootlandish game, to be had for the killing? Hoot, hoot, -puir Page and Damsel couldna be left ahint, nor the wee terrier Vennie.’ - -There was more trouble with the greyhounds’ passage than the cows, but -in consideration of the large amount of freight and passage-money paid -by the family, the aristocratic long-tails were franked. Andrew, with -his own hands, packed up the fowling-pieces and fishing-rods, which, -with the exaggerated prudence of youth, Wilfred had been minded to leave -behind, considering nothing worthy of removal that would not be likely -to add to their material gains in the ‘new settlement.’ He had yet to -learn that recreation can never be advantageously disregarded, whether -the community be a young or an old one. - -Little by little, a chain of slow yet subtle advances, by which, equally -with geologic alterations of the earth’s surface, its ephemeral living -tenants proceed or retrograde, effected the translation of Howard -Effingham, with wife and children, retainers and household goods. Averse -by nature to all exertion which savoured of detail, reserving his energy -for what he was pleased to dignify with the title of great occasions, as -he looked back over the series of multitudinous necessary arrangements, -Howard Effingham wondered, in his secret soul, at the transference of -his household. Left to himself, he was candid enough to admit, such a -result could never have been achieved. But the ceaseless ministration of -Jeanie and Andrew, the calm forethought of Mrs. Effingham, the unsparing -personal labour of Wilfred, had, in due time, worked the miracle. - - - - - CHAPTER II - THE FIRST CAMP - - -Whatever may be the loss or injury inseparable from misfortune, no one -of experience denies that the pain is lightened when the blow has -fallen. The shuddering terror, the harrowing doubts, which precede an -operation, far outrun the torture of the knife. Worse a thousandfold to -endure than actual misery, poverty and disgrace, is the dull sense of -impending doom, the daily anxiety, the secret dread, the formless, -unhasting, unsparing terror, which each day brings nearer to the victim. - -Howard Effingham had, for weeks past, suffered the torments of the lost. -An unwise concealment of the coming ruin which his reserved temperament -forbade him to announce, had stretched him upon the rack. The acute -agony was now past, and he felt unspeakably relieved as, with increasing -completeness, the preparations for departure were accomplished. - -After the shock of the disaster he commenced the necessary duties with -an unwontedly tranquil mind. He had despatched a bank draft for the -amount mentioned by his friend and counsellor the Rev. Harley -Sternworth. Prior to this needful act, he held various conferences with -the trustees of Mrs. Effingham’s settlement. In many instances such -authorities are difficult, even impracticable, to deal with, preferring -the minimum interest which can be safely procured in the matter of trust -money, to the slightest risk. In this instance, the arbiter of destiny -was an old gentleman, at once prudent yet liberal-minded, who did not -disdain to examine the arguments in favour of the Australian plan. After -reading Mr. Sternworth’s letter, and comparing the facts therein stated -with colonial securities, to which he had access, he gave in his -adhesion to the investment, and converted his coadjutor, a mild, -obstinate personage, who could with difficulty be induced to see any -other investment legally open to them but the ‘sweet simplicity of the -three per cents.’ - -Long was the last day in coming, but it came at last. Their stay in the -old home was protracted until only time was given for the journey to -Southampton, where the staunch, old-fashioned wool-ship lay, which was -to receive their condensed personal effects and, as it seemed to them, -shrivelled-up personalities. - -Adieus were said, some with sore weeping and many tears; some with -moderate but sincere regret; some with the half-veiled indifference with -which any action not affecting their own comfort, interest, or -reputation is regarded by a large class of acquaintances. The minor -possessions—the carriages, the horses, the library, the furniture—were -sold. A selection of the plainest articles of this last requisite, -which, the freight being wonderfully low, their chief adviser had -counselled them to carry with them, was alone retained. - -‘It will sell for next to nothing,’ his last letter had said, ‘judging -from my experience after the regiment had “got the route,” and you will -have it landed here for less than the price of very ordinary -substitutes. Bring all the small matters you can, that may be useful; -and don’t leave the piano behind. I must have a tune when I come to see -you at Warbrok, and hear Mrs. Effingham sing “Auld Robin Gray” again. -You recollect how our old Colonel broke down, with tears rolling over -his wrinkled cheeks, when she sang it?’ - -All was now over. The terrible wrench had been endured, tearing apart -those living fibres which in early life are entwined around hearth and -home. They had gazed in mournful farewell upon each familiar thing which -from childhood’s hour had seemed a portion of their sheltered life. Like -plants and flowerets, no denizens of hothouse or simulated tropic clime, -but not the less carefully tended from harmful extremes, climatic or -social, had the Effingham family grown and flourished. Now they were -about to be abandoned to the elemental forces. Who should say whether -they would wither under rude blasts and a fiercer sun, or, from natural -vigour and inherent vitality, burgeon and bloom beneath the Southern -heavens? - -Of the whole party, she who showed less outward token of sorrow, felt in -her heart the most unresting anguish. To a woman like Mrs. Effingham, -reared from infancy in the exclusive tenets of English county life, the -idea of so comprehensive a change, of a semi-barbarous migration, had -been well-nigh more bitter than death—but for one source of aid and -spiritual support, unendurable. - -Her reliance had a twofold foundation. The undoubting faith in a Supreme -Being, who ordered aright all the ways of His creatures, even when -apparently remote from happiness, remained unshaken. Firmly had she ever -trusted in that God by whom her former life had been guided. Events -might take a mysteriously doubtful course. But, in the wilderness, under -leafy forest-arches, beneath the shadow of the gathering tempest, on -land or ocean, she would trust in God and her Redeemer. Steadfast and -brave of mien, though with trembling lip and sickened heart, she -marshalled her little troop and led them on board the stout ship, which -only awaited the morrow’s dawn to spread her wings and sweep -southward—ever southward—amid unknown seas, until the great island -continent should arise from out the sky-line, telling of a land which -was to provide them with a home, with friends, even perhaps a fortune. -What a mockery in that hour of utter wretchedness did such hope -promptings appear! - -After protracted mental conflict, no more perfect system of rest can be -devised than that afforded by a sea-voyage. Anxiety, however mordant, -must be lulled to rest under the fixed conditions of a journey, before -the termination of which no battle of life can be commenced, no campaign -resumed. - -Toil and strife, privation and poverty, labour and luck, all the -contending forces of life are hushed as in a trance. As in hibernation, -the physical and mental attributes appear to rally, to recruit fresh -stores of energy. ‘The dead past buries its dead’—sorrowfully perchance, -and with silent weeping. But the clouds which have gathered around the -spirit disperse and flee heavenwards, as from a snow-robed Alp at -morning light. Then the roseate hues of dawn steal slowly o’er the -silver-pure peaks and glaciers. The sun gilds anew the dark pine forest, -the purple hills. Once more hope springs forth ardent and unfettered. -Endeavour presses onward to victory or to death. - -To the Effingham family came a natural surprise, that, under their -circumstances of exile and misfortune, any cheerfulness could occur. The -parents possessed an air of decent resignation. But the younger members -of the family, after the first days of unalloyed wretchedness, commenced -to exhibit the elastic temperament of youth. - -The seamanship displayed on the staunch sailing ship commenced to -interest them. The changing aspects of sea and sky, the still noon, the -gathering storm-cloud, the starry midnight, the phosphorescent -fire-trail following the night-path of their bark—all these had power to -move the sad hearts of the exiles. And, in youth, to move the heart is -to lighten the spirit. - -Wilfred Effingham, true to his determination to deliver himself over to -every practical duty which might grow out of their life, had procured -books professing to give information with regard to all the Australian -colonies. - -With difficulty he managed, after an extended literary tour involving -Tasmania, Swan River, and New Zealand, to distinguish the colony to -which they were bound, though he failed to gather precise information -regarding the district in which their land was situated. He made out -that the climate was mild, and favourable to the Anglo-Saxon -constitution; that in mid-winter, flowering shrubs and delicate plants -bloomed in spite of the pretended rigour of the season; that the heat in -summer was considerable, as far as shown by the reading of the -thermometer, but that from the extreme dryness of atmosphere no greater -oppressiveness followed than in apparently cooler days in other -climates. - -‘Here, mother,’ he said, having mastered the latter fact, ‘we have been -unconsciously coming to the exact country suited to your health and -pursuits. You know how fond of flowers you are. Well, you can have a -winter garden now, without the expense of glass or the trouble of -hothouse flues; while you can cheat the season by abstaining from colds, -which you could never do in England, you know.’ - -‘I shall be happy to have a little garden of my own, my son,’ she -replied, ‘but who is to work in it? We have done for ever, I suppose, -with head and under gardeners. You and Guy and everybody will always, I -suppose, be at farm-work, or herding cattle and sheep, busy from morning -to dark. How glad we shall be to see your faces at night!’ - -‘It does not follow,’ replied Wilfred, ‘that we shall never have a -moment to spare. Listen to what this author says: “The colonist who has -previously been accustomed to lead a life, where intervals of leisure -and intellectual recreation hold an acknowledged place, must not -consider that, in choosing Australia for his home, he has forfeited all -right to such indulgences. Let him not think that he has pledged himself -to a life of unbroken toil and unremitting manual labour. On the -contrary, he will discover that the avocations of an Australian country -gentleman chiefly demand the exercise of ordinary prudence and of those -rudimentary business habits which are easily acquired. Intelligent -supervision, rather than manual labour, is the special qualification for -colonial success; and we do not err in saying that by its exercise more -fortunes have been made than by the rude toils which are supposed to be -indispensable in the life of an Australian settler.” - -‘There, mother!’ said the ardent adventurer. ‘That writer is a very -sensible fellow. He knows what he is talking about, for he has been ever -so many years in Australia, and has been over every part of it.’ - -‘Well, there certainly seems permission given to us to have a -flower-garden for mamma without ruining ourselves or neglecting our -business,’ said Rosamond. ‘And if the climate is so beautiful as they -say, these dreadful February neuralgia-martyrdoms will be things of the -past with you, dearest old lady.’ - -‘There, mother, what do you say to that? Why, you will grow so young and -beautiful that you will be taken for our elder sister, and papa would be -ashamed to say you are his wife, only that old gentlemen generally marry -young girls nowadays. Then, fancy what a garden we shall have at The -Chase—we _must_ call it The Chase, no matter what its present name is. -It wouldn’t feel natural for us to live anywhere but at a Chase. It -would be like changing our name.’ - - * * * * * - -On board ship there is always abundant leisure for talk and recreation, -especially in low latitudes and half calms. The Effinghams, after they -had been a month out, began to feel sensibly the cheering effects of -total change of scene—the life-breathing atmosphere of the unbounded -sea. The demons of Regret and Fear, for the most part, shun the blue -wave and lie in wait on land for unwary mortals. The ship was seaworthy -and spacious, the officers capable, the few passengers passably -agreeable. Gradually the tone was restored of Captain Effingham’s -nervous system. He ceased to repine and regret. He even beheld some -grains of hope in the future, black as the outlook had until now -appeared. While the expression of sweet serenity and calm resignation -which ever dwelt upon the features of Mrs. Effingham became heightened -and assured under the concomitants of the voyage, until she appeared to -radiate peace and goodwill sufficient to affect beneficially the whole -ship’s company. As for the two little ones, Selden and Blanche, they -appeared to have been accustomed since infancy to a seafaring life. They -ran about unchecked, and were in everybody’s way and every one’s -affections. They were the youngest children on board, and many a rough -sailor turned to look, with something like a glistening in his eye, on -the saucy brown-eyed boy, and the delicate little five-year-old fairy, -whose masses of fair hair floated in the breeze, or were temporarily -confined with an unwilling ribbon. - -It seemed but the lengthening limit of a dream when the seaman at the -good ship’s bow was commanded to keep a lookout for land; when, yet -another bright blue day, fading into eve, and a low coast-line is seen, -rising like an evening cloud from out a summer sea. - -‘Hurrah!’ said Wilfred Effingham, as the second mate pointed out the -land of promise, ‘now our life begins. We shall belong to ourselves -again, instead of being the indulgently treated slaves—very well -treated, I confess—but still the unquestionable bond-slaves of that -enlightened taskmaster, Captain Henry Fleetby of the _Marlshire_.’ - -‘We have been very happy, my dear,’ said Mrs. Effingham, ‘happier than I -should have thought possible in a ship, under any circumstances. Let us -hope our good fortune will continue on land. I shall always look back to -this voyage as the most wonderful rest that our poor wounded hearts -could have enjoyed. Your papa looks quite himself again, and I feel -better than I have done for years. I shall remember our captain, his -officers, and his ship, with gratitude, as long as I live.’ - -‘I feel quite attached to the dear old vessel,’ said Annabel, ‘but we -can’t go sailing about the world all our lives, like respectable Flying -Dutchmen. I suppose the captain must turn us out to-morrow. Who would -have thought we should regret coming to the end of the voyage?’ - -How calm was that last day of the long, but not too long, voyage, when -they glided for hours on a waveless sea, by a great wall of sandstone -cliffs, which finally opened, as if by magic, and discovered the portal -of an Enchanted Haven! Surely the prospect could not all be real, of -this wondrous nook, stolen from the vast, the limitless Pacific, in -which they discerned, through the empurpling eve, villas, cottages, -mansions, churches, white-walled and fantastic to their eyes, girt with -strange shrubs and stately forest trees of unknown aspect. As the -_Marlshire_ floated to her anchorage, threading a fleet of skiffs, which -made the waters gay with many a sail, the full heart of the mother and -the wife overflowed. - -Involuntarily a fervent prayer of thanksgiving went up to that Being who -had safely guarded them o’er the waste of ocean; had permitted their -entrance into this good land, which lay ready to receive them in their -need. - -Passengers concluding a short voyage are nervously anxious to land, and -commence the frantic enjoyment of existence on _terra firma_. Not so -with the denizens of the good ship _Marlshire_, which had been their -home and dwelling-place for more than a quarter of a year. Having grown, -with the strange adaptiveness of our nature, to love the gallant bark, -you revere the captain, respect the first officer, and believe in the -second. Even the crew is above the average of the mercantile Jack-tar -novel. You will always swear by the old tub; and you will not go on -shore till to-morrow morning, if then. - -All things considered, the family decided to stay quietly on board the -_Marlshire_ that night, so as to disembark in a leisurely way in the -morning, when they would have the day before them in which to make -arrangements. - -They talked of staying quietly on board, but the excitement of being so -near the land was too much for them. The unnatural quietude of the ship, -the calm water of the bay, the glancing lights, which denoted the -thousand homes of the city, the cries and sounds of the massed -population of a seaport, the warm midnight air, the woods and white -beaches which denoted the shore-line, the gliding harbour-boats, all -seemed to sound in one strangely distinct chorus: ‘Land, land, land at -last.’ All magically exciting, these sounds and scenes forbade sleep. -Long after the other members of the family had gone below for the night, -Wilfred and Rosamond paced the deck, eagerly discussing plans for the -future, and, with the sanguine temper of youth, rapidly following each -freshly-formed track to fortune. - -No one was likely to indulge in slumber after sunrise. A babel of sounds -announced that the unlading of cargo had commenced. Their last ship -breakfast prefaced the actual stepping upon the friendly gangway, which -now alone divided them from the other side of the world. Before that -feat was performed, a squarely-built, grey-headed personage, in clerical -garb, but withal of a somewhat secular manner, walked rapidly from the -wharf to the deck and confronted the party. - -‘Here you are at last, all safe and sound, Howard, my dear fellow!’ said -he, shaking hands warmly with Mr. Effingham. ‘Not so much changed -either; too easy-going for that. Pray present me to Mrs. Effingham and -the young ladies. Your eldest son looking after the luggage?—proper -place for him. Allow me to take your arm, my dear madam, and to conduct -you to the hotel, where I have engaged rooms for you. May as well set -off—talk as we go along. Only heard of the _Marlshire_ being signalled -the day before yesterday. Came a long journey—slightly knocked up this -morning, but soon recovered—splendid climate—make a young man of you, -Earl Percy, in a year or two. We always called him Earl Percy in the -regiment, Mrs. Effingham. Perhaps he told you. And all this fine family -too—two, four, six, seven. I can hardly credit my senses. Plenty of room -for them in this country—plenty of room—that’s one thing.’ - -‘We have every reason to be thankful for the comfortable way in which we -have voyaged here,’ said Mrs. Effingham; ‘and now that you have so -kindly come to meet us, I feel as if half our troubles were over.’ - -‘Your troubles are just commencing, my dear madam, but with Harley -Sternworth’s help something may be done to lighten them. Still I feel -sure that these young ladies will look upon difficulties in a sensible -way, not expecting too much, or being discouraged—just at first, you -know.’ - -‘Your country, my old friend, will have to look bad indeed if my wife -cannot find a good word to say for it,’ said Mr. Effingham, roused to -unwonted cheerfulness. ‘At any rate, it suits you well; you look as hard -as a west country drover.’ - -‘Never was better. Haven’t had a dose of medicine for years. Ride fifty -miles a day if necessary. Finest climate—finest country—under the sun. -Lots of parish work and travelling, with a dash of botanising, and a -pinch of geology to fill up spare time. Wouldn’t go back and live in a -country town for the world. Mope to death.’ - -All this time the reverend gentleman was pressing forward up a gentle -incline, towards the lower end of George Street, and after walking up -that noble thoroughfare, and discreetly refraining from mention of the -buildings which ornament that part of it, he turned again towards the -water and piloted his party successfully to Batty’s Hotel. - -‘Here, my dear madam, you will find that I have secured you pleasant -apartments for a week or ten days, during which time you will be able to -recruit after the voyage, and do justice to the beauties of the city. -You are not going up country at once. A few days’ leisure will be -economy in the end.’ - -‘So we are not to start off hundreds of miles at once, in a bullock -dray, as the captain told us?’ said Rosamond. - -‘No, my dear young lady, neither now nor, I hope, at any time will such -a mode of travelling be necessary. I cannot say too much for your -conveyance, but it will be fairly comfortable and take you to your -destination safely. After that will commence what you will doubtless -consider to be a tolerably rough life. Yes—a rough life.’ - -‘These young people have made up their minds to anything short of living -like Esquimaux,’ said Mr. Effingham. ‘I don’t think you will frighten -them. You and I saw curious backwoods places when we were quartered in -Canada, didn’t we? You will hardly match them in Australia.’ - -‘Nothing to be compared to it,’ said Mr. Sternworth earnestly. ‘We have -no winter here, to begin with; that is, none worth speaking about for -cold. Moreover, the people are intensely British in their manners and -customs, in an old-fashioned way. But I am not going to explain -everything. You will have to _live_ the explanation, which is far better -than hearing it, and is sure to be retained by the memory.’ - -It was decided that no move was to be made for the interior until the -baggage was landed, and arrangements made for its safe carriage by dray. - -‘If you leave before all is ready,’ said their mentor, ‘you run risk of -the loss of a portion, by mistake or negligence; and this loss may never -be repaired. You will find your furniture of immense value in the new -abode, and will congratulate yourself upon having brought it. It is -astonishing with what different eyes you look upon a table or sideboard -here and in England.’ - -‘I was anxious to bring out some of our old possessions,’ said Mrs. -Effingham. ‘But I had hard work to persuade my husband that we might not -be able to procure such here. Your advice was most opportune. I feel -more pleased than I can say that we were able to act upon it.’ - -At lunch they were joined by Wilfred, who had discovered that there was -no chance of all the furniture coming ashore that day. He had arranged -with the captain that Andrew and his family should remain on board, as -also Daisy the cow, until everything was ready to load the drays with -the heavy baggage. - -Andrew had expressed himself much pleased with the arrangement, -regarding the ship as ‘mair hamelike’ than the busy foreign-looking -city, to the inhabitants of which he did not take kindly, particularly -after an exploring stroll, which happened to be on the Sunday after -arrival. - -‘A maist freevolous folk, given up to mammon-worship and -pleesure-huntin’,—walkin’ in thae gairdens—no that they’re no just -by-ordinar’ for shrubs and floorin’ plants frae a’ lands—walkin’ and -haverin’ in the gairdens on the Sawbath day, a’ smilin’ and heedless, -just on the vairge o’ happiness. Saw ye ever the like? It’s juist -fearsome.’ - -Upon the lady portion of the family, the city with its shops, parks, and -inhabitants made a more favourable impression. - -Mr. Sternworth was untiring in showing them, in the excursions which -Mrs. Effingham and the girls made under his guidance, the beauties of -the city. They wandered much in the lovely public gardens, to Mrs. -Effingham’s intense delight, whose love of flowers was, perhaps, her -strongest taste. They drove out on the South Head road, and duly noted -the white-walled mansions, plunged deeply in such luxuriant -flower-growth as the Northern strangers had rarely yet beheld. -Wonderfully gracious seemed the weather. It was the Australian spring -with air as soft and balmy as that of Italy in her fairest hours. - -How enjoyable was that halt between two stages of existence! Daily, as -they rose from the morning meal, they devoted themselves to fresh -rambles around the city, under the chaperonage of the worthy person. -They commenced to feel an involuntary exhilaration. The pure air, the -bright days, the glowing sun, the pleasant sea-breeze, combined to cause -an indefinable conviction that they had found a region formed for aid -and consolation. - -The streets, the equipages, the people, presented, it is true, few of -the contrasts, to their English experience, which a foreign town would -have afforded. Yet was there the excitement, strong and vivid, which -arises from the first sight of a strange land and an unfamiliar people. - -‘This town has a great look of Marseilles,’ said Wilfred, as they -loitered, pleasantly fatigued, towards their temporary home in the -deepening twilight. ‘The same white, balconied, terraced houses of pale -freestone; the southern climate, the same polyglot water-side -population, only the Marseilles quay might be stowed away in a hundred -corners of this wonderful harbour; and the people—only look at them—have -a Parisian tendency to spend their evenings in the streets. I suppose -the mildness of the climate tends to it.’ - -‘This kind of thing, I suppose, strikes you sharply at first,’ said Mr. -Sternworth; ‘but my eyes have become so accustomed to all the aspects of -my little world, that I cannot see much difference between it and many -English places I have known in my day. The variations noted at first -have long since disappeared; and I feel as much at home as I used to do -at Bideford, when I was quartered there with the old regiment.’ - -‘But surely the people must be different from what they are in England,’ -said Beatrice. ‘The country is different, the trees, the plants—how -beautiful many of them are!—and the climate; surely all this must tend -to alter the character or the appearance of the people.’ - -‘It may in a few centuries have that effect, my dear young lady,’ said -the old gentleman, ‘but such changes are after the fashion of nature’s -workings, imperceptibly slow. You will agree with me in another year, -that many old acquaintances in men and manners are to be met with out -here, and the rest present only outward points of divergence.’ - -The days of restful peace had passed. The valuable freight—to them -invaluable—having been safely loaded, Mr. Sternworth unfolded the plan -which he had arranged for their journey. - -‘You are aware,’ he said, ‘that Warbrok Chase, as the young ladies have -decided to call your estate, is more than 200 miles from Sydney. It lies -40 miles beyond Yass, which town is distant 180 miles from the -Metropolis. Now, although we shall have railways in good time, there is -nothing of the sort yet, and the roads are chiefly in their natural -state. I would therefore suggest that you should travel in a roomy -horse-waggon, comfortably fitted up, taking a tent with you in which to -sleep at night. I have procured a driver well acquainted with the -country, who knows all the camps and stopping-places, and may be -depended upon to take you safely to your journey’s end.’ - -‘No railways, no coaches,’ said Mr. Effingham; ‘yours is rather a -primitive country, Harley, it must be confessed; but you know what is -best for us all, and the weather is so mild that none of us can suffer -from the bivouac.’ - -‘I should not have hazarded it if there had been any risk to health,’ -said the old gentleman, bowing courteously. ‘There are coaches, however, -and you might reach your destination in four days, after hurried -travelling. But the tariff is expensive for so large a party; you would -be crowded, or meet unsuitable fellow-travellers, while you could take -but little of your luggage with you.’ - -‘I vote for the overland journey,’ said Rosamond. ‘I am sure it will be -quite refreshingly eastern. I suppose Andrew and Jeanie and poor dear -Daisy and the dogs and everything can go.’ - -‘Everything and everybody you please but the heavy luggage. Your -servants will be able to sleep under a part of the waggon-tilt, which -will be comfortable enough at night. The cow will give you milk for your -tea. Even the greyhounds may catch you a wallaby or two, which will come -in for soup.’ - -‘There could not be a better scheme,’ said Wilfred exultingly. ‘My dear -sir, you are a second father to us. How long do you think it will take -us to get to Warbrok altogether?’ - -‘You will have to make up your minds to ten or twelve days’ travelling, -I am afraid—say, twenty miles a day. I really believe you will not find -it tedious, but, as with your water journey, get quite to like it. -Besides, there is one grand advantage, as far as the young ladies are -concerned.’ - -‘What is that?’ said Annabel, with added interest, but somewhat doleful -countenance. ‘Is there _any_ advantage in travelling like gipsies?’ - -‘It is this, then, my dear girls,’ said the old man, bending upon them -his clear, kindly beaming eyes, ‘that you will make acquaintance with -the rougher habitudes (and yet not unduly so) of country life in -Australia by this primitive forest journeying. When you arrive at your -destination you will therefore be proportionately satisfied with your -new residence, because it will represent _a settled home_. Your daily -journey will by that time have become a task, so that you will hail the -prospect of repose with thankfulness.’ - -‘Is that all?’ asked Annabel with a disappointed air. ‘Then we are to -undergo something dreadful, in order that something only disagreeable -may not look so bad after it. Is all Australian life like that? But I -daresay I shall die young, and so it won’t matter much. Is the lunch -nearly ready? I declare I am famishing.’ - -Every one laughed at this characteristic sequence to Annabel’s prophecy, -and the matter of the march having been settled, their friend promised -to send up the waggon-driver next morning, in order that the proper -fittings and the lamps—indispensable articles—and luggage might be -arranged and packed. A tent also was purchased, and bedding, cooking -utensils, provisions, etc., secured. - -‘You will find Dick Evans an original character,’ said the parson, ‘but -I do not know any man in the district so well suited for this particular -service. He has been twenty years in Australia, and knows everything, -both good and evil, that can be known of the country and people. He is -an old soldier, and in the 50th Regiment saw plenty of service. He has -his faults, but they don’t appear on the surface, and I know him well -enough to guarantee that you will be wholly ignorant of them. His -manners—with a dash of soldier servant—are not to be surpassed.’ - -At an hour next morning so soon after dawn that Andrew Cargill, the most -incorruptible of early birds, was nearly caught napping, Mr. Dick Evans -arrived with two horses and his waggon. The rest of the team, not being -wanted, he had left in their paddock at Homebush. He immediately placed -the waggon in the most convenient position for general reference, took -out his horses, which he accommodated with nose-bags, and with an air of -almost suspicious deference inquired of Andrew what he could commence to -do in the way of packing. - -The two men, as if foreseeing that possible encounters might henceforth -take place between them, looked keenly at each other. Richard Evans had -the erect bearing of which the recipient of early drill can rarely -divest himself. His wiry figure but slightly above the middle height, -his clean-shaved, ruddy cheek, his keen grey eye, hardly denoted the -fifty years and more which he carried so lightly. - -A faultless constitution, an open-air occupation with habits of great -bodily activity, had borne him scatheless through a life of hardship and -risk. - -This personage commenced with a request to be shown the whole of the -articles intended to be taken, gently but firmly withstanding any -opinion of Andrew’s to the contrary, and replying to his protests with -the mild superiority of the attendant in a lunatic asylum. After the -whole of the light luggage had been displayed, he addressed himself to -the task of loading and securing it with so much economy of space and -advantage of position, that Andrew readily yielded to him the right to -such leadership in future. - -‘Nae doot,’ he said, ‘the auld graceless sworder that he is, has had -muckle experience in guiding his team through thae pathless -wildernesses, and it behoves a wise man to “jouk and let the jaw gae -by.” But wae’s me, it’s dwelling i’ the tents o’ Kedar!’ - -Dick Evans, who was a man of few words and strong in the heat of -argument, was by no means given to mixing up discussion with work. He -therefore kept on steadily with his packing until evening, only -requiring from Andrew such help and information as were indispensable. - -‘There,’ said he, as he removed the low-crowned straw hat from his -heated brow, and prepared to fill his pipe, ‘I think that will about do. -The ladies can sit there in the middle, where I’ve put the tent loose, -and use it as a sofy, if they’ve a mind to. I can pitch it in five -minutes at night, and they can sleep in it as snug as if they had a -cottage with them. You and your wife can have the body of the waggon to -yourselves at night, and I’ll sleep under the shafts. The captain and -the young gentlemen can have all the room between the wheels, and nobody -can want more than that. I suppose your missis can do what cooking’s -wanted?’ - -‘Nae doot,’ Andrew replied with dignity, ‘Mistress Cargill wad provide a -few bits o’ plain victual. A wheen parritch, a thocht brose, wad serve -a’ hands better than flesh meat, and tea or coffee, or siccan trash.’ - -‘Porridge won’t do for me,’ said the veteran firmly, ‘not if I know it. -Oatmeal’s right enough for you Scotchmen, and not bad stuff either, _in -your own country_, but beef and mutton’s our tack in Australia.’ - -‘And will ye find a flesher in this “bush,” as they ca’ it, that we’ve -to push through?’ demanded Andrew. ‘Wad it no be mair wiselike to keep -to victual that we can carry in our sacks?’ - -‘Get plenty of beef and mutton and everything else on the road,’ said -Mr. Evans, lighting his pipe and declining further argument. ‘Don’t you -forget to bring a frying-pan. I’ll take the horses back to the paddock -now and be here by daylight, so as we can make a good start.’ - -It had been arranged by Mr. Sternworth that the boys, as he called them, -should set forth in the morning with Evans and the waggon, as also -Andrew and Jeanie, taking with them the cow, the dogs, and the smaller -matters which the family had brought. No necessity for Captain Effingham -and the ladies to leave Sydney until the second day. He would drive them -in a hired carriage as far as the first camp, which Evans had described -to him. - -They would thus avoid the two days’ travel, and commence their journey -after the expedition had performed its trial trip, so to speak. - -‘What _should_ we have done without your kind care of us?’ said Mrs. -Effingham. ‘Everything up to this time has been a pleasure trip. When is -the hard life that we heard so much of to begin?’ - -‘Perhaps,’ said Rosamond, ‘Mr. Sternworth is going to be like the -brigand in the romances, who used to lure persons from their homes. I -have no doubt but that there are “hard times” awaiting us somewhere or -somehow.’ - -‘My dear young lady, let me compliment you on your good sense in taking -that view of the future. It will save you from disappointment, and fill -your mind with a wholesome strength to resist adversity. You may need -all your philosophy, and I counsel you to keep it, like armour, well -burnished. I do not know of any evil likely to befall you, but that you -will have trouble and toil may be taken as certain. Only, after a time, -I predict that you will overcome your difficulties, and find yourselves -permanently benefited.’ - -The old gentleman, whose arrangements were as successfully carried out -as if he had been the commissary instead of the chaplain of his former -regiment, made his appearance on the following day in a neat barouche -drawn by a pair of good-looking bay horses, and driven by a highly -presentable coachman. - -‘Why, it might pass muster for a private carriage,’ said Annabel. ‘And I -can see a crest on the panels. I suppose we shall never own a carriage -again as long as we live.’ - -‘This _is_ a private carriage, or rather was, once upon a time,’ said -Mr. Sternworth; ‘the horses and the coachman belonged to it. Many -carriages were put down last year, owing to a scarcity of money, and my -old friend Watkins here, having saved his wages, like a prudent man, -bought his master’s carriage and horses, and commenced as cab -proprietor. He has a large connection among his former master’s friends, -and is much in demand at balls and other festivities.’ - -The ex-coachman drove them at a lively pace, but steadily, along a -macadamised turnpike road, not so very different from a country lane in -Surrey, though wider, and not confined by hedges. The day was fine. On -either side, after the town was left behind, were large enclosures, -wherein grazed sheep, cattle, and horses. Sometimes they passed an -orangery, and the girls were charmed with the rows of dark green trees, -upon which the golden fruit was ripe. Then an old-fashioned house, in an -orchard, surrounded by a wall—wall and house coloured red, and rusty -with the stains of age—much like a farmhouse in Hertfordshire. One town -they passed was so manifestly old-fashioned, having even _ruins_, to -their delight and astonishment, that they could hardly believe they were -in a new country. - -‘Some one has been playing Rip Van Winkle tricks upon us,’ said -Rosamond. ‘We have been asleep a hundred years, and are come back -finding all things grown old and in decay.’ - -‘You must not forget that the colony has been established nearly fifty -years,’ said Mr. Sternworth, ‘and that these are some of the earliest -settlements. They were not always placed in the most judicious sites; -wherefore, as newer towns have passed them in the race for trade, these -have submitted to become, as you see them, “grey with the rime of -years,” and simulating decay as well as circumstances will permit.’ - -‘Well, I think much more highly of Australia, now that I have seen a -_real_ ruin or two,’ said Annabel decisively. ‘I always pictured the -country full of hideous houses of boards, painted white, with spinach -green doors and windows.’ - -The afternoon was well advanced as the inmates of the carriage descried -the encampment which Mr. Evans had ordered, with some assistance from -his military experience. So complete in all arrangements for comfort was -it—not wholly disregarding the element of romantic scenery—that the -girls cried aloud in admiration. - -The streamlet (or creek) which afforded the needful water meandered -round the base of a crag, jutting out from a forest-clothed hill. The -water-hole (or basin) in the channel of the creek was larger than such -generally are, and reflected brightly the rays of the declining sun. The -meadow, which afforded space for the encampment, was green, and fertile -of appearance. The waggon stood near the water; the four horses were -peacefully grazing. At a short distance, under a spreading tree, the -tent had been pitched, while before it was a wood fire, upon which -Jeanie was cooking something appetising. Wilfred and his brother were -strolling, gun in hand, up the creek; the cow was feeding among the -rushes with great contentment; Andrew was seated, meditating, upon a box -which he had brought forth from the recesses of the waggon; while Dick -Evans, not far from a small fire, upon which stood a camp-kettle at -boiling-point, was smoking with an air of conscious pride, as if not -only the picturesque beauty, but the personages pertaining to the -landscape, belonged to him individually. - -‘I could not leave you more comfortably provided for,’ said their -‘guide, philosopher, and friend.’ ‘Old Dick may be trusted in all such -matters as implicitly as the Duke of Wellington. I never knew him at -fault yet in this kind of life.’ - -‘You must positively stay and have afternoon tea with us,’ exclaimed -Annabel. ‘It is exactly five, and there is Dick putting a tin cupful of -tea into the teapot. What extravagant people you colonists are! I never -drank tea in the open air before, but it seems quite the right thing to -do. I see Jeanie has made griddle-cakes, like a dear old thing. And I -know there is butter. I am so hungry. You _will_ stay, won’t you?’ - -‘I think, sir,’ said the ex-family coachman, looking indulgently at the -special pleader, ‘that we shall have time to get back to the Red Cow Inn -to-night, after a cup of tea, as the young lady wishes it. I’ll run you -into town bright and early to-morrow.’ - -‘Very well then, Miss Annabel, I shall have the honour to accept your -invitation,’ bowed the old man. ‘I go away more cheerfully than I -expected, now that I leave you all so comparatively snug. It will not be -for long. Be sure that I shall meet you on the threshold of Warbrok.’ - -The _al fresco_ meal was partaken of with much relish, even gaiety, -after which civilisation—as personified by the reverend gentleman and -the carriage—departed. Annabel looked after it ruefully, while Jeanie -and Mrs. Effingham took counsel together for the night. It was for the -first time in the family history. Never before had the Effinghams slept, -so to speak, in the open air. It was a novel adventure in their -uneventful lives—a marked commencement of their colonial career. It -affected them differently, according to their idiosyncrasies. Rosamond -was calmly resolute, Annabel apprehensive, and Beatrice indifferent; the -boys in high spirits; Mr. Effingham half in disapproval, despondently -self-accusing; while Mrs. Effingham and Jeanie were so fully absorbed in -the great bedding question that they had no emotions to spare for any -abstract consideration whatever. - -The moon, in her second quarter, had arisen lustrous in the pure, dark -blue firmament, fire-besprinkled with ‘patines of bright gold,’ before -this important matter (and supper) was concluded. Then it was formally -announced that the tent was fully furnished, and had turned out -wonderfully commodious. The mattresses were placed upon a layer of -‘bush-feathers,’ as Dick Evans called them, and which (the small twigs -and leaf-shoots of the eucalyptus) he had impressed Wilfred and his -brother to gather. There was a lantern secured to the tent-pole, which -lighted up the apartment; and sheets, blankets, coverlets being brought -forth, Annabel declared that she was sure they would all sleep like -tops, that for her part she must insist on going to bed at once as the -keen air had made her quite drowsy. A dressing-table had been -improvised, chiefly with the aid of Mr. Evans’ mechanical skill. When -the matron and her daughters made their farewell for the night, and -closed their canvas portal, every one was of the opinion that a high -degree of comfort and effective lodging had been reached. - -Mr. and Mrs. Cargill and family retired to the inmost recesses of the -upper waggon, where the ends of the tilt, fastened together, protected -them. Mr. Effingham and his sons joined Dick Evans at his briskly -burning fire, where the old man was smoking and occasionally indulging -in a refresher of tea as if he had no intention of going to bed till he -reached Warbrok. - -‘We are having glorious weather to travel in, Evans,’ said Mr. -Effingham. ‘You have been in the service, Mr. Sternworth tells me; what -regiment?’ - -‘I was in the old 50th for many a year, Captain,’ he said, unconsciously -standing erect and giving the salute. ‘I served under Sir Hugh Gough in -India, where I got this slash from a Mahratta sabre. Didn’t seem a hard -cut neither; the fellow just seemed to swing his wrist, careless-like, -as he rode by, but it was nigh deep enough to take the “wick” out of me. -Their swords was a deal sharper than ours, and their wooden scabbards -kept ’em from getting blunt again. I had a great argument with my -sergeant about it once,’ continued the old man. ‘I couldn’t a-bear to -see our poor chaps sliced up by them razor-edged tulwars, while our -regulation swords was a’most too dull to cut through a quilted cotton -helment. Ah! them was fine times,’ said the old soldier, with so genuine -a regret in his tones that Howard Effingham almost believed he had, for -the first time in his life, fallen across a noble private, pleased with -his profession, and anxious to return to it. - -‘I have rarely heard a soldier regret the army,’ said he. ‘But you still -retain zeal for the service, I am pleased to find.’ - -‘Well, sir, that’s all very well,’ said the philosophical man-at-arms; -‘but what I was a-thinking of was the “loot.” It’s enough to bring tears -into a man’s eyes that served his Queen and country, to think of the -things as we passed over. Didn’t Jimmy O’Hara and two or three more men -of my company get together once and made bold to stick up the priest of -one of them temples. No great things either—gold earrings and bangles, -and a trifle of gold mohurs, the priest’s own. There was a -copper-coloured, bronze-looking idol—regular heathen god, or some such -cretur—which the priest kept calling out “Sammy” to, or “Swammi.” The -ugly thing had bright glittering eyes, and Jim wanted to get ’em out -badly, but the priest said, “Feringhee wantee like this?” and he picked -up a bit of glass, and smiled contempshus like. At last we left him and -“Swammi,” eyes and all. I don’t ever deserve to have a day’s luck, sir, -agin, as long as I live.’ - -‘Why so?’ said Mr. Effingham, astonished at the high moral tone, which -he had not been used to associate with the light infantry man of the -period. ‘Not for taking the image away, surely?’ - -‘No!’ shouted the old man, roused from his ordinary respectful tone. -‘But for leavin’ him behind! That Sammy, sir, was pure gold, and his -eyes was di’monds, di’monds! Think o’ that. We left a thousand pound a -man behind, because we didn’t know gold when we seen it. It will haunt -me, sir, to my dying day.’ - -The boys laughed at the unsentimental conclusion of the veteran’s tale. -Their father looked grave. - -‘I cannot approve of the plunder of religious edifices, Evans; though -the temptation was too great for soldiers, and indeed for others in -those days.’ - -The chief personages having retired, Mr. Effingham and his sons essayed -to make their couch under the waggon. - -‘It is many a year since I had any experience in this kind of thing,’ -said he; ‘but, if I remember rightly, it was in Spain that I bivouacked -last. This locality is not unlike Estramadura. That rocky ravine, with -the track running down it, is just where you would have expected to see -the muleteer stepping gaily along beside his mules singing or swearing, -as the case might be; and they do both with great vigour.’ - -‘I remember Don Pedro, Captain,’ said Dick. ‘I mind the wine-skins putty -well too. It wasn’t bad stuff; but I don’t know as dark brandy doesn’t -come handier if ye wants a stir up. But there’s one thing you can’t have -forgot, Captain, that beats this country holler.’ - -‘You must mean the fleas,’ said Effingham; ‘_they_ certainly could not -be surpassed. I hope you don’t mean to rival them here.’ - -‘Well, I don’t deny, Captain, that in some huts, where the people aren’t -particular, in a sandy country, in summer you will find a few, and -likewise them other reptiles, ’specially where there’s pine slabs, but -in a general way we’re pretty clean in this country, and you’ve no call -to be afeard to tackle your blankets.’ - -‘I’m glad to hear it, Evans,’ said Effingham, yawning. ‘I have no doubt -that your camp is always fit for inspection. I think we may say -good-night.’ - -Between the keen air of the forest, and the unwonted exercise, a -tendency to drowsiness now set in, which Mr. Effingham and his sons -discovered by the time that the blankets were drawn over them. The sides -of their apartment, represented by the wheels of the waggon, were -covered by the canvas tilt, the ceiling was low but sufficient. It was -the ideal chamber in one respect. Ventilation was unimpeded, while -shelter was secured. - - - - - CHAPTER III - THE NEW HOME - - -When Wilfred awoke from deep untroubled slumber, the sun seemed gazing -at the encampment with haughty, fixed regard, as of a monarch, enthroned -upon the summit of the purple mountain range. - -Unwitting of the lengths (fortunately) to which the unsparing archer -could go in Southern lands, he essayed to commence dressing. - -Rising hurriedly, he was reminded by a tap on the head from the -axle-tree that he was in a bedroom of restricted accommodation. More -guarded in his after-movements he crawled outside, first placing on the -dewy grass a rug upon which to stand. He commenced his toilette, and -cast a comprehensive glance around. - -The first thing he saw was the upright form of Richard Evans, who, -returning from a search after his hobbled horses, drove them before him -towards the camp, at the same time smoking his pipe with a serene and -satisfied air. The morning was chilly, but he had not thought a coat -necessary, and in a check shirt and moleskin trousers calmly braved an -atmosphere not much above forty degrees Fahrenheit. - -‘This must be a fine climate,’ said Wilfred to his father. ‘We shall be -well wrapped up till breakfast time, at any rate, and yet that old -buffer is wandering about in his shirt-sleeves as if he were in Naples.’ - -‘He is pretty hard-bitten, you may depend,’ said Mr. Effingham. ‘I think -some of our old “die-hards” are as tough samples of humanity as could -anywhere be met. I do not uphold the British soldier as a model, but -they were men in my time, beyond any manner of doubt.’ - -Dick marched up his team to the waggon, whence the lodgers had by this -time issued—Andrew to make a fire near the tent, and Jeanie to penetrate -that sacred enclosure, and presumably to act as tire-woman in the -interior. - -The shafts, which had served Dick as a sleeping apartment during the -night, aided by a shroud of tarpaulin, were uplifted, and bagging being -thereon stretched, were converted into a manger for the chaff and maize, -which the horses quickly commenced to consume. - -Presently Jeanie issued from the tent, and finding the camp-kettle -boiling, proceeded to make tea. Andrew, in the meantime, milked the cow. -The gridiron was brought into requisition, and certain mutton chops -broiled. Eventually Mrs. Effingham and her daughters issued from the -tent, fresh and dainty of aspect as if they had just left their bedrooms -at The Chase. Then the day commenced, and also breakfast. - -‘Good-morning, O mother! Hail, O tender maidens! What do you think of -camping out?’ was Wilfred’s greeting, ‘Have you been sitting up weeping, -or did you forget everything till daylight, as we did?’ - -‘We all slept like tops,’ said Annabel. ‘I never was so sleepy in my -life. I was almost off before I could undress. I think it’s splendid. -And oh! what is there for breakfast?’ - -Grilled chops, smoking cups of tea, with bread and butter, constituted -the repast. Worse meals have been eaten. The appetites were, like the -travellers, highly respectable. By the time the meal was finished, Mr. -Richard Evans had harnessed his team, and bringing himself up to the -attitude of ‘attention,’ requested to know when the ladies would like to -make a start. - -After consultation, it was notified to their guide and courier that as -soon as the tent was struck and the baggage packed, every one would be -ready. - -The troops being in high health and spirits, in a comparatively short -space of time the march was resumed. Wilfred and Guy walked ahead, -fowling-piece in hand. Andrew drove the cow, which followed quietly in -the rear. The coupled greyhounds looked eagerly around, as if sensible -that they were now in hunting country. They were with difficulty -restrained when a wallaby, in two bounds, crossed the road and -disappeared in an adjoining scrub. - -The dry air was pure and fresh, the unclouded sky blue as a sapphire -dome, the winding forest road free from all impediment but an occasional -ledge of sandstone. If there is any portion of the day ‘when the poor -are rich in spirits and health,’ when the heart of youth stirs, when age -is soothed with dreams of happiness, it is in that sweetest hour which -follows the early morning meal in rural Australia. Dawn is austere, -mid-day often sultry, but nowhere will he, whose heart and intelligence -respond alike gratefully to that charmed time, find its inspirations -more invigorating than in the early summer of Australia. Then the -fortunate traveller experiences coolness without cold, and warmth -without the heat which produces lassitude. - -As the waggon rolled easily along, the horses stepping cheerily on the -track, the wayfarers paced over the unwonted herbage with an alertness -of mien which would have suggested a very different history. - -‘How lovely the shrubs are that we see in all directions!’ said Mrs. -Effingham. ‘What should we have given for that golden flowering mimosa -at The Chase, or this blue-leaved, pink pointed tree, which I suppose -must be a young eucalyptus. Here they are so common that no one heeds -them, and yet there are rare plants enough to set up a dozen -greenhouses.’ - -‘Everything is so utterly different,’ said Rosamond. ‘I am most -agreeably surprised at the landscape. What erroneous ideas one has of -far countries! I suppose it is because we seldom feel sufficient -interest to learn about them thoroughly. I pictured Australia a sandy -waste, with burned-up reedy grass, and a general air of the desert. Now, -here we have woods, a pretty little brook rippling by, rocks and hills, -and in the distance a mountain. I could make quite an effective sketch.’ - -‘The country isn’t all like this, Miss,’ said Dick Evans, with a -deferential air. ‘If you was to go two or three hundred miles into the -bush, there’s no timber at all; you’ld find it all sand and -salt-bushes—the curiousest place ever you see.’ - -‘How can it be the “bush,”’ inquired Wilfred, ‘if there are no trees? -But we are not going so far, at any rate.’ - -‘Finest grazing land out,’ said Richard the experienced. ‘All the stock -rolling fat—no trouble in looking after ’em. If I was a young gentleman, -that’s the place I’d make for. Not but what Warbrok’s a pleasant spot, -and maybe the young ladies will like it better than the plains.’ - -‘I fancy we all shall, Richard,’ said Rosamond. ‘The plains may be very -well for sheep and cattle, but I prefer a woodland country like this. I -suppose we can have a garden there?’ - -‘Used to be the best garden in all the country-side, Miss, but the -Warleighs were a wild lot; they let everything go to wrack. The trees -and bushes is mostly wore out, but the sile’s that good, as a handy man -would soon make it ship-shape again.’ - -‘What are we to do for lunch?’ said Annabel, with some appearance of -anxiety. ‘If we are to go on roaming over the land from sunrise to -sunset without stopping, I shall die of hunger—I’m sure I shall. I keep -thinking about those cakes of Jeanie’s.’ - -‘My dear child,’ said her mother, ‘I daresay we shall manage to feed you -and the rest of the flock. I am pleased to find that you have such a -famous appetite. To be sure, you have not stopped growing yet, and this -fresh air acts as a tonic. So far, we must not complain of the climate.’ - -‘It’s only a few miles furder on, ma’am, to the King Parrot Waterhole, -where we can stop in the middle of the day, and have a bit to eat if the -young ladies is sharp-set. I always stop on the road and feed my horses -about twelve o’clock. And if the young gentlemen was to walk on, they -might shoot a pair of ducks at the waterhole, as would come in handy for -the pot.’ - -When about mid-day they reached the King Parrot Waterhole, a -reed-fringed pool, about as large as their English horse-pond, they -found Wilfred in possession of a pair of the beautiful grey-breasted -wood-ducks (_Anas Boscha_), a teal, with chestnut and black feathers and -a brilliant green neck, also a dark-furred kangaroo, which Dick -pronounced to be a rock wallaby. - -‘Australia isn’t such a bad place for game,’ said Guy. ‘We found the -ducks swimming in the pool, three brace altogether, and “Damsel” caught -this two-legged hare, as she thought it, as it was making up that stony -hill. _I_ like it better than Surrey.’ - -‘We shall find out ever so many interesting things,’ said Rosamond. ‘I -shall never feel thankful enough to that good old Professor Muste for -teaching me the small bit of botany that I know. Now, look at this -lovely Clianthus, is it not enough to warm the heart of a Trappist? And -here is that exquisite purple Kennedya, which ought, in an Australian -novel, to be wreathed round the heroine’s hat. Do my eyes deceive me, or -is not that a white heath? I must dig it up.’ - -‘I believe, Rosamond, that you could comfort yourself on Mount Ararat,’ -said Annabel. ‘Why, it will be _ages_ before those ducks can be picked -and roasted. Oh, Jeanie, Jeanie, can’t we have them before tea-time? I -wish I had never seen them.’ - -‘If you like, you can help me take off the feathers, and spare Jeanie’s -everlastingly busy fingers,’ said Beatrice. - -Here Annabel looked ruefully at her tiny, delicate hands, with a child’s -pout. - -‘Oh, it’s no use looking at your pretty hands,’ said the more practical -Beatrice. ‘This is the land of work, and all who can’t make themselves -useful will be treated like the foolish virgins in the parable. It -always makes me smile when that chapter is read. I can fancy Annabel -holding out her lamp, with an injured expression, saying, “Well, nobody -told me it was time to get ready.”’ - -‘Beatrice, my daughter,’ said Mrs. Effingham gravely, ‘sacred subjects -are not befitting matter for idle talking; dispositions vary, and you -may remember that Martha was not praised for her anxiety to serve.’ - -At mid-day the kettle bubbled on the fire, kindled by the ever-ready -Richard, cakes and sandwiches were handed round, the tea—thanks to -Daisy—was gratefully sipped. - -The sun shone brightly on the green flat, where the horses grazed in -peace and plenty. The birds chirped and called at intervals; all Nature -seemed glad and responsive to the joyous season of the southern spring. - -Thus their days wore on, in peaceful progression, alike free from toil, -anxiety, or adventure. The daily stage was accomplished, under Dick’s -experienced direction, without mistake or misadventure. The evening meal -was a time of rest and cheerful enjoyment, the night’s slumbers -refreshing and unbroken. - -‘What a delightful country this is! I feel quite a new creature, -especially after breakfast,’ exclaimed Annabel one morning. ‘I could go -on like this for months, till we reached the other side of the -continent, if there is any other side. Will it be as nice as this, I -wonder, at Malbrook, or Warbrok, or whatever they call it? Warbrok Chase -won’t look so bad on our letters, when we write home. I must send a -sketch of it to cousin Elizabeth, with a bark cabin, of course. She will -never believe that we have a real house to live in among the backwoods. -What sort of a house is it, Dick? Is it thatched and gabled and damp and -delightful, with dear little diamond casements like the keeper’s lodge, -or is it a horrid wooden barn? Tell me now, there’s a dear old man!’ - -‘We shall be there, Miss, the day after to-morrer, please God,’ -responded Dick with respectful solemnity. ‘Parson Sternworth said I was -to say nought about the place, but let it come on you suddent-like. And -I’m a man as is used to obey orders.’ - -‘Very well, you disagreeable old soldier,’ said the playful maiden. -‘I’ll be even with you and the parson, as you call him. See if I don’t.’ - -‘Sorry to disobleege you, Miss Anniebell,’ said the veteran, ‘but if my -old General, Sir Hugh Gough, was to come and say, “Corporal Richard -Evans, hand me over the chart of the country,” I should have to tell him -that he hadn’t got the counter-sign.’ - -‘And quite right too, Evans,’ interposed Mr. Effingham, ‘to keep up your -good old habits in a new country. Discipline is the soul of the army.’ - -‘I was allers taught _that_, sir,’ replied Dick, with an air of military -reminiscence which would have befitted a veteran of the Great Frederick. -‘But when we reaches Warbrok my agreement’s out with the Parson, and -Miss can order me about all day.’ - -In spite of Annabel’s asseverations that the party would never reach the -spot indicated, and that she believed there never was any such place, -but that Dick would lead them into a trackless forest and abandon them, -the journey ended about the time specified. A rugged track, indeed, one -afternoon tried their patience. The horses laboured, the docile cow -limped and lagged, the girls complained, while Andrew’s countenance -became visibly elongated. - -At length Dick Evans’s wooden facial muscles relaxed, as halting on the -hardly-gained hill-top he pointed with his whip-handle, saying simply, -‘There’s Warbrok! So the young ladies and gentlemen can see for -theirselves.’ - -How eagerly did the whole party gaze upon the landscape, which now, in -the clear light of the Southern eve, lay softly in repose before them! - -The character of the scenery had changed with the wondrous suddenness -peculiar to the land in which they had come to dwell. A picture set in a -frame of forest and unfriendly thickets! Now before their eyes came with -magical abruptness a vision of green slopes, tall groves, and verdurous -meadows. It was one of nature’s forest parks. Traces of the imperfect -operations of a new country were visible, in felled timber, in naked, -girdled trees, in unsightly fences. But nature was in bounteous mood, -and had heightened the contrast with the barren region they had -over-passed, by a flushed abundance of summer vegetation. This lavish -profusion of herb and leaf imparted a richness of colouring, a clearness -of tone, which in a less favourable season of the year Warbrok must -perceptibly have lacked. - -‘Oh, what a lovely, lovely place!’ cried Annabel, transported beyond -herself as she stood on tip-toe and gazed rapturously at the scene. -‘Those must be the Delectable Mountains. Dick, you are a Christian hero -[the old man smiled deprecatingly], I forgive you on the spot. And there -is the house, a _real_ house with two storeys—actually two—I thought -there were only cottages up the country—and an orchard; and is that a -blue cloud or the sea? We must have turned round again. Surely it can’t -be _our lake_? That would be too heavenly, and those glorious mountains -beyond!’ - -‘That’s Lake William, miss, called after His Gracious Majesty King -William the Fourth,’ explained Dick, accurate and reverential. ‘Fourteen -miles long and seven broad. You’ll find the house big enough, but it’s a -long way from being in good order; and it’s a mercy there’s a tree alive -in the orchard.’ - -‘Oh, never mind, we’ll soon put things to rights, won’t we, mamma? And -what splendid creatures those old trees will be when they come out in -leaf. I suppose it’s too early in the spring yet?’ continued she. - -‘Dead—every one of ’em, miss,’ explained their conductor. ‘They’ve been -ring-barked, more’s the pity. They was beauties when I knowed ’em fust, -before the blessed tenants was let ruinate everything about the place. I -wonder there’s a stone of the house standing, that I do. And now, sir, -we’ll get on, and the young ladies can have tea in their own parlour, if -my old woman’s made a fire, accordin’ to orders.’ - -The hearts of the more reflective portion of the party were too full for -comment, so Annabel’s chatter was allowed to run on unchecked. A feeling -of despondency had been gradually stealing over Howard Effingham and his -wife, as for the two last stages they had pictured to themselves the -toil of building up a home amid the barren solitudes, such as, in their -innocence, they thought their new property might resemble. Now, here was -a spot in which they might live out their lives with cheerful and -contented minds, thankful that ‘their lines had fallen in pleasant -places’; having reason to hope that their children might dwell in peace -and prosperity after them. - -‘We can never be sufficiently grateful to your dear old friend,’ said -Mrs. Effingham. ‘If he had not in the first place written you that -letter, Howard, and afterwards acted upon his opinion so boldly, what -might have been our fate?’ - -‘He always used to look after me when we were in the regiment,’ said her -husband acquiescingly; ‘I daresay he’ll find a similar pleasure in -taking charge of us now. Fortunately for you and the girls, he never -married.’ - -A few miles only needed to be traversed before Mr. Evans triumphantly -drove his team through the gate of the dilapidated garden fence -surrounding the front of a large old-fashioned stone mansion, with wide -verandah and lofty balcony, supported upon freestone pillars. A stout, -elderly woman of decided aspect opened the creaking hall door, and -casting a searching glance at Mr. R. Evans, made the strangers welcome. - -‘I’m sure I’m very glad to see you, my lady,’ said she, bobbing an -antiquated curtsey, ‘and you, sir, and the young ladies and gentlemen. -I’ve done all I could to clean up the old barrack of a house; it was -that lonesome, and made me frighted with ghosts, as I thought I’d never -live to see you all; and Dick here, I knew there was no certainty of, as -might have gone to Timor, or the Indies, and never let on a word about -it. Please you to come in, my lady.’ - -‘My old woman’s temper is none of the best, Captain,’ said Dick, stating -the fact with philosophical calmness, ‘but I’ll warrant she’s cleaned up -as much as any two, and very bad it wanted it when Parson Sternworth -brought us over.’ - -Now that a nearer view was afforded of the demesne and dwelling, it was -evident that the place had been long abandoned to natural decay and -sordid neglect. The fences were rotten, gapped, or fallen; the orchard, -though the aged trees were high out of the reach of browsing cattle, had -been used as a convenient species of stock paddock; the climbers, -including a magnificent bignonia and a wistaria, the great laterals of -which had erstwhile clothed the verandah pillars with beauty and bloom, -were broken and twisted. In the rear of the building all the broken -bottles and bones of the land appeared to be collected; while, with -windows broken, shutters hanging on a single hinge, doors closing with -difficulty, or impossible to open, all things told of the recklessness -of ruined owners. - -Still, in despite of all deficiencies, the essentials of value could not -be overlooked. The house, though naked and desolate of aspect, was large -and commodious, promising in its shingled roof and massive stone walls -protection against the heat of summer, the cold of winter. The deep -black mould needed but ordinary culture to respond generously. The -offices might be mouldering and valueless, but the _land_ was there, -thinly timbered, richly grassed, well adapted for stock of all kinds. -And though the gaunt limbs of the girdled trees looked sadly -unpicturesque between the front of the house and the lake shore, some -had been left untouched, and the grass was all the more richly swarded. -The lake itself was a grand indisputable fact. It was deep and fresh, -abounding in water-fowl, a priceless boon to dwellers in a climate -wherein a lack of rivers and permanent reservoirs is unhappily a -distinguishing characteristic. - -Let it not be supposed that Wilfred and his mother, the girls and Jeanie -were outside the house all this time. Very promptly had Dick unloaded -the household stores, pressing all able-bodied persons, including his -wife, into the service, until the commissariat was safely bestowed under -shelter. His waggon was taken to the rear, his horses unharnessed, and -he himself in a marvellously short space of time enjoying a well-earned -pipe, and advising Andrew to bestow Daisy’s calf in a dilapidated but -still convertible calf-pen, so that his mother might graze at ease, and -yet be available for the family breakfast table in the morning. - -‘The grass here is fust-rate,’ he said, in a tone of explanation to -Andrew. ‘There’s been a lot of rain in spring. It’s a pity but we had a -few good cows to milk. It would be just play for you and me and the -young master in the mornings. Teach him to catch hold like and learn him -the use of his hands.’ - -‘_Him_ milk!’ exclaimed Andrew, in a tone of horrified contempt. ‘And -yet—I dinna say but if it’s the Lord’s will the family should ha’ been -brocht to this strange land, it may be no that wrang that he should -labour, like the apostles, “working with his hauns.” There’s guid -warrant for’t.’ - -Meanwhile, inside the house important arrangements were proceeding. The -sitting-room, a great, bare apartment, had an ample fireplace, which -threw out a genial warmth from glowing logs. There was a large, solid -cedar table, which Mrs. Evans had rubbed and polished till the dark red -grain of the noble wood was clearly visible. Also a dozen _real_ chairs, -as Annabel delightedly observed, stood around, upon which it was -possible to enjoy the long-disused comfort of sitting down. Of this -privilege she promptly availed herself. - -The night-draperies were disposed in the chief bedchamber, though until -the arrival of the furniture it was apparent that the primitive sleeping -accommodation of the road would need to be continued. Mr. Effingham and -his sons were luxuriously billeted in another apartment, where, after -their axle-tree experiences, they did not pity themselves. - -Andrew and his family were disposed of in the divisions of the kitchen, -which, in colonial fashion, was a detached building in the rear. Mr. and -Mrs. Evans had, on their previous entry on the premises, located -themselves in an outlying cottage (or hut, as they called it), formerly -the abode of the dairyman, where their possessions had no need of -rearrangement. Even the dogs had quarters allotted to them, in the long -range of stabling formerly tenanted by many a gallant steed in the old -extravagant days of the colony, when unstinted hospitality and claret -had been the proverbial rule at Warbrok. - -‘Oh dear!’ exclaimed Annabel from her chair, ‘what a luxurious feeling -it is to be once more in a _home_ of one’s own! Though it’s a funny old -place and must have been a tempting refuge for ghosts wandering in -search of quarters. And then to think that to-morrow morning we shall -not have to move on, for ever and ever. I was beginning to get the least -bit tired of it; were not you, mamma? Though I would have died sooner -than confess it.’ - -‘Words cannot describe how thankful I am, my dear child,’ said her -mother, ‘that we have had the good fortune to end this land journey so -well. It is the first one of the kind I ever undertook, and I trust it -will be the last. But let us remember in our prayers to-night _whose_ -hand has shielded us from the perils of the deep, and whatever dangers -we may have escaped upon the land.’ - -‘I feel as if we had all been acting a charade or an extended _tableau -vivant_,’ said Rosamond. ‘Like you, Annabel, dear, I am not sorry that -the theatricals are over, though the play has been a success so far. It -has no more nights to run, fortunately for the performers. Our everyday -life will commence to-morrow. We must enter upon it in a cheerful, -determined spirit.’ - -‘I cannot help fancying,’ said Beatrice, ‘that colonial travellers enjoy -an unnecessary amount of prestige, or some experiences must differ from -ours. We might have had a Dick who would have lost his horses or -overturned the waggon, and bushrangers (there _are_ bushrangers, for I -saw in a paper that Donohoe and his gang had “stuck-up,” whatever that -means, Mr. Icely’s drays and robbed them) might have taken us captive. -We have missed the romance of Australian life evidently.’ - -Howard Effingham felt strangely moved as he walked slowly forth at dawn. -He watched the majestic orb irradiate the mist-shrouded turrets of the -great mountain range which lay to the eastward. Endless wealth of colour -was evoked by the day-god’s kiss, softly, stealingly, suffusing the -neutral-tinted dome, then with magical completeness flashing into -supernal splendour. The dew glistened upon the vernal greensward. The -pied warbler rolled his richest notes in flute-like carol. The -wild-fowl, on the glistening mirror of the lake, swam, dived, or flew in -playful pursuit. The bracing air was unspeakably grateful to Howard -Effingham’s rurally attuned senses. Amid this bounty of nature in her -less sophisticated aspects, his heart swelled with the thought that much -of the wide champaign, the woodland, and the water, over which his eye -roamed wonderingly, called him master. He saw, with the quick projection -of a sanguine spirit, his family domiciled once more with comfort and -security. And not without befitting dignity, so long despaired of. He -prized the ability to indulge again the disused pursuits of a country -life. Though in a far land, among strange people, separated by a whole -ocean from the scenes of his youth and manhood, he now felt for the -first time since the great disaster that contentment, even happiness, -was possible. Once more he felt himself a country gentleman, or at the -least an Australian squire. With the thought he recalled the village -chimes in their lost home, and his wife’s reference of every -circumstance of life to the special dispensation of a benign, overruling -Providence occurred to him. With unconscious soliloquy he exclaimed, ‘I -have not deserved this; God be merciful to me a sinner!’ - -Dick Evans, with his horses, now appeared upon the scene, bells, -hobbles, and all. He bore every appearance of having been up at least -two hours. - -‘What a wonderful old fellow that is!’ said Wilfred, who had joined his -father; ‘day or night seems alike to him. He is always hard at work at -something or other—always helpful and civil, apparently good at a score -of trades, yet military as a pipe-clayed belt. Mr. Sternworth admitted -that he had faults, but up to this time we have never discovered them.’ - -‘If he has none, he is such an old soldier as I have never met,’ said -his father mildly. ‘Longer acquaintance will, I suppose, abate his -unnatural perfection. But, in any case, we must keep him on until we are -sufficiently acclimatised to set up for ourselves.’ - -‘Quite so, sir! We cannot have our reverend mentor always at beck and -call. We want some one here who knows the country and its ways. Guy and -I will soon pick up the lie of the land, as he calls it, but at present -we are all raw and ignorant together.’ - -‘Then we had better engage him at once. I suppose he can tell us the -proper wages.’ - -‘Very possibly; but now I think of it, sir, hadn’t you better delegate -the executive department to me? Of course to carry out your -instructions, but you might do worse than appoint me your responsible -minister.’ - -‘My boy!’ said Effingham, grasping his son’s hand, ‘I should have made -the suggestion if you had not anticipated me. I cheerfully yield the -management to you, as you will have the laborious part of the work. Many -things will need to be done, for which I am unfit, but which you will -gradually master. I fully trust you, both as an example to Guy and -Selden, and the guardian of your mother and sisters.’ - -‘As God will help me in my need, they will need no other,’ replied the -eldest son. ‘So far I have led a self-indulgent life. But the spur of -necessity (you must admit) has been wanting. Now the hour has come. You -never refused me a pleasure; trust me to fulfil every duty.’ - -‘I never have doubted it, my boy! I always knew that higher qualities -were latent in your nature. As you say, the hour has come. We were never -laggards when the trumpet-call sounded. And now, let us join the family -party.’ - -As they reached the house, from which they had rambled some distance, -the sun was two hours high, and the smoke issuing from the kitchen -chimney denoted that culinary operations were in progress. At that -moment a serviceable-looking dogcart, drawn by a wiry, roan horse, -trotted briskly along the track from the main road, and in drawing up, -displayed in the driver the welcome presentment of the Rev. Harley -Sternworth. - -‘How do, Howard? How are you, Wilfred, my boy? Welcome to Warbrok—to -Warbrok Chase, that is. I shall learn it in time. Very proper addendum; -suits the country, and gratifies the young ladies’ taste. Thought I’d -catch you at your first breakfast. Here, Dick, you old rascal—that is, -you deserving veteran—take Roanoke.’ - -The somewhat decided features of the old army chaplain softened visibly -as, entering the bare uncarpeted apartment, he descried Mrs. Effingham -and her daughters sitting near the breakfast table, evidently awaiting -the master of the house. His quick eye noticed at once the progress of -feminine adaptation, as well as the marked air of comfort produced with -such scanty material. - -He must surely have been gratified by the sensation he produced. The -girls embraced him, hanging upon his words with eagerness, as on the -accents of the recovered relative of the melodrama. Mrs. Effingham -greeted him with an amount of warmth foreign to her usual demeanour. The -little ones held up their faces to be kissed by ‘Uncle Harley.’ - -‘We are just going to have our first breakfast,’ said Annabel. ‘Sit down -this very minute. Haven’t we done wonders?’ - -Indeed, by the fresh, morning light, the parlour already looked homelike -and attractive. The breakfast table, ‘decored with napery,’ as Caleb -Balderstone phrased it, had a delicately clean and appetising -appearance. A brimming milk jug showed that the herbage of Warbrok had -not been without its effect upon their fellow-passenger from the Channel -Islands. A goodly round of beef, their last roadside purchase, -constituted the _pièce de résistance_. A dish of eggs and bacon, -supplied by Mrs. Evans, whose poultry travelled with her everywhere, and -looked upon the waggon as their home, added to the glory of the repast. -A large loaf of fresh bread, baked by the same useful matron, stood -proudly upon a plate, near the roadside tea equipage, and a kettle like -a Russian _samovar_. Nor was artistic ornamentation wholly absent. -Annabel had fished up a broken vase from a lumber room, which, filled -with the poor remnants of the borders, ‘where once a garden smiled,’ and -supplemented with ‘wild buttercups and very nearly daisies,’ as she -described the native flora, made an harmonious contribution. - -Before commencing the meal, as Mr. Effingham took his seat at the head -of his own table once more, humble as were the surroundings, his wife -glanced at the youngest darling, Blanche. She ran across to a smaller -table covered with a rug, and thence lifting off a volume of some -weight, brought it to their guest. His eyes met those of his old comrade -and of her his life’s faithful companion. The chaplain’s eyes were -moistened, in despite of his efforts at composure. What recollections -were not summoned up by the recurrence of that simple household -observance? His voice faltering, at first, with genuine emotion, Harley -Sternworth took the sacred volume, and read a portion, before praying in -simple phrase, that the Great Being who had been pleased to lead the -steps of His servants to this far land, would guide them in all their -ways, and prosper the work of their hands in their new home. ‘May His -blessing be upon you all, and upon your children’s children after you, -in this the land of our adoption,’ said the good priest, as he arose in -the midst of the universal amen. - -‘Do you know that it was by no means too warm when I left Yass at -daylight this morning? This is called a hot climate. But in our early -summer we have frosts sometimes worthy of Yorkshire. Yesterday there was -rather a sharp one. We shall have rain again soon.’ - -‘Oh, I hope not,’ said Annabel. ‘This is such lovely, charming weather. -So clear and bright, and not at all too warm. I should like it to last -for months.’ - -‘Then, my dear young lady, we should all be ruined. Rain rarely does -harm in this country. Sometimes there are floods, and people who live on -meadowlands suffer. But the more rain the merrier, in this country at -least. It is a land of contradictions, you know. Your Lake William, -here, will never overflow, so you may be easy in your minds, if it rains -ever so hard.’ - -‘And what does my thoughtful young friend, Rosamond, think of the new -home?’ inquired the old gentleman, looking at her with affectionate -eyes. - -‘She thinks, Uncle Sternworth, that nothing better for us all could have -been devised in the wide world, unless the Queen had ordered her -Ministers to turn out Sir Percy de Warrenne and put us in possession of -Old Court. Even that, though Sir Percy is a graceless kinsman, might not -have been so good for us, as making a home for ourselves here, out of -our own heads, as the children say.’ - -‘And you are quite satisfied, my dear?’ - -‘More than satisfied. I am exulting and eager to begin work. In England -I suffered sometimes from want of occupation. Here, every moment of the -day will be well and usefully employed.’ - -‘And Miss Beatrice also approves?’ - -‘_Miss_ Beatrice says,’ replied that more difficult damsel, who was -generally held to be reserved, if not proud, ‘she would not have come to -Australia if it could have been helped. But having come, supposes she -will not make more useless lament than other people.’ - -‘Beatrice secretly hates the country, I know she does,’ exclaimed -Annabel, ‘and it is ungrateful of her, particularly when we have such a -lovely place, with a garden, and a lake, and mountains and sunsets, and -everything we can possibly want.’ - -‘I am not so imaginative as to expect to live on mountains and sunsets, -and I must confess it will take me a long time to become accustomed to -the want of _nearly_ all the pleasures of life, but I suppose I shall -manage to bear up my share of the family burdens.’ - -‘You have always done so hitherto, my dear,’ said Mrs. Effingham; ‘but -you are not fond of putting forward your good deeds—hardly sufficiently -so, as I tell you.’ - -‘Some one has run away with Beatrice’s share of vanity,’ said Rosamond. -‘But we must not stay talking all the morning. I am chief butler, and -shall have to be chief baker too, perhaps, some day. I must break up the -meeting, as every one has apparently breakfasted.’ - -‘And I must have a serious business conversation with your father and -Wilfred,’ said Mr. Sternworth. ‘Where is the study—the library, I mean? -Not furnished yet! Well, suppose we adjourn to the ex-drawing-room. It’s -a spacious apartment, where the late tenant, a practical man, used to -store his maize. There is a deal table, for I put it there myself. Guy, -you may as well ask Dick Evans to show you the most likely place for -wild-fowl. Better bring chairs, Wilfred. We are going to have a -“sederunt,” as they say in Scotland.’ - - - - - CHAPTER IV - MR HENRY O’DESMOND OF BADAJOS - - -‘Now, Howard, my young friend!’ said the worthy man, as they settled -themselves at a small table, near a noble mantelpiece of Australian gray -marble, curiously marked with the imprints of the fossil encrinite, ‘I -address you as I used to do in our army days, for, with regard to money -matters, I feel sure you are as young as ever. In the first place, I -must render an account of my stewardship. Observe, here is the -conveyance to you and your heirs for ever of the estate of Warbrok, a -Crown grant to Colonel Rupert Falkland Warleigh, late of Her Majesty’s -80th Regiment, dated as far back as 1805, comprising 5174 acres, 1 rood, -3 perches, by him devised in equal shares to his sons—Randal, Clement, -and Hubert. It was not entailed, as were most of the early grants. They -fell away from the traditions of the family, and lived reckless, -dissipated lives. Their education was neglected—perhaps not the best -example exhibited to them by the old Colonel—he was always a gentleman -though—what wonder the poor boys went wrong? They came to be called the -“Wild Warleighs of Warbrok.” At last the end came. Hopelessly in debt, -they were forced to sell. Here are their signatures, duly attested. Your -purchase money, at the rate of 10s. per acre—a low price, but ready -money was very scarce in the colony at the time—amounted to £2587:5s., -mentioned as the consideration. Out of your draft for £3000 remained, -therefore, £412:15s.; expenses and necessary farm work done, with wages -to Dick Evans and his wife, have amounted to £62:7s. This includes the -ploughing and sowing of a paddock—a field you would call it—of 20 acres -of wheat, as the season had to be availed of. I hand you a deposit -receipt for £350:8s., lodged to your credit in the Bank of New Holland, -at Yass, where I advise you to place the rest of your capital, and I -thereby wash my hands of you, pecuniarily, for the present.’ - -‘My dear old friend,’ said Effingham, ‘it is not for the first time that -you have pulled me through a difficulty, though never before did we face -one like this. But how comes it that I have money to receive? I thought -the draft of £3000 would barely suffice to pay for the estate.’ - -‘You must know that I transacted this piece of business through a -solicitor, a shrewd man of business, who kept my counsel, making no sign -until the property was put up to auction. The terms being cash, he had a -decided advantage, and it was not known until after the sale, for whom -he had purchased. So the Warleighs having retired, we must see what the -Effinghams will make of it.’ - -‘There will be no riotous living, at any rate,’ said Wilfred; ‘and now, -as you have done with the Governor, please advise me as to our future -course. I am the duly-appointed overseer—I believe that is the proper -title—and intend to begin work this very day.’ - -‘Couldn’t do better. We may as well call Dick Evans into council. He was -hired by me at 18s. per week, with board and lodging. For this wage he -engaged to give his own and wife’s services, also those of his team and -waggon. The wages are under the ordinary rate, but he explained that his -horses would get fat here, and that he liked being employed on a place -like Warbrok, and under an ex-officer in Her Majesty’s service. I should -continue the engagement for a few months, at all events; you will find -him most useful.’ - -‘Up to this time he has been simply perfect,’ said Wilfred. ‘It’s a -pleasure to look at such an active worker—so respectful, too, in his -manner.’ - -‘Our experience of the Light Infantry man, Howard,’ said Mr. Sternworth, -‘must prevent us from fully endorsing Wilfred’s opinion, but Dick Evans -is a good man; at all country work better, indeed, than most of his -class. Let us hear what he says.’ - -Probably anticipating some such summons he was not far off, having -returned from showing Guy a flock of wild-fowl. He walked into the room -and, saluting, stood at ease, as if such a thing as a chair had never -been by him encountered in the whole course of existence. - -‘Corporal Evans!—pshaw! that is, Dick,’ said the worthy ex-military -priest, ‘I have sent for you to speak to Captain Effingham, and Mr. -Wilfred, who is to be farm manager and stock overseer. I have told them -that you are the very man for the place, when you behave yourself.’ Here -the keen grey eyes looked somewhat sternly at Mr. Evans, who put on a -look of mild surprise. ‘Are you willing to hire for six months at the -same rate of wages, with two rations, at which I engaged you? You will -work your team, I know, reasonably; and Mrs. Evans will wash and help -the ladies in any way she can?’ - -‘Well, Mr. Chaplain, the wages is not too high,’ replied Evans, ‘but I -like the place, and my horses knows the run, and does well here. _You_ -know I like to serve a gentleman, ’specially one that’s been in the -service. I’ll stay on at the same rate for six months.’ - -‘Well, that’s settled. Now, let us have a talk about requirements. How -to use the grass to the best advantage?’ - -‘There’s no better place in the country-side for dairying,’ said Dick, -addressing himself to his clerical employer, as alone capable of -understanding the bearings of the case; ‘it’s a wonderful fine season, -and there’s a deal of grass going to waste. There’s stray cattle between -here and the other end of the lake as will want nothing better than to -clear it all off, as they’re used to do, if we’re soft enough to let -’em. Many a good pick they’ve had over these Warbrok flats, and they -naturally looks for it again, ’specially as there’s a new gentleman come -as don’t know the ways of the country. Now, what I should do, if I was -the master, would be to buy two or three hundred mixed cattle—there’s a -plenty for sale just now about Yass—and start a dairy. We might make as -much butter between now and Christmas as would pay middlin’ well, and -keep other people’s cattle from coming on the place and eating us out of -house and home, in a manner of speakin’.’ - -‘Good idea, Richard,’ said Mr. Sternworth; ‘but how about the yard and -cowshed? It’s nearly all down, and half-rotten. Mr. Effingham doesn’t -want to engage fencers and splitters, and have all the country coming -here for employment.’ - -‘There’s no call for that, sir,’ said the many-sided veteran. ‘I had a -look at the yard this morning. If I had a man to help me for a fortnight -I’ll be bound to make it cattle-proof with a load of posts and rails, -that I could run out myself, only we want a maul and wedges.’ - -‘I’ll be your man,’ said Wilfred, ‘if that’s all that’s necessary. I may -as well learn a trade without delay. Andrew can help, too, I daresay.’ - -‘_He’s_ not much account,’ quoth Dick disdainfully. ‘He thinks he knows -too much already. These new hands—no offence to you, sir—is more in the -way than anything else. But if you’ll buckle to, sir, we’ll soon make a -show.’ - -‘I know a stock agent who can get the exact cattle you want,’ said Mr. -Sternworth. ‘He told me that Mr. O’Desmond had a hundred young cows and -heifers for sale. They are known to be a fine breed of cattle.’ - -‘The best in the country,’ said Dick. ‘Old Harry O’Desmond never had any -but right down good horses, cattle, and sheep at Badajos, and if we give -a little more for them at the start it will be money saved in the end. -He’s the man to give us an extra good pick, when he knows they’re for an -officer and a gentleman.’ - -‘Our friend Richard has aristocratic notions, you observe,’ said the -parson, smiling. ‘But Harry O’Desmond is just the man to act as he says. -You will do well to treat with him.’ - -‘Only too happy,’ said Effingham. ‘Everything arranges itself with -surprising ease, with your aid. Is this kind of settling made easy to go -on for ever? It was almost a pity we took the voyage at all. You might -have made our fortunes, it seems to me, as a form of recreation, and -left us to receive the profits in England.’ - -‘And how am I to be paid, you heedless voluptuary, may I ask, if not by -the presence of your charming family? Since I’ve seen them I wouldn’t -have had the colony lose them for twice the value of the investment. -Besides, seriously, if the seasons change or a decline takes place in -the stock market you’ll need all _your_ brains and Wilfred’s to keep the -ship afloat. Never lose sight of the fact that this is an uncertain -land, with a more uncertain climate.’ - -‘It’s all right if you don’t overstock, sir,’ spoke the practical -Richard. ‘But Mr. Sternworth’s right. I mind the ’27 drought well. We -was forced to live upon kangaroo soup, rice, and maize meal, with -marshmallers and “fat hen” for a little salad. But they say the -climate’s changed like, and myster than it used to be.’ - -‘Climates _never_ change in their normal conditions,’ said Sternworth -positively. ‘Any assertion to the contrary is absurd. What has been will -be again. Let us make such provision as we can against droughts and -other disasters, and leave the rest to Providence, which has favoured -this land and its inhabitants so far.’ - -‘The fences seem dilapidated. Ought they not to be repaired at once?’ -said Wilfred. - -‘By degrees, all in good time,’ said the old gentleman testily. ‘We must -not go deeply into “improvements,” as they are called here, lest they -run away with our money at the commencement of affairs. Dick will -explain to you that the cattle can be kept in bounds without fencing for -a time. And now I feel half a farmer and half an exhausted parson. So I -think I must refresh myself with another look at the lady part of the -establishment, have a mouthful of lunch, and start for home.’ - -‘It’s a murder you didn’t take to farming, sir, like Parson Rocker,’ -said Dick, with sincere regret in his tones. ‘You’d ha’ showed ’em -whether sojer officers can’t make money, though the folks here don’t -think so.’ - -‘I have my own work, Richard,’ said the old gentlemen. ‘It may be that -there is occasionally rather more of the church militant about me than -is prudent. But the town and neighbourhood of Yass will be the better -for old Harley Sternworth’s labours before we say farewell to one -another.’ - -‘I can now leave you all with perfect confidence,’ he said after lunch, -as Dick Evans brought Roanoke and the dogcart to the door. ‘The next -time I come I must bring an old friend to pay his respects, but that -will not be till the furniture has arrived. I foresee you will make -astonishing changes, and turn The Chase into the show mansion of the -district. I must bring you some of my “Souvenirs de Malmaison” and -“Madame Charles.” “The Cloth of Gold” and others I see you have. I am -prouder of my roses than of my sermons, I think. I don’t know which -require most care in pruning. Good-bye, my dear friends!’ - -The roan tossed his head, and set off at such a pace along the -grass-grown track which led to the main ‘down the country’ road, as the -highway from Yass to Sydney was provincially termed, that it was easy to -see he had been making a calculation as to the homeward route. The girls -looked after the fast-receding vehicle for a while before recommencing -their household tasks. Howard Effingham and his wife walked to and fro -along the pleasant sun-protected colonnade of the south verandah. When -they separated, little had been said which was free from praise of their -tried friend, or from thankfulness to the Almighty Disposer of events, -who had shown them His mercy in the day of need. - -This eventful colloquy concluded, settled daily employment commenced for -all the denizens of The Chase. They rose early, and each one attended to -the duties allotted by special arrangement. Breakfast over, Wilfred -shouldered an axe and marched off with Dick Evans to some forest tree, -to be converted into posts and rails for the fast-recovering dairy-yard. - -Andrew had betaken himself to the renovation of the orchard and garden -with grateful persistence, as he recalled his earlier feats at the -English home of the family, duly thankful for the opportunity of -exercising his energies in a direction wherein he could show himself -capable. - -‘It’s gra-and soil,’ he was pleased to observe, ‘and I hae nae doot -whatever that I shall be able to grow maist unco-omon vegetables, gin I -had some food—that is, manure—to gie the puir things. The trees are sair -negleckit and disjaskit, but they’ll come round wi’ care and the knife. -The spring is a thocht advanced, as that auld carle Evans has gi’en me -to understand. I winna say he’s no auld farrand wi’ a’ the “bush” ways, -as they ca’ them, but he’s an awfu’ slave o’ Satan wi’ his tongue—just -fearsome. But gin ye’ll put me a fence round this bit park, Maister -Wilfred, I’ll show yon folks here that auld Andrew Cargill can grow -prize kail in baith hemispheres.’ - -‘We are going to split some palings before we are done,’ said Wilfred, -smiling at the old man’s rounding off of his sentence. ‘Then we’ll pull -this old fence down and take in more ground, so that you may exercise -your landscape gardening talent.’ - -‘This bit garden will keep my body employed and my thochts frae -unprofitable wanderings, brawly, during this season o’ inexperience. Ye -see, Maister Wilfred, it wadna become me, as a pairson o’ reflection, to -da-ash presumptuously into a’ matters o’ practice, but they canna haud -me to obsairve and gather up the ootcome of thae bush maitters, and bide -my time a wee, till the day comes when I can take my place at the -laird’s right hand ance mair.’ - -‘No one will be better pleased than I shall be, Andrew,’ said Wilfred, -heartily grasping the hand of his faithful servitor. ‘I’ll no deny that -he kens maist things befitting a dweller in the wilderness. The de’il’s -aye guid at gifts to his ain folk. But, wae’s me, he’s lightsome and -profane abune a’ belief.’ - -The great event of the year, after all, was the arrival of the drays -with the heavy luggage and the furniture reserved from sale. - -Joy and thankfulness all too deep for words greeted the welcome wains, -promptly unladen, and their inestimable contents brought into the -shelter of the wide verandah before unpacking. - -‘I never could have believed,’ said Mrs. Effingham, ‘that anything in -Australia could have had the power to afford me so much pleasure. The -refurnishing of our house at The Chase never produced half such pleasure -as I now feel at the prospect of seeing the old tables and chairs, the -sideboard, and my dear old davenport again.’ - -‘And the piano!’ cried Annabel. ‘What a luxury to us, who have been -tuneless and songless all these months! Even the morning “scales” would -have been better than nothing. I shall really go in for steady -practising—I know I never did before. There is nothing like being -starved a little.’ - -‘Starving seems to agree with you in a bodily sense,’ said Rosamond, ‘if -I may judge from certain alterations of dresses. But you are right in -believing that it gives a wonderful relish for mental food. Look at -these two lovely boxes of books. The library was sold, but here are many -of our old favourites. How I shall enjoy seeing their faces again!’ - -‘I am certain Jeanie must have _stolen_ a quantity of things after the -sale,’ asserted Beatrice, who had been examining the externals of the -packages; ‘bedding and curtains, and every kind of thing likely to be -useful. I expect my room will be so like the one at the old Chase that I -shall never find out the difference of a morning, till I go downstairs -and see the verandahs.’ - -‘There are no verandahs in England,’ said Guy, who was one of the -‘fatigue party,’ as Dick expressed it. ‘They ought to take a hint from -the colonies—stunning places they make on a wet day, or a hot one, I can -tell you.’ - -‘Where shall we tek this sideboard, mem?’ said Dick Evans, with his -ultra-respectful, family-servant intonation. - -‘Into the dining-room, of course,’ screamed the delighted Annabel. ‘Why, -_every_ room in the house will be furnished more or less; it will be -quite a palace.’ - -Willing hands abounded, Mr. Evans in person superintending the opening -of the cases, taking care to draw nails in order to fit the boards for -future usefulness, so that, very shortly, the whole English shipment was -transferred to its final Australian resting-place. - -Robinson Crusoe, when he had made the last successful raft-passage and -transhipment from the Guinea trader before she went down, could not have -been more grateful than our deported friends when the litter and the -cases and Dick and Andrew were cleared off, and they were free to gloat -over their precious property. - -How different the rooms looked! There was an air of comfort and -refinement about the well-preserved furniture which was inexpressibly -comforting to the ex-dwellers in tents. The large rooms looked perhaps a -shade too bare, but in warm climates an Indian non-obtrusion of -upholstering is thought becoming. The well-remembered tones of the -piano, which glorified an unoccupied corner of the drawing-room, echoed -through that spacious apartment, now provided with a carpet almost as -good as new, which Jeanie’s provident care had abstracted from the -schoolroom at The Chase. The dear old round table was there, ‘out of -mother’s morning-room; the engravings from father’s study, particularly -those favourite ones of “The fighting Temeraire” and “Talavera”—all were -here. When the climbers grew up over the verandah pillars, shading the -front windows with the purple masses of the wistaria, there might be a -prettier room in Sydney, but in the bush they were sure it was -unsurpassed.’ - -Nor were Andrew and Jeanie devoid of personal interest in the arrival of -the treasure-waggons. Certain garden tools and agricultural implements, -dear to Andrew’s practical soul, now gladdened his eyes, also a -collection of carefully packed seeds. Besides all these, a rigorously -select list of necessaries in good order and preservation, once the -pride of his snug cottage, came to hand. For days after this arrival of -the Lares and Penates, the work of rearrangement proceeded unceasingly. -Mrs. Effingham and Rosamond placed and replaced each article in every -conceivable position. Annabel played and sang unremittingly. Jeanie -rubbed and polished, with such anxious solicitude, that table and chair, -wardrobe and sideboard, shone like new mahogany. Beatrice had possessed -herself of the bookcase, and after her morning share of housekeeping -work was performed, read, save at dinner, without stopping until it was -time to go for that evening walk which the sisters never omitted. - -Once it fell upon a day that a gentleman rode up in leisurely fashion -towards the entrance gate. He was descried before he came within a -hundred yards, and some trepidation ensued while the question was -considered as to who should take his horse, and how that valuable animal -should be provided for. - -Mr. Effingham, Guy, and Wilfred were away at the stock-yard, which by -this time was reported to be nearly in a state of efficiency. Andrew had -disappeared temporarily. The gentleman, for such plainly was his rank, -was a stalwart, distinguished-looking personage, sitting squarely, and -with something of military pose in his saddle. He was mounted upon a -handsome, carefully-groomed hackney. He reined up at the dilapidated -garden fence, and after looking about and seeing no appearance of an -entrance gate, as indeed that portal had been long blocked up by rails, -gathered up his reins, and clearing the two-railed fence with practised -ease, rode along the grass-grown path to the front door of the house. At -the same moment Dick Evans, who had just arrived with a load of palings, -appeared from the rear, and took his horse. - -The stranger briskly dismounted, and knocked at the hall door with the -air of a man who was thoroughly acquainted with the locale. He bowed low -to Mrs. Effingham who opened it. - -‘Permit me to make myself known as Henry O’Desmond, one of your -neighbours, my dear madam,’ said he, with the high-bred air of a man of -the world of fashion, who possesses also the advantage of being an -Irishman. ‘I presume I am addressing Mrs. Effingham. I have anticipated -the proper time for paying my respects; but there has been a matter of -business named by my agent, in which I hope to be able to serve Captain -Effingham. He is quite well, I trust?’ - -Mrs. Effingham explained that her husband had been perfectly well that -morning; furthermore, if Mr. O’Desmond would give them the pleasure of -his company to lunch, he would be enabled to make his acquaintance. - -That gentleman bowed with an air of heartfelt gratitude, and asserted -that it would give him the sincerest gratification to have such an -opportunity of meeting Captain Effingham, to which he had looked -forward, since hearing of the good fortune that was about to befall the -district, from his respected friend the Rev. Mr. Sternworth. - -Being introduced to the young ladies, Mr. O’Desmond, a handsome, -well-preserved man, promptly demonstrated that he was capable of -entertaining himself and them until his host should think fit to arrive. -Indeed, when Mrs. Effingham, who had left the room for reasons connected -with the repast, returned, having captured her husband, and -superintended his toilet, she found her daughters and their guest -considerably advanced in acquaintance. - -‘Oh, papa,’ said Annabel, ‘Mr. O’Desmond says there’s such a lovely view -about ten miles from here—a ravine full of ferns, actually _full_ of -them; and a waterfall—a real one! It is called Fern-tree Gorge; and he -has invited us all to a picnic there some day.’ - -‘Very happy to make Mr. O’Desmond’s acquaintance,’ said Effingham, -advancing with a recollection of old days strong upon him. ‘We are -hardly aware yet in what consists the proper proportion of work and play -in Australia; and in how much of the latter struggling colonists can -indulge. We shall be very grateful for information on the subject.’ - -‘And right welcome you are, my dear sir, to both, especially to the -latter. They’ll tell you that Harry O’Desmond is not unacquainted with -work during the twenty years he has spent in this wild country. But for -fun and recreation he’ll turn his back on no man living.’ - -‘Here is my lieutenant, and eldest son; permit me to introduce him. He -is burning to distinguish himself in the practical line.’ - -‘Then he couldn’t have a better drill instructor than my old -acquaintance, Dick Evans—wonderfully clever in all bush work, and -scrupulous after his own fashion. But, see here now, I came partly to -talk about cows, till the young ladies put business clean out of my -head. I’m told you want to buy cattle, Mr. Wilfred; if you’ll mount your -horse and take old Dick with you to-morrow morning, he’ll show you the -way to Badajos, and I’ll pick you the best hundred cows this day in the -country.’ - -This was held to be an excellent arrangement, and lunch being now -proclaimed, a temporary cessation of all but society talk took place. -Every one being in the highest spirits, it was quite a brilliant -symposium. It was a novel luxury to be again in the society of a -pleasant stranger, well read, travelled, and constitutionally agreeable. -O’Desmond sketched with humour and spirit the characteristic points of -their nearest neighbours; slightly satirised the local celebrities in -their chief town of Yass; and finally departed, having earned for -himself the reputation of an agreeable, well-bred personage; a perfect -miracle of a neighbour, when ill-hap might have made him equally near -and unchangeably disagreeable. - -‘What a delightful creature!’ said Annabel. ‘Didn’t some one say before -we left home that there were no gentlemen in Australia—only “rough -colonists”? I suppose that English girls will call us “rough colonists” -when we’ve been here a few years. Why, he’s like—oh, I know now—he’s the -very image of the Knight of Gwynne. Fancy lighting on a facsimile of -that charming old dear—of course Mr. Desmond is not nearly so old. He’s -not young though, and takes great care of himself, you can see.’ - -‘He’s not so _very_ old, Annabel,’ said Beatrice mischievously. ‘That is -the kind of man I should advise you to marry. Not a foolish boy of -five-and-twenty.’ - -‘Thank you, Beatrice,’ said Annabel, with dignity. ‘I’ll think over it -and let you know. I don’t think it’s probable I should ever marry any -one only a little older than myself. What could he know? I should laugh -at him if he was angry. But Wilfred is going over to Badajos, or -whatever is the name of the O’Desmond’s place, to-morrow, so he can -bring us back a full, true, and particular account of everything, and -whether Rosamond, or you, dear, would be the fitter helpmate for him. -I’m too young and foolish at present, and might be more so—that is, -foolish, not young, of course.’ - -‘I notice that the air of this climate seems to have a peculiar effect -upon young people’s tongues,’ said the soft voice of Mrs. Effingham. -‘They seem to run faster here than in England.’ - -Mr. Desmond’s property, Badajos, was nearly twenty miles from Warbrok -Chase. As it had been clearly settled that Wilfred should go there on -the following day, arrangements had to be made. Dick must accompany him -for the double purpose of confirming any selection of cattle. That -veteran cheerfully endorsed the idea, averring that now the yard was all -but finished, and the fencing stuff drawn in, leave of absence could be -well afforded. He therefore put on a clean check shirt, and buckled a -pea-jacket in front of his saddle, which he placed upon his old mare, -and was ready for the road. - -Provided with a stock-whip, taken from his miscellaneous possessions, -with lighted pipe and trusty steed, his features wore the expression of -anticipated happiness, which distinguishes the schoolboy out for a -holiday. He passed Andrew Cargill with an air of easy superiority, as -that conscientious labourer, raising his moistened brow as he delved at -the long-untilled beds, could not refrain from a look of astonishment at -this new evidence of universal capacity, as he marked Dick’s easy seat -and portentous whip. - -He muttered, ‘I wadna doot but that the auld graceless sorrow can ride -through braes and thickets, and crack yon muckle clothes-line they ca’ a -stock-wheep like ony lad. The de’il aye makes his peets o’ masterfu’ -men, wae’s me.’ - -A difficulty arose as to Wilfred’s steed. Mr. Sternworth had declined -the delicate task of remount agent. Thus The Chase was temporarily -unprovided with horseflesh. However, Dick Evans was not a man to be -prevented from carrying out a pleasant expedition for want of a horse to -ride. Sallying out early, he had run in a lot of the ownerless animals, -always to be found in the neighbourhood of unstocked pastures. Choosing -from among them a sensible-looking cob, and putting Wilfred’s English -saddle and bridle on him, he led him up to the garden gate, where he -stood with his ordinary air of deep respectability. - -‘I was just wondering how in the world I was to get a horse,’ said -Wilfred. ‘I see you have one. Did you borrow, or buy, or steal one for -my use?’ - -‘I’ve been many a year in this country, Mr. Wilfred, without tekkin’ -other people’s property, and I’m too old to begin now. But there’s 2C on -this chestnut pony’s near shoulder. I’m nigh sure it’s Bill Chalker’s -colt, as he lost two years ago, and told me to keep him in hand, if ever -I came acrost him.’ - -‘Then I may ride him without risk of being tried for horse-stealing, or -lynched, if they affect that here,’ said Wilfred gaily. ‘I shouldn’t -care to do it in England, I know.’ - -‘Things is quite different on the Sydney Side,’ said Mr. Evans with mild -dogmatism. - -Wilfred did not consider this assertion to be conclusive, but time -pressing, and the ready-saddled horse inviting his approval, he -compounded with his conscience by taking it for granted that people were -not particular as to strayed horses. The fresh and spirited animal, -which had not been ridden for months, but was (luckily for his rider) -free from vice, snorted and sidled, but proceeded steadily in the main. -He soon settled down to the hand of a fair average horseman. - -Noticing fresh objects of interest in each flowering shrub, in the birds -that flew overhead, or the strange animals that ever and again crossed -their path, about each and all of which his retainer had information to -offer, the time did not hang heavily on hand. They halted towards -evening before a spacious enclosure, having passed through which, they -came upon a roomy cottage, surrounded by a trim orchard, and backed up -by farm buildings. - -‘Here’s Badajos, Mr. Wilfred,’ said his guide. ‘And a better kept place -there ain’t in the whole country side.’ - -‘Welcome to Badajos, Mr. Effingham,’ said the proprietor. ‘William, take -this gentleman’s horse; you know your way, Dick. We’ll defer business -till the morning. I have had the cattle yarded, ready for drafting; -to-morrow you can choose the nucleus of a good herd. I shall be proud to -put you in the way of cattle-farming in the only true way to succeed—by -commencing with females of the right kind.’ - -As Wilfred followed his entertainer into the house, he felt unaffectedly -surprised at the appearance of elegance mingled with comfort which -characterised the establishment. The rooms were not large, but arranged -with an attention of detail which he had not expected to find in a bush -dwelling. The furniture was artistically disposed. Books and periodicals -lay around. High-class engravings, with a few oil-paintings, which -recalled Wilfred Effingham’s past life, hung on the walls. Couches and -lounges, of modern fashion, looked inviting, while a Broadwood piano -stood in the corner of the drawing-room, into which he followed his -host. - -‘I am a bachelor, more’s the pity,’ said Mr. O’Desmond; ‘but there’s no -law against a little comfort in the wilderness. Will you take some -refreshment now? Or would you like to be shown to your room?’ - -Wilfred accepted the latter proposal. In a very comfortable chamber he -proceeded to divest himself of the traces of the road, after a leisurely -and satisfactory fashion. He had barely regained the drawing-room, when -a gong sounded with a melodiously reminiscent clang. - -The dinner was after the fashion of civilised man. Soup and fish, fresh -from a neighbouring stream, with meritorious entrées and entremets, -showed skill beyond that of an ordinary domestic. While the host, who -had sufficiently altered his attire for comfort, without committing the -_bêtise_ of out-dressing a guest, as he recommended a dry sherry, or -passed the undeniable claret, seemed an embodied souvenir of London, -Paris, Vienna, of that world of fortune and fashion which Wilfred was -vowed to forsake for ever. Next morning the sun and Mr. W. Effingham -arose simultaneously. Dick Evans had anticipated both, and was standing -at ease near the stable. - -‘This place is worth looking at, sir. You don’t see nothing to speak of -out of order—tidy as a barrack-yard.’ - -Wonderfully trim and orderly was the appearance of all things. The -enclosure referred to was neatly gravelled, and showed not a vagrant -straw. The garden was dug, raked, and pruned into orderly perfection. -The servants’ quarters, masked by a climber-covered trellis, were -ornamental and unostentatious. The dog-kennels, tenanted by pointers, -greyhounds, collies, and terriers, were snug and spacious. The stables -were as neat as those of a London dealer. It was a show establishment. - -‘Mr. O’Desmond’s servants must be attached to him, to work so well,’ -said Wilfred. - -‘Humph!’ replied the veteran, ‘he makes ’em toe the line pretty smart, -and quite right too,’ he added, with a grim setting of his under jaw. -‘He was in the colony afore there was many free men in it. Shall we walk -down to the milking-yard, sir?’ - -The full-uddered shorthorn cows, with their fragrant breath and mild -countenances, having been admired in their clean, paved milking-yard, a -return was made towards the cottage. As they neared the garden, -O’Desmond rode briskly up to the stable door, and dismounting, threw the -reins to a groom, who stood ready as a sentinel. - -‘The top of the morning to you, Mr. Effingham; I trust you slept well? I -have had a canter of a few miles, which will give me an appetite for -breakfast. I rode over to the drafting-yards, to make sure that the -cattle were there, according to orders. Everything will be in readiness, -so that you can drive easily to Warbrok to-night. You can manage that, -Dick, can you not?’ - -‘Easy enough, if you’ll send a boy with us half-way, Mr. O’Desmond,’ -replied Dick. ‘You see, sir, Mr. Effingham’s rather new to -cattle-driving, and if the young heifers was to break back, we might -lose some of them.’ - -‘Quite right, Dick; you are always right where stock are concerned—that -is, the driving of them,’ he added. ‘I look to you to stay with Mr. -Effingham till his dairy herd is established. I shall then have the -pleasure of adding his name to that of the many gentlemen in this -district whose fortunes I have helped to make.’ - -‘Quite true, sir,’ assented Dick heartily. ‘The Camden sheep and the -Badajos cattle and horses are known all over the country by them as are -judges. But you don’t want me to be praising on ’em up—they speak for -themselves.’ - -Breakfast over, as faultless a repast as had been the dinner, it became -apparent that Mr. O’Desmond held punctuality nearly in as high esteem as -comfort. His groom stood ready in the yard with his own and Wilfred’s -horses saddled, the shining thorough-bred, which he called his hackney, -offering a strong contrast to the unkempt though well-conditioned animal -which his guest bestrode. - -As they rode briskly along the winding forest track, Wilfred, observing -the quality of his host’s hackney, the silver brightness of his bit and -stirrup-irons, the correctness of his general turn-out, remembering also -the completeness of the establishment and the character of the -hospitality he had enjoyed, doubted within himself whether, in course of -time, the owner of Warbrok Chase might ever attain to such a pinnacle of -colonial prosperity. - -‘How incredible this would all appear to some of my English friends!’ he -thought. ‘I can hardly describe it without the fear of being supposed to -exaggerate.’ - -‘Here we are,’ said O’Desmond, reining up, and dismounting at a -substantial stock-yard, while a lad instantly approached and took his -horse. ‘I have ordered the heifers and young cows to be placed in this -yard. We can run them through before you. You can make your choice, and -reject any animals below the average.’ - -‘They look rather confused at present,’ answered Wilfred; ‘but I suppose -Dick here understands how to separate them.’ - -‘I’ll manage that, never you fear, sir—that is, if you and Mr. O’Desmond -have settled about the price.’ - -‘I may state now,’ remarked that gentleman, ‘that the price, four pounds -per head, mentioned to me on your account by your agent is a liberal -one, as markets go. I shall endeavour to give you value in kind.’ - -‘It’s a good price,’ asserted Dick; ‘but Mr. O’Desmond’s cattle are -cheaper at four pounds all round than many another man’s about here at -fifty shillings. If he lets me turn back any beast I don’t fancy, we’ll -take away the primest lot of cattle to begin a dairy with as has -travelled the line for years.’ - -‘I will give you my general idea of the sort of cattle I prefer,’ said -Wilfred, not minded to commence by leaving the _whole_ management in any -servant’s hands, ‘then you can select such as appear to answer the -description.’ - -‘All right, sir,’ quoth Mr. Evans, mounting the fence. ‘I suppose you -want ’em large-framed cattle, good colours, looking as if they’d run to -milk and not to beef, not under three, and not more than five year old, -and putty quiet in their looks and ways.’ - -‘That is exactly the substance of what I was going to say to you,’ said -Wilfred, with some surprise. ‘It will save me the trouble of -explaining.’ - -‘We may as well begin, sir,’ said Dick, addressing himself to the -proprietor. Then, in quite another tone, ‘Open the rails, boys; look -sharp, and let ’em into the drafting-yards.’ - -The cattle were driven through a succession of yards after such a -fashion that Wilfred was enabled to perceive how the right of choice -could be exercised. By the time the operation was concluded he felt -himself to be inducted into the art and mystery of ‘drafting.’ Also, he -respected himself as having appreciably helped to select and separate -the one hundred prepossessing-looking kine which now stood in a separate -yard, recognised as his property. - -‘You will have no reason to be dissatisfied with your choice,’ said -O’Desmond. ‘They look a nice lot. I always brand any cattle before they -leave my yard. You will not object to a numeral being put on them before -they go? It will assist in their identification in case of any coming -back.’ - -‘Coming back!—come back twenty miles?’ queried Wilfred, with amazement. -‘How could they get back such a distance?’ - -‘Just as you would—by walking it, and a hundred to the back of that. So -I think, say, No. 1. brand—they are A1 certainly—will be a prudent -precaution.’ - -‘Couldn’t do a better thing,’ assented Dick. ‘We’ll brand ’em again when -we go home, sir; but if we lost ’em anyway near the place, they’d be all -here before you could say Jack Robinson.’ - -A fire was quickly lighted, the iron brands were heated, the cows driven -by a score at a time into a narrow yard, and for the first time in his -life Wilfred saw the red-hot iron applied to the hide of the live -animal. The pain, like much evil in this world, if intense, was brief; -the cows cringed and showed disapproval, but soon appeared to forget. -The morning was not far advanced when Wilfred Effingham found himself -riding behind a drove, or ‘mob’ (as Dick phrased it), _of his own -cattle_. - -‘There goes the best lot of heifers this day in the country,’ said the -old man, ‘let the others be where they may. Mr. O’Desmond’s a rare man -for givin’ you a good beast if you give him a fair price; you may trust -him like yourself, but he’s a hard man and bitter enough if anybody -tries to take advantage of him.’ - -‘And quite right too, Dick. I take Mr. O’Desmond to be a most honourable -man, with whom I shouldn’t care to come to cross purposes.’ - -‘No man ever did much good that tried that game, sir. He’s a bad man to -get on the wrong side of.’ - - - - - CHAPTER V - ‘CALLED ON BY THE COUNTY’ - - -When the important drove reached Warbrok, great was the excitement. -Wilfred’s absence was the loss of Hamlet from the play; his return the -signal for joy and congratulation. The little commonwealth was visibly -agitated as the tired cattle trailed along the track to the stock-yard, -with Dick sitting bolt upright in his saddle behind them, and Wilfred -essaying to crack the inconveniently long whip provided for him. - -The girls made their appearance upon the verandah; Andrew looked forth -as interested, yet under protest. Guy walked behind, and much admired -the vast number and imposing appearance of the herd; while Captain and -Mrs. Effingham stood arm in arm at a safe distance appreciating the -prowess of their first-born. - -‘Now, sir,’ quoth the ready Dick, ‘we’ll put ’em in the yard and make -’em safe to-night; to-morrow, some one will have to tail ’em.’ - -‘Tail them?’ said Wilfred. ‘Some of their ears have been scolloped, I -see; but surely it is not necessary to cut their tails in a hot climate -like this?’ - -‘S’cuse me, sir,’ said Dick respectfully, ‘I wouldn’t put the knife to -them for pounds; “tailing” means shepherdin’.’ - -‘And what does “shepherding” mean? I thought shepherds were only for -sheep?’ - -‘Well, sir, I never heerd talk of shepherdin’ at home, but it’s a -currency word for follerin’ anything that close, right agin’ their -tails, that a shepherd couldn’t be more careful with his sheep; so we -talk of shepherdin’ a s’picious c’rakter, or a lot of stock, or a man -that’s tossicated with notes stickin’ out of his pocket, or a young -woman, or anything that wants lookin’ after very partickler.’ - -‘Now I understand,’ said Wilfred. ‘It’s not a bad word, and might be -used in serious matters.’ - -‘No mistake about that, sir. Now the yard’s finished off and topped up, -we’ll soon be able to make a start with the dairy. There’ll be -half-a-dozen calves within the week, and more afore the month’s out. -There’s nothin’ breaks in cows to stop like their young calves; you’ll -soon see ’em hanging about the yard as if they’d been bred here, -’specially as the feed is so forrard. There’s no mistake, a myst season -do make everything go pleasant.’ - -When the cattle were in the yard, and the slip rails made safe by having -spare posts put across them, Wilfred unsaddled his provisional mount and -walked into the house in a satisfactory mental condition. - -‘So, behold you of return!’ quoted Rosamond, running to meet him, and -marching him triumphantly into the dining-room, where all was ready for -tea. ‘The time has been rather long. Papa has been walking about, not -knowing exactly what to do, or leave undone; Guy shooting, not -over-successfully. The most steadily employed member of the household, -and the happiest, I suppose, has been Andrew, digging without -intermission the whole time.’ - -‘I wish we could dig too, or have some employment found for us,’ said -Annabel; ‘girls are shamefully unprovided with real work, except -stocking-mending. Jeanie won’t let us do anything in the kitchen, and -really, that is the only place where there is any fun. The house is so -large, and echoing at night when the wind blows. And only think, we -found the mark of a pistol bullet in the dining-room wall at one end, -and there is another in the ceiling!’ - -‘How do you know it was a pistol shot?’ inquired Wilfred. ‘Some one -threw a salt-cellar at the butler in the good old times.’ - -‘Perhaps it was fired in the good old times; perhaps it killed some -one—how horrible! Perhaps he was carried out through the passage. But we -know it was a shot, because Guy poked about and found the bullet -flattened out.’ - -‘Well, we must ask Evans; very likely old Colonel Warleigh fired pistols -in his mad fits. He used to sit, they say, night after night, drinking -and cursing by himself after his wife died and his sons left him. No one -dared go near him when his pistols were loaded. But we need not think of -these things now, Annabel. He is dead and gone, and his sons are not in -this part of the country. So I see you have had flower-beds made while I -was away. I declare the wistaria and bignonia are breaking into flower. -How gorgeous they will look!’ - -‘Yes, mamma said she could not exist without flowers any longer, so we -persuaded Andrew, much against his will,—for he said “he was just fair -harassed wi’ thae early potatoes,”—to dig these borders. Guy helped us -to transplant and sow seeds, so we shall have flowers of our own once -more.’ - -‘We shall have everything of our own in a few years if we are patient,’ -said Wilfred; ‘and you damsels don’t want trips to watering-places, and -so on. This life is better than Boulogne, or the Channel Islands, though -it may be a trifle lonely.’ - -‘Boulogne! A thousandfold,’ said Rosamond. ‘Here we have life and hope. -Those poor families we used to see there looked liked ghosts and -apparitions of their old selves. You remember watching them walking down -drearily to see the packet come in—the girls dowdy or shabby, the old -people hopeless and apathetic, the sons so idle and lounging? I shudder -when I think how near we were to such horrors ourselves. The very air of -Australia seems to give one fresh life. Can anything be finer than this -sunset?’ - -In truth, the scene upon which her eyes rested might have cheered a -sadder heart than that of the high-hearted maiden who now, with her arm -upon her brother’s shoulder, directed his gaze to the far empurpled -hills, merging their violet cloud masses and orange-gold tints in the -darkening eve. The green pastures, relieved by clumps of heavy-foliaged -trees, glowed emerald bright against the dark-browed mountain spur. The -dying sun-rays fell in fire-flakes of burning gold on the mirrored -silver of the lake. Wrapped in soft tremulous mist lay the hills upon -the farther shore, vast with the subtle effect of limitless distance. At -such times one could dream with the faith of older days—that Earth, the -universal mother, loved her children, and breathed forth in growth of -herb and flower her smiling welcome. - -That night, as the Effinghams sat around their table, an unconscious -feeling of thankfulness swelled each heart. The parents saw assurance of -a well-provided suitable home for the little troop, the probable -disbanding of which had cost such sad forebodings. The sons, strong in -the faith of youth, saw a future of adventure, well-rewarded labour, -perhaps brilliant success. The girls felt that their lives would not be -henceforth deprived of the social intercourse which had once been an -ordinary condition of existence. - -‘How did you fare at Mr. O’Desmond’s, my son? What kind of an -establishment does he keep?’ inquired Mrs. Effingham. - -‘You will all be rather astonished,’ answered Wilfred mysteriously. -‘What should you think, Annabel? You are a good hand at guessing.’ - -‘Let me think. He is very aristocratic and dignified, yet he might live -in a hut. Men are so independent of rooms or houses, almost of -looking-glasses. Now a woman in a poky little place always shows it in -her dress. I should say he lives in a comfortable cottage, and has -everything very complete.’ - -‘And you would be right. We shall have to mind our manners and dinners -when he comes again. He lives like a club bachelor, and is as well -lodged as—let us say—a land steward on an absentee nobleman’s estate.’ - -‘You must be romancing, Wilfred,’ said Beatrice. ‘Where could he get the -luxuries that such a great man as you have described could procure? What -a wonderful difference a few thousand miles makes! We think ourselves -not so much worse, essentially, than we were in England; but we must be -deteriorating.’ - -‘Don’t talk nonsense, my dear Beatrice,’ said Rosamond. ‘Is it not a -little vulgar to attach so much weight to externals? As long as we are -doing our duty, why should there be any deterioration? It will be our -own fault if we adopt a lower level of manners.’ - -‘Oh, but how can any one expect to be the same in colonial society?’ -exclaimed Annabel. ‘See how insignificant even the “best people” are out -here. Why, I was reading yesterday about a “country baronet,” and even a -“well-meaning, unfashionable countess,” being looked down -upon—positively laughed at—in England. Now think what tremendous -potentates they would be out here! I’m sure that proves what I say.’ - -‘Your propositions and proofs are worthy of one another, my dear,’ said -Wilfred. ‘But as to society, I shan’t be sorry when more of our -neighbours call.’ - -‘Now that the house is fit to receive them I shall be pleased, my dear -son, to see the people of the land. I am sure I hope there are some nice -ones.’ - -Wilfred rose early next morning to indulge himself with another look at -the new cattle. He was only just in time, as Dick had breakfasted, -caught his horse, and was about to let out the imprisoned drove. - -‘I’ll tail ’em for the first few days, sir,’ he said, ‘till I give ’em -the way of camping under them big trees near the little swamp. It will -make a first-rate camp for ’em, and learn ’em to run handy to the place. -After that we must get some sort of a lad to foller ’em. It won’t pay -you to keep me at blackfellow’s work.’ - -‘What’s that?’ inquired Wilfred. - -‘Why, simple work like this, that any black boy could do, if he didn’t -give his mind to ’possums. Besides, we wants a horse-yard, and a bit of -a paddock, and another field cleared, to plough for next year.’ - -‘That seems a good deal of work to carry on, Richard. Won’t it take more -hands? Remember, we must go economically to work. My father is by no -means a rich man.’ - -‘That’s quite right, sir; no one should run themselves out of pocket, -high or low. But if we had some one to go with these cows till the -calves come, and that won’t be long, you and I could do what work I’ve -chalked out.’ - -‘Why should not Guy “tail” the cows, as you call it?’ suggested Wilfred, -pleased with the idea that they would be able to provide labour from -their own community. ‘It would do him no harm.’ - -‘Perhaps the young gentleman mightn’t like it,’ said Dick, with deep -respect. ‘It’s dull work, every day, like.’ - -‘Oh, he _must_ like it!’ decided Wilfred, with the despotic elder -brother tone. ‘We have come out here to work, and he must take his -share. He may find it dull for a time; but he can shoot a little and -amuse himself, as long as he doesn’t come home without them, like Little -Bo-peep. What would a boy cost?’ - -‘About six or eight shillings a week, and his rations, sir, which would -come to as much again. But the young master needn’t stay out after four -o’clock.’ - -‘Then we make a saving at once of say sixteen shillings a week. Guy -never earned so much in his life before. He will be quite proud of his -value in the labour market. You and I can begin splitting and fencing at -once.’ - -‘But we shall want some more cattle, sir,’ suggested Dick. - -‘More cattle!’ said Wilfred in amazement, to whom a hundred head was an -awe-striking number. ‘What for?’ - -‘Why, to eat! It don’t do to buy meat every time you want a roast or a -steak. Cheapest to kill your own. If we was to buy a mob of common -cattle, they’d cost nothing to speak of; the bullocks soon fatten, and -the cows would breed you up a fair mixed herd in no time.’ - -‘Well, but we have these cattle you have just let out,’ pleaded Wilfred, -looking admiringly at the red, white, and roan shorthorn crosses, which, -spreading over the rich meadow, were feeding quietly, as if reared -there. - -‘Them’s all very well, sir; but it’ll be years before you kill a bullock -out of that lot; they’ve got to come, all in good time. But the quiet -steers, and the worst of the cows, in a mixed herd, will be fat before -you can look round, in a season like this, and your beef won’t cost you -above a penny a pound.’ - -It was decided that Guy was to ‘tail’ or herd the new cows at present. -Upon this duty being named to him, he made no objection—rather seemed to -like it. - -‘I suppose as long as I don’t lose them I can do anything I like,’ he -said; ‘hunt ’possums, shoot, ferret out ferns for Rosamond, or even -read.’ - -‘The more you lets the cattle alone the better, Mr. Guy,’ said Dick. ‘As -long as they don’t sneak away from you, you can’t take it too easy. -There’s fine feed all roads now, and after the first hour or two they’ll -fill theirselves and lie down like working bullocks. But you’ll want a -horse.’ - -‘That I shall,’ said the boy, beginning to take up the fashions of the -bush, and to rebel at the idea of going on foot, as if mankind was a -species of centaur. - -‘Must have more horses too, sir,’ announced Dick, with a calm air of ask -and have. - -‘How many?’ returned Wilfred uncomplyingly; ‘it seems we shall want more -horses—we haven’t any, certainly—more cattle, more tillage, more yards, -more paddocks; it will soon come to wanting more money, and where to get -_that_ I don’t know.’ - -‘Horses are dirt cheap, sir, just now, and can’t be done without, nohow. -You’ll want a cob for the Captain to potter about on, a couple of hacks -for yourself, one apiece for Mr. Guy and the young ladies—they’d like a -canter now and then afore Christmas. I hear Mick Donnelly’s selling off, -to clear out for Monaro. You couldn’t do better than ride over and see -his lot; they’ll be pretty sure to live on our grass, if any of the -neighbours gets ’em, and you may as well have that profit out of ’em -yourself.’ - -The conversation having come to an end, Mr. Evans was about to move -after his cattle, now indulging in a pretty wide spread, when a horseman -joining them, greeted Wilfred. - -‘Good-morning, sir,’ said the stranger, with loud, peculiar, but not -unpleasant voice, having a note of culture too. ‘Glad to make your -acquaintance; Mr. Effingham, I believe? We’re neighbours, on the south, -about ten miles from Benmohr. You haven’t seen a chestnut pony about, -branded 2C? He used to run here in Hunt’s time. Why, hang me! if he -isn’t coming up to show himself!’ - -The chestnut pony which had borne Wilfred so successfully in the journey -for the new cattle now trotted up, having followed Evans’s mare, to -which animal he had attached himself, after the manner of horses, prone -to contract sudden friendships. - -Wilfred, about to disclaim any knowledge of the strange gentleman’s -chestnut, not dreaming that the estray which had come in so handily -could be his property, and as yet not given to reading at a glance 2C or -other hieroglyph, felt rather nonplussed, more especially when he -noticed the stranger’s eye attracted to the saddle-mark on the pony’s -fat back. - -‘I must confess to having ridden your horse, if he be so, a short -journey. We were not aware of his ownership, and I had no horse of my -own. I trust you will forgive the liberty.’ - -‘He _has_ rather nice paces. How did you like him?’ inquired the -stranger urbanely, much as if he had a favour conferred upon him. ‘I’ll -run him into the yard now with your permission, and lead him home.’ - -‘Pray come in, and allow me to introduce you to my people,’ said -Wilfred, satisfied, from the stranger’s bearing, that he was a desirable -acquaintance. ‘With the exception of Mr. O’Desmond, from whom I bought -these cattle, we have not seen a neighbour yet.’ - -‘Know them all in time,’ said the stranger; ‘no great shakes, some of -them, when you _do_ know them. My name’s Churbett, by the bye—Fred -Churbett, of The Oaks; cattle station on Banksia Creek, used to be -called She-oak Flat—had to change it. Nice cattle O’Desmond let you -have; got good stock, but makes you pay for them.’ - -‘How you have improved the old place!’ continued Mr. Churbett, as they -approached the house. ‘Who would believe that so much could have been -made of it? Never saw it in the palmy days of Colonel Warleigh, though. -Seems to have run in the military line of ownership. The old boy kept up -great state. Four-in-hand always to Yass, they say. Coachman, butler, -lots of servants—convicts, of course. Awful temper; cursed freely, drank -ditto. Sons not behindhand, improved upon the paternal sins—gambling, -horse-racing, Old Harry generally. Had to clear out and sell. Great pull -for the district having a family straight from “home” settled in it.’ - -‘I trust the advantage will be mutual,’ said Wilfred. ‘We hope to be -neighbourly when we are quite settled. But you will understand that it -has taken us a little time to shake down.’ - -‘Thought of that,’ said Mr. Churbett, ‘or should have had the pleasure -of calling before. Trotted over to look up master “Traveller” for the -muster, or should have waited another week.’ - -Mr. Churbett’s horses having been disposed of, he was duly introduced. -He proved if anything a greater success than Mr. O’Desmond. He was -musical, and the sight of the piano immediately brought up talk about -the last opera he had heard in London. He was also a great reader, and -after touching upon half a score of authors, promised to bring over a -new book which he had just got up from town. - -‘Really,’ said Annabel innocently, ‘this is a surprise. I never dreamed -of getting a new book in the bush. Why, it only came out just before we -left. I was longing to read it; but, of course, we were too miserable -and worried. How can it have got here so quickly?’ - -‘Just the same way that we did, I suppose,’ said Beatrice—‘in a ship. -You forget the time that has passed since we landed.’ - -‘Still, it is a pleasant surprise. I shouldn’t wonder, perhaps we may -get some new music soon. But I should as soon have thought of a -book-club in the moon.’ - -‘Talking of book-clubs,’ said Churbett, ‘we are trying to get up one; I -hope you will join. With twelve members, and a moderate subscription, we -can import a very fair lot of books every year. A brother of mine in -London can choose them for us; I am to be librarian. The books are -divided into sets, which each subscriber sends on in turn.’ - -Annabel clapped her hands. ‘How delightful! Wilfred, of course, will -join. Fancy, dear, _clean_ new books every month. Really, life is -becoming quite intoxicating, and I thought we should die of dulness and -ennui.’ - -‘No; did you, though?’ echoed Mr. Churbett compassionately. ‘I confess -to feeling inclined to cry when I came up to Murson Creek and saw the -hut I was to live in for the first year. But one’s feelings get -wonderfully altered after a while.’ - -‘And are you _quite_ resigned, that is contented, to give up operas and -picture galleries, clubs and travel, all the pleasant parts of English -life?’ asked Rosamond. - -‘It _was_ hard at first, Miss Effingham; but here I have independence, -with the prospect of a fortune. In England such was not the case, -particularly the independence. Operas and other memories recall a fairy -realm which I may yet re-enter. Meantime, I ride about all day, work now -and then, smoke and read at night, and if not exactly happy, am decently -cheerful.’ - -‘What the world calls pleasure you never see, I suppose?’ said Beatrice -philosophically. - -‘Do we not? I forgot one compensation in our virtuous, self-denying -lives. Once a year, at least, we have races in Yass, which is our -metropolis. Then we all meet together, as a solemn, social obligation. -Pilgrimage to Mecca, and so on. Very few true believers absent. Balls, -picnics, any amount of dancing, flirtation, what not. Enough to last for -the rest of the year. After a week or two we go home sorrowfully, -staying at each other’s houses on the way, to let down the excitement by -degrees.’ - -‘Where do the ladies come from?’ asked Annabel. ‘I suppose there are -very few?’ - -‘Very few!’ said Mr. Churbett in tones of horror. ‘_Ever_ so many. Is it -possible you have never heard, even in Europe, of the beautiful Miss -Christabel Rockley, the fascinating Mrs. Snowden, the talented Mrs. -Porchester? Ladies! They abound, or how should we remain civilised? Yass -is well known to be the home of all the graces. Could O’Desmond retain -his _grand seigneur_ air but for the advantage of refined association? I -wish I could take you round, Miss Effingham, on an introductory tour. -What a book we could write of our experiences!—“Travels and Sketches in -the Upper Strata of the Social System of the Yass District, by Miss -Annabel Effingham, illustrated by F. Churbett, F.R.Y.A.S.S., Fellow of -the Royal Yass Analytical Squatting Society,” reads well.’ - -‘Quite delicious,’ said Annabel. ‘But everything that is nice is -improper, so, of course, I shouldn’t be let go. Not even Rosamond, who -is prudence personified. I’m afraid there is no more liberty for poor -women in a new country than an old one. That _is_ the bell—I was sure of -it. Mr. Churbett, allow me to invite you to dinner—an early one, which -is about the extent of my privileges.’ - -Mr. Churbett accepted the invitation, as he no doubt would have acceded -to any proposition emanating from the speaker even less manifestly -beneficial. He kept the whole party amused, and lingered until he -declared he should have to gallop Grey Surrey all the way home to get -there before dark. - -‘He’s like me,’ he explained, upon being charged with cruelty; ‘he only -does a day’s work now and then, and he doesn’t mind it when it does -come.’ - -Resisting all invitation to stop for the night, on the plea that the -effort necessary in his case must be made some time and might as well be -undergone now, he departed in the odour of high consideration, if not of -sanctity. - -In order that no opportunities might be lost, Wilfred commenced the -habit of rising at dawn and joining Dick at the stock-yard, where the -old man had initiated a dairy, with the aid of the few cows of the -O’Desmond brand which had produced calves. Here he was attended by -Andrew, who sturdily proceeded to take his share of the work, in spite -of Dick’s sarcastic attitude. He evidently considered the dairy to be -his province, and regarded Andrew as an interloper. - -‘Na, na, Maister Wilfred,’ said Andrew, ‘I hae been acquent in my time -wi’ a’ manner o’ kye, and had a collie following me these thretty years. -It’s no because we’re in a new land that I’m to turn my back on ilka -occupa-ation that will bring in profit to the laird and his bairns. -Jeanie can mak’ as sweet butter as ever a gudewife in Lothian, and we -hae to depend maistly on the butter-keggies, for what I see.’ - -‘You’ll find that garden of yours, when the weeds come up, quite enough -for one, I’m thinking. There’s enough of us here, if Mr. Wilfred takes -to it kind, as he seems to do. But if you’re such a dab hand at milking, -you can tek that red cow that’s come in this morning.’ - -‘And a gra-and show o’ milk she has,’ quoth Andrew, ‘maist unco-omon!’ - -Dick commenced, with a stolid expression, to arrange the slip-rails, -which apparently took time to adjust. Andrew, meanwhile, proud of the -opportunity of exhibiting his familiarity with the art and science of -milking, moved the red cow into one of the bails, or stalls, in which -cows are ordinarily milked in Australia. - -Sitting upon a three-legged stool, he commenced his ancient and -classical task. He had succeeded in, perhaps, drawing a pint from the -over-full udder of the red cow aforesaid, when she suddenly raised her -hind leg and caught him with such emphasis that man and milk, pail and -stool, went clattering down into the corner of the yard. - -‘Gude save us!’ exclaimed Andrew, picking himself up, and rubbing his -person, while he collected all that was recoverable of the scattered -properties. ‘What garred the fell beastie act sae daft-like. I hae -milket a hunner coos, and ne’er was whummled like yon.’ - -‘Perhaps they was Scotch cows, and understood your talk, Mr. Cargill,’ -said Dick, with great politeness, covering a grim enjoyment; ‘but in -this country we mostly _leg-ropes_ cows when we bail ’em up, for fear of -accidents.’ - -‘Weel, I winna say that these queys, being brocht up in a mair savage -fashion than in bonnie Scotland, wadna need head and heel fastenings. -But, ma certie, they would glower in my part of the country, gin ye tied -a coo’s leg like a thrawn ox at the smithy.’ - -‘I suppose “we must do at Rome, etc.,” and all the rest of it, Andrew,’ -said Wilfred. ‘Here, Dick, make a beginning with your cow, and Andrew -and I will put a leg-rope on this one. Never too late to mend. I’ll back -Andrew to hold his own yet in the milking-yard, or anywhere else.’ - -Old Dick, having satisfied his grudge by compassing the downfall of -Andrew, whom he had shrewdly guessed never to have been accustomed to a -leg-rope, condescended to instruct Wilfred in the proper way to knot it. -The cows were eventually milked _secundum artem_, and when the full -buckets, foaming over with creamy fluid, stood on a bench outside the -yard, Wilfred saw with distinct gratification the first dividend from -the cattle investment. - -‘We must calculate now, Andrew,’ he said, as they walked over to the -house, ‘how much butter can be made from the milk of these cows. It is a -small matter, of course; but multiplied by ten—as we shall have at least -fifty cows in milk, Dick says, before Christmas—it will not be so bad.’ - -‘After conseederin’ the matter maist carefully,’ said Andrew, ‘I am free -to give it as ma deleeberate opeenion that gin the pasture keeps aye -green and plenteous we may mak’ baith butter and cheese o’ the best -quality. As to price, I canna yet say, havin’ nae knowledge o’ the -mairkets.’ - -‘Well, we have made a beginning, Andrew, and that is a great matter. If -we can only pay current expenses, without employing more hands, we shall -be doing well, I consider.’ - -‘We must work gey and close at the first gang aff, Maister Wilfred, and -then dinna ye fear. Wi’ the Lord’s blessing, we’ll be spared to set up -our horn on high, as weel as thae prood Amalekites, that have had the -first grip o’ this gra-and Canaan. I was doon yestreen and lookit at the -field o’ victual—the paddock, as yon auld carle ca’s it. It’s maist -promising—forbye ordinar’—maist unco-omon.’ - -Among the list of indispensable investments which Dick Evans had urged -upon Wilfred, but which he had not at present thought it necessary to -undertake, were another lot of cattle, a dozen horses (more or less), -and some kind of taxed cart, or light vehicle. Apparently these would be -advantageous and profitable, but Wilfred had determined to be most -sparing in all outlay, lest the reserve fund of the family should come -to a premature end. - -On this day it seemed that the advanced guard of the neighbouring gentry -had commenced to lay formal siege to Warbrok Chase. On his return to the -house in the afternoon, Wilfred descried two good-looking horses hanging -up to the garden fence, and upon entering the sitting-room beheld their -owners in amicable converse with his mother and sisters. He was promptly -introduced to Mr. Argyll and Mr. Charles Hamilton. Both men were well, -even fashionably dressed, and bore about them the nameless air which -stamps the holder of a degree in the university of society. - -‘We should have called before,’ said Mr. Argyll, a tall fair-haired man, -whose quick glancing blue eye and mobile features betrayed natural -impetuosity, kept under by training; ‘but my partner here is such an -awfully hard-working fellow, that he would not quit the engineering with -which he was busied, to visit the Queen of Sheba, if she had just -settled in the neighbourhood.’ - -‘I was not aware,’ said Mr. Hamilton coolly, and with an air of settled -conviction upon his regular and handsome features, ‘of the extent of my -sacrifice to duty. I may venture to assure Mrs. Effingham that my -neighbourly duties for the future will not be neglected.’ - -‘I hope not,’ said Mrs. Effingham; ‘for, now that the excitement of -settling in such a very different world has passed away, we begin to -feel rather lonely—may I say dull?’ - -‘No, mamma,’ said Rosamond, ‘you must not say that. We are all so fully -occupied, from morning to dusk, that we have no time to be dull.’ - -‘Oh, but we cannot get on without society,’ remarked Annabel. ‘I feel in -the highest spirits as long as there is so much to do, that there is no -time for thinking; indeed, I hate to have a moment to myself. But in the -afternoons, when papa and the boys are out, I begin to realise our -solitary position, and the feeling becomes oppressive.’ - -‘Very naturally too,’ said Mr. Argyll. ‘But as yet you have no idea of -the social resources which you will be able to draw upon when you are -acquainted with everybody.’ - -‘And who is everybody?’ asked Beatrice. ‘How can we be sociable if -people don’t come to see us? Suppose you tell us who are the nice people -of the district, and we shall be able to enjoy them in anticipation.’ - -‘You will see most of them within the month; but I shrink from -describing them. Charles, you are afraid of nobody, suppose you give us -a _catalogue raisonné_.’ - -‘Certainly, if Miss Effingham wishes it,’ assented Mr. Hamilton, who had -the imperturbable look which goes with a temperament difficult to -surprise or intimidate. ‘I shall have great pleasure in trotting out our -friends for her information. We have been here only three years, so in -case of mistakes you must be considerate.’ - -‘Oh, we shall be most discreet,’ said Annabel; ‘besides, we have no -acquaintance yet to chatter to—that’s the best guarantee for prudence.’ - -‘I think I may take your solemn affirmation not to betray me,’ said Mr. -Hamilton, looking admiringly into Annabel’s lovely eyes, ‘and even then -I would face the risk. First, there is Captain Snowden with his wife. He -was in the navy, I think; he has rather more of the sailor about him -than—what shall I say?—the courtier, though he can be very agreeable -when he likes. Madame is extremely lady-like, clever, travelled, what -not. You must see her and judge for yourself.’ - -‘Are there any more ladies?’ asked Rosamond. ‘They possess an absorbing -interest for us.’ - -‘Ever so many more,’ laughed Hamilton. ‘Mrs. Porchester, who is rather a -“blue”; Mrs. Egremont, who is a beauty; the Misses Carter, who are -good-nature itself. The others, I think, you must find out by degrees. -In Yass there are some very nice families, particularly that of Mr. -Rockley. He is the leading merchant in these parts, and rules like a -benevolent despot. His wife is hospitable and amiable beyond compare; -his daughter, Miss Christabel, dangerously beautiful. I _must_ leave -something to the imagination.’ - -‘I assure you we are most grateful to you as it is,’ said Mrs. -Effingham. ‘It is really encouraging to find that there are so many -charming people in the neighbourhood. We should hardly consider them in -the same county at home; but here they don’t seem to mind riding any -distance.’ - -‘I am mistaken,’ said Hamilton, ‘if you do not find people riding -wonderful distances to visit Warbrok. We are less than twenty miles -away, I am thankful to say, so you will see us as often as you care for. -By the way,’ turning to Wilfred, ‘did I hear you say you were going to -Donnelly’s sale? If you buy stock there, you had better stay a night at -Benmohr on your return. It is just a fair stage.’ - -‘Thanks. I shall be most happy. Do you think it a good idea to invest at -Donnelly’s?’ - -‘If I were in your place I should buy all his cattle and a few horses. -They can’t fail to be a profitable purchase, as you seem to have any -amount of grass. But we must be going. We shall expect you at Benmohr -the day after the sale. Mrs. Effingham, I shall do myself the honour of -another visit, after you have been able to verify my portraitures.’ - -‘What gentlemanlike young men!’ said Mrs. Effingham, when the guests -were fairly away. ‘I am so sorry that your papa was out. He would have -been so pleased. Mr. Argyll seems so clever, and Mr. Hamilton is very -handsome—both wonderfully well dressed for the bush.’ - -‘I should say Mr. Argyll was disposed to be sarcastic,’ said Rosamond; -‘and I am mistaken if he has not a fierce temper. He told us he was a -Highlander, which accounts for it.’ - -‘Mr. Hamilton is one of the nicest-looking men I have seen for a long -time,’ said Annabel; ‘what splendid eyes he has! He is very particular -about his gloves too; gives time and reflection to his toilet, I should -say.’ - -‘I have heard Dick say that he is the hardest-working squatter in the -district,’ said Wilfred. ‘He is devoted to ploughing, digging, -navvy-work, horse-breaking—“all manner of slavery,” as Dick says.’ - -‘Who would have thought it!’ exclaimed Mrs. Effingham in tones of -astonishment. ‘From his appearance I should have thought that he was -afraid to soil those white hands of his.’ - -‘The best-dressed people are not the most backward at work or fighting,’ -said Wilfred. - -‘But how _can_ he keep his hands white,’ inquired Annabel with a great -appearance of interest, ‘if he really works like a labourer?’ - -‘Perhaps he works in gloves; a man can get through a great deal of work -in a pair of old riding-gloves, and his hands be never the worse. There -is something about those two men that I like extremely. Mr. Argyll puts -me in mind of Fergus MʻIvor with that fiery glance; he looks as if he -had a savage temper, well held in.’ - -‘They are both very nice, and I hope you will make real friends of them, -Wilfred,’ said Mrs. Effingham. ‘Might I also suggest that, as it is -evidently practicable to dress like a gentleman and work hard, a certain -young man should be more careful of his appearance?’ - -‘I deserve that, I know, old lady,’ said her son laughingly; ‘but really -there is a temptation in the wilderness to costume a little. I promise -you to amend.’ - -‘Our circle of acquaintance is expanding,’ said Beatrice; ‘certainly it -has the charm of variety. Mr. O’Desmond is Irish, Mr. Churbett from -London, our last visitors Scots—one Highland, one Lowland. All differing -among themselves too. I am sure we shall be fully occupied; it will be a -task of some delicacy _tenir de salon_, if we ever have them here at a -party.’ - -‘A party!’ said Mrs. Effingham; ‘don’t think of it for _years_ to come, -child. It would be impossible, inappropriate in every way.’ - -‘But there’s no harm, mamma, surely, in _thinking_ of it,’ pleaded -Annabel. ‘It encourages one to keep alive, if nothing else.’ - - - - - CHAPTER VI - AN AUSTRALIAN YEOMAN - - -A week of laborious work preceded the day when circumstances permitted -Wilfred and his serving-man to ride forth for the purpose of attending -the sale of Mr. Michael Donnelly’s stock and effects. Formerly known as -‘Willoughby’s Mick,’ he had, during an unpretending career as -stock-rider for that gentleman, accumulated a small herd of cattle and -horses, with which to commence life on a grazing farm near Yass. Here, -by exercise of the strictest economy as to personal expenses, as well as -from the natural increase of stock, he had, during a residence of a -dozen years, amassed a considerable property. Yet on his holding there -was but scant evidence of toil or contrivance. A few straggling peach -trees represented the garden. The bark-roofed slab hut which he found -when he came had sufficed for the lodging of himself and wife, with -nearly a dozen children. The fences, not originally good, were now -ruinous. The fields, suffered to go out of cultivation, lay fallow and -unsightly, only half-cleared of tree-stumps. The dress of this honest -yeoman had altered for the worse since the hard-riding days of -‘Willoughby’s Mick.’ The healthy boys and girls were more or less -ragged; the younger ones barefooted. The saddles and cart harness were -patched with raw hide, or clumsily repaired. The cow-shed was rickety; -the calves unsheltered. Yet with all this apparent decay and disorder, -any one, judging from appearances, who had put down Michael Donnelly as -an impoverished farmer, would have been egregiously deceived. His -neighbours knew that his battered old cabbage-tree hat covered a head -with an unusual amount of brains. Uneducated and bush-bred, he possessed -intuitive powers of calculation and forecast frequently denied to -cultured individuals. Early in life he had appropriated the fact, that -in this land of boundless pasturage, profitable up to a certain point, -without the necessity of one _farthing_ of expenditure, the -multiplication of stock was possible to any conceivable extent. Once -make a commencement with a few cows, and it was a man’s own fault if he -died without more cattle than he could count. Hadn’t Johnny Shore begun -that way? _Walked_ over to Monaro with half-a-crown in his pocket. He -saved his wages for a few years and got the needful start. - -Become a capitalist, his instincts revolted against spending money -needlessly, when every pound, often less, would buy a cow, which cow -would turn into fifty head of cattle in a few years. ‘What could a man -do that would pay him half as well? Why employ labour that could be done -without? It was all very well for Mr. Willoughby, who had raised his -wages gradually from twenty pounds per annum and one ration. Mr. -Willoughby was a gentleman with a big station, and threw his money about -a bit; but why should he, Mick Donnelly, go keeping and feeding men to -put in crops when farming didn’t pay? Therefore his fields might lie -fallow and go out of cultivation.’ - -His boys were getting big lumps of fellows, old enough to help brand and -muster. The girls could milk, and break in the heifers, as well as all -the men in the country. His wife could cook—there wasn’t much of that; -and wash—it didn’t fatigue her; and sweep—that process was economised—as -well as ever. Any kind of duds did for working people, as long as they -went decent to chapel on Sundays. That they had always done and would -do, please God. But all other occasions of spending money were wasteful -and unnecessary. - -The sole expenses, then, of this large family were in the purchase of -flour, tea, sugar, and clothes, none of which articles came to an -extravagant sum for the year. While the sales were steady and -considerable, Mick and his sons drove many a lot of cattle, fat or -store, to the neighbouring markets. The profits of the dairy in butter -and bacon, the representatives of which latter product roamed in small -herds around the place, paid all the household expenses twice over; -while the amount of his credit balance at the Bank of New Holland in -Yass would have astonished many a tourist who watched Mick smoking on -his stock-yard rails, or riding an unshod mare down the range after a -mob of active cattle. - -But now a more ambitious idea was evolved from the yeoman’s slowly -maturing, but accurate mental processes. He had been noting the relative -scale of outlay and income of a neighbouring sheep-farmer. After certain -cautious comparisons, he fixed the conclusion that, other things being -equal, sheep would pay him better than cattle. He heard from an old -comrade of the forced sale of a sheep station in the then half-explored, -unstocked district of Monaro, lying between the Great Range and the -Snowy River. His offer of cash, at a rate far from remunerative to the -late owner, had been accepted. - -That part of his plan settled, he sold his freehold to a neighbouring -proprietor who was commencing to found an estate, receiving rather more -than double his original purchase money. Stock being at a reasonable -price, Donnelly determined to sell off the whole of his possessions, -merely reserving his dray, team, and a sufficiency of saddle-horses for -the family. His herd had become too numerous for the run. His boys and -girls would make shepherds and shepherdesses for a while—by no means a -picturesque occupation in Australia, but still profitable as of old. He -would be enabled to continue independent of hired labour. He trusted to -the duplication of stock to do the rest. Hence the clearing-off sale, -which a number of farmers in the neighbourhood were likely to attend, -and to which Wilfred and his chief servitor were at present wending -their way. - -On this occasion Wilfred had resisted the idea of mounting any of the -strayed horses, still numerous upon the enticing pastures of Warbrok. -Having unwittingly placed himself in a false position, he was resolved -not to repeat the impropriety. - -‘Mr. Churbett had behaved most courteously,’ he said; ‘but it might have -been otherwise. I was not aware that it was other than a colonial -custom. There must be no more mistakes of this kind, Dick, or you and I -shall quarrel. Go to one of the nearest farmers and see if you can hire -me a decent hack.’ - -So Dick, though chafing at the over-delicacy which led his master to pay -for a mount while available steeds were eating his grass, proceeded to -obey orders, and shortly returned with a substantial half-bred, upon -which Wilfred bestowed himself. - -Dick Evans was always in good spirits at the prospect of a cruise in -foreign parts. Mrs. Evans, on the other hand, was prone to dwell upon -the unpleasant side of domestic matters. Her habit of mind had doubtless -resulted in the philosophic calm with which her husband bore his -frequent, and occasionally protracted, absences from the conjugal -headquarters. As before, he mounted his old mare with a distinct air of -cheerfulness. - -‘The dairy work will get along all right for a day or two, sir,’ he -said. ‘Old Andy begins to be a fairish milker—he was dead slow at -first—and Mr. Guy’s a great help bailin’ up. There’s nothing brisks me -up like a jaunt somewheres—I don’t care where it is, if it was to the -Cannibal Islands. God Almighty never intended me to stop long in one -place, I expect.’ - -‘A rolling stone gathers no moss, Dick,’ said Wilfred. ‘You’ll never -save up anything if you carry out those ideas always.’ - -‘I don’t want to save nothing, sir. I’ve no call to keep money in a box; -I can find work pretty well wherever I go that will keep me and my old -woman in full and plenty. I’m safe of my wages as long as I can work, -and when I can’t work no more I shall die—suddent like. I’ve always felt -that.’ - -‘But why don’t you get a bit of land, Dick, and have a place of your -own? You could easily save enough money to buy a farm.’ - -‘Bless your heart, sir, I wouldn’t live on a farm allers, day in, day -out, if you’d give me one. I should get that sick of the place as I -should come to hate the sight of it. But hadn’t you better settle with -yourself like, sir, what kind of stock you’re agoin’ to bid for when we -get to Mick’s? There’ll be a lot of people there, and noise, and perhaps -a little fighting if there’s any grog goin’, so it’s best to be ready -for action, as old Sir Hugh Gough used to tell us.’ - -‘Mr. Churbett and Mr. Hamilton thought I should buy all the mixed -cattle, as many of them would be ready for the butcher before winter.’ - -‘So they will, sir, or my name’s not Richard Evans, twice corporal in -the old 50th, and would have been sergeant, if I’d been cleverer at my -book, and not quite so clever at the canteen. But that’s neither here -nor there. What I look at is, they’re all dairy-bred cattle, and broke -in close to your own run, which saves a power of trouble. If you can get -a hundred or two of ’em for thirty shillings or two pound a head, -they’ll pay it all back by next season—easy and flippant.’ - -Finishing up with his favourite adjective, which he used when desirous -of showing with what ridiculous ease any given result might be obtained, -Mr. Richard Evans lighted his pipe with an air of assurance of success -which commenced to infect his employer. - -About mid-day they reached the abode of Michael Donnelly, Esq., as such -designated by the local papers, who ‘was about to submit to public -competition his quiet and well-bred herd of dairy cattle, his choice -stud, his equipages, farming implements, teams, carts, harness, etc., -with other articles too numerous to mention.’ Other articles there were -none, except he had decided to sell the olive branches. Wilfred was -shocked at the appearance of the homestead of this thriving farmer. The -falling fences, the neglected orchard, the dilapidated hut, the -curiously patched and mended stock-yard, partly brush, partly of logs, -with here and there a gap, secured by a couple of rude tree-forks, with -a clumsy sapling laid across—all these did not look like the -surroundings of a man who could give his cheque for several thousand -pounds. However, the personal appearance of Mick himself, an athletic, -manly, full-bearded fellow, as also that of his family, was decidedly -prepossessing. They were busily attending to the various classes of -stock, with much difficulty kept apart for purposes of sale. Whatever -else these Australian Celts lacked, they had been well nourished in -youth and infancy. A finer sample of youthful humanity, physically -considered, Wilfred had never seen. The lack of order everywhere visible -had in no way reacted upon their faculties. All their lives they had -known abundant nutriment, unrestricted range. Healthful exercise had -been theirs, congenial labour, and diet unstinted in the great -essentials. Few other considerations had entered into the family -councils. - -And now they were about to migrate, like the world’s elder children, to -a land promising more room. Then, as now, a higher life was possible, -where the sheep and the oxen, the camels and the asses, would enjoy a -wider range. The sale over, they would once more resume that journey -which, commencing soon after the marriage day of Michael Donnelly and -Bridget Joyce, was not ended yet. - -Wilfred Effingham was soon confirmed in his opinion that he had done -well to attend. Many of the neighbouring settlers were there, as well as -farmers and townspeople from Yass, brought together by the mysterious -attraction of an auction sale. One of the townspeople, asking first if -he was Mr. Effingham of Warbrok, put into his hand a note which ran as -follows:— - - -‘MY DEAR WILFRED—I thought you were likely to be at Donnelly’s sale, so -I send you a line by a parishioner of mine. I have made inquiries about -the stock, and consider that you could not do better than buy as many of -the cattle as you have grass for. They are known to be quiet, having -been used to dairy tending, and are certain to increase in value and -number, as you have so much grass at Warbrok. Price about two pounds. A -few horses would not be superfluous, and there are some good ones in -Donnelly’s lot, or they would hardly have stood his work. Mention my -name to Mick, and say he is to let you down easy. I have had a touch of -rheumatism lately—_et ego in Arcadia_—there’s no escape from old age and -its infirmities in any climate, however good, or I’d have looked you up -before now. Tell your father I’m coming over soon.—Always yours -sincerely, - - HARLEY STERNWORTH.’ - - -The hour of sale having arrived, and indeed passed, the auctioneer, who -had driven out from Yass for the purpose, commenced his task, which he -did by climbing on to the ‘cap’ of the stock-yard and rapping violently -with a hammer-handled hunting-crop. A broad-chested, stout-lunged, -florid personage was Mr. Crackemup, and if selling by auction deserved -to be ranked as one of the fine arts, he was no mean professor. - -‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ he shouted. ‘I say ladies, for I notice quite a -number of the fair sex have honoured me with their presence. Let me -mention, in the first place, that the owner of this valuable stock we -see before us has resolved to leave this part of the country. Yes, my -friends, to leave Gumbaragongara for good and all! Why do I mention this -fact—why do I dwell upon it? Because, ladies and gentlemen, it makes all -the difference as to the _bona fide_ nature of the sale which we are met -together to-day to celebrate—that is—a—to carry out—according to these -written conditions. My principal, Mr. Donnelly, with the shrewdness -which has characterised him through life, seized upon this view of the -case. “If I leave the country bodily,” he said to me, “and sell the -stock for what they’ll fetch, no one can say that I went away and took -the best with me.” No, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Donnelly departs -to-morrow for Monaro, taking only a dray and team, with a few -riding-horses, so that all his well-bred, quiet, beautiful herd of dairy -cattle, selected with great care from some of the best herds in the -colony [here divers of the audience grinned irreverently], I shall have -the honour of submitting to public competition this day. - -‘The first lot, ladies and gentlemen, is No. 1. Generally so, isn’t it? -Ha! ha! One hundred and fifty-four cows and heifers, all broken to bail; -most of them with calves at foot, or about to—to—become mothers.’ - -Mr. Crackemup was a man of delicate ideas, so he euphemised the maternal -probabilities. - -‘Any one buying this choice lot, with butter at a shilling, and cheese -not to be bought, buys a fortune. I will sell a “run out” of twenty -head, with the option of taking the lot. “Fifteen shillings a -head”—nonsense; one pound, twenty-two and six, twenty-five-thank you, -miss; thirty shillings, thirty-five, thirty-seven and six-thank you, -sir. One pound seventeen and sixpence, once; one pound seventeen and -sixpence, twice; for the third and last time, one pound seventeen -shillings and sixpence. Gone! What name shall I say, sir? “Howard -Effingham, Warbrok Chase.” Twenty head. Thank you, sir.’ - -At this critical moment the voice of Dick Evans was heard by Wilfred, in -close proximity to his ear: ‘Collar the lot, sir; they’re dirt cheap; -soon be in full milk. Don’t let ’em go.’ - -‘I believe,’ said Wilfred, raising his voice, ‘that I have the option of -taking the whole.’ - -‘Quite correct, sir; but if I might advise——’ - -‘I take the lot,’ said Wilfred decisively. - -And though there was a murmur from the crowd, and one stalwart dame -said, ‘That’s not fair, thin; I med sure I’d get a pen of springers -myself,’ the auctioneer confirmed his right, and the dairy lot became -his property. - -It turned out, as is often the case, that the first offered stock were -the most moderate in price. Many of the buyers had been holding back, -thinking they would go in lots of twenty, and that better bargains might -be obtained. When they found that the stranger had carried off all the -best dairy cows, their disappointment was great. - -‘Serves you right, boys,’ was heard in the big voice of the proprietor; -‘if you had bid up like men, instead of keeping dark, you’d have choked -the cove off taking the lot. Serves you all dashed well right.’ - -The remaining lots of cattle consisted of weaners, two and -three-year-old steers and heifers. Of fat cattle the herd had been -pretty well ‘scraped,’ as Donnelly called it, before the sale. For most -of these the bidding was so brisk and spirited that Wilfred thought -himself lucky in securing forty steers at twenty-five shillings, which -completed his drove, and were placed in the yard with the cows. - -Then came the horses; nearly a hundred all told—mares, colts, fillies, -yearlings, with aged or other riding-horses. These last Donnelly excused -himself for selling by the statement that if he took them to Monaro half -of them would be lost trying to get back to where they had been bred, -and that between stock-riders and cattle-stealers his chance of -regaining them would be small. - -‘There they are,’ he said; ‘there’s some as good blood among them as -ever was inside a horse-skin. They’re there to be sold.’ - -The spirit of speculation was now aroused in Wilfred, or he would not -have bought, as he did, half-a-dozen of the best mares, picking them by -make and shape, and a general look of breeding. They were middle-sized -animals, more like Arabs than the offspring of English thoroughbreds, -but with a look of caste and quality, their legs and feet being -faultless, their heads good, and shoulders fair. They fell to a bid of -less than ten pounds each, and with foals at foot, Wilfred thought they -could not be dear. - -‘Them’s the old Gratis lot,’ said Mr. Donnelly. ‘I bought ’em from Mr. -Busfield when they was fillies. You haven’t made a bad pick for a new -hand, sir. I wish you luck with ’em.’ - -‘I hope so,’ said Wilfred. ‘If you breed horses at all, they may as well -be good ones.’ As he turned away he caught the query from a bystander— - -‘Why, you ain’t going to sell old Barragon?’ - -‘Yes, I am,’ said Mick, who was evidently not a man of sentiment; ‘all -fences in the country wouldn’t keep him away from these parts. He’s in -mostly runs near the lake, and eats more of that gentleman’s grass than -mine. He don’t owe me nothin’.’ - -‘You buy that horse, sir,’ said Dick, who was acting the part of a moral -Mephistopheles. ‘He’s as old as Mick, very near, and as great a dodger -after cattle. But you can’t throw him down, and the beast don’t live -that can get away from him on a camp.’ - -Wilfred turned and beheld a very old, grey horse cornered off, and -standing with his ears laid back, listening apparently to Mr. -Crackemup’s commendations. - -‘Here you have, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Donnelly’s favourite -riding-horse Barragon, an animal, he informs me, that has done some of -the most wonderful feats ever credited to a horse in any country—some -exploits, indeed, which he scarcely likes to tell of. [‘I’ll be bound he -don’t,’ drawled out a long, brown-faced bystander.] You have heard the -reasons assigned for disposing of him here, rather than, as of course he -would prefer to do, still keeping him attached to the fortunes of the -family. His instinct is so strong, his intelligence so great, ladies and -gentlemen, that he would unerringly find his way back from the farthest -point of the Monaro district. What shall I say for him?’ - -‘May as well have him, sir,’ said his counsellor. ‘He’ll go cheap. He’ll -always stick to the lake; and if any one else gets him, they’ll be -wanting us to run him in, half the time.’ - -Wilfred looked at the horse. The type was one to which he had not been -accustomed—neither a roadster, a hunter, a hackney, nor a harness -horse—he was _sui generis_, the true Australian stock-horse, now rarely -seen, and seldom up to the feats and performances of which grizzled -veterans of the stock-whip love to tell. - -No one with an eye for a horse could look at the war-worn screw without -interest. A long, low horse, partaking more of the Arab type than the -English, he possessed the shapes which make for endurance, and more than -ordinary speed. The head was lean and well shaped, with a well-opened, -still bright eye. The neck was arched, though not long; but the -shoulder, to a lover of horses, was truly magnificent. Muscular, fairly -high in the wither, and remarkably oblique, it permitted the freest -action possible, while the rider who sat behind such a formation might -enjoy a feeling of security far beyond the average. Battered and worn, -no doubt, were the necessary supports, by cruelly protracted -performances of headlong speed and wayfaring. Yet the flat cannon-bones, -the iron hoofs, the tough tendons, had withstood the woeful hardships to -which they had been subjected, with less damage than might have been -expected. The knees slightly bent forward, the strained ligaments, -showed partial unsoundness, yet was there no tangible ‘break down.’ What -must such a horse have been in his colthood—in his prime? - -A sudden feeling of pity arose in Wilfred’s heart as he ran his eye -critically over the scarred veteran. At a small price he would, no -doubt, be a good investment, old as he was. He would be reasonably -useful; and as a matter of charity one might do worse alms before Heaven -than save one of the most gallant of God’s creatures from closing his -existence in toil and suffering. Mick’s neighbours not being more -sentimental than himself, Wilfred found himself the purchaser of the -historical courser at a price considerably under five pounds. - -‘By George! I’m glad you’ve got him, mister,’ said Mr. Donnelly, with -vicarious generosity. ‘I’m not rich enough to pension him, and the money -he’s fetched, put into a cow, will be something handsome in ten years. -But he’s a long ways from broke down yet; and you’ll have your money’s -worth out of him, with luck, before he kicks the bucket. You’d better -ride him home, and I’ll send my boy Jack with you as far as Benmohr. -He’ll lead Bob Jones’s moke, that you rode here, and leave him in Argyll -and Hamilton’s paddock till he’s sent for. You’d as well get off with -your mob, if you want to get to Benmohr before dark.’ - -Wilfred recognised the soundness of this advice, and in a few minutes -afterwards found himself upon Barragon. While Dick Evans promptly let -out the cattle, Jack Donnelly, a brown-faced young centaur, riding a -half-broken colt, and leading his late mount, commanded two eager cattle -dogs to ‘fetch ’em up.’ The drove went off at a smart pace, and in five -minutes they were out of sight of the yard, the farm, and the crowd, -jogging freely along a well-marked track, which Dick stated to be the -road to Benmohr. - -This cheerful pace was, however, not kept up. The steers at the ‘head’ -of the drove were inclined to go even too fast. It was necessary to -restrain their ardour. The cows and calves became slow, obstinate, and -disposed to spread, needing all the shouting of Dick and young Donnelly, -as well as the personal violence of the latter’s dogs, to keep them -going. Wilfred rejoiced that he had obeyed the impulse to possess -himself of old Barragon, when he found with what ease and comfort he was -carried by the trained stock-horse in these embarrassing circumstances. -Finally the weather changed, and it commenced to rain in the face of the -cortège. Dick once or twice alluded to the uncertainty which would exist -as to their getting all the cattle again if anything occurred to cause -their loss this night. Lastly, just as matters began to look dark, -Wilfred descried Benmohr. - -The ‘semi-detached’ cottage which did duty as a spare bedroom had an -earthen floor, and was not an ornate apartment; still, a blazing fire -gave it an air of comfort after the chill evening air. Needful toilet -requisites were provided, and the manifest cleanliness of the bed and -belongings guaranteed a sound night’s rest. - -Upon entering the cottage, along a raised stone causeway, pointed out by -Mr. Hamilton, Wilfred found his former acquaintance Mr. Argyll, and Mr. -Churbett, with a neighbour, who was introduced as Mr. Forbes. The table -was already laid, and furnished with exceeding neatness for the evening -meal. A glowing fire burned in the ample stone chimney, and as the three -gentlemen rose to greet him, Wilfred thought he had never seen a more -successful union of plainness of living, with the fullest measure of -comfort. - -‘You have made the port just in time,’ remarked Argyll; ‘the rain is -coming down heavily, and the night is as black as a wolf’s throat. You -seem to have bought largely at Donnelly’s sale.’ - -‘All the dairy cows and heifers, and a few steers for fattening,’ -answered Wilfred. ‘I suppose we might have had some trouble in -collecting them if they had got away from us to-night.’ - -‘So much that you might have never seen half of them again,’ said Mr. -Churbett promptly. ‘You would have been hunting for them for weeks, and -picked them up “in twos and threes and mobs of one,” as I did my Tumut -store cattle, that broke away the first night I got them home.’ - -Wilfred felt in a condition to do ample justice to the roast chicken and -home-cured ham, and even essayed a shaving of the goodly round of beef, -which graced one end of the table. After concluding with coffee, -glorified with delicious cream, Wilfred, as they formed a circle round -the fire, came to the conclusion, either that it was the best dinner he -had eaten in the whole course of his life, or else that he had never -been quite so hungry before. - -In despite of Mrs. Teviot’s admonitions, none of the party sought their -couches much before midnight. There was a rubber of whist—perhaps two. -There was much general conversation afterwards, including literary -discussion. One of the features of the apartment was a well-filled -bookcase. Finally, when Mr. Hamilton escorted Wilfred to his chamber, he -said, ‘You needn’t bother about getting up early to-morrow. Trust old -Dick to have the cattle away at sunrise; he and the boy can drive them -easily now, till you overtake them. We breakfast about nine o’clock, and -Fred Churbett will keep you company in lying up.’ - -The night was murky and drizzling; the morning would probably resemble -it. Wilfred was tired. He knew that Dick would be up and away with the -dawn. He himself wished to consult his new friends about points of -practice germane to his present position. On the whole he thought he -could safely take Mr. Hamilton’s advice. - -His slumbers that night, in bed-linen fragrant as Ailie Dinmont’s, were -deep and dreamless. Surely it could not have been morning, it was so -dark, and still raining, when he heard knocking at a window, and a voice -thrice repeat the words, ‘Maister Hamilton, are ye awauk?’ but the words -melted away—a luxurious drowsiness overpowered his senses. The rain’s -measured fall and tinkling plash changed into the mill-wheel dash of his -childhood’s wonder in Surrey. When he awoke, the sky was dark, but there -was the indefinable sensation that it was not very early. So he dressed, -and beholding a large old pair of ‘clodhoppers’ standing temptingly -near, he bestowed himself in them and cautiously made towards the -milking-yard. He looked across to the enclosure where his cattle had -been during the previous night. It was a smooth and apparently deep sea -of liquid mud, so sincerely churned had it been during the wet night. He -felt grieved for the discomfort of the poor cattle, but relieved to know -that they had been hours before on the grass, and were well on their way -to Warbrok Chase. - -At the milking-yard he saw a sight which had never before met his eyes. -The morning’s work had apparently been just completed. Argyll was -walking towards the dairy, a pisé building with thick, earthen walls. He -carried two immense cans full to the brim with milk. Hamilton was wading -through the yard behind about sixty cows and calves, which were stolidly -ploughing through a lake of liquid mud. As they quitted the rough stone -causeway, they appeared to drop with reluctance into a species of -slough. An elderly Scot, approaching the type of Andrew Cargill, was -labouring, nearly knee-deep, solemnly after. He and Mr. Hamilton were -splashed from head to foot; it would have been a delicate task to -recognise either. The latter, coming to a pool of water, deliberately -walked in, thus purifying both boot and lower leg. - -‘Muddy work, this milking in wet weather,’ said he calmly, scraping a -piece of caked mud about the size of a cheese-plate from the breast of -his serge shirt. ‘It would need to pay well, for it _is_ exceedingly -disagreeable.’ - -‘Very much so, indeed, I should think,’ assented Wilfred, rather -shocked. ‘I had no idea that dairy work on a large scale could be so -unpleasant.’ - -‘Ours is perhaps more mud-larking than most people’s,’ said Mr. Hamilton -reflectively, ‘chiefly from the richness of the soil, so we endure it. -But you must look into the cheese-room—the bright side of the affair -financially.’ - -Wilfred was much impressed with the dairy, a substantial, thatched -edifice, having a verandah on four sides. The pisé walls—nearly two feet -thick—were of earth, rammed in a wooden frame after a certain formula. - -‘Here is the best building on the station,’ said his guide. ‘We reared -this noble pile ourselves, in the days of our colonial inexperience, -entirely by the directions contained in a book, with the aid of old -Wullie and our emigrant labourers. After we became more “Australian” and -“less nice” we took to slabs. It was quicker work, but our architecture -suffered.’ - -In one portion of this building were rows of milk-vessels, while ranged -on shelves one above another, and occupying three sides of the building, -were hundreds of fair, round, orthodox-looking cheeses, varying in -colour from pale yellow to orange. They presented an appearance more -akin to a midland county farm than an Australian cattle-station. - -‘There, you see the compensation for early rising, wet feet, and -mud-plastering. We have a ready sale for twice as many cheeses as Mrs. -Teviot can turn out, at a very paying price. Her double Stiltons are -famed for their richness and maturity. We pay a large part of the -station expenses in this way; besides, what is of more importance, -improving the cattle, by keeping the herd quiet and promoting their -aptitude to fatten.’ - -‘You have no sheep, I think?’ inquired Wilfred. - -‘No; but we breed horses on rather a large scale. I must show you my -pet, Camerton, by and by. Now I must dress for breakfast, for which I -daresay you are quite ready.’ - -After a reasonable interval the partners appeared neatly attired, though -still in garments adapted for station work. It was an exceedingly -cheerful meal, the proverbial Scottish breakfast, admitted to be -unsurpassable—devilled chicken and grilled bones, alternated with the -incomparable round of beef, which had excited Wilfred’s admiration on -the preceding day. Piles of boiled eggs, and _such_ a jug of cream! -fresh butter, short-cake, and the unfailing oatmeal porridge completed -the fare, to which Wilfred, after his observations and inquiries, felt -himself fully qualified to do justice. - -‘Well, Charles,’ said Mr. Churbett, desisting from a sustained attack -upon the toast and eggs, ‘how do you feel after your day’s work? What an -awful number of hours you have been up and doing! That’s what makes you -so frightfully arrogant. It’s the comparison of yourself with ordinary -mortals like me, for instance, who lie in bed.’ - -‘You certainly do take it easy, Master Fred,’ returned Hamilton, ‘to an -extent I cannot hope to imitate. Every man to his taste, you know. You -have a well-grassed, well-watered, open country at The She-oaks; once -get your cattle there and they are no trouble to look after. Nature has -done so much that I am afraid—as in South America—man does very little.’ - -‘Shows his sense,’ asserted Mr. Churbett calmly. ‘Don’t you be imposed -upon, Effingham, by these people here; they have a mania for bodily -labour, and all sorts of unsuitable employment. I didn’t come out to -Australia to be a navvy or a ploughman; I could have found similar -situations at home. I go in for the true pastoral life—an Arab steed, a -tent, cool claret, and a calm supervision of other men’s labours.’ - -‘Did the Sheik Ibrahim drink claret, or go to the theatre, leaving his -flocks and herds to the Bedaween?’ said Mr. Forbes. ‘Some people appear -to be able to combine the pleasures of all religions with the duties of -none.’ - -‘Smart antithesis, James,’ said Churbett approvingly. ‘I’ll take another -cup of tea, please, to keep. I’m going to read Sydney Smith in the -verandah after breakfast. Yes, I _am_ proud of that theatre exploit. Few -people would have nerve for it.’ - -‘You would have needed all your nerve if you had found a hundred and -fifty fat cattle scattered and gone next morning,’ said Mr. Forbes, a -quietly sarcastic personage. - -‘But they were _not_ gone, my dear fellow; what’s the use of absurd -suppositions? We got back before daylight. Not a beast had left the -camp. Now there are a great many people who would never have thought of -doing that.’ - -‘I should say not,’ said Hamilton. ‘Fred, your natural advantages will -be the death of you yet. Come with me, Effingham, if you want to see the -dam and the old horse. They are our show exhibits, and we are rather -proud of them.’ - -Walking through the garden to the lower end of the slope upon which the -homestead of Benmohr was built, Wilfred saw that the course of the -creek, dignified with the name of a river, had been arrested by a wide -and solid embankment, half-way up the broad breast of which a sheet of -deep, clear water came, while for a greater distance than the eye could -reach along its winding course was a far-stretching reservoir, -lake-like, reed-bordered, and half-covered with wild-fowl. - -‘Here you see our greatest difficulty, Effingham, and our greatest -triumph. When we took up this run a shallow stream ran in winter and -spring, but in summer it was invariably dry. This exposed us to expense, -even loss. So we resolved to construct a dam. We did so, at some cost in -hired labour; a spring flood washed it away. Next year we tried again, -and the same result followed. Then the neighbours pitied and “I told you -so’d” us to such an extent that we felt that dam _must_ be made and -rendered permanent. We had six months’ work at it last summer; during -most of the time I did navvy work, wheeling my barrow up and down a -plank like the others. It was a stiff job. I invented additions, and -faced it with stone. That fine sheet of water is the result of it; I -believe it will stand now till the millennium, or the alteration of the -land laws.’ - -‘I quite envy you,’ said Wilfred. ‘A conflict with natural forces is -always exciting. I am quite of your opinion; the great advantage of this -Australian life is that a man enjoys the permission of society to work -with his hands as well as his head.’ - -Leaving the water for an isolated wooden building in the neighbourhood -of the offices, Mr. Hamilton opened the upper half of a stable-door and -discovered to view a noble, dark chestnut thoroughbred in magnificent -condition. - -‘Here is one of my daily tasks,’ said he, removing the gallant animal’s -sheet and patting his neck. ‘In this case it is a labour of love, as I -am passionately fond of horses, and have a theory of my own about -breeding which I am trying to carry out. Isn’t he a beauty?’ - -Wilfred, looking at the satin skin of the grand animal before him, -thought he had rarely seen his equal. - -‘You observe,’ said Hamilton, ‘in this sire, if I mistake not, -characteristics not often seen in English studs. Camerton combines the -perfect symmetry, the beauty and matchless constitution of the desert -Arab with the size and bone of the English thoroughbred.’ - -‘He does give me that idea, precisely,’ said Wilfred. ‘Wonderful make -and shape. His back rib has the cask-like roundness of the true Arab; -and what legs and feet! Looking at him you see an enlarged Arab.’ - -‘His grand-dam was a daughter of The Sheik, an Arab of the purest -Seglawee strain of the Nejed, imported from India many years ago by a -cavalry officer, whose charger he was. He has besides the Whisker, -Gratis, and Emigrant blood. In him we have at once the horse of the new -and of the old world—the size and strength of the Camerton type, the -symmetry of the Arab, and such legs and feet as might have served -Abdjar, the steed of Antar.’ - -When they re-entered the cottage they saw Mr. Churbett, who had intended -to go home that morning, but finding the witty Canon such pleasant -reading, thought he would start in the afternoon, finally making up his -mind to stay another day and leave punctually after breakfast. There was -nothing to do—he observed—and no one to talk to, when he did get home, -so there was the less reason for haste. - -‘You had better stay, Fred, and go with me to Yass,’ suggested Argyll. -‘I am going there next week, and I daresay you have some business -there.’ - -‘I believe I have; indeed, I know that I have been putting off something -old Billy Rockley blew me up about last month, and I’ll go in with you -and get it over. But I won’t stay now. I’ll go to-morrow, or my -stock-rider will think I’m lost and take to embezzling my bullocks, -instead of stealing my neighbour’s calves, which is his duty to do. One -must keep up discipline.’ - -After lunch Wilfred mounted his ancient charger and departed along the -track to Warbrok, Mr. Churbett volunteering to show him the way past -divers snares for the unwary, yclept ‘turn-off’ roads. - -‘These two fellows,’ said he, ‘have no end of what they call duties to -perform before nightfall, and can’t be spared of course; but I can spare -myself easily, and give Duellist exercise besides.’ - -Presently Mr. Churbett, who was a very neat figure, having assumed -breeches and boots, appeared mounted upon a magnificent bay horse, the -finest hackney, in appearance, which Wilfred had yet seen. A bright bay -with black points, showing no white but a star in the centre of his -broad forehead; he stood at least fifteen hands three inches in height, -with all the appearance of high caste and courage. As they started he -showed signs of impatience, and then, arching his neck, set off at a -remarkably fast walk, which caused Barragon’s stock-horse jog to appear -slow and ungraceful. - -‘What a glorious hackney!’ said Wilfred, half enviously. ‘Did you breed -him?’ - -‘No, don’t breed horses; too much expense and bother. Fools breed—that -is, enthusiasts—and wise men buy. He’s a Wanderer, bred by Rowan of -Pechelbah. Got him rather cheap about six months ago; gave -five-and-twenty pounds for him. The man that _did_ breed him, of course, -couldn’t afford to ride him; thought he had others as good at home, -which I take leave to doubt.’ - -‘I should think so! What a price for a horse of his figure—five years -old, you say, and clean thoroughbred. A gift! Is he fast?’ - -‘Pretty well. I shall run him for the Maiden Plate at Yass Races. And -now, do you see that turn-off road? Well, don’t turn off; by and by you -will come to another; follow it, and you will have no further chance of -losing your way. I’ll say good-afternoon.’ - -His amusing friend turned, and as Duellist’s hoofs died away in the -distance, Wilfred took the old horse by the head and sent him along at a -hand-gallop, only halting occasionally until, just as the dusk was -impending, the far-gleaming waters of the lake came into view. Dick had -arrived hours before, and had all his charge secured in the now -creditable stock-yard. The absentee was welcomed with enthusiasm by the -whole family, who appeared to think he had been away for months, to -judge by the warmth of their greetings. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - TOM GLENDINNING, STOCK-RIDER - - -‘Come in at once, this moment, and tell us all about everybody,’ said -Annabel; ‘tea is nearly ready, and we are hungry for news, and even just -a little gossip. Have you enjoyed yourself and seen many new people? -What a fine thing it is to be a man!’ - -‘I have seen all the world, like the little bird that flew over the -garden wall. I have enjoyed myself very much, have bought a few horses -and many cattle, also spent a very pleasant evening at Benmohr. Where -shall I begin?’ - -‘Oh, about the people of course; you can come to the other things later -on. People are the only topics of interest to us. And oh, what do you -think? We have seen strangers too. More wonderful still, a lady. What -will you give me if I describe her to you?’ - -‘Don’t feel interested in a sketch of a lady visitor,’ said Wilfred. ‘A -description of a good cheese-press, if you could find one, would be -nearer the mark.’ - -‘You would not speak in that way if you had seen Mrs. Snowden,’ said -Rosamond, ‘unless you are very much changed.’ - -‘She is a wonder, and a paragon, of course; did she grow indigenously?’ - -‘She’s so sweet-looking,’ said Annabel impetuously; ‘she rode such a -nice horse too, very well turned out, as you would say. She talks French -and German; she has travelled, and been everywhere. And yet they have -only a small station, and she sometimes has to do housework—there now!’ - -‘What a wonderful personage! And monsieur—is he worthy of so much -perfection?’ - -‘He’s a gentlemanlike man, rather good-looking, who made himself -agreeable. Rosamond has been asked to go and stay with them. Really, the -place seems _full_ of nice people. Did you see or hear of any more?’ - -‘Yes; now I come to think of it, I heard of two more, great friends of -Argyll and Hamilton and of Mr. Churbett, whom I saw there. Their names -are D’Oyley; Bryson, the younger brother, is a poet; at any rate these -are some of his verses which Mr. Churbett handed to me _apropos_ of our -lives here, shutting out all thoughts but the austerely practical. Yes; -I haven’t lost them.’ - -‘So you talk of cheese-presses and bring home poetry! Is that your idea -of the practical? I vote that Rosamond reads them out while we are -having tea. Gracious! Ever so many verses.’ - -‘They seem original; and not so many of one’s neighbours could write -them in any part of the world,’ said Rosamond. ‘I will read them out, if -Annabel will promise not to interrupt in the midst of the most pathetic -part.’ - -‘I am all attention,’ said Annabel, throwing herself into an easy-chair. -‘I wonder what sort of a man Mr. D’Oyley is, and what coloured eyes he -has. I like to know all about authors.’ - -‘Never saw him; go on, Rosamond,’ said Wilfred, and the elder sister, -thus adjured, commenced— - - A FRAGMENT - - Deem we our waking dreams - But shadows from the deep; - And do the offspring of the mind - In barrenness descend - To an eternal sleep? - - Each print of Beauty’s feet - Leads upward to her throne; - For every thought by conscience bless’d, - Benignant virtue yields - A jewel from her zone. - * * * * * - The rainbow hath its cloud, - The seasons gird the sphere, - We know their time and place, but thou, - Whence art thou, Child of Light, - And what thy mission here? - - Like meteor stars that stream - Adown the dark obscure, - Didst thou descend from angel homes, - To bless with angel joys - Abodes less bright and pure? - - Thy beauty and thy love - May mortal transports share, - Aspire with quivering wings to reach - The spirits of thy thought - That breathe celestial air. - - Thou art no child of Earth. - Earth’s fairest children weep - That o’er affection’s sweetest lyre, - By phantom minstrels stirred, - Unhallowed strains will sweep. - - While zephyr-wings may guard, - The rose its bloom retains; - The autumn blast o’er sere leaves wails; - Upon the naked stem - The thorn alone remains. - * * * * * - The sun-rays scattered far - Seek now the parent breast, - In gentler glory gathering o’er - The floating isles that speck - The landscape of the West. - - Mute visitants! their smiles - A fleeting welcome bear, - Light on thy form the glad beams play, - And mingling with its folds - Curl down thy golden hair. - - Methinks, as standing thus - Against the glowing sky, - That shadowy form, faint-tinged with gold, - And raptured face, recall - A dream of days gone by. - - Glimpses of shadows past, - That boyhood’s mind pursued, - In curious wonder shaping forth - Its visions of the pure, - The beautiful, the good. - - Till, like the moon’s full orb - Above the silent sea, - One Form expanding bright arose, - And fancy’s mirror showed - An image like to thee. - - Of headlong hopes that spurned - The curb of destiny, - When my soul asked what most it craved, - Still, still, the mirror showed - An image like to thee. - -‘I think they are beautiful and uncommon,’ said Annabel decidedly; ‘only -I don’t understand what he means.’ - -‘Obscurity is a quality he has in common with distinguished latter-day -poets,’ said Wilfred. ‘Commencing with the ideal, he has finished with -the real and personal, as happens much in life. I think “A Fragment” is -refined, thoughtful, and truly poetic in feeling.’ - -‘So do I,’ agreed Rosamond. ‘Mr. Bryson D’Oyley is no every-day -squatter, I was going to say, but as all our neighbours seem to be -distinguished people, we must agree that he is fully up to the average -of cattlemen, as they call themselves.’ - -‘I _must_ tell Mrs. Snowden about the cheese-press simile. You will be -ready to commit suicide after you have seen her.’ - -‘Then I must keep out of her way. Rosamond, suppose you sing something. -I have not heard a piano since I left.’ - -‘Mrs. Snowden tried it, and sang “Je n’aimerai, jamais.” Her voice was -not wonderful, but it is easy to see what thorough training she has -had.’ - -‘There is a forfeit for any one who mentions Mrs. Snowden again this -evening,’ said Mrs. Effingham. ‘We must not have her spread out over our -daily life, fascinating as I grant her to be. Beatrice and Annabel have -been learning a new duet, which they will sing after Rosamond. I think -you will like it, and this is such a charming room to sing in.’ - -‘That’s one advantage belonging to this old house,’ said Rosamond, ‘our -music-room is perfect. It is quite a pleasure to hear one’s voice in it; -and when we _do_ furnish the dining-room, if we are ever inclined to -give a party—a most unlikely thing at present—it is large enough to hold -all the people in the district.’ - - * * * * * - -During the following week the men of the family occupied themselves in -branding and regulating the new cattle. A portion of these, having young -calves at foot, were at once amalgamated with the dairy herd. This being -accomplished, it was apparent that some division must be made between -the old and the new cattle. There were too many of them to be mixed up -in one herd, and the steers, in close quarters, were not good for the -health of the cows and smaller cattle. From all this it resulted that -the oracle (otherwise Dick), being consulted, made response that a -stock-rider must be procured who would look after all the cattle, other -than the milch kine, and ‘break them into the Run.’ - -Wilfred was inclined to be opposed to this project, but reflected that -if any were lost, it would soon amount to more than a man’s wages; also, -that the labour of the dairy, with the rapid increase of the O’Desmond -cattle, was becoming heavier, and required all Guy’s and Andrew’s -attention to keep it in order. - -‘For what time would a stock-rider be required?’ he asked. - -‘Why, you see, sir,’ said Dick, ‘these here cattle, if they’re not -watched for the next three months, may give us the slip, and be back -among the ranges, at Mick’s place, where they was bred, afore you could -say Jack Robinson. You and I couldn’t leave the dairy, and the calves -coming so fast, if we was never to see ’em again.’ - -‘I understand,’ said Wilfred; ‘but how are we to pick up a stock-rider -such as you describe? I suppose we shall have to pay him forty or fifty -pounds a year.’ - -‘I don’t know as we should, sir. There’s a man, if we could get hold on -him, as would jest do for the work and the place. I heard of him being -in Yass last week, finishing his cheque, and if you’ll let me away -to-morrow, I’ll fetch him back with me next day, most likely. He’ll come -reasonable for wages; he used to live here, in the old Colonel’s time, -and knows every inch of the country.’ - -‘Very well, Dick, you can go. I daresay we can manage the dairy for a -day.’ - -On the next morning, after milking-time, Mr. Richard Evans presented -himself in review order, when, holding his mare by the bridle, he asked -for the advance of two pounds sterling, for expenses, and so on. - -‘You see, I want a pair of boots, Mr. Wilfred, and I may as well get ’em -in Yass while I’m about it.’ - -‘Oh, certainly,’ assented Wilfred, thinking that he never saw the -veteran look more respectable. ‘The air of Warbrok agrees with you, -Dick; I never saw you look better.’ - -‘Work allers did agree with me, sir,’ he answered modestly, unhitching -his bridle with a slight appearance of haste, as Mrs. Evans came -labouring up and glanced suspiciously at the notes which he placed in -his pocket. - -‘I hope he’ll look as well when he comes back,’ said she, with a meaning -glance; ‘but if he and that old rascal Tom gets together, they’ll ——’ - -‘Never you mind, old woman,’ interrupted Dick, riding off, ‘you look -after them young pigs and give ’em the skim milk reg’lar. Tom -Glendinning and I’ll be here to-morrow night, if I can find him.’ - -Mrs. Evans raised her hand in what might be accepted as a warning or a -threatening gesture, and Wilfred, wondering at the old woman’s manner, -betook himself to his daily duties. - -‘A grumbling old creature,’ he soliloquised. ‘I don’t wonder that Dick -is glad to get away from her tongue. She ought to be pleased that he -should have a holiday occasionally.’ - -On the morning following Richard Evans’s departure, extra exertion was -entailed upon Wilfred and Guy, as also upon Andrew Cargill, by reason of -their having to divide the milking of his proportion of the cows among -them. As Dick was a rapid and exhaustive operator, his absence was felt, -if not regretted. As they returned from the troublesome task, a full -hour later than usual, Wilfred consoled himself by the thought that the -next day would find this indispensable personage at his post. - -‘I wadna hae thocht,’ confessed Andrew, ‘that the auld, rough-tongued -carle’s absence could hae made siccan a camstairy. But he’s awfu’ skeely -wi’ thae wild mountain queys, and kens brawly hoo tae daiker them. It’s -no said for naught that the children o’ the warld are wiser in their -generation than the children o’ licht. He’ll be surely back the morn’s -morn.’ - -Explaining Dick’s eminence in the milking-yard by this classification, -and undoubtedly including himself in the latter category, Andrew betook -himself to an outer apartment, where the scrupulous Jeanie had provided -full means of ablution. - -The next day passed without the appearance of the confidential retainer. -Another, and yet another. In default of his aid, Wilfred exerted himself -to the utmost and succeeded in getting through the ordinary work; yet a -sense of incompleteness pervaded the establishment. Ready-witted, -tireless, and perfect in all the minor attainments of Australian country -life, Dick was a man to be missed in a hundred ways in an establishment -like Warbrok Chase. - -New cows had calved and required milking for the first time. One of them -had shown unexpected ferocity; indeed, knocking over Andrew, and -disabling his right arm. - -‘The old fellow may have had an accident,’ suggested Mr. Effingham; ‘I -suppose such things occur on these wild roads; or he _may_ have indulged -in an extra glass or two.’ - -‘I said as much to that old wife of his,’ said Wilfred, ‘but she -grumbled something about the devil taking care of his own; he would be -back when he had had his “burst”—whatever that means—and that he and -that old villain Tom Glendinning would turn up at the end of this week -or next, whenever their money was done.’ - -‘Why, if there isn’t old Dick coming along the road now,’ said Guy; -‘that’s his mare, anyhow, I know the switch of her tail. There’s a man -on a grey horse with him.’ - -In truth, as the two horsemen came nearer along the undulating forest -road, it became apparent that their regretted Richard, and no other, was -returning to his family and friends. His upright seat in the saddle -could be plainly distinguished as he approached on the old bay mare. The -London dealer’s phrase of a ‘good ride and drive horse’ held good in her -case, as she came along at her usual pace of a quick-stepping walk, with -her head down and her hind legs brought well under her at every stride. -The other horseman rode behind, not caring apparently to quicken the -unmistakable ‘stockman’s jog’ of his wiry, high-boned grey horse. His -lounging seat was in strong contrast to his companion’s erect bearing, -but it told of the stock-rider’s long days and nights passed in the -saddle. Not unlike the courser of Mazeppa was his hardy steed in more -than one respect. - - Shaggy and swift and strong of limb, - All Tartar-like he carried him. - -The Arab blood, which old Tom’s charger displayed, prevented any -particular shagginess; but in the bright eye, the lean head, the sure -unfaltering step, as well as in the power of withstanding every kind of -climate, upon occasion, upon severely restricted sustenance, ‘Boney’ -might have vied with the Hetman’s, or any other courser that - - ... grazed at ease - Beside the swift Borysthenes. - -Such in appearance, and so mounted, were the horsemen who now -approached. Their mode of accost was characteristic. Dick rode up -straight till within a few paces of his employer, when he briskly -dismounted, and stood erect, making the ordinary salute. - -The effects of the week’s dissipation were plainly visible in the -veteran’s countenance, gallant as were his efforts to combine -intrepidity with the respectful demeanour of discipline. A bruise under -one eye, with other discolorations, somewhat marred the effect of his -steady gaze, while a tremulous muscular motion could not be concealed. - -‘How is this, Evans?’ said his commander; ‘you have broken your leave, -and put us to much inconvenience; what have you been doing with yourself -all this time?’ - -‘Got drunk, Captain!’ replied the veteran, with military brevity, and -another salute of regulation correctness. - -‘I am sorry to hear it, Richard,’ said Mr. Effingham. ‘You appear to -have had a skirmish also, and to have suffered in engagement. I daresay -it will act as a caution to you for the future.’ - -‘Did me a deal of good—begging your honour’s pardon—though I didn’t -ought to have promised to come back next day. I was that narvous at -breakfast afore I went that I couldn’t scarce abear to hear the old -woman’s voice. I’ll be as right as a Cheshire recruit till Christmas -now. But I’ve done the outpost duty I was told off for, and brought Tom -Glendinning. He’s willin’ to engage for ten shillin’ a week and his -keep, and his milkin’s worth that any day.’ - -The individual addressed moved up his elderly steed, and touching his -hat with a faint flavour of the gentleman’s servant habitude long past, -fixed upon the group the gleaming eyes which surmounted his hollow -cheek. The face itself was bronzed, well-nigh blackened out of all -resemblance to that of a white man. Trousers of a kind of fustian, -buttressed with leather under the knees and other places (apparently for -resisting the friction involved by a life in the saddle), protected his -attenuated limbs. The frame of the man was lean and shrunken. He had a -worn and haggard look, as if labour, privation, and the indulgence of -evil passions had wrecked the frail tenement of a soul. Yet was there a -wiry look about the figure—a dauntless glitter in the keen eyes which -told that their possessor could yet play a man’s part on earth before he -went to his allotted place. A footsore dog with a rough coat and no -particular tail had by this time limped up to the party and lay down -under the horses’ feet. - -‘Are you willing to engage with me on the terms mentioned by Richard -Evans?’ asked Mr. Effingham. ‘You are acquainted with this place, I -believe?’ - -‘I was here,’ answered the ancient stock-rider, ‘when the Colonel first -got a grant of Warbrok from the Crown. A lot of us Government men was -sent up with the overseer, Ben Grindham, to clear a paddock for corn, -where all that horehound grows now. We had a row over the rations—he -drove us like niggers, and starved us to boot (more by token, it’s -little we had to ate)—and big Jim Baker knocked his head in with an axe, -blast him! He was always a fool. I seen him carried to the old hut where -you see them big stones—part of the chimney, they wor.’ - -‘Good heavens!’ said Wilfred. ‘And what was done?’ - -‘Jim was hanged, all reg’lar, as soon as they could get him back to -Sydney. We was all “turned in to Government,”’ said the chronicler. -‘After a bit, the Colonel got me back for groom, so I stayed here till -my time was out. I know the old place (I had ought to), every rod of it, -back to the big Bindarra.’ - -‘You can milk well, I believe?’ - -‘He can do most things, sir,’ said Dick, comprehensively guaranteeing -his friend, and mounting his mare, he motioned to the old fellow, who -had just commenced to emit a derisive chuckle from his toothless gums, -to follow him. ‘If you’ll s’cuse us now, sir, we’ll go home and get -freshened up a bit. Tom won’t be right till he’s had a sleep. He’s -hardly had his boots off for a week. You’ll see us at the yard in the -morning all right, sir, never fear.’ - -‘Well, I’m glad you’ve come back, Dick,’ said Guy; ‘we’ve missed you -awfully. The heifers are too much for Andrew. However, it’s all right -now, so the sooner you get home and make yourself comfortable the -better.’ - -This suggestion, as the ancient prodigals ambled away together, caused -old Dick to grin doubtfully. ‘I’ve got to have it out with my old woman -yet, sir.’ - -Whatever might have occurred in the progress of a difficult explanation -with Mrs. Evans, the result was so far satisfactory that on the -following morning, when Wilfred went down to the milking-yard, he found -the pair in full possession of the situation, while the number of calves -in companionship with their mothers, as well as the state of the -brimming milk-cans, testified to the early hour at which work had -commenced. - -Dick had regained his easy supremacy, as with a mixture of fearlessness -and diplomacy he exercised a Rarey-like influence over the wilder cows, -lately introduced to the milking-yard. - -His companion, evidently free of the guild, was causing the milk to come -streaming out of the udder of a newly calved heifer, as if by the mere -touch of his fingers, the bottom of his bucket rattling the while like a -small-sized hailstorm. - -Greeting the old man cheerfully, and making him a compliment on his -milking, Wilfred was surprised at the alteration in his appearance and -manner. - -The half-reckless, defiant tone was replaced by a quiet bearing and -respectful manner. The expression of the face was changed. The eyes, -keen and restless, had lost their savage gleam. An alert step, a ready -discharge of every duty, with the smallest details of which he seemed -instinctively acquainted, had succeeded the lounging bearing of the -preceding day. Wilfred thought he had never seen a man so markedly -changed in so short a time. - -‘You both seem improved, Dick. I suppose the morning air has had -something to do with it.’ - -‘Yes, sir—thank God,’ said he, ‘I’m always that fresh after a good -night’s sleep, when I’ve had a bit of a spree, that I could begin again -quite flippant. Old Tom had a goodish cheque this time, and was at it a -week afore I came in. _He looked_ rather shickerry. But he’s as right as -a toucher now, and you won’t lose no calves while _he’s_ here, I’ll go -bail. He can stay in my hut. My old woman and he knowed one another -years back, and she’ll cook and wash for him, though they do growl a bit -at times.’ - -It soon became apparent, making due deductions for periodical -aberrations, that Mr. Effingham possessed in Dick Evans and Tom -Glendinning two rarely efficient servitors. They knew everything, they -did everything; they never required to be reminded of any duty -whatsoever, being apparently eager to discover matters for the advantage -of the establishment, in which they appeared to take an interest not -inferior to that of the proprietor. Indeed, they not infrequently -volunteered additional services for their employer’s benefit. - -The season had now advanced, until the fervid height of midsummer was -near, and still no hint of aught but continuous prosperity was given to -the emigrant family. - -Though the sun flamed high in the unspecked firmament, yet from time to -time showers of tropical suddenness kept the earth cool and moist, -refreshing the herbage, and causing the late-growing maize to flourish -greenly, in the dark unexhausted soil. Their wheat crop had been reaped -with but little assistance from any but the members and retainers of the -family. And now a respectable stack occupied jointly, with one of oaten -hay, the modest stack-yard, or haggard, as old Tom called it. - -The cheese operations developed, until row upon row of rich -orange-coloured cheeses filled the shelves of the dairy. - -The garden bore token of Andrew’s industry in the pruned and renovated -fruit trees, which threw out fresh leaves and branches; while the moist -open season had been favourable to the ‘setting’ of a much more than -ordinary yield of fruit. The crops of vegetables, of potatoes, of other -more southern esculents looked, to use Andrew’s phrase, ‘just -unco-omon.’ Such vegetables, Dick confessed, had not been seen in it -since the days of the Colonel, who kept two gardeners and a spare boy or -two constantly at work. Gooseberries, currants, and the English fruits -generally, were coming on, leading to the belief that an extensive jam -manufacture would once more employ Jeanie and the well-remembered copper -stew-pan—brought all the way from Surrey. - -The verandah was once more a ‘thing of beauty’ in its shade of ‘green -gloom.’ The now protected climbers had glorified the wreathed pillars; -again gay with the purple racemes of the Wistaria and the deep orange -flowers of the _Bignonia venusta_. The lawn was thickly carpeted with -grass; the gravelled paths were raked and levelled by Andrew, whenever -he could gain an hour’s respite from dairy and cheese-room. - -The increase of the cattle had been of itself considerable, while the -steers of the Donnelly contingents fattened on the newly matured -grasses, which now commenced to send forth that sweetest of all summer -perfumes, the odour of the new-mown meadows. - -The small but gay parterres, which the girls and Mrs. Effingham kept, -with some difficulty, free from weeds, were lovely to the eye as -contrasted with the bright green sward of the lawn. - -The wildfowl dived and flew upon the lake, furnishing forth for a -while—as in obedience to Mr. Effingham’s wishes a close season was -kept—unwonted supplies to the larder. - -All the minor living possessions of the family appeared to bask and -revel in the sunshine of the general prosperity. The greyhounds, -comfortably housed and well fed, had reared a family, and were -commencing to master the science of killing kangaroos without exposing -themselves to danger. - -The Jersey cow, Daisy, had produced a miniature copy of herself, in a -fawn-coloured heifer calf, while her son, ‘The Yerl of Jersey,’ as -Andrew had christened him, had become a thick-set, pugnacious, important -personage, pawing the earth, and bellowing unnecessarily, as if sensible -of the exalted position he was destined to take, as a pure bred Jersey -bull, under two years of age, at the forthcoming Yass Agricultural Show. - -As the days grew longer, and the daily tasks of labour became less -exciting in the neighbourhood, as well as at Warbrok Chase, much -occasional visiting sprang up. The stable was once more capable of -modest entertainment, though far from emulating the hospitalities of the -past, when, in the four-in-hand drag of the reigning regiment, the -fashionables of the day thought worth while to rattle over the unmade -roads for the pleasure of a week’s shooting on the lake by day, with the -alternative of the Colonel’s peerless claret by night. Andrew’s boy, -Duncan, a solemn lad of fourteen, whom his occasionally impatient sire -used to scold roundly, was encouraged to be in attendance to receive the -stranger cavalry. - -For one afternoon, Fred Churbett’s Grey Surrey, illustrious as having -won the Ladies’ Bag two years running at the Yass Races, and, as such, -equal in provincial turf society to a Leger winner, would canter -daintily up to the garden gate, followed perhaps at no great interval by -Charlie Hamilton’s chestnut, Red Deer, in training for the Yass Maiden -Plate, and O’Desmond’s Wellesley, to ensure whose absolute safety he -brought his groom. On the top of all this Captain and Mrs. Snowden would -arrive, until the dining-room, half filled with the fashion of the -district, did not look too large after all. - -By degrees, rising to the exigencies of his position, Wilfred managed to -get hold of a couple of ladies’ horses, by which sensible arrangement at -least three of the family were able to enjoy a ride together, also to -return Mrs. Snowden’s call, and edify themselves with the conversation -of that amusing woman of the world. - -And the more Mr. Effingham and his sons saw of the men composing the -little society which shared with them the very considerable district in -which they resided, the more they had reason to like and respect them. - - * * * * * - -The blessed Christmastide was approaching. How different was it in -appearance from the well-remembered season in their own beloved home! A -thousand reminiscences came rushing across the fields of memory, as the -Effinghams thought of the snow-clad hedges, the loaded roofs, the -magical stillness of the frost-arrested air. Nor were all the features -of the season attractive. Heavy wraps, closed doors, through which, in -spite of heaped-up fires, keen draught and invisible chills would -intrude; the long evenings, the dark afternoons, the protracted nights, -which needed all the frolic spirits of youth, the affection of home -life, and the traditional revelry of the season to render endurable. - -How different were all things in this strange, far land! - -Such soft airs, such fresh, unclouded morns, such far-reaching views -across the purple mountains, such breeze-tossed masses of forest -greenery, such long, unclouded days were theirs, in this the first -midsummer of what Annabel chose to call ‘Australia Felix.’ - -‘I should have just the same feeling,’ she said, ‘if I lived in the -desert under favourable circumstances. Not the horrid sandy, simoomy -part of it, of course. But some of those lovely green spots, where there -is a grey walled-in town, an old, old well, thousands of years old, and -such lovely horses standing at the doors of the tents. Why can’t we have -our horses broken in to stand like that, instead of having to send -Duncan for them, who takes hours? And then we could ride out by -moonlight and _feel_ the grand silence of the desert; and at sunset the -grey old chiefs and the maidens and the camels and the dear little -children would come to the village well, like Rebekah or Rachel—which -was it? I shall go to Palestine some day, and be a Princess, like Lady -Hester Stanhope. This is only the first stage.’ - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - MR. WILLIAM ROCKLEY OF YASS - - -Upon his next visit to The Chase, which took place shortly after this -conversation, the Reverend Harley Sternworth was accompanied by a -pleasant-looking, alert, middle-aged personage, who, descending from the -dog-cart with alacrity, was introduced as Mr. William Rockley of Yass. - -‘Bless my soul!’ said this gentleman, looking eagerly around, ‘what a -fine property! Never saw it look so well before. I’m delighted to find -it has got into such good hands; neglected in Colonel Warleigh’s time, -even worse since by rascally tenants. Nearly bought it myself, but -couldn’t spare the money. Splendid investment; finest land in the whole -district, finest water, finest grass. I ought to know.’ - -‘It is most gratifying to hear a gentleman of your experience speak so -highly of Warbrok,’ said Mr. Effingham. ‘Our good friend here has been -the making of our fortunes.’ - -‘Just like him! just like him!’ said the new-comer, lighting a cigar and -puffing out smoke and sentences with equal impetuosity. ‘Always -attending to other people’s business; might have made his own fortune, -two or three times over, if he’d taken my advice.’ - -‘I know some one else who is tarred with the same brush,’ returned the -parson. ‘Who bought in young Harding’s place the other day, when his -mortgagee sold him up, and re-sold it to him on the most Utopian terms? -But shouldn’t you like to walk round while you smoke your cigar this -morning? We can pay our respects to the ladies afterwards.’ - -‘Just the very thing. Many a time I’ve been here in the old days. What a -change! What a change! Bless my soul, how well the garden looks; never -expected to see it bloom again! And the old house!—one would almost -think Mrs. Warleigh was alive.’ - -‘The best of wives and mothers,’ said Mr. Sternworth with feeling. ‘What -a true lady and good Christian she was! If she had lived, there would -have been a different household.’ - -‘Daresay, daresay,’ said Mr. Rockley meditatively. ‘Precious rascals, -the sons; hadn’t much of a chance, perhaps. Wild lot here in those days, -eh? So I see you have had that mound moved from the back of the cellar.’ - -‘We couldn’t think what it was,’ said Mr. Effingham. ‘The excavation -must have been made long ago.’ - -‘Not heard the story, then? Wonderful how some secrets are kept. Never -mind, Sternworth, I won’t tell Captain Effingham the _other_ one. Randal -Warleigh, the eldest son, was one of the wildest devils that even _this_ -country ever saw. Clever, handsome, but dissipated; reckless, -unprincipled, in fact. Old man and he constantly quarrelling. Not that -the Colonel was all that a father should have been, but he drank like a -gentleman. Never touched anything before dinner. He finished his bottle -of port then, and sometimes another, but no morning spirit-drinking. -Would as soon have smoked a black pipe or worn a beard. It came to this -at last, that when he went away he locked up sideboard and cellar, -forbidding the housekeeper to give his sons any liquor.’ - -‘The Colonel left home for a week in Yass, when Randal arrived with some -cattle and two fellow-roysterers. No grog available. Naturally savage. -Swore he would burn the old rookery down before he would submit to be -treated so. Behaved like a madman. Ordered up his men, got picks and -shovels, dug a tunnel under the cellar wall, and helped himself, _ad -libitum_, to wine and spirits.’ - -‘The governor’s a soldier,’ he said; ‘I’ve given him a lesson in civil -engineering. Here’s his health, boys!’ - -‘What an outrage!’ said Mr. Effingham. - -‘You would have said so if you had seen Warbrok when the old gentleman -returned. Every soul on the place—all convict servants in those days—had -been drunk for a week. Cellar half-emptied, house in confusion. Randal -and his friends had betaken themselves, luckily, the day before, to the -Snowy River, or there might have been murder done. As it was——’ - -‘I think we may spare our friend any more chronicles of the good old -times, Rockley; let us go down and see the dairy cows, those that Harry -O’Desmond sold him.’ - -‘All right!’ said his friend good-humouredly, accepting the change of -subject. ‘I daresay Harry O’ had his price, but they _are_ the best -cattle in the country.’ - -Mr. Rockley was equally hearty and complimentary as to the live stock. -Didn’t think he had ever seen finer cows, finer grass; he believed Mr. -Effingham, if he went on as he was doing, would make a fortune by -dairying. If old Colonel Warleigh had not been ignorant of rural -matters, and his elder sons infernal low-lived scoundrels, a fortune -would have been made before at Warbrok. Nothing could have prevented -that family from becoming rich, with this estate for a home farm, and -two splendid stations on Monaro, but the grossest mismanagement, -incompetence, and vicious tendencies—he might say depravity—of course, -he meant on the part of the young men. The Colonel was indiscreet—in -fact, a d——d old fool—but everybody respected him. - -The three gentlemen completed the round of the establishment, during -which progress their mutual friend had praised the stock-yard, the wheat -stack, the lake, the garden, and had pretty well exhausted his -cigar-case. It was high noon in Warbrok, and the shelter of the broad -verandah, which he eulogised by declaring it to be the finest verandah -he had ever been under in his life, was distinctly grateful. - -Upon his introduction to Mrs. Effingham and the young ladies, he was -afflicted with an inability to express adequately his respectful -admiration of the whole party. Everything elicited a cordial panegyric. -It was apparent, even without the aid of a few guarded observations from -Harley Sternworth, that Mr. Rockley’s compliments arose from no weak -intention of flattery, no foolish fondness or indiscriminate praise. It -was simply the outpouring of a spring of benevolence which brimmed over -in an important organ, which, for greater convenience in localising the -emotions, is known as the heart. Longing to do good to all mankind, with -perceptions of rare insight and keenness, much of Mr. Rockley’s -philanthropy was necessarily confined to words. But when the opportunity -arrived of translating good wishes into good deeds, few—very few—of the -sons of men embarked in that difficult negotiation with half the -pleasure, patience, and thoroughness of William Rockley. - -The friends had not intended to stay the night, the time of a business -man being limited, but upon invitation being pressingly made, first by -Mrs. Effingham and then by the young ladies, one after another, Mr. -Rockley declared that he couldn’t resist such allurements, but that they -must make a cruelly early start and get back to Yass to breakfast next -day. He believed they would see him there often. Mrs. Rockley had not -had the pleasure of calling upon Mrs. Effingham, because she had been -away in Sydney visiting her children at school, as well as an aunt who -was very ill—was always ill, he added impatiently. But she would drive -over and see them, most likely next week; and whenever Mrs. Effingham -and the young ladies came to Yass, or the Captain and his sons, they -must make his house their home—indeed, he would be deeply offended if he -heard of their going to an hotel. - -‘Well, really I’m afraid——’ - -‘My dear sir,’ interrupted Mr. Rockley, ‘of course you meant what you -said about the need of recreation for young people. Your sons have not -had any since you came here, except an odd slap at a flock of ducks—and -these Lake William birds are pretty shy. Then the ladies have hardly -seen any one in the district, except the half-dozen men that have been -to call. Don’t you suppose it’s natural that they should like to know -the world they’ve come to live in?’ - -‘We are such a large party, Mr. Rockley,’ said Mrs. Effingham, who felt -the necessity of being represented at this important council. ‘It is -extremely kind of you, but——’ - -‘But look here, Mrs. Effingham,’ interrupted Mr. Rockley with fiery -impatience, so evidently habitual that she could not for a moment -consider it to be disrespectful, ‘don’t you think it probable, in the -nature of things, that you may visit Yass—which is your county town, -remember—at the time of the races? All the world will be going. It’s a -time of year when there is nothing to do—as the parson here will tell -you. There will be balls, picnics, and parties for the young -ladies—everything, in fact. _You must go_, you see that, surely? You’ll -be the only family of position in the country-side that won’t be there. -And if you go and don’t make my house your home, instead of a noisy, -rackety hotel, why—I’ll never speak to one of you again.’ - -Here Mr. Rockley closed his rapidly delivered address, with a look of -stern determination, which almost frightened Mrs. Effingham. - -‘You will really offend my good friend and his most amiable and -hospitable lady if you do not accept his invitation,’ said Mr. -Sternworth. ‘It is hardly an ordinary race-meeting so much as a -periodical social gathering, of which a little racing (as in most -English communities, and there never was one more thoroughly British -than this) is the ostensible _raison d’être_.’ - -‘Well, Howard, for the young people’s sake, we really must think of it,’ -said Mrs. Effingham, answering, lest her husband, in distrust of a -colonial gathering, might definitely decline. ‘There will be time enough -to apprise Mrs. Rockley before the event.’ - -‘My wife will write to you when I get home,’ said Mr. Rockley, ‘and -explain matters more fully than I can do.—Everything goes off pleasantly -at our annual holiday, doesn’t it, Harley?’ - -‘So much so, that in my office of priest I have never had occasion to -enter my protest. The people need a respite from the toils and -privations of their narrow home world, almost more than we do.’ - -The evening passed most pleasantly. The parson and the soldier talked -over old army days. While Mr. Rockley, who had been a squatter before -finally settling down at Yass as principal merchant and banker, gave -Wilfred and Guy practical advice. Then he assured Mrs. Effingham that at -any time when she or the young ladies required change, they had only to -write to Mrs. Rockley—or come, indeed, without writing—and make their -house a home for as long as ever it suited them. Subsequently he -declared that he had never heard any music in the least degree to be -compared to the duet which Rosamond and Annabel executed for his -especial benefit. He charmed Mrs. Effingham by telling her that her son -Wilfred was the most promising and sensible young man he had ever -noticed as a beginner in the bush, and must infallibly do great things. -Lastly, he begged that he might be provided with a cup of coffee at -daylight, as, if he and Mr. Sternworth were not at Yass by -breakfast-time, dreadful things might happen to the whole district. -Annabel declared that she would get up and make it for him herself. -Their visitors then retired for the night, all hands being in a high -state of mutual appreciation. - -‘Your friend seems a most genial and sterling person, Harley,’ said Mr. -Effingham, as they indulged in a final stroll up the verandah, after the -general departure. ‘Is he always so complimentary?’ - -‘He can be extremely the reverse, upon occasion; but he is, perhaps, the -man of all others in whose good feeling I have the most undoubting -faith. Under that impetuous, explosive manner, the outcome of a fervid, -uncompromising nature, he carries an extraordinary talent for affairs, -and one of the most generous hearts ever granted to mortal man. He has -the soul of the Caliph Haroun Alraschid, and has secretly done more good -deeds, to my knowledge, in this district than all the rest of us put -together. His correct taste has enabled him to appreciate all my dear -children here. From this time forth you may reckon upon a powerful, -untiring friend in William Rockley.’ - -‘I know _one_ friend, Harley,’ said Effingham as their hands met in a -parting grasp, ‘who has been more than a brother to me in my hour of -need. We can never divide the gratitude which is your due from me and -mine.’ - -‘Pooh! pooh! a man wants more friends than one, especially in Australia, -where a season of adversity—which means a dry one—may be hanging over -him; and a better one than William Rockley will be to you, henceforth, -no man ever saw or heard of. Good-night!’ - -So passed the happy days of the first early summer-time at Warbrok—days -which knew no change until the great festival of Christmas approached, -which closes the year in all England’s dependencies with hallowed -revelry and honoured mirth. Christmas was imminent. The 20th of December -had arrived; a day of mingled joy and sorrow, as more freshly, vividly -came back the buried memories of old days, the echo of the lost chimes -of English Christmas bells. But in spite of such natural feelings, the -advent of Christmas was not suffered to pass without tokens of gladness -and services of thanksgiving. - -It had been decided to invite Messrs. Hamilton and Argyll, with Mr. -Churbett and Mr. Forbes, to join the modest family festivities on this -occasion. Old Tom had been duly despatched with the important missives, -and the invitations were frankly accepted. - -On the 24th of December, therefore, late in the afternoon, which is the -regulation hour for calling in Australian country society, the visitor -being aware that he is expected to stay all night, and not desiring, -unless he is _very_ young, to have more than an hour to dispose of -before dinner, the gentlemen aforesaid rode up. They had met by -appointment and made the expedition together. - - * * * * * - -‘Fancy this being Christmas Day!’ exclaimed Annabel, as—the -time-honoured greetings being uttered—the whole party disposed -themselves comfortably around the breakfast-table. ‘And what a lovely -fresh morning! Not a hot-wind day, as old Dick said it would be. It -makes me shiver when I think of how we were wrapped up this time last -year.’ - -‘Are you certain it _is_ Christmas, Miss Annabel?’ said Fred Churbett; -‘I doubt it, because of the absence of holly and snow, and old women and -school children, and waits and the parish beadle—all the belongings of -our forefathers. There _must_ be some mistake. The sun is too fast, -depend upon it. I must write to the _Times_.’ - -‘Old Dick brought a load of scarlet-flowering bushes from the hills -yesterday,’ said Rosamond, ‘with which he solemnly decorated his hut and -our verandah pillars. He wished to make Andrew a present of a few -branches as a peace-offering, but he declined, making some indignant -remark about Prelatism or Erastianism, which Dick did not understand.’ - -At eleven o’clock A.M. a parade of the ‘full strength of the regiment,’ -as Effingham phrased it, was ordered. Chairs, with all things proper, -and a reading-desk, had been arranged on the south side of the wide -verandah. - -To this gathering-point the different members of the establishment had -been gradually converging, arrayed in garments, which, if varying from -the fashion-plates of the day, were neat, suitable, and of perfect -cleanliness. Mrs. Evans’s skill as a laundress, which was in the inverse -ratio to her mildness of disposition, enabled Dick to appear in white -duck trousers and a shirt-front which distanced all rivalry. They -contrasted strongly with the unbroken tint of brick-dust red presented -by his face and throat, the latter encircled by an ancient military -stock. Mrs. Evans was attired with such splendour that it was manifest -she had sacrificed comfort to fashion. - -‘Old Tom’ had donned, as suitable for the grandeur and solemnity of the -occasion, a well-worn pair of cord breeches, the gift of some employer -of sporting tendencies, which, ‘a world too wide for his shrunk shanks,’ -were met at the knee by carefully polished boots, the long-vanished tops -being replaced by moleskin caps. A drill overshirt, fastened at the -waist with a broad leather belt, from which depended a tobacco-pouch, -completed this effective costume. The iron-grey hair was carefully -combed back from his withered countenance; his keen eyes gleamed from -their hollow orbits, imparting an appearance of mysterious vitality to -the ancient stock-rider. - -Andrew and Jeanie, of course, attended, the latter dressed with the good -taste which always characterised her, and the former having in charge -the sturdy silent Duncan, with their younger offspring. Of these, Jessie -bade fair to furnish a favourable type of the ‘fair-haired lassie’ so -frequently met with in the ballads of her native land, while Colin, the -second boy, was a clever, confident youngster, in whose intelligence -Andrew secretly felt pride, though he repressed with outward sternness -all manifestations of the same. - -Andrew himself, it must be stated, appeared under protest, holding that -‘thae Yerastian, prelatic festivals,’ in his opinion, ‘were no warranted -by the General Assembly o’ the Kirk o’ Scotland, natheless, being little -mair than dwellers in the wilderness, it behoved a’ Christians, though -they should be but a scattered remnant in the clefts o’ the rocks, to -agree in bearing testimony to the Word.’ - -Across the broad verandah the members of the family, with their -visitors, were seated, behind them the retainers. A table covered with a -cloth was placed before Mr. Effingham, with the family Bible and a -prayer-book of the Church of England. - -As he made commencement, and with the words, ‘When the wicked man -turneth away,’ the congregation stood up, it was a matter of difficulty -with Mrs. Effingham to restrain her tears. How the well-remembered -sentences seemed to smite the rock of her well-guarded emotions as with -the rod of the Prophet! She trembled lest the spring should break forth -from her o’erburdened heart, whelming alike prudence and the sense of -fitness. The eyes of the girls were dewy, as they recalled the -white-robed, long-remembered pastor, the ivy-covered church, storied -with legend and memorial of their race, the villagers, the friends of -their youth, the unquestioned security of position, long guaranteed by -habit and usage, apparently unalterable. And now, where stood they, -while the sacred words proceeded from the lips of the head of the -household, whom they had followed to this far land? - -In a ‘lodge in the wilderness,’ a speck in a ‘boundless contiguity of -shade,’ with its unfamiliar adjuncts and a company of strangers—pilgrims -and wayfarers—even as they. For a brief interval the suddenly realised -picture of distance and isolation was so real, the momentary pang of -bitterness so keenly agonising, that more than one sob was heard, while -Annabel, whose feelings were less habitually under control, threw her -arms round Jeanie’s neck (who had nursed her as a babe) and wept -unrestrainedly. - -No notice was taken of this natural outburst of emotion. Jeanie, with -unobtrusive tenderness and unfailing tact, comforted the weeping girl. -Solemnly the words of the service sounded from her father’s lips, while -the ordinary responses concealed the occasional sobs of the mourner for -home and native land. She had unconsciously translated the unspoken -words of more disciplined hearts. - -Gradually, as the service continued, the influences of the scene -exercised a healing power upon the group—the fair, golden day, the -tender azure of the sky, the wandering breeze, the waters of the lake -lapping the shore, the whispering of the waving trees, even the hush of - - Beautiful silence all around, - Save wood-bird to wood-bird calling, - -commenced insensibly to soothe the hearts of the exiles. Gradually their -faces recovered serenity, and as the repetitions of belief and trust, of -submission to a Supreme Benevolence, were repeated, that ‘peace which -passeth all understanding,’ an indwelling guest with some, a memory, a -long-forgotten visitant with others, appeared for a space to have -enveloped the little company on that day assembled at Warbrok. - -The simply-conducted service was verging on conclusion when a stranger -appeared upon the track from the high road. In bushman’s dress, and -carrying upon his back the ordinary knapsack (or ‘swag’) of the -travelling labourer, he strode along the path at a pace considerably -higher in point of speed than is usual with men who, as a class, being -confident of free quarters at every homestead, see no necessity for -haste. A tall, powerfully-built man, his sun-bronzed countenance -afforded no clue to his social qualification. - -Halting at the garden gate, he stood suddenly arrested as he -comprehended the occupation of the assembled group. He looked keenly -around, then easing the heavy roll by a motion of his shoulders, awaited -the final benediction. - -‘What is your business with me?’ said Mr. Effingham, closing his book, -and regarding with interest the stranger, whose bold dark eyes roved -around, now over the assembled company, now over the buildings and -offices, and lastly settled with half-admiration, half-diffidence, on -the bright faces of the girls. ‘I have no employment here at present. -Perhaps you would like to stay to-night. You are heartily welcome.’ - -‘Come along o’ me, young man,’ interposed Dick Evans, as promptly -divining the wayfarer’s habitudes. ‘Come along o’ me; you’ll have a -share of our Christmas dinner, and you might come by a worse.’ - -‘All right,’ replied the stranger cheerfully, and with a nod of -acknowledgment to Mr. Effingham he jerked back his personal effects into -their position and strode after his interlocutor, who, with old Tom -Glendinning, quitted the party, leaving Mrs. Evans to follow at her -convenience. - -‘Fine soldier that man would have made,’ said Mr. Effingham, as he -marked the well-knit frame, the elastic step of the stranger. ‘I wonder -what his occupation is?’ - -‘Horse-breaker, bullock-driver, station hand of some sort,’ said Argyll -indifferently. ‘Just finished a job of splitting, probably, or is -bringing his shearing cheque to get rid of in Yass.’ - -‘He appeared to have seen better days, poor fellow,’ said Mrs. -Effingham, ever compassionate. ‘I noticed a wistful expression in his -eyes when he first came up.’ - -‘I thought he looked proud and disdainful,’ said Annabel, ‘and when old -Dick said “come along,” I half expected him to reply indignantly. But he -went off readily enough. I wonder if he’s a gentleman in disguise?’ - -‘Or a bushranger,’ suggested Churbett. ‘Donohoe is “out” just now, and -is said to have a new hand with him. These gentry have been occasionally -entertained, like angels, unawares.’ - -‘What a shocking idea!’ exclaimed Annabel. ‘You have no sentiment, Mr. -Churbett. How would _you_ like to be suspected by everybody if you were -reduced to poverty? He is very handsome, at any rate.’ - -‘Fred would be too lazy to walk, that is one thing certain, Miss -Annabel,’ said Hamilton. ‘He would prefer to take the situation of cook -or hut-keeper at a quiet station, where there were no children. Fancy -his coming up, touching his hat respectfully, and saying, “I suppose you -haven’t a berth about the kitchen as would suit a pore man, Miss?”’ - -Here the speaker gave so capital an imitation of Mr. Churbett’s accented -tone in conversation that everybody laughed, including the subject of -the joke, who said it was just like Hamilton’s impudence, but that -_other_ people occasionally had mistakes made as to their station in -life. What about old MʻCallum sending him and Argyll to pass the night -in the men’s hut? - -‘The old ruffian!’ said Argyll, surprised out of his usual serenity, ‘I -had two minds to knock him down; another, to tell him he was an ignorant -savage; and a fourth, to camp under a gum-tree.’ - -‘What did you do finally?’ asked Rosamond, much interested. ‘What an -awkward position to be placed in.’ - -‘The night happened to be wet,’ explained Hamilton; ‘we had ridden far, -and were _so_ hungry—no other place of abode within twenty miles; so—it -was very unheroic—but we had to put our pride in our pockets, and sleep, -or rather _stay_, in an uncomfortable hut, with half-a dozen -farm-servants.’ - -‘What a bore!’ said Wilfred. ‘Did he know your names? It seems -inconceivable.’ - -‘The real truth was,’ said Mr. Churbett, volunteering an explanation, -‘that the old man, taking umbrage somewhere at what he considered our -friend Hamilton’s superfine manners and polite habit of banter, had -vowed to serve him and Argyll out if ever they came his way. This was -how he carried out his dark and dreadful oath.’ - -‘What a terrible person!’ exclaimed Annabel, opening her eyes. ‘Were you -very miserable, Mr. Hamilton?’ - -‘Sufficiently so, I am afraid, to have made our friend chuckle if he had -known. We had to ride twenty miles before we saw a hair-brush again, and -Argyll, I must say, looked dishevelled.’ - -A simultaneous inclination to laughter seized the party, as they gazed -with one accord at Argyll’s curling locks. - -‘I should think that embarrassments might arise,’ said Mr. Effingham, -‘from the habit of claiming hospitality when travelling here. There are -inns, I suppose, but they are infrequent.’ - -‘Not so many mistakes are made as one might think,’ explained Churbett. -‘Squatters’ names are widely known, even out of their districts, and -every one accepts a night’s lodging frankly, as he expects to give one -in return.’ - -‘But how can we know whether the stranger be a gentleman, or even a -respectable person?’ said Mrs. Effingham. ‘One would be so sorry to be -unkind, and yet might be led into entertaining undesirable guests.’ - -‘Every gentleman should send in his card,’ said Argyll, ‘if he wishes to -be received, or give his name and address to the servant. People who -will not so comply with the usages of society have no right to -consideration.’ - -‘But suppose people are not well dressed,’ said Wilfred, ‘or are -outwardly unlike gentlemen, what are you to do? It would be annoying to -make mistakes in either way.’ - -‘When people are not dressed like gentlemen,’ said Hamilton, ‘you may -take it for granted that they have forfeited their position, or are -contented to be treated as steerage passengers, so to speak. In such -cases the safer plan, as far as my experience goes, is to permit them to -please themselves. I had a good look at our friend yonder, as he came -up, and I have a shrewd suspicion that he belongs to the latter -category.’ - -‘Poor young man!’ said Mrs. Effingham. ‘Couldn’t anything be done for -him? Think of a son of ours being placed in that position!’ - -‘He is making himself comfortable with old Dick Evans, most likely, -however unromantic it may appear,’ said Churbett. ‘He will enjoy his -dinner—I daresay he hasn’t had many good ones lately—have a great talk -with Dick and the old stock-rider, and smoke his pipe afterwards with -much contentment.’ - -‘But a _gentleman_, if he be a gentleman, never could lower himself to -such surroundings, surely?’ queried Rosamond. ‘It is not possible.’ - -‘Oh yes, it _is_,’ said Beatrice. ‘Because, you remember, Sergeant -Bothwell was more comfortable in the butler’s room with old John Gudyill -than he would have been with Lady Bellenden and her guests, though she -longed to entertain him suitably, on account of his royal blood.’ - -‘Miss Beatrice, I congratulate you on your familiarity with dear Sir -Walter,’ said Argyll. ‘It is a case perfectly in point, because Francis -Stewart, otherwise Bothwell, had at one time mixed in the society of the -day, and must have had the manners befitting his birth. Nevertheless in -his lapsed condition he preferred the _sans gêne_ of his inferiors. -There are many such in Australia, who “have sat at good men’s feasts,” -but are now, unfortunately, more at ease in the men’s hut.’ - -‘Of course you’ve heard of Carl Hotson, the man they used to call “the -Count”?’ said Hamilton. ‘No? He lived at Carlsruhe, on the other side of -the range, near the Great South Gap, where every one was obliged to -pass, and (there being no inn) stay all night. Now “the Count” was a -fastidious person of literary tastes. He chafed against entertaining a -fresh batch of guests every night. “Respectable persons—aw—I am -informed, but—aw—I don’t keep an hotel!” Unwilling to be bored, and yet -anxious not to be churlish, he took a middle course. He invented “the -stranger’s hut,” which has since obtained in other parts of the -country.’ - -‘Whatever was that?’ asked Guy. - -‘He had a snug cottage built at a short distance from the road. Into -this dwelling every traveller, without introduction, was ushered. A good -dinner, with bed and breakfast, was supplied. His horse was paddocked, -and in the morning the guest, suitably entertained, but ignorant of the -personnel of the proprietor, as in a castle of romance, was free to -depart.’ - -‘And a very good idea it was,’ said Mr. Effingham. ‘I can imagine one -becoming tired of casual guests.’ - -‘Some people were not of that opinion,’ said Mr. Forbes, ‘declaring it -to be in contravention of the custom of the country. One evening Dr. -Portman, an elderly gentleman, of majestic demeanour, came to Carlsruhe. -He relied on a colonial reputation to procure him unusual privileges, -but not receiving them, wrote a stiff note to Mr. Hotson, regretting his -inability to thank him personally for his peculiar hospitality, and -enclosing a cheque for a guinea in payment of the expense incurred.’ - -‘What did “the Count” say to that?’ - -‘He was equal to the occasion. The answer was as follows:— - - -‘SIR—I have received a most extraordinary letter signed J.D. Portman, -enclosing a cheque for one guinea. The latter document I have -transmitted to the Treasurer of the Lunatic Asylum.—Obediently yours, - - CARL HOTSON.’ - - -The Christmas dinner, which included a noble wild turkey, a fillet of -veal, a baron of beef, with two brace of black duck, as well as green -peas, cauliflowers, and early potatoes from the now productive garden, -was a great success. Cheerful and contented were those who sat around -the board. Merry and well-sustained was the flow of badinage, which kept -the young people amused and amusing. In the late afternoon the guests -excused themselves, and left for home, alleging that work commenced -early on the morrow, and that they were anxious as to the results of -universal holiday-making. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - HUBERT WARLEIGH, YR., OF WARBROK - - -Next morning early, Mr. Effingham was enjoying the fresh, cool air when -Dick marched up to him. - -‘Well, Evans,’ said Effingham, ‘Christmas Day is over. Tell me, were you -able to abstain?’ - -‘Believe me, I got drunk, sir,’ answered the veteran, ‘but I’m all right -now till New Year’s Day.’ - -‘I am afraid that your constitution will suffer, Evans, if you continue -these regular—or rather irregular—excesses.’ - -‘Can’t say for that, sir. Been drunk every Christmas since the year as I -’listed in the old rigiment; but I wanted to tell you about that young -man as was in our hut last night. Do you know who he is, sir?’ - -‘No, indeed, Evans! I suspected he was no ordinary station-hand.’ - -‘Well, no, sir; that’s the youngest of the old Colonel’s sons. Him as -they used to call “Gyp” Warleigh. He was allers fond of ramblin’ and -campin’ out, from a boy, gipsy fashion. When the Colonel died, he went -right away to some of the far-out stations beyond Monaro, and never -turned up for years. Old Tom knowed him at once, but didn’t let on.’ - -‘Poor fellow! How hard that he should have come back to his father’s -house penniless and poorly clad. I wonder if we could find him -employment here?’ - -‘H—m! I don’t know, sir; we haven’t much to keep hands goin’ at this -season, but you can see him yourself. I daresay he’ll come up to thank -you afore he goes.’ - -Dick’s conjecture proved true, inasmuch as before the breakfast bell -rang the prodigal walked up to the garden gate. - -This time he underwent a more careful examination, the result of which -was to impress the master of the house in a favourable manner. Though -dressed much as before, there was some improvement in his appearance. He -came forward now, with the advantage conferred by rest and good -entertainment. His regular features, as Mr. Effingham now thought, -showed plainly the marks of aristocratic lineage. The eyes, especially, -were bold and steadfast, while his figure, hardened by the toils of a -backwoods life, in its grand outline and muscular development, aroused -the admiration of a professional connoisseur. The bronzed face had lost -its haggard expression, and it was with a frank smile that he raised his -hat slightly and said, ‘Good-morning, sir. I have come to thank you for -your kindness and hospitality.’ - -‘I am pleased to have been enabled to afford it,’ said the master of the -establishment; ‘but is there nothing more that I can do for your -father’s son?’ - -The man started; a frown set the lower part of his face in rigid -sternness. After a moment’s pause the cloud-like expression cleared, and -with softened voice he said: - -‘I see they have told you. I thought the old stock-rider knew me; he was -here before we lived at Warbrok. Yes, it is all true. I am Hubert -Warleigh.’ - -Mr. Effingham’s impulsive heart was stirred within him, at these words, -to a degree which he himself would hardly have admitted. The actual -presentment of this cadet of an old family—once the object of a mother’s -care, a mother’s prayers—fallen from his position and compelled to -wander over the country, meanly dressed and carrying a burden in this -hot weather, touched him to the heart. He walked up to the speaker, and -laying his hand upon his arm, said in tones of deep feeling: - -‘My dear fellow, will you let me advise you, as I should thank any -Christian man to do for my son in like need? Stay with us for a time. I -may be able to assist you indirectly, if not otherwise. At the worst, -the hospitality of this house—of your old home—is open to you as long as -you please to accept it.’ - -‘You are kind—too kind, sir,’ said the wanderer, while his bold eyes -softened, and for a moment he turned his face towards the lake. ‘The old -place makes me feel like a boy again. But it will never do—_it’s too -late_. You don’t know the ways of this country yet, and you might come -to repent being so soft—I mean so good-natured.’ - -‘I will take the risk,’ persisted Effingham. ‘Let me see you restored to -your proper standing in society, and following any occupation befitting -a gentleman, and I shall hold myself fully repaid.’ - -The stranger smiled, half-sadly, half-humorously, as he seated himself -on a fence-rail. - -‘That is not so easy as you think, sir,’ he said. ‘Though there’s very -few people in this country would bother about trying. When a fellow’s -been rambling about the bush, working and living with the men, for years -and years, it is not so easy to turn him into a gentleman again. Worst -of all when he’s come short of education, and has half-forgotten how to -behave himself before ladies. Ladies! I swear, when I saw your -daughters, looking like rosebuds in the old verandah, I felt like a -blackfellow.’ - -‘That a feeling of—of rusticity—would be one of the consequences of a -roving life, I can understand; but you are young—a mere boy yet. Believe -one who has seen something of the world, that the awkwardness you refer -to would soon disappear were you once more among your equals.’ - -‘Too late—too late!’ said the man gloomily. ‘Gyp Warleigh must remain in -the state he has brought himself to. I know him better than you do, -worse luck! There’s another reason why I’m afraid to trust myself in a -decent house.’ - -‘Good heavens!’ said Effingham. ‘Then what is that? You surely have -not——’ - -‘Taken to the bush? Not yet; but it’s best to be straight. I learned the -trick of turning up my little finger too early and too well; and though -I’m right enough for months when I’m far in the bush, or have had a -spell of work, I’m helpless when the drinking fit comes on me. I _must_ -have it, if I was to die twenty times over. And the worst of it is, I -can feel it coming creeping on me for weeks beforehand; I can no more -fight it off than a man who’s half-way down a range can stop himself. -But it’s no use talking—I must be off. How well the old place looks! -It’s a grand season, certainly.’ - -‘You have had adventures here in the old days,’ said Effingham, willing -to lead him into conversation. ‘Had you a fight with bush-rangers in the -dining-room ever?’ - -‘Then the bullet-marks _are_ there yet?’ said the stranger carelessly. -‘Well, there was wild work at Warbrok when that was done, but -bushrangers had no say in it. It was the old governor who blazed away -there. He was always a two-bottle man, was the governor, and after poor -mother died he scarcely ever went to bed sober. Randal and Clem were -terrible wild chaps, or they might have kept matters together. I was the -youngest, and let do pretty much as I liked. I never learned anything -except to read and write badly. Always in the men’s huts, I picked up -all the villainy going before I was fourteen. But about those -bullet-marks in the wall.’ - -‘I feel deeply interested, believe me; and if you would permit me to -repair the neglect you have experienced, something may yet be done.’ - -‘You don’t know men of my sort, Captain, or you wouldn’t talk in that -way. Not that I haven’t a feeling towards you that I’ve never had since -poor mother died, and told me to be a good boy, as she stroked my hair -for the last time. But how could I? What chance is there for a lad in -the bush, living as we did in those days? I remember Randal’s coming -home from Bathurst races—he’d go any distance to a race meeting. He was -like a madman. It was then that the row came about with the governor, -when they nearly shot one another.’ - -‘Nearly shot one another! Good heavens! How _could_ that happen?’ - -‘After the cellar racket Randal had the sense to stay away at Monaro and -work at our station there for months. He could work when he liked, and a -smarter man among stock never handled a slip-rail. But he had to come -home at last. The governor talked to him most polite. Hoped he’d stay to -dinner. He drank fair; they were well into the fourth bottle when the -row began. He told us afterwards that the old man, instead of flying -into a rage, as usual, was bitter and cool, played with him a bit, but -finished up by saying that “though it was the worst day’s work he ever -did to come to this accursed country, he hardly expected his eldest son -would turn out a burglar and a thief.” - -‘Randal was off his head by this time—been ‘a bit on’ before he -came—swore he wouldn’t stand that from any man, not even his own father. -The old man glared at him like a tiger, and fetching out the loaded -duelling pistols, which people always had handy in those days, gave him -one, and they stood up at different ends of the long room. - -‘We heard the shots and rushed in. There was Randal holding on by the -wall, swaying about, and, pointing to the ceiling, saying, as well as he -could, “Fired in the air! by ——! fired in—the—air!” Sure enough, there -was the mark of his bullet in the ceiling, but the _other one_ had hit -the wall, barely an inch from Randal’s head.’ - -‘What an awful affair! How your father must have rejoiced that he was -spared the guilt of such a crime.’ - -‘I don’t know about that; all he _said_ next day was, that his hand must -have been shaky, or he would have rid the world of an infernal -scoundrel, who had disgraced his family and was no son of his. He never -spoke to him again.’ - -‘Miserable father—lost son! What became of your brothers, may I ask, -since you have told me so much?’ - -‘Randal was in a vessel coming back from Adelaide with an exploring -party. He’d been lushing pretty heavy, and they thought he must have -gone overboard one night in a fit of the horrors. Anyhow, he was never -seen alive afterwards. Poor Clem—he wasn’t half as bad as Randal, only -easy led—died at the Big River: was shepherding when we last heard of -him. I’m all that’s left of the Warleighs. Some fine day you’ll hear of -me being drowned crossing a river, or killed by the blacks, or broke my -neck off a horse; and a good job too. I must be off now. It’s years -since I’ve said as much to any one.’ - -‘But why—why not stay and commence a happier career? Scores of men have -done so, years after your age. You will have encouragement from every -member of my family.’ - -‘Family!’ answered the outcast, with a bitter smile. ‘Am I fit to -associate with _ladies_? Why, even while I’m speaking to you I can -hardly open my mouth without an oath or a rough word. No! It might have -been once; it’s years too late now. But I thank you all the same; and if -ever a chance comes in my way of doing your people a good turn, you may -depend your life on Gyp Warleigh. Good-bye, sir!’ - -As he rose to his feet, squaring his shoulders and towering to the full -height of his stature, Mr. Effingham instinctively held out his hand. -Closing his own upon it for one moment in an iron grasp, the wanderer -strode forth upon his path, and was lost behind a turn in the timber. - -Howard Effingham returned to his household filled with sad thought. He -had seen ruined men of all sorts and kinds before; had known many who, -with every social aid and endowment, had chosen to tread the path of -degradation. But there was, to his mind, an element of unusual pathos in -this acquiescent yet resentful debasement of a noble nature. In the hall -he met Wilfred and Guy. Contrasting their frank, untroubled countenances -with that of the ill-fated son of his predecessor his heart swelled with -thankfulness. - -‘What a long talk you have been having with our dark friend,’ said -Wilfred. ‘Does he want a situation as stock-rider? or has he a project -requiring the aid of a little capital? He doesn’t look like an -enthusiast.’ - -‘Nor is he one,’ answered the father briefly. ‘He is an unhappy man, -whom you will compassionate when I tell you that he is Hubert -Warleigh—the Colonel’s youngest son.’ - -‘Good heavens!’ cried Wilfred. ‘Who said there was no romance in a new -country? I thought he was a fine-looking fellow, with something uncommon -about him. What a history!’ - -‘What a dreadful, what an astonishing thing!’ exclaimed Annabel, who, -having an appetite for novelty, and seldom being so absorbed in her -household duties as to escape early notice of such, had joined the -group. ‘To think that that sunburned, roughly-dressed man, carrying a -bundle with his blanket and all kinds of things, should be a gentleman, -the son of an old officer; just like Wilfred and Guy here! To be sure, -he _was_ handsome, in spite of his disguise; and did you notice what -splendid black eyes he had? Poor fellow, poor fellow! Why didn’t you -make him stay, papa?’ - -‘My child! I did try to persuade him; I promised to see what we could do -for him. My heart yearned to the youngster, thinking that if, in the -bounds of possibility, any child of mine was in such evil case, so might -some father’s heart turn to him in his need. But he only said it was too -late, with a kind of proud regret. Yet I think he was grateful, for he -wrung my hand at parting, said it had done him good to speak with me, -and if he could ever do us a service I might count upon him.’ - - * * * * * - -In the dreamy days of the late summer one and all derived great solace -and enjoyment from the Lake William Book Club, now become, thanks to Mr. -Churbett’s brother in London, a working institution. That gentleman had -forwarded a well-selected assortment, comprising the newest publications -of the day, in various departments of literature, not forgetting a -judicious sprinkling of fiction. The books brought out by the family, -neither few nor of humble rank, had been read and re-read until they -were known by heart. This fresh storehouse of knowledge was, for the -first time in their lives, truly appreciated. - -Mr. Churbett had employed himself in his solitary hours in covering with -strong white paper and carefully entitling each volume. These he divided -into ‘sets,’ comprising, say, a modicum of history, travel, biography, -or science, with a three-volume novel. The sets being duly numbered, a -sketch circuit was calculated, and proper arrangements made. He, for -instance, forwarded a set to Benmohr, whence they were enjoined to -forward them at the expiration of a month to The Chase; at the same time -receiving a fresh supply from headquarters. O’Desmond sent them on to -the Snowdens, to be despatched by them to Mr. Hampden at Wangarua. So it -came to pass that when the twelfth subscriber forwarded the -first-mentioned set to its original dwelling-place at Mr. Churbett’s, -the year had completed its cycle, and each household had had ample, but -not over-abundant, time to thoroughly master the contents of their dole -of literature. - -The autumn month of March was chiefly characterised by the rural -population of the district, as being the season in which was held the -Annual Yass Race Meeting. This tournament was deservedly popular in an -English-speaking community. There was no wife, widow, or maid, -irrespectively of the male representatives, who did not feel a mild -interest in the Town Plate, the delightfully dangerous Steeplechase, and -finally in the ‘Ladies’ Bag.’ This thrilling event comprised a -collection of fancy-work—slippers, embroidered smoking-caps, and -gorgeous cigar-cases, suitable for masculine use or ornament. - -The coveted prize was fabricated by the fair hands of the dames and -damsels of the district. The race was confined to amateurs, and those -only were permitted to compete who had received invitations from the -Secretary of the Ladies’ Committee. - -Great interest was taken, it may be supposed, in the carrying-off of -this trophy, and many a youthful aspirant might be seen ‘brushing with -hasty step the dew away,’ as he reviewed at dawn his training -arrangements with a face of anxiety, such as might become the owner of a -Derby favourite. - -By direct or devious ways the echoes of battle-cries, proper to the -approaching fray, commenced to reach The Chase. Faintly interested as -had been the family in the probable pleasures of such an assemblage, -they could not remain wholly insensible. With each succeeding week -tidings and murmurs of the Carnival swelled into sonorous tone. One day -a couple of grooms, leading horses sheeted and hooded, of which the -satin skins and delicate limbs bore testimony to their title to blue -blood, would pass by on their way to Yass; or Mr. Churbett would ride -over with the latest news, declaring that Grey Surrey was in such -condition that no horse in the district had a chance with him, though -Hamilton’s No Mamma had notoriously been in training for a month longer. -Also, that the truly illustrious steeplechaser, The Cid, had been -stabled at Badajos for the night; but that, in his opinion, he could not -be held at his fences, and if so, St. Andrew would make such an -exhibition of him as would astonish his backers and the Tasmanian -division generally. Then Mrs. Snowden would arrive to lunch, and among -other items of intelligence volunteer the information that the ball, -which the Racing Club Committee was pledged to give this year, would -exceed in magnificence all previous entertainments. Borne on the wings -of the weekly post there came a missive from Mrs. Rockley, reminding -Mrs. Effingham of her promise to come and bring her daughters for the -race week, assuring her that rooms at Rockley Lodge awaited them, and -that wilful child Christabel was prepared to die of grief in the event -of anything preventing their having the pleasure of their company. - -Then Bob Clarke was, after all, to ride The Cid. He was the only man -that could hold him at his fences. So there would be such a set-to -between him and St. Andrew, with Charlie Hamilton up, as had never been -seen in the district. The western division were going to back The Cid to -the clothes on their back. Hamilton was a cool hand across country, and -a good amateur jock wherever you put him up, but Bob Clarke, who had had -his early training among the stiff four-railers and enclosed -pasture-lands of Tasmania, was an extraordinary horseman, and had a way -of getting a beaten horse over his last fences which stamped him as the -man to put your money on. - -It was not in human nature altogether to disregard current opinions, -which, in default of more important public events, swayed the pastoral -community as well as the dwellers in the rural townships. The Effinghams -gradually abandoned themselves to the stream, and decided to accept Mrs. -Rockley’s invitation for the lady part of the family. To this end -Wilfred made a flying visit to the town, where he had been promptly -taken in custody by Mr. Rockley and lodged in safe keeping at his -hospitable mansion. - -He returned with what Beatrice called a rose-coloured description of the -whole establishment; notably of the marvellous beauty of Christabel -Rockley, the only daughter. - -‘Why, you haven’t seen girls for I don’t know how long,’ said Annabel, -‘except us, of course—and you don’t see any beauty in fair people—so how -can you tell? The first young woman with a pale face and dark eyes is a -vision of loveliness, of course. Wait till _we_ go to Yass, and you will -hear a proper description.’ - -‘Women are always unsympathetic about one another,’ he retorted. ‘That’s -the reason one can hardly trust the best woman’s portrait of her -friend.’ - -‘And men are so credulous,’ said Beatrice. ‘I wonder any sensible woman -has the patience to appropriate one. See how they admire the merest -chits with the beauty of a china doll, and so very, _very_ little more -brains. There is a nice woman, I admit, here and there, but a man -doesn’t know her when he sees her.’ - -‘All this is premature,’ said the assaulted brother, trying to assume an -air of philosophical serenity. ‘I know nothing about Miss Christabel -save and except that she is “beautiful exceedingly,” like the dame in -Coleridge. But you will find Mr. Rockley’s the nicest house to stay in, -or I much mistake, that you have been in of late years, and, in a -general way, you will enjoy yourselves more than you expect.’ - -‘I expect _great things_,’ said Annabel, ‘and I intend to enjoy myself -immensely. Fancy, what a pleasure it will be to me to see quantities of -new people! Even Rosamond confessed to me that she felt interested in -our coming glimpse of Australian society. We _have_ been a good deal -shut up, and it will do us good; even Beatrice will fall across a new -book or a fresh character to read, which comes to much the same thing. I -prefer live characters myself.’ - -‘And I prefer the books,’ said Beatrice; ‘there’s such a dreadful amount -of time lost in talking to people, very often, about such wretched -commonplaces. You can’t skip their twaddle or gossip, and you can in a -book.’ - - - - - CHAPTER X - A PROVINCIAL CARNIVAL - - -The last week of March at length arrived, by which time the nights had -grown perceptibly colder, and the morning air was by no means so mild as -to render wraps unnecessary. - -No rain had fallen for some weeks, though before that time there had -been a succession of showers; so that, there being no dust, while the -weather was simply perfect, the grass green, and the sky cloudless, a -more untoward time might have been selected for recreation. - -It was indeed the carnival of a community of uncompromising toilers, as -were, in good sooth, the majority of the inhabitants of the town and -district of Yass. - -Not without misgiving did Wilfred consent to leave the homestead -entirely to itself. Yet he told himself that, while the farm and dairy -were in the hands of such capable persons as Dick Evans, old Tom, and -Andrew, without some kind of social or physical earthquake, no damage -could occur. - -Dick, in spite of his love of excitement, did not care to attend this -race meeting. Aware of his weakness, he was unwilling to enter on a -fresh bout of dissipation before the effects of the last one had faded -from recollection. ‘I looks to have a week about Michaelmas,’ said he, -as gravely as if he had been planning a hunting or fishing excursion, -‘then I reckon to hold on till after harvest, or just afore Christmas -comes in. Two sprees a year is about the right thing for a man that -knows himself. I don’t hold with knockin’ about bars and shanties.’ - -Crede old Tom, the last Yass races had chiefly impressed themselves on -his mind as a festivity wherein he spent ‘thirty-seven pounds ten in six -days, and broke his collar-bone riding a hurdle race. Whether he was -getting older he could not say, but he felt as if he did not care to go -in just now. He was going to keep right till next Christmas, when, of -course, any man worth calling a man would naturally go in for a big -drink.’ - -For far other reasons, and in widely differing language, did Andrew -Cargill protest his disinclination to join revelries which, based on the -senseless sport of horse-racing, he felt to be indefensible, immoral, -and worthy only of the heathen, who were so unsparingly extirpated by -the children of Israel. ‘I haena words to express my scorn for thae -fearless follies, and I thocht that the laird and the mistress wad ha’ -had mair sense than to gang stravaigin’ ower the land like a wheen -player-bodies to gie their coontenance to siccan snares o’ Beelzebub. -It’s juist fearsome.’ - -Conflict of opinion in this case resulted in similarity of action, -inasmuch as the two unregenerates, conscious that their hour was not yet -come, conducted themselves with the immaculate propriety nowhere so -apparent as in those Australian labourers who are confessedly saving -themselves up for a ‘burst.’ - -Nothing could have been descried upon this lower earth more deeply -impressive than the daily walk of these two ancient reprobates, as -Andrew, in his heart, always designated them. - -The sun never saw them in bed. Old Tom had his morning smoke while -tracking the nightly wandering dairy cows long before that luminary -concerned himself with the inhabitants of the district. As day was -fairly established, the cows were in the yard, and the never-ending work -of milking commenced. Andrew’s northern perseverance was closely taxed -to keep pace in the daily duties of the farm with these two swearing, -tearing old sinners. - -All preliminaries having been concluded, which Mrs. Effingham declared -fell but little short of those which preceded their emigration, the -grand departure was made for their country town in what might justly be -considered to be high state and magnificence. - -First of all rode Rosamond and Beatrice on their favourite palfreys. -Touching the stud question, Wilfred and Guy had gradually developed the -love of horses, which is inseparable from Australian country life. The -indifferent nags upon which the girls had taken their early riding -lessons had, by purchase or exchange, been replaced by superior animals. -Rosamond, whose nerve was singularly good, and whose ‘hands’ had reached -a finish rarely accorded to the gentler sex, was the show horsewoman of -the family, being entrusted with the education of anything doubtful -before the younger girls were suffered to risk the mount. She rode a -slight, aristocratic-looking dark bay, of a noble equine family, which, -like themselves, had not long quitted the shores of Britain. Discharged -from a training-stable upon the charge of unfitness to ‘stay,’ he had -fallen into unprofessional hands, from which Wilfred had rescued him, -giving in exchange a fat stock-horse and a trifle more ‘boot’ than he -was ready to acknowledge. He had been right in thinking that in the -delicate head, the light arched neck, the rarely oblique shoulder, the -undeniable look of blood, he saw sufficient guarantee for a peerless -light-weight hackney. This in despite of a general air of height rather -than stability, which caused the severe critics of Benmohr and The -She-oaks to speak of him as being unduly ‘on the leg.’ - -There are some metals which compensate in quality for lack of weight and -substance; so among horses we find those which, indomitable of spirit -and tireless of muscle, are capable of wearing out their more -solidly-built compeers. To such a class belonged ‘dear Fergus,’ as -Rosamond always called the matchless hackney with which Wilfred had -presented her. Gay and high-couraged, temperate, easy, safe, fast, with -a walk and canter utterly unapproachable, the former, indeed, -assimilating to the unfair speed of a ‘pacer,’ while the latter was -free, floating, graceful, and elastic as that of the wild deer, he was a -steed to dream of, to love and cherish in life, to mourn over in death. -Many an hour, in the gathering twilight, by the shores of the lake, had -Rosamond revelled in, mounted upon this pink of perfection, when Wilfred -jumped upon a fresh horse after his day’s work and called upon his -sister to come for her evening ride. How anxiously, after the lingering, -glaring afternoon, did Rosamond watch for the time which brought the -chief luxury of the day, when she lightly reined the deer-like Fergus as -he sped through the twilight shadows, over the greensward by the lake -shore. - -Beatrice had also her favourite, which, though of different style and -fashion, was yet an undeniable celebrity. A small iron-grey mare, scarce -above pony height, was Allspice, with a great flavour of the -desert-born, from which she traced her descent, in the wide nostril, -high croup, and lavish action. Guy picked her up at a cattle muster, -where he was amazed at seeing the ease with which she carried a -thirteen-stone stock-rider through the ceaseless galloping of a day’s -‘cutting-out.’ Asking permission to get on her back, he at once -discovered her paces, and never rested till he had got her in exchange -for a two-year-old colt of his own, which had attracted the attention of -Frank Smasher, the stock-rider in question. Frank, returning with him to -Warbrok, roped the colt, the same day putting the breaking tackle on -him, and within a week was cutting out cattle, on the Sandy Camp, with -no apparent inferiority to the oldest stock-horse there. - -Whether Allspice had been broken in after this Mexican fashion is not -known, but as she could walk nearly as fast as Fergus, trot fourteen -miles an hour, and canter ‘round a cheese-plate,’ if you elected to -perform that feat, we must consider that she was otherwise trained in -youth, or inherited the talent which dispenses with education. The light -hand and light weight to which she was now subjected apparently suited -her taste. After a few trials she was voted by the family and all -friendly critics to be only inferior to the inimitable Fergus. - -Mr. Churbett had volunteered to come over the evening before and -accompany the young ladies, as otherwise Guy would have been their only -cavalier, Wilfred being absorbed in the grave responsibility of the -dogcart and its valuable freight. - -This sporting vehicle contained Mrs. Effingham and Annabel, together -with an amount of luggage, easily calculable when the possibility of a -few picnics, a couple of balls, and any number of impromptu dances are -mentioned. Mr. Effingham also, and his sons, found it necessary upon -this occasion to look up portions of their English outfit, which they -had long ceased to regard as suited for familiar wear. - -The light harness work of the family had been hitherto performed by -a single horse, a sensible half-bred animal, and a fair trotter -withal. On this occasion Wilfred had persuaded himself that a second -horse was indispensable. After divers secret councils among the -young men, it ended in Mr. Churbett’s Black Prince, the noted tandem -leader of the district, being sent over. He was docile, as well as -distinguished-looking, so all went well, in spite of Mrs. -Effingham’s doubts, fears, and occasional entreaties, and Annabel’s -plaintive cries when a nervous ‘sideling’ was passed, or a deeper -creek than usual forded. - - * * * * * - -‘Oh, what a pretty place Rockley Lodge is—a nice, roomy bungalow; and -how trim the garden looks!’ - -‘Apparently inhabited,’ said Annabel, ‘and rather affected by visitors, -I should say. I can see horses fastened to the garden fence, a carriage -at the door, and a dogcart coming round from the back, as well as two -side-saddle horses. So this is Mr. Rockley’s place! He said it was just -a little way from the town; and there—Mr. Churbett and Rosamond are -turning in at the entrance gate.’ - -Duellist, having gone off in his training, thereafter not unwillingly -retained for hackney purposes, evidently knew his way to the place, for -he marched off at once, along the track which turned to the white gate. -Followed by the tandem, with Beatrice and Guy bringing up the rear, the -whole party drew up before the hall door. - -Mr. Churbett, giving his horse to a hurried groom, who made his -appearance from the offices, assisted Rosamond to dismount, by which -time a youthful-looking personage, whom the Effinghams took to be Miss -Christabel, but who turned out to be her mother, advanced with an air of -unfeigned welcome, and greeted the visitors. - -‘Mr. Churbett, introduce me at once. I am afraid you are all very tired. -Come in this moment, my dear girls, and rest yourselves; we must have no -talking or excitement until dinner-time. Mr. Effingham, I count upon -you; Mr. Rockley charged me to tell you that he had asked Mr. Sternworth -to meet you. Mr. Churbett, of course you are to come, and bring the two -young gentlemen. Perhaps we might have a little dance, who knows? You -can go now. Mr. Rockley had rooms and loose boxes kept for you at the -Budgeree, or you wouldn’t have had a hole to put your head in; what do -you think of that?’ - -Mr. Churbett, much affected by his narrow escape of arriving in Yass and -finding every room and stall appropriated, with no more chance of a -lodging than there is in Doncaster on the Leger day, moved on, leading -Fergus, and murmuring something about Rockley being a minor Providence, -and Mrs. Rockley all their mothers and aunts rolled into one. He -recovered his spirits, however, as was his wont, and caracolled ahead on -Duellist, leading the way into a large stable-yard, around which were -open stalls and loose boxes, apparently calculated for the accommodation -of a cavalry regiment. - -‘This is the Budgeree Hotel, and a very fair caravanserai it is. Jim, -look alive and take off the tandem leader. Joe, I want a box for -Duellist. Bowcher, this is Captain Effingham of Warbrok, and these young -gentlemen his sons; did Mr. Rockley order rooms for them and me?’ - -‘Mr. Rockley, sir. Yes, sir. He come down last week on purpose to see if -I’d kep’ rooms for Mr. Argyll and Mr. Hamilton, as the place was that -full, and like to be fuller; and then he asked if your rooms was took, -and the Captin’s and two young gents’, and when I said they wasn’t, he -went on terrible, as it was just like you, and ordered ’em all right -off, besides four stalls and a box.’ - -‘Ah, well, it’s all right, Bowcher. Mr. Rockley knows my ways. I wonder -you hadn’t sense enough to keep rooms for me and my friends, as I told -you I was coming. Town very full?’ - -‘Never see anythink like it, sir. Horses coming from all directions, and -gents from Hadelaide, I should say. Least-ways, from all the outside -places. They’re that full at the Star, as they have had to put half the -horses in the yard, and rig up stalls timpry like.’ - -‘Ha! that’s all very well; but don’t try that with Black Prince or these -ladies’ horses, or they’ll kick one another sky high.’ - -While this conversation was proceeding, Mr. Effingham and his sons had -been ushered upstairs, where, at the extreme end of a long corridor, the -Captain was provided with a reasonable bedroom, enjoying a view of the -town and surrounding country. Wilfred and Guy had to content themselves -with a smaller double-bedded apartment, the waiter apologising, as -everything, to the attics, was crammed full, and visitors hourly, like -crowds at the theatre, turned away from the doors. Slight inconveniences -are not dwelt upon in the ‘brave days when we were twenty-one.’ So they -cast their modest wardrobes on the beds, and tried to realise the -situation. - -This was a marked divergence from the circumstances of their mode of -life for the past year. It appeared that every room on both sides of the -corridor was tenanted by at least one person of an emotional and -vociferous nature. - -Boots were carried to the staircase and hurled violently down, -accompanied by objurgations. Friendly, even confidential, conversations -were carried on by inmates of contiguous apartments. Inquiries were made -and answered as to who were going to dine at Rockley’s or Bower’s; and -one gentleman, who had come in late, publicly tossed up as to which -place he should go uninvited, deciding by that ancient test in favour of -a certain Mr. Bower, apparently of expansive hospitality. - -In addition to the dinner-chart, much information was afforded to such -of the general public as had ears, as to the state and prospects of the -horses interested in the coming events. Senator had a cough; and there -were rumours about the favourite for the Leger. St. Maur and the -Gambiers had come in, and brought a steeplechaser, which Alec was to -ride, which would make Bob Clarke’s Cid go down points in the betting. -Mrs. Mortimer had arrived and those pretty girls from Bunnerong. The -fair one would be the belle of the ball. ‘No!’ (in three places) was -shouted out, ‘Christabel Rockley was worth a dozen of her,’ and so on. -Mr. Effingham began to consider what his position would be if he should -have to listen to a discussion upon the merits of his daughters. This -complication happily did not arise, the tide of mirthful talk flowing -into other congenial channels. - -It must be confessed that if the company had been charged for the noise -they made, the bill would have been considerable. But after all, the -speakers were gentlemen, and their unfettered speech and joyous abandon -only reminded Effingham of certain old barrack days, when the -untrammelled spirit of youth soared exultingly free, unheeding of the -shadow of debt or the prison bars of poverty. - -In due time the splashing, the dressing, and the jesting were nearly -brought to an end. Leaving Fred Churbett to follow with Guy, Mr. -Effingham and his heir departed to Rockley House. - -‘There _is_ something exhilarating, after all, in dressing for dinner,’ -said he. ‘After the day is done it is befitting to mingle with pleasant -people and drink your wine in good society. It reminds one of old times. -My blood is stirred, and my pulses move as they have not done since I -left England. Change is _the_ great physician, beyond all doubt.’ - -‘I did not think that I should have cared half as much about these -races,’ said Wilfred. ‘I had doubts about coming at all, and really I -don’t think I should have done so but for the girls and my mother. It is -sure to do them good. But after all, Dick and Tom, not to speak of -Andrew, are equal to more than the work they have to do at present, and -I suppose one need not be always in sight of one’s men.’ - -Rockley Lodge was profusely lighted. From the murmur of voices and -rustle of dresses there appeared to be a large number of persons -collected in the drawing-room, redolent of welcome as it ever was. - -As they entered the house a voice was heard, saying, in tones not -particularly modulated, ‘Order in dinner; I won’t wait another moment -for any man in Australia.’ - -Effingham recognised his late visitor in the speaker, who, arrayed in -correct evening costume, immediately greeted him with much deference, -mingled with that degree of welcome usually accorded to a distinguished, -long-absent relative. - -‘My dear Captain Effingham, I am proud to see you. So you’ve found your -way to Yass at last. Hope to see you here often. St. Maur, let me make -you known to Captain Effingham. I heard him mention having met your -brother in India. Bob Clarke; where’s Bob Clarke? Oh, here he is. You’ll -know one another better before the races are over. Christabel, come -here; what are you going away for? Mr. Wilfred Effingham you know, Mr. -Guy you never saw; capital partners you’ll find them, I daresay. Is the -dinner coming in, or is it not? [this with a sudden change of voice]. -Mr. Churbett not come? Wait for Fred Churbett, the most unpunctual man -in New South Wales! I’ll see him——’ - -Fortunately for Mr. Rockley’s ante-dinner eloquence the necessity for -finishing this sentence was obviated by the appearance of the butler, -who announced dinner, after which Mr. Rockley, saying, ‘Captain -Effingham, will you take in Mrs. Rockley? I see your friend Sternworth -has just made his way in with Fred Churbett; it’s well for them they -weren’t ten minutes later,’ offered his arm to Mrs. Effingham, and led -the way with much dignity. - -The room was large, and the table, handsomely laid and decorated, looked -as if it was in the habit of being furnished for a liberal guest list. -There could not have been less than thirty people present, exclusive of -the six members of Mr. Rockley’s own family. Their friends Hamilton and -Argyll were there, as also Mr. St. Maur, a tall, aristocratic-looking -personage from the far north; Mr. Clarke, a pleasant-faced, frank -youngster, whom everybody called Bob; Mr. and Mrs. Robert Malahyde, and -other prepossessing-looking strangers, male and female; and lastly, -their old friend Harley Sternworth. - -What warmth, friendliness, cordiality, pervaded the entertainment! All -apparently felt and talked like near relations, between whom had never -arisen a question of property or precedence. - -Mrs. Rockley, her daughter, and nieces were lively and unaffected, and -beyond all comparison considerately hospitable. Rosamond and her -sisters, dressed, for the first time since their arrival, in accordance -with the laws of fashion as then promulgated, looked, to the eyes of -their fond parents and brothers, as though endowed with fresh beauty and -a distinction of air hitherto unmarked. - -The dinner was in all respects a success—well served, well cooked; and -as Mr. Rockley was severe as to his taste in wines, that department -fully satisfied a fastidious critic, as was Howard Effingham. Messrs. -Churbett, Argyll, and Hamilton, as habitués, had numberless jokes and -pleasantries in common with the young ladies, which served to elicit -laughter and general merriment; while Hampden, St. Maur, the parson, and -Mr. Rockley in turn diverged into political argument, in which their -host was exceptionally strong. - -When they entered the drawing-room, to which Fred Churbett, Bob Clarke, -and others of the _jeunesse dorée_, who cared little for port or -politics, had retreated in pursuance of a hint from Mrs. Rockley, they -were surprised to find that spacious apartment wholly denuded of its -carpet and partially of its furniture. There was but little time to -express the feeling, as a young lady seated at the piano struck up a -waltz of the most intoxicating character, and before Mr. Rockley had -time to get fairly into another argument with the parson, the room was -glorified with the rush of fluttering garments, and the joyous -inspiration of youthful sentiment. - -Everybody seemed to like dancing, and no more congenial home for the -graces Terpsichorean than Rockley Lodge could possibly be found. The -host, who was not a dancing man, smoked tranquilly in the verandah, much -as if the entertainment were in a manner got up for his benefit, and had -to be gone through with, while he from time to time debated the question -of State endowments with Sternworth, or that of non-resident grants from -the Crown with John Hampden, who was characteristically inflexible but -nonaggressive. - -What with their neighbours Argyll and Hamilton, Ardmillan, Forbes, and -Neil Barrington, the ever-faithful Fred Churbett, and divers -newly-formed acquaintances who had arrived during the evening, the Miss -Effinghams found so many partners that they scarcely sat down at all. -Mr. St. Maur, too, perhaps the handsomest man of the party, singled out -Beatrice and devoted himself to her for the greater part of the evening. -During the lulls, music was suggested by Mrs. Rockley, who was ever at -hand to prevent the slightest _contretemps_ during the evening. Rosamond -and Beatrice were invited to play, and finally Annabel and Beatrice to -sing. - -Beatrice was one of the most finished performers upon the pianoforte -that one could fall across, outside professional circles; many of them -even might have envied her light, free, instinctively true touch, her -perfect time, her astonishing execution. Her voice was a well-trained -contralto. When she sang a world-famed duet with Annabel, and the liquid -notes—clear, fresh, delicately pure as those of the mounting -skylark—rose in Annabel’s wondrous soprano, every one was taken by -storm, and a perfect chorus of admiration assured the singers that no -such performance had been heard in the neighbourhood since a time -whereof the memory of man runneth not to the contrary. - -It must not be supposed that Wilfred Effingham permitted much time to -elapse before he took measures which resulted in an improvement of his -recent acquaintance with Miss Christabel Rockley. He had seen many girls -of high claim to beauty in many differing regions of the old world. He -had walked down Sackville Street, and sauntered through the great Plaza -of Madrid, bought gloves in Limerick, and lace in the Strada Reale; but -it instantly occurred to him that in all his varied experiences he had -never set eyes upon so wondrously lovely a creature as Christabel -Rockley. Her complexion, not merely delicate, was wild-rose tinted upon -ivory; her large, deep-fringed eyes, dark, melting, wondering as they -opened slowly, with the half-conscious surprise of a startled child, -reminded him of nothing so much as of the captured gazelle of the -desert; her delicate, oval face, perfect as a cameo; her wondrous -sylph-like figure, which swayed and glided in the dance like a forest -nymph in classic Arcady; her rosebud mouth, pearly teeth, her childish -pout smiling o’er gems—pearls, if not diamonds; how should these -angel-growth perfections have ripened in this obscure outpost of -Britain’s possessions? He was startled as by a vision, amazed. He would -have been hopelessly subjugated there and then had he not been at that -time such a philosophical young person. - -Lovely as was the girl, calculated as were her unstudied graces and -matchless charms to enthral the senses and drag the very heart from out -of any description of man less congenial than a snow-drift, Wilfred -Effingham escaped for the present whole and unharmed. - -At the same time he enjoyed thoroughly the gay tone and joyous feelings -which characterised the whole society, and insensibly caught, in spite -of his ever-present feeling of responsibility, the contagion of free and -careless mirth. - -Dance succeeded dance, the quick yet pleasantly graduated growth of -friendly intimacy arose under the congenial conditions of gaiety -unrestrained and mingled merriment, till, soon after midnight, the -joyous groups broke up. - -Mr. Rockley suddenly intimated that, as they would have a long day at -the races next day, and the ladies would need all their rest after the -journey some of them had made, to withstand the necessary fatigues, he -thought it would be reasonable, yes, he _would_ say he thought it would -occur to any one who was not utterly demented and childishly incapable -of forethought, that it was time to go to bed. - -This deliverance decided the lingering revellers; adieus were made with -much reference to ‘au revoir,’ one of those comprehensive phrases into -which our Gallic friends contrive to collect several meanings and -diverse sentiments. - -At the Budgeree Hotel a desultory conversation was kept up for another -hour between such choice spirits who stood in need of the ultimate -refreshment of a glass of grog and a quiet pipe; but the wonders and -experiences of the day had so taxed the energies of Mr. Effingham and -his sons that the latter fell asleep before Fred Churbett had time to -offer six to four on St. Andrew for the steeplechase, or Hamilton to -qualify young Beanstalk’s rapturous declaration that Christabel Rockley -looked like a real thorough-bred angel, and that there wasn’t a girl -from here to Sydney fit to hold a candle to her. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - MR. BOB CLARKE SCHOOLS KING OF THE VALLEY - - -The eventful day at length arrived. How many hundreds would have been -disappointed if it had rained! From the sporting squatters, who looked -out of window to see if the weather was favourable for Harlequin or -Vivandière, to the farmer’s son, busy at sunrise grooming his -unaccustomed steed, and pulling the superfluous hair from that grass-fed -charger’s mane and tail, while his sister or cousin danced with joy, -even before she donned the wide straw hat and alpaca skirt, with the -favourably disposed bow of pink or blue ribbon, in which to be beautiful -for the day. - -And what more innocent pleasure? So very seldom comes it in the long -months of inland farming life, that no moralist need grudge it to his -fellow-creatures for whom fate has not provided the proverbial silver -spoon. That brown-cheeked youngster believes that his bay Camerton colt, -broken in by himself, will make a sensation on the course; perhaps pull -off a ten-pound sweep in the Hurry-scurry Hack-race (post entry), and he -looks forward with eager anticipation to the running for the Town Plate -and the steeplechase. Besides, he has not been in town since he took in -the last load of wheat. It is slow at home sometimes, though there is -plenty of work to do; and he has not seen a new face or heard a new -voice since he doesn’t know when. - -In sister Jane’s heart, whose cheek owns a deeper glow this morning, -what unaccustomed thoughts are contending for the mastery. - -‘Will it not be a grand meeting, with ever so many more people there -than last year? And the gentlefolks and the young ladies, she does like -so to see how they dress and how they look. It is worth a dozen fashion -books. Such fun, too, is a sweeping gallop round the course, and to feel -the breeze blow back her hair. Everything looks splendid, and the lunch -in the pavilion is grand, and every one so polite. Besides, there is Ben -Anderson that she knows “just to speak to”; she saw him at a school -feast last year, and he is certainly _very_ nice looking; he said he -would be sure to be at the Yass races. She wonders whether he _will_ be -there; nobody wants him, of course, if he likes to stay away—but still -he _might_ come; his father has a farm away to the westward.’ - -So the rhythm of human life, hope or fear, love or doubt, curiosity or -sympathy, chimes on, the same and invariable in every land, in every -age. - -Thanks to the occasionally too fine climate of Australia, ‘the morning -rose, a lovely sight,’ and if the sun flashed not ‘down on armour -bright,’ he lit up a truly animated scene. Grooms, who long before day -had fed and watered their precious charges, were now putting on the -final polish, as if the fate of Europe depended upon the delicate limbs -and satin-covered muscles. Owners, backers, jockeys, gentlemen riders, -all these were collecting or volunteering information; while the -ordinary business of the town—commercial, civil, or administrative—was -suffered to drift, as being comparatively unimportant. - -At an hour not far from nine o’clock the guests under the hospitable -roof of the Budgeree Hotel were assembled at the breakfast-table. What a -meal! What a feast for the gods was that noble refection! What joyous -anticipation of pleasure was on all sides indulged in! What mirthful -conversation, unchecked, unceasing! There had been, it would seem, a -dinner and a small party at Horace Bower’s, and, strange to say, every -one had there enjoyed themselves much after the same fashion as at -Rockley’s. Bower had been in great form—was really the cleverest, the -most amusing fellow in the world. Mrs. Bower was awfully handsome, and -her sister, just arrived from Sydney, was a regular stunner, would cut -down all before her. Mrs. Snowden had been there too—smartest woman in -the district; seen society everywhere—and so on. - -A race day owns no tremendous possibilities, yet is there a savour of -strife and doom mingled with the mimic warfare. Many a backer knows that -serious issues hang upon the favourite’s speed and stamina; on even -less, on chance or accident. The steeplechase rider risks life and limb; -it _may_ be that ‘darkness shall cover his eyes,’ that from a crushing -fall he may rise no more. - -These entanglements weighed not in any wise upon the soul of Wilfred -Effingham, as he arose with a keener sense of interest and pleasure in -expectation than had for long greeted his morning visions. His -responsibilities for the day were bounded by his vehicle and horses, so -that his family should be safely conveyed to and from the course. Mrs. -Effingham had at first thought of remaining quietly in the house, but -was reassured by being told that the course was a roomy park, that the -view of the performances was complete, that the carriages and the -aristocracy generally would be provided with a place apart, where no -annoyance was possible; that the country people were invariably -well-behaved; and that if she did not go, her daughters would not enjoy -themselves, and indeed thought of remaining away likewise. This last -argument decided the unselfish matron, and in due time the horses were -harnessed, the side-saddles put in requisition, and after a decent -interval Black Prince was caracolling away in the lead of the dogcart, -and Fergus exhibiting his paces among a gay troop of equestrians, which -took the unused, but all the pleasanter, road to the racecourse. - -At this arena it was seen that the stewards had been worthy of the -confidence reposed in them. A portion of the centre of the course had -been set apart for the exclusive use of the carriages and their -occupants. Not that there was any prohibition of humbler persons; but, -with instinctive propriety, they had apparently agreed to mass -themselves upon a slight eminence, which, behind the Grand Stand, a -roomy weather-board edifice, afforded a full view of the proceedings. - -In the centre enclosure were shady trees and a sward of untrampled -grass, which answered admirably for an encampment of the various -vehicles, with a view to ulterior lunching and general refreshment -combinations at a later period of the day. - -Here all could be seen that was necessary of the actual racing, while -space was afforded for pleasant canters and drives between the events, -round the inner circle of the course; and indeed in any direction which -might suit the mirth-inspired members of the party. The view, too, Mrs. -Effingham thought, as she sat in Mrs. Rockley’s phaeton, in which a seat -of honour had been provided for her, was well worth a little exertion. -The park-like woodlands surrounded three sides of the little -amphitheatre, with a distant dark blue range amid the dusk green forest -tints; while on the south lay a great rolling prairie, where the eye -roved unfettered as if across the main to the far unknown of the -sky-line. Across this glorious waste the breeze, at times, blew freshly -and keen; it required but little imagination on the part of the gazers -to shadow forth the vast unbroken grandeur, the rippling foam, the -distant fairy isles of the eternal sea. - -Without more than the invariable delay, after twelve o’clock, at which -hour it had of course been advertised in the _Yass Courier_ of the -period that the first race would punctually commence, and after sharp -remonstrance from Mr. Rockley, who declared that if he had a horse in -the race he would start him, claim the stakes, and enter an action -against the stewards for the amount, a start _was_ effected for the St. -Leger. This important event brought six to the post, all well bred and -well ridden. Wilfred thought them a curiously exact reproduction of the -same class of horses in England. - -His reflections on the subject were cut short by a roar from the -assemblage as the leading horses came up the straight in a close and -desperate finish. ‘Red Deer—Bungarree—_no_! Red Deer!’ were shouted, as -Hamilton’s chestnut and a handsome bay colt alternately seemed to have -secured an undoubted lead. The final clamour resolved itself into the -sound of ‘Red Deer! _Red Deer!!_’ as that gallant animal, answering to -the last desperate effort of his rider, landed the race by ‘a short -head.’ Hamilton’s early rising and months of sedulous training had told. -It was a triumph of condition. - -Much congratulation and hand-shaking ensued upon this, and Wilfred -commenced to feel the uprising of the partisan spirit, which is never -far absent from trials of strength or skill. He had more than once -flushed at disparaging observations touching the studs in his immediate -neighbourhood, at gratuitous assertions that the Benmohr horses were not -to be spoken of in the same day as So-and-so’s whatsyname of the west, -or another proprietor’s breed in the north, and so on. Now here was a -complete answer to all such, as well as a justification of his own -opinion. He had determined not to risk a pound in the way of betting, -holding the practice inexpedient at the present time. But the thought -did cross his brain that if he had taken the odds more than once pressed -upon him, he might have paid his week’s expenses as well as confuted the -detractors of the Benmohr stud. This deduction, _ex post facto_, he -regarded as one of the wiles of the enemy, and scorned accordingly. - -He found the party more disposed to take a canter, after the enforced -quietude of the last hour, than to remain stationary, so possessing -himself of Guy’s hack, whom he placed temporarily in charge of the -dogcart, taking off the leader as a precautionary measure, he rode forth -among the gay company for a stretching canter round the course, which -occasionally freshened into a hand-gallop, as the roll of hoofs excited -the well-conditioned horses. - -The Town Plate—a locally important and much-discussed event—having been -run, and won, after an exciting struggle, by Mr. O’Desmond’s Bennilong, -a fine old thoroughbred, who still retained the pace, staying power, and -ability to carry weight, which had long made him the glory of the -Badajos stud and the pride of the Yass district, preparations for lunch -on an extensive scale took place. - -The horses of the different vehicles, as well as the hackneys, were now -in various ways secured, the more provident owners having brought -halters for the purpose. Mrs. Rockley and Mrs. Bower, with other ladies, -had arranged to join forces in the commissariat department, the result -of which was a spread of such comprehensive dimensions that it required -the efforts of the younger men for nearly half an hour to unpack and set -forth the store of edibles and the array of liquors of every kind and -sort. - - Rich and rare the viands were, - Diversified the plate, - -inasmuch as each family had sent forth such articles as, while available -for immediate use, would cause less household mourning if reported -wounded or missing. But the great requisities of an _al fresco_ -entertainment were fully secured. An ample cold collation, with such -relays of the beloved Bass and such wines of every degree as might have -served the need of a troop of dragoons. The last adjuncts had been -forwarded by the male contingent, under a joint and several -responsibility. - -Eventually the grand attack was commenced by the impetuous Rockley, who, -arming himself with a gleaming carver, plunged the weapon into the -breast of a gigantic turkey, in the interests of Mrs. Effingham, who sat -on his right hand. - -After this _assaut d’armes_ the fray commenced in good earnest. The -ladies had been provided with seats from the vehicles, overcoats, rugs, -and all manner of envelopes, which could be procured, down to a spare -suit of horse-clothing. Shawls and cloaks were brought into requisition, -but the genial season had left the sward in a highly available -condition, and with a cool day, a pleasant breeze, the shade of a few -noble eucalypti, fortunately spared, nothing was wanting to the -arrangements. As the devoted efforts of the younger knights and squires -provided each dame and damsel with the necessary aliment, as the -champagne corks commenced to fusilade with the now sustained, now -dropping fire of a brisk affair of outposts, the merry interchange of -compliments, mirthful badinage, and it may be eloquent glances become no -less rapid and continuous. - - Our Youth! our Youth! that spring of springs. - It surely is one of the blessedest things - By Nature ever invented! - -sang Tom Hood, and who does not echo the joyous, half-regretful -sentiment. How one revelled in the$1‘$2’$3at the casual concourse of -youthful spirits, where the poetic sentiment was inevitably heightened -by the mere proximity of beauty. Surely it is well, ere the bright sky -of youth is clouded by Care or gloomed by the storm-signal of Fate, to -revel in the sunshine, to slumber in the haunted shade. So may we gaze -fondly on our chaplet of roses, withered, alas! but fragrant yet, long -ere the dread summons is heard which tells that life’s summer is ended, -and the verdant alleys despoiled. - -Another race or two, of inferior interest, was looked for, and then the -party would take the road for town, concluding the day’s entertainment -with a full-sized dance at the expansive abode of Mr. Rockley, which -would combine all contingents. - -The next day’s more exciting programme included the steeplechase, to be -run after lunch. In this truly memorable event some of the best -cross-country horses in Australia were to meet, including those -sensational cracks, The Cid and St. Andrew, each representing rival -stables, rival colonies. The former with Bob Clarke up, the latter with -Charles Hamilton; each the show horseman of his district, and backed by -his party to the verge of indiscretion. - -The less heroic melodramas having been acted out with more or less -contentment to performers, there was a general return to boot and -saddle, previous to the leisurely progress homeward from the day’s -festivities. This, as the hours were passing on towards the shadowy -twilight, was not one of the least pleasant incidents of the day’s -adventures. - -The road skirted the great plain which bounded the racecourse, and as -the westering sun flamed gorgeous to his pyre, fancy insensibly glided -from the realism of the present to the desert mysteries of the past. - -‘Oh, what a sunset!’ said Christabel Rockley, whom fate and the -impatience of her horse had placed under the control of Mr. Argyll. ‘How -grand it is! I never see sunset over the plains from our verandah -without thinking of the desert and the Israelites, camels, and pillared -palaces. Is it like that? How I _should_ love to travel!’ - -‘The desert is not so unlike that plain, or any plain in Australia,’ -explained Argyll (who had seen the Arab’s camel kneel, and watched the -endless line of the Great Caravan wind slowly over the wind-blown -hollows), ‘inasmuch as it is large and level; but the vast, awe-striking -ruins, such as Luxor or Palmyra—records of a vanished race—these we can -only dream of.’ - -‘Oh, how wonderful, how entrancing it must be,’ said Miss Christabel, -‘to see such enchanted palaces! Fancy us standing on a fallen column, in -a city of the dead, with those dear picturesque Arabs. Oh, wouldn’t it -be heavenly! And you must be there to explain it all to me, you know!’ - -As the girl spoke, with heightened colour, and the eager, half-girlish -tones, so full of melody in the days of early womanhood, as the great -dark eyes emitted a wondrous gleam, raised pleadingly to her companion’s -face, even the fastidious Argyll held brief question whether life would -not be endurable in the grand solitudes of the world, ‘with one (such) -fair spirit to be his minister.’ - -‘My dear Miss Christabel,’ he made answer, ‘I should be charmed to be -your guide on such an expedition. But if you will permit me to recommend -you a delightful book, called——’ - -Here he was interrupted by the deeply-interested fair one, who, pointing -with her whip to the advanced guard of the party, now halted and drawn -to the side of the road, said hurriedly, ‘Whatever _are_ they going to -do, Mr. Argyll? Oh, I see—Bob Clarke’s going to jump King of the Valley -over Dean’s fence. It’s ever so high, and the King is such a wretch to -pull. I hope he won’t get a fall.’ - -This seemingly abrupt transition from the land of romance to that of -reality was not perhaps so wide a departure in the spirit as in the -letter. The age of chivalry is _not_ past; but the knights who wear -khaki suits in place of armour, and bear the breech-loader in preference -to the battle-axe, have to resort to means of proving their prowess -before their ladies’ eyes other than by splintering of lances and -hacking at each other in the sword-play of the tournament. - -The King of the Valley was a violent, speedy half-bred. His owner was -anxious to know whether he was clever enough over rails, to have a -chance for the coming steeplechase. An unusual turn of speed he -undoubtedly possessed, and, if steadied, the superstition was that the -King could jump anything. But the question was—so hot-blooded and -reckless was he when he saw his fence—could he be controlled so as to -come safely through a course of three miles and a half of post and rail -fencing, new, stiff and uncompromising? - -To the cool request, then, that he would give him a schooling jump over -Dean’s fence, which some men might have thought unreasonable, Bob -Clarke, with a smile of amusement, instantly acceded, and making over -his hackney to a friend, mounted the impatient King, shortened his -stirrups, and then and there proceeded to indulge him with the big -fence. - -Then had occurred the sudden halt and general attitude of expectation -which Miss Rockley had noted, and with which she had so promptly -sympathised. Bob Clarke was a slight, graceful youngster, with regular -features, dark hair and eyes, and a mild expression, much at variance -with the dare-devilry which was his leading characteristic. Passionately -fond of field sports, he had ridden more steeplechases, perhaps, than -any man in Australia of his age. He had been carried away ‘for dead’ -more than once; had broken an arm, several ribs, and a collar-bone—this -last more than once. These injuries had taken place after the horse had -fallen, for of an involuntary departure from the saddle no one had ever -accused him. - -As he gathered up his reins and quietly took the resolute animal a short -distance back from the fence, unbroken silence succeeded to the flow of -mirthful talk. The fence looked higher than usual; the close-grained -timber of the obstinate eucalyptus was uninviting. The heavy posts and -solid rails, ragged-edged and sharply defined, promised no chance of -yielding. As the pair had reached the moderate distance considered to be -sufficient for the purpose, Bob turned and set the eager brute going at -the big dangerous leap. With a wild plunge the headstrong animal made as -though to race at the obstacle with his usual impetuosity. Now was seen -the science of a finished rider; with lowered hand and closely fitting -seat, making him for a time a part of the fierce animal he rode, Bob -Clarke threw the weight of his body and the strength of his sinewy frame -into such a pull as forced the powerful brute to moderate his pace. -Such, however, was his temper when roused, that the King still came at -his fence much too fast, ‘reefing’ with lowered head and struggling -stride—an unfavourable state of matters for measuring his distance. As -he came within the last few yards of the fence more than one lady -spectator turned pale, while a masculine one, _sotto voce_, growled out, -‘D——n the brute! he’ll smash himself and Bob too.’ - -As the last half-dozen strides were reached, however, the _rusé_ hero of -many a hard fought fray ‘over the sticks,’ suddenly slackening his grasp -of the reins, struck the King sharply over the head with his whip, thus -causing him to throw up his muzzle and take a view of his task. In the -next moment the horse rose from _rather_ a close approach, and with a -magnificent effort just cleared the fence. A cheer from every man -present showed the general relief. - -‘Oh, how beautifully he rides!’ said the fair Christabel, whose cheek -had perhaps lost a shade of its wild-rose tint. ‘No one looks so well on -horseback as Mr. Clarke. Don’t you think he’s very handsome?’ - -‘Not a bad-looking young fellow at all, and certainly rides well,’ said -Argyll, without enthusiasm. ‘I daresay he has done little else all his -lifetime, like your friends the Arabs. Watch him as he comes back -again.’ - -The margin by which he had escaped a fall had been estimated by the -experienced Bob, who, taking advantage of a field heavy from early -ploughing, gave King of the Valley a deserved breather before he brought -him back. - -By the time they were within a reasonable distance of the fence, the -excited animal had discovered that he had a rider on his back. As he -came on at a stretching gallop, he was seen to be perfectly in hand. -Nearing the jump, it surprised no experienced spectator to see him -shorten stride and, ‘taking off’ at the proper distance, sail over the -stiff top rail, ‘with (as his gratified owner said) a foot to spare, and -Bob Clarke sitting on him, with his whip up, as easy as if he was in a -blooming arm-chair.’ - -‘There, Champion,’ said the victor as he resumed his hackney. ‘He can -jump anything you like. But if you don’t have a man up who can hold him, -he’ll come to grief some day.’ - -A few trials and experiments of a like nature were indulged in by the -younger cavaliers before they reached town, most of which were -satisfactory, with one exception, in which the horse by a sudden and -wily baulk sent his rider over the fence, and calmly surveyed the -obstacle himself. - -Another dance, at which everybody who had been at the races, and who was -_du monde_, finished worthily the day so auspiciously commenced. Wilfred -Effingham, who had declared himself rather fatigued at the first -entertainment, and had at that festival asserted that it would do for a -week, now commenced to enjoy himself _con amore_—to sun himself in the -light of Christabel Rockley’s eyes, and to _badiner_ with Mrs. Snowden, -as if life was henceforth to be compounded of equal quantities of race -meetings by day and dances by night. - -‘I suppose you are a little tired, Miss Rockley,’ he said, ‘after the -riding and the picnic and the races; it _is_ rather fatiguing.’ - -‘Tired!’ echoed the Australian damsel in astonishment. ‘Why should I be -tired? What is the use of giving in before the week is half over? I -shall have lots of time to rest and enjoy the pleasure of one’s own -society after you have all gone. It will be dull enough then for a month -or two.’ - -‘But are there any more festivities in progress?’ he asked with some -surprise. - -‘Any more? Why, of course, lots and quantities. You English people must -be made of sugar or salt. Why, there’s the race ball to-morrow night, at -which _everybody_ will be present—the band all the way from Sydney. The -race dinner the next night—only for you gentlemen, of course, _we_ shall -go to bed early. Then Mrs. Bower’s picnic on Saturday, with a dance here -till twelve o’clock—I must get the clock put back, I think. And -Sunday——’ - -‘Sunday! haven’t you any entertainment provided for Sunday?’ - -‘Well, no; not exactly. But everybody will go to church in the morning, -and Mr. Sternworth will preach us one of his nice sensible sermons—they -do me so much good—about not allowing innocent pleasures to take too -great hold upon our hearts. In the afternoon we are all going for a -long, long walk to the Fern-tree Dell. You’ll come, won’t you? It’s such -a lovely place. And on Monday——’ - -‘Of course we shall begin all over again on Monday; keep on dancing, -racing, and innocently flirting, like inland Flying Dutchmen, for ever -and ever, as long as we hold together. Isn’t that the intention?’ - -‘Now you’re beginning to laugh at me. It will be serious for some of us -when you all go away. Don’t you think so, now?’ (Here the accompaniment -was a look of such distracting pathos that Wilfred was ready to deliver -an address on ‘Racing considered as the chief end of man,’ without -further notice.) ‘No; on Monday morning you are all to pay your bills at -the Budgeree—those that have money enough, I mean; not that it -matters—Bowker will wait for ever, they say. Then you go back to your -stations, and work like good boys till the next excuse for coming into -Yass, and that finishes up the week nicely, doesn’t it?’ - -‘So nicely that I believe there is a month of ordinary life compressed -into it—certainly as far as enjoyment goes. I shall never forget it as -long as I live—never forget some of the friends I have made here during -the brightest, happiest time of my life, especially——’ - -‘Look at that ridiculous Mr. Tarlton dancing the _pas seul_!’ exclaimed -Miss Christabel, not quite disposed to enter upon Wilfred’s explanation -of his sensations. ‘Do you know, I think quadrilles are rather a mistake -after all. I should like dances to be made up of nothing but valses and -galops.’ - -‘Life would be rather too rapid, I am afraid, if we carried that -principle out. Don’t you think Mrs. Snowden is looking uncommonly well -to-night?’ - -‘She always dresses so well that no one looks better.’ - - - - - CHAPTER XII - STEEPLECHASE DAY - - -In despite of the mirthful converse continued around him, during the -small hours, and the complicated condition of his emotions, Wilfred -Effingham slept so soundly that the breakfast bell was needed to arouse -him. He felt scarcely eager for the fray; but after a shower-bath and -that creditable morning meal ever possible to youth, his feelings -concerning the problems of life and the duties of the hour underwent a -change for the better. - -Charles Hamilton, Bob Clarke, and the turf contingent generally had been -out at daylight, personally inspecting the steeds that were to bear them -to victory and a modest raking in of the odds or otherwise. How much -‘otherwise’ is there upon the race-courses of the world! How often is -the favourite amiss or ‘nobbled,’ the rider ‘off his head,’ the -certainty a ‘boil over’! Alas, that it should be so! That man should -barter the sure rewards of industry for the feverish joys, the -heart-shaking uncertainties, the death-like despair which the gambling -element, whether in the sport or business of life, inevitably brings in -its train! - -‘Why, this _is_ life,’ sneers the cynic; ‘you are describing what ever -has been, is, and shall be, the worship of the great god “Chance.” The -warrior and the statesman, the poet and the priest, the people -especially, have from all time placed their lives and fortunes on a -cast, differently named, it is true. And they will do so to the end.’ - -Such causticities scarcely apply to the modest provincial meeting which -we chronicle, inasmuch as little money changed hands. What cash was -wagered would have been treated with scorn by the layers of the odds and -inventors of ‘doubles,’ those turf triumphs or tragedies. Nevertheless, -the legitimate excitement of the steeplechase, three and a half miles -over a succession of three-railed fences, with the two ‘hardest’ men in -the Southern District up, would be a sight to see. - -Independently of the exciting nature of the race, an intercolonial -element was added. Bob Clarke and his steed were natives of Tasmania; -the cool climate and insular position of which have been thought to be -favourable to human and equine development. Much colour for the -supposition was recognised by the eager gazers of Mr. Bob Clarke and his -gallant bay, The Cid. - -The former was evidently born for a career of social success. Chivalrous -and energetic, with a bright smile, a pleasant manner, his popularity -was easy of explanation. - -In a ball room, where his modesty was in the inverse ratio to his -iron-nerved performances across country, he was a rival not to be -despised. Among men he was voted ‘an out-and-out good fellow,’ or a -gentlemanlike, manly lad, from whatever side emanated the criticism. - -The Cid was a grand horse, if not quite worthy of the exaggerated -commendation which his admirers bestowed. A handsome, upstanding animal, -bright bay, with black points, he had a commanding-looking forehand, -‘that you could hardly see over,’ as a Tasmanian turfite observed, -besides a powerful quarter, with hips, the same critic was pleased to -observe, ‘as wide as a fire-place.’ In his trials he was known to have -taken leaps equal in height to anything ever crossed by a horse. But a -stain in his blood occasionally showed out, in a habit of baulking. Of -this peculiarity he gave no notice whatever, sometimes indulging it at -the commencement, sometimes at the end of a race, to the anguish of -well-wishers and the dismay of backers. A determined rider was therefore -indispensable. As on this occasion the only man in the country-side ‘who -could ride him as he ought to be ridden,’ according to popular belief, -was up, who had also trained him for this particular race, little -apprehension was felt as to the result. - -Not less confident were the friends of St. Andrew, a different animal in -appearance, but of great merit in the eyes of judges. Not so large as -his celebrated antagonist, he had the condensed symmetry of the -racehorse. Boasting the blue blood of Peter Fin (imported) on his -mother’s side, his Camerton pedigree on the other, entitled him to be -ticketed ‘thorough-bred as Eclipse.’ A compact and level horse, with the -iron legs of the tribe, every muscle stood out, beautifully developed by -a careful preparation. His dark chestnut satin coat, his quiet, -determined air, the unvarying cleverness with which he performed in -private, together with the acknowledged excellence of his rider, -rendered the Benmohr division confident of victory. - -The others which made up the race were fine animals, but were not -entrusted to any great extent with the cash or the confidence of the -public. Of these the most formidable was a scarred veteran named Bargo, -who had gone through or over many a fence in many a steeplechase. His -rider being, like himself, chiefly professional, they were both -undoubted performers. But though the old chaser would refuse nothing, -his pace had declined through age. It was understood that he was entered -on the chance of the two cracks destroying each other, in which case -Bargo would be a ‘moral.’ - -The remaining ones, with the exception of King of the Valley, were -chiefly indebted for their entry to the commendable gallantry of -aspiring youth. It was something to turn out in ‘the colours’ and other -requisites of costume before an admiring crowd; something, doubtless, to -see a cherry cheek deepen or pale at the thought of the chances of the -day; something to try a local favourite in good company. All honour to -the manly and honest-hearted feeling! - -Of these, briefly, it may be stated that Currency Lass was a handsome -chestnut mare with three white legs, and much of the same colour -distributed over her countenance. She was fast, and jumped brilliantly, -if she could be prevailed upon not to take off too near to her fences, -or ridiculously far off, or to pump all the breath out of her body by -unnecessary pulling. The regulation of these tendencies provided a task -of difficulty for the rider. - -Wallaby and Cornstalk were two useful, hunter-looking bays, which would -have brought a considerably higher price in the old land than they were -ever likely to do here. - -The course had been arranged so that the horses should start near the -stand, and going across country take a circuitous course, but eventually -finishing at the stand after negotiating a sensational last fence. This -was not thought to be good management, but the enclosures admitted of no -other arrangement. - -The morning’s racing having been got through, everybody adjourned to -lunch, it being decided that _the_ important event should take place at -three o’clock, after which the excitement of the day might be considered -to be over. In spite of the approaching contest, which doubtless -contained an element of danger, as it was known that the riders of the -two cracks would ‘go at each other for their lives,’ not less than the -usual amount of mirth and merriment was observable. The two chief actors -were altogether impervious to considerations involving life and limb, -although they had seen and suffered what might have made some men -cautious. - -Bob Clarke had been more than once ‘carried away for dead’ from under a -fallen horse, while Charles Hamilton had won a steeplechase after having -employed the morning in tracking a friend who had gone out to ‘school’ a -young horse, and whom the search-party discovered lying dead under a log -fence. - -The ladies exhibited a partisanship which they were at no pains to -conceal. Bets (in gloves) ran high; while the danger of the imminent -race rendered a fair cheek, here and there, less brilliant of hue, and -dimmed the sparkle of bright eyes. - -‘Oh, I _hope_ no one will get hurt,’ said Christabel Rockley; ‘these -horrid fences are so high and stiff. Why can’t they have all flat races? -They’re not so exciting, certainly, but then no one can get killed.’ - -‘Accidents occur in these, you know,’ said Mrs. Snowden, -philosophically; ‘and, after all, if the men like to run a little risk -while _we_ are looking on, I don’t see why we should grudge them the -pleasure.’ - -‘It seems very unfeeling,’ says the tender-hearted damsel. ‘I shall feel -quite guilty if any one is hurt to-day. Poor Mrs. Malahyde, Bob Clarke’s -sister, is dreadfully anxious; the tears keep coming into her eyes. She -knows how reckless he can be when he’s determined to win.’ - -‘I fancy Mr. Hamilton’s St. Andrew will win,’ said Mrs. Snowden; ‘he is -better bred, they say, and he looks to me so well-trained. What do you -think, Mr. Effingham?’ - -‘I am a thick and thin supporter of the Benmohr stable,’ said Wilfred. -‘The Cid is a grand horse, but my sympathies are with St. Andrew.’ - -‘I’ll bet a dozen pairs of gloves The Cid wins,’ said Miss Christabel -impetuously, looking straight at Mrs. Snowden. ‘He can beat anything in -the district when he likes; Mr. Hamilton rides beautifully, but Bob can -make _any_ horse win.’ - -‘My dear child, you are quite a “plunger,”’ said Mrs. Snowden. -‘Doubtless, they will cover themselves with glory. I’m afraid they can’t -both win.’ - -At this moment one of the heroes joined the speakers, sauntering up with -a respectful expression of countenance, proper to him who makes a -request of a fair lady. - -‘Miss Christabel, I have come to ask you to give me one of your ribbons -for luck. I see Miss Effingham has decorated Hamilton. It’s only fair -that I should have a charm too.’ - -‘Here it is, if you care for it, Bob!’ said the girl, hastily detaching -a ‘cerise’ knot from her dress, while her varying colour told how the -slight incident touched an unseen chord beneath the surface; ‘only I -wish you were not going to ride at all. Somebody will be killed at these -horrid steeplechases yet, I know.’ - -‘Why, you’re nearly as bad as my sister,’ said the youthful knight -reassuringly, and giving his fair monitress an unnecessary look of -gratitude, as Wilfred thought. ‘I shan’t let her come on the course next -time I ride. There’s the saddling bell. We’ll see whether the pink -ribbon or the blue goes farthest.’ - -The arrangements had been made with foresight, so that beyond the -customary galloping across the course for a surcingle at the last moment -by a friend in the interests of Currency Lass, a proceeding which -aroused Mr. Rockley’s wrath, who publicly threatened her rider that he -would bring the matter before the Turf Club, little delay was caused. At -length all preliminaries were complete, and high-born St. Andrew passed -the stand, shining like a star, with Charles Hamilton, in blue and gold, -utterly _point devise_, on his back. Horse and rider seemed so -harmonious, indeed, that a ringing cheer burst from the crowd, and all -the throats whose owners inhabited the hills and vales south of the -Great Lake shouted themselves hoarse for St. Andrew and Mr. Hamilton. - -‘He’s as fit as hands can make him,’ said one of this division—a groom -of O’Desmond’s. ‘There’s few of us can put on the real French polish -like Mr. Hamilton; he’s a tiger to work, surely; and the little ’oss is -fast. I know his time. If that Syd, or whatever they call him, licks ’im -to-day, he’ll have his work to do. My guinea’s on St. Andrew.’ - -‘He’s a good ’un, and a stayer,’ said the man who stood next to him in -the closely-packed temporary stand; ‘but there’s a bit of chance work in -a steeplechase. The Cid’s a trimmer on the flat, or cross the sticks, -but you can’t depend on him. I wouldn’t back him for a shillin’ if young -Clarke wasn’t on him. But he’s that game and strong in the saddle, and -lucky, as my note would be on a mule if he was up. Here he comes!’ - -As he spoke, The Cid came by the post at speed, ‘a pipe-opener’ having -been thought necessary by his master, and as the grand horse extended -himself, showing the elastic freedom of his magnificent proportions, -with the perfection of his rider’s seat and figure, standing jockey-like -in his saddle, moveless, and with hands down, it was a marvel of -equestrian harmony. - -The roar of applause with which the crowd greeted the exhibition showed -a balance of popularity in favour of horse and rider as the -long-repeated cheers swelled and recommenced, not ending indeed until -the pair came walking back, The Cid raising his lofty crest, and -swinging his head from side to side, as he paced forward with the air of -a conqueror. - -‘Oh, what lovely, lovely creatures!’ said Annabel Effingham, who had -never been to a race meeting before. ‘I had no idea a horse could be so -beautiful as St. Andrew or The Cid. Why can’t they both win? I hope Mr. -Hamilton will, I’m sure, because he’s our neighbour; but I shall be -grieved if The Cid loses. How becoming jockey costume is! And what a -lovely jacket that is of Mr. Clarke’s! If I were a man I should be -passionately fond of racing.’ - -‘Bob’s a great deal too fond of it,’ said Mrs. Malahyde, a bright-eyed -matron of seven- or eight-and-twenty. ‘I wish you girls would combine -and make him promise to give it up. I can’t keep away when he’s going to -ride, but it’s all agony with me till I see him come in safe.’ - -‘When you look at it in that way,’ assented Annabel, ‘it certainly -doesn’t seem right, and it’s unfair of us to encourage it. What a pity -so many nice things are wrong!’ - -‘They’re off!’ said Miss Christabel, who had been eagerly watching the -proceedings, during which the other performers had severally displayed -themselves, receiving more or less qualified ovations, and then finally -been taken in charge severely by Mr. Rockley as far as the distance -post. ‘They’re off! Oh, don’t say a word till they’re over the first -fence!’ - -All the horses of the little troop had sufficient self-control to go -‘well within themselves’ from the start except King of the Valley and -Currency Lass. The mare’s nervous system was so shaken by the thunder of -the horse-hoofs and the shouting of the crowd at her introduction to -society, that she pulled and tore, and ‘took it out of herself,’ as her -rider, Billy Day, afterwards expressed himself, to that extent, that he -felt compelled to let her have her head, with a lead over the first -fence. - -This barrier she at first charged at the rate of a liberal forty miles -an hour, with her head up, her mouth open, and such an apparently -reckless disregard of the known properties of iron-bark timber, that -Billy’s friends began to cast about for a handy vehicle, as likely to be -in immediate demand for ambulance work. But whether from the -contrarieties said to govern the female sex, or from some occult reason, -Currency Lass no sooner had her own way than she displayed unexpected -prudence. She slackened pace, and cocking her delicately-pointed ears, -rewarded her rider’s nerve and patience by making a magnificent though -theatrical jump, and being awfully quick on her legs, was half-way to -the next fence before another had crossed the first. - -‘Oh, what a lovely jump Currency Lass took!’ said one of the young -ladies, ‘and what a distance she is in front of all the rest. Do you -think she will win, Mr. Smith? How slowly all the others are going.’ - -‘There’s plenty of time,’ said the critic of the sterner sex. ‘She’s a -clever thing, but she can’t stay the distance. Ha! very neatly done -indeed. That’s what I call workmanlike. Cornstalk baulks—well done—good -jump! All over the first fence, and no one down.’ - -These latter remarks were called forth by seeing St. Andrew, The Cid, -and Bargo charge the fence nearly in line, the latter rather in the -rear, and go over with as little haste or effort as if it had been a row -of hurdles. Wallaby hit the top rail hard, but recovered himself, and -Cornstalk, after baulking once, was wheeled short, and popped over -cleverly, without losing ground. - -The same style of performance was repeated with so little variation for -the next half-dozen leaps, that the eager public began to look with -favour upon the enthusiastic Currency Lass, still sailing ahead with -undiminished ardour, and flying her leaps like a deer. The sarcastic -inquiry, ‘Will they ever catch her?’ commenced to be employed, and the -provincial prejudice in favour of a true bushman and a country-trained -horse, ‘without any nonsense about her,’ began to gather strength. - -But at this stage of the proceedings it became apparent that the -struggle between the two cracks could not longer be postponed. With one -bound, as it appeared to the spectators, St. Andrew and The Cid were -away at speed, their riders bearing themselves as if they had only that -moment started for the race. - -‘They’re at one another now,’ said Argyll to O’Desmond. ‘We shall see -how the Camerton blood tells in a finish.’ - -‘Don’t you think Charlie’s making the pace too good?’ said Mr. Churbett. -‘I wanted him to wait till he got near the hill, but he said he thought -the pace would try The Cid’s temper, and half a mistake would make him -lose the race.’ - -‘They’re both going too fast now, in my opinion,’ said Forbes. ‘One of -them will have a fall soon, and then the race is old Bargo’s, as sure as -my name’s James.’ - -‘Oh, what a pretty sight!’ said Mrs. Snowden, as a large fence in full -view of the whole assemblage was reached. - -The native damsel was still leading, but the distance had visibly -decreased which separated her from the popular heroes. All three horses -were going best pace, and as the mare cleared the fence cleverly, but -with little to spare, pressed by The Cid and St. Andrew, as they took -the jump apparently in the same stride, a great cheer burst from the -crowd. - -‘Well done, Bargo!’ shouted the complimentary crowd, in high -good-humour, as the old horse came up, quietly working out his -programme, and topping the fence with but little visible effort, -followed his more brilliant leaders. The others were by this time -considerably in the rear, but took their jumps creditably still. The -next fence was known to be the most dangerous in the whole course. The -ground was broken and stony, the incline unpleasantly steep, and a small -but annoying grip caused by the winter rains interfered with the -approach. In the hunting field it would have been simply a matter for -careful riding. But here, at the speed to which the pace had been -forced, it was dangerous. - -‘Why don’t they pull off there?’ muttered Mr. Rockley, virtuously -indignant. ‘No one but a madman would go over ground like that as if -they were finishing a flat race. That fellow Hamilton is as obstinate as -a mule. I know him; he wouldn’t pull off an inch for all the judges of -the Supreme Court.’ - -‘I’m afraid Bob Clarke won’t,’ said John Hampden; ‘that’s the worst of -steeplechasing, the fellows _will_ ride so jealous. Well done, The Cid! -By Jove! the mare’s down! and—yes—no!—St. Andrew too. Don’t be -frightened, anybody,’ as more than one plaintive cry arose from among -the carriages on which the ladies stood thickly clustering. ‘Both men -up, and no harm done. Hamilton’s away again, but it’s The Cid’s race.’ - -These hurried observations, made for the benefit of the visibly -distressed _clientèle_ of Hamilton, were called forth by the most -sensational proceedings which had obtained yet. - -As the two rivals came down the slope at the highly improper pace -alluded to, they overtook Currency Lass at her fence, which confused -that excitable animal. Getting her head from her rider, who had been -prudently steadying her across this unpleasant section, with the idea -that he would be unaccompanied till he was clear of it, she went at the -fence with her usual impetuosity. A gutter threw her out a little; it -may be that her wind had failed. It is certain that, taking off too -closely to the stiff fence, she struck the top rail with tremendous -force, the impetus casting her rolling over on her back into the -adjoining paddock, while her rider, fortunately for him, was ‘sent rods -and rods ahead of her’ (as a comrade described it), and so saved from -being crushed under the fallen horse. The mare rose to her legs -trembling and half stunned, glared for one moment at surrounding -objects, and then went off at full speed, with flapping stirrups and -trailing reins. The Cid had sailed over the fence a yard to the left of -her, and was going at his ease, with nothing near him. - -Where, then, was St. Andrew? He had also come to grief. - -Putting his foot on a rolling stone, he had been unable to clear his -leap, though he made a gallant effort. Striking heavily, he went down on -the farther side. - -His rider, sitting well back, and never for one instant losing his -proverbial coolness, was able to save him as much as, under the -circumstances, a horse can be saved. Down on nose and knee only went the -good horse, his rider falling close to his shoulder, and never -relinquishing the reins. Both were on their feet in an instant, and -before the crowd had well realised the fact, or the ‘I told you so’ -division had breath to explain why St. Andrew _must_ fall if the pace -was kept really good, Charlie Hamilton was in the saddle and away, with -his teeth set and a determination not to lose the race yet, if there was -a chance left. Bargo came up with calculated pace and line, and -performed his exercise with the same ease and precision as if he had -been practising at a leaping bar. Cornstalk baulked again, and this time -with sufficient determination to lose him half a mile. Wallaby gave his -rider a nasty fall, breaking his collar-bone and preventing further -efforts. While King of the Valley, going reasonably up to this stage, -overpowered his rider at last, and hardly rising at his fence, rolled -over, and did not rise. He had broken his neck, and his rider was -unconscious for twelve hours afterwards. The race therefore lay between -The Cid, St. Andrew, and the safe and collected Bargo, coming up _pedo -claudo_, and with a not unreasonable chance, like Nemesis, of appearing -with effect at the close of the proceedings. - -The next marked division of the course was known as ‘the hill,’ an -eminence of no great altitude between two farms, but possessing just -sufficient abruptness to make the fence a more than average effort. This -‘rise,’ as the country people called it, lay about three-quarters of a -mile from home, and the horse that first came down the long slope which -led towards the winning-post, divided from it but by several easy -fences, had a strong chance of winning the race. - -Before The Cid reached the base of this landmark, still keeping the pace -good, but going comparatively at his ease, it was apparent that -Hamilton, who had been riding St. Andrew for his life, and had indeed -resolved to tax the courage and condition of the good horse to the last -gasp, was closing in upon his leader. ‘Sitting down’ upon his horse, -Charles Hamilton extorted praise from the assemblage by the -determination with which he fought a losing race. He was well seconded -by the son of Camerton, as, extending himself to the utmost, he flew -fence after fence as if they were so many hurdles. - -‘What a pity poor St. Andrew came down at that abominable place!’ said -Annabel. ‘I really believe he might have won the race. He was not so far -behind Mr. Clarke when he disappeared behind the hill.’ - -‘He’s only playing with him, I’m afraid,’ said Mr. Hampden kindly. -‘Hamilton and his horse deserve to win, but that fall made too great a -difference between horses so evenly matched.’ - -‘The Cid’s heart’s not in the right place,’ here broke in an admirer of -Miss Christabel’s, who had been cut down by the fascinating Bob. ‘You -know that, Hampden. I saw him refuse and lose his race, which he had -easy in hand, at Casterton. He might baulk at that sidling jump behind -the hill yet. It’s a nasty place.’ - -‘I believe he will too,’ said Fred Churbett, staunch to the Benmohr -colours. ‘We ought to see them soon now; they’re a long time coming. -Take all the odds you can get, Miss Annabel.’ - -‘Will _you_ take seven to four, Churbett?’ said Mr. Hampden. ‘I know The -Cid’s peculiarities, but I’ll back him out, and my countryman, Bob -Clarke, as long as there is a Hereford at Wangarua.’ - -‘Done!’ said the friendly Fred; ‘and “done” again, Mr. Hampden,’ said -Bob’s rival. - -Just as the words were finished a great shout of ‘St. Andrew wins, -Benmohr for ever!’ arose from the country people as _one horse_ was seen -coming down the long, green slope. On the rider could plainly be -discovered the blue and golden colours of Charles Hamilton. - -‘Baulked, by Jove! the sidling fence was too much for him; thought Bob -was sending him along too fast. Deuced uncertain brute; not the real -thing; never could stay; nothing like the old Whisker and Camerton -strain. Here comes Bargo! By Jove! Hurrah!’ - -Such comments and condemnations were freely expressed as St. Andrew came -sailing along. The concluding cheer, however, was evoked by the -apparition of a second horse which followed St. Andrew with a flogging -rider, who was evidently making his effort. It immediately became -apparent that this was Bargo, whom his rider was ‘setting to with,’ -believing that the tremendous pace which St. Andrew had sustained for -the last part of the race must now tell upon him. Where, then, was The -Cid? Where, indeed? His admirers were dumb; his opponents jubilant. It -is the way of the world. - -‘Where’s your seven to four now, Mr. Hampden?’ said the youthful -partisan. - -‘Possibly quite safe; never be quite certain till the numbers are up. -Here comes The Cid at last; Bob’s not beaten yet.’ - -Another sustained shout from the excited crowd showed what a new element -of interest this apparition of the lost horseman had added to the race. -Bargo, carefully saved, and comparatively fresh, sorely pressed the -gallant St. Andrew, whose bolt was nearly shot. Still, struggling gamely -to keep his lead, and well held together, he had crossed the third fence -from home before he was challenged by Bargo. - -But down the hill, at an awful pace, ridden with the desperation of a -madman, came The Cid. Bob Clarke, with cap off and reckless use of whip -and spur, could not have increased the pace by one single stride had he -been going for a man’s life. Had a doomed criminal been standing on the -scaffold, ready for the headsman’s axe, did the reprieve of the old -romances not be displayed in time, not another second could The Cid have -achieved. - -‘He’ll do it yet if they’re not too close at the last fence,’ said -Hampden, with his usual calmness. ‘I never knew The Cid baulk _twice_ in -one race, and he has a terrible turn of speed for a short finish. Bob’s -in earnest, I should say.’ - -That fact was doubted by none who saw him that day. His face was pale; -his eyes blazed with a flame which few had ever seen who looked upon the -handsome features and pleasant smile of Robert Clarke. The excitement -became tremendous. The ladies made emotional remarks—some of pity for -his disappointment, some of sympathy with his probable hurts, if he had -had a fall. All joined in reprobating the unlucky Cid. - -Christabel Rockley alone said no word, but her fixed eyes and pale cheek -showed the absorbing interest which the dangerous contest, now deepening -to a possible tragedy, had for her. - -The furious pace appeared not to interfere with The Cid’s wondrous -jumping powers. At the speed he was driven at his fences he must have -gone over or through them. He seemed to prefer the former, and cheer -after cheer broke the unusual silence as high in air was seen the form -of horse and rider, as every fence was crossed but the last, and perhaps -the stiffest, a hundred yards from home. - -St. Andrew and Bargo were now neck and neck, stride and stride. The -indomitable chestnut had begun to roll; the stout but not brilliant -Bargo was at his best. As they near the last fence it is evident that -The Cid, still coming up with a ‘wet sail,’ is overhauling the pair. The -question is, whether St. Andrew is not too near home. - -The anxiety of the crowd is intense, the breathless suspense of the -friends of the rival stables painful, the fielders are at the acme of -excited hope and fear, when St. Andrew and Bargo, closely followed by -The Cid, rise at this deciding leap. The chestnut just clears it, with -nothing to spare; Bargo, overpaced, strikes heavily, and rolls in the -field beyond; Bob Clarke charges the panel on the right like a demon, -and, after a deadly neck-and-neck struggle with St. Andrew, who still -has fight left, outrides him on the post. - -The conclusion of this ‘truly exciting race, covering with glory all -concerned therein,’ as the local journal phrased it, was felt to be -almost too solemn a matter for the usual hackneyed congratulations. The -overwrought emotions of the young ladies rendered a prompt adjournment -necessary to side-saddles and vehicles, which, after refreshment -supplied to the protagonists, were made ready for the homeward route. -Bob Clarke received a congratulatory glance from Christabel Rockley, -which no doubt helped to console him, as did such guerdon many a good -knight of old, for the dust and dangers of the tourney. - -His sister, Mrs. Malahyde, who could hardly have been said either to -have seen or enjoyed the thrilling performance, for ‘mamma was lying -down crying in the bottom of the dogcart all the time,’ as her little -daughter testified, now arranged her bonnet and countenance, and -expressed her heartfelt thanks for Bob’s safety. - -Charles Hamilton received assurances from the ladies generally, and -particularly from his neighbours of The Chase, that his courage and -perseverance had been to them astonishing, and beyond all praise; while -St. Andrew, beaten only by a head, after all his gallant endeavours to -repair ill-luck, was lauded to the skies. - -‘Poor dear fellow!’ said Annabel. ‘I wonder if horses ever feel -disappointed. He does droop a little, and it was wicked of you to spur -him so, Mr. Hamilton. Now that naughty Cid goes swinging his head about -as if he was quite proud of himself. How _he_ has been spurred! Dear -me!’ - -‘Yes, and well flogged,’ said one of the Hobart division. ‘Bob said when -he baulked behind the hill he could have killed him. However, it will do -him good. He took his last fences as if he would never refuse again as -long as he lived.’ - -‘I will just say this, as my calm and deliberate opinion, and I should -like to hear any man contradict me,’ said Mr. Rockley, ‘that there never -was a race better ridden in the colony than Hamilton’s on St. Andrew. If -he hadn’t made that mistake at the stony creek he _must_ have had the -race easily. His recovering his place was one of the best bits of riding -I ever saw.’ - -‘Oh, of course; but if The Cid hadn’t baulked, _he_ would have come in -as he liked. Suppose we get them to run it over again to-morrow as a -match for a hundred. I’ll put a tenner on The Cid.’ - -‘The race is run, Mr. Newman, and that’s enough,’ said Rockley -decisively; ‘quite enough danger for one year. The next thing is to get -back to Yass in time to dine comfortably, and see that everything is -ready for the race ball to-night.’ - -This sensible advice, which, like the suggestions of royal personages, -savoured somewhat of a command, was duly acted upon, and in a short time -the greater part of the company, who intended to recompense themselves -for the fatiguing emotions of the day by the fascinations of the night, -took the homeward road, leaving ‘The Hack Stakes’ and the ‘Scurry’ (post -entry) to be run without them. There was ample time. The afternoon was -mild and fair of aspect; a friendly breeze, sighing over the plain, had -come wandering up from the south. The equestrian portion of the company -formed themselves unconsciously into knots and pairs. - -Bob Clarke, having shifted into mufti, was lounging homeward on a -well-bred hackney on the offside of Christabel Rockley’s Red King, whose -arching neck he felt impelled to pat, while he replied to the eager -questioning of the fair rider. Her cheeks were brilliant again with -youth’s bright tints, and her eyes glittered like imprisoned diamonds -beneath her tiny lace veil. - -‘I hope you sympathise with me, Miss Effingham,’ said Hamilton, as they -rode in advance of the rest of the party, a position to which Fergus’s -extraordinary walking powers generally promoted him. ‘Bob is receiving -the victor’s meed from Miss Christabel—how happy they both look!’ - -‘I really do, sincerely,’ said Rosamond, ignoring the episodical matter. -‘It must be most provoking to have one’s prize wrested away in the -moment of victory. But every one saw what a gallant struggle you and St. -Andrew made. Were you hurt at all when you fell?’ - -‘I shall be pretty stiff to-morrow,’ he answered carelessly; ‘but I have -had no time to think about it. I thought my arm was broken, as it was -under St. Andrew’s shoulder. It is all right, though numbed for a while. -I am inwardly very sore and disgusted, I don’t mind telling you. That -tall fellow, Champion, and Malahyde, with all the Tasmanians, will crow -so.’ - -‘It can’t be helped, I suppose,’ said Rosamond soothingly. ‘Mr. Hampden, -at least, did not show any disposition to do so, for he praised your -riding and St. Andrew’s good finish warmly. He said all steeplechases -were won either by luck, pluck, a good horse, or good riding, and that -you had all but the first requisite.’ - -‘Hampden is a good fellow and a gentleman,’ said the worsted knight, -rather consoled, ‘and so is Bob Clarke. If one has done one’s best, -there is no more to be said. But I had set my heart on winning this -particular race. Heigh-ho! our pleasure week is coming to an end.’ - -‘Yes; to-night, the ball; to-morrow, the Ladies’ Bag and a picnic. We -are all off home on Monday. I shall not be sorry, though I have enjoyed -myself thoroughly; every one has been so pleasant and friendly, and Mrs. -Rockley kind beyond description. I never had so much gaiety in so short -a time. But I shall be pleased to return to our quiet life once more.’ - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - MISS VERA FANE OF BLACK MOUNTAIN - - -After a due amount of dining and dressing, the former performed by the -male and the latter by the feminine portion of the gathered social -elements, ‘The great Terpsichorean event, which marked this most -harmonious Turf reunion, was inaugurated with _éclat_,’ as the editor of -the _Yass Standard_ (in happy ignorance of the illegal arrangement which -divers magnates, chiefly being Justices of the Peace, were at that very -hour transacting) described it in the following Monday’s issue. - -All the bachelors, and not a few of the married men, had quarters at the -Budgeree Hotel, so that they had no unnecessary fatigue to undergo, but -were enabled to present themselves in the grand ballroom of that -imposing building nearly as soon as it was ascertained that the Rockley -contingent, which apparently combined everybody’s favourite partner, had -arrived. - -The brass band included a wandering minstrel from the metropolis, whose -aid, both instrumentally and in the selection of dance music, proved -truly valuable. The invitations, owing to the liberal views of Mr. -Rockley, had been comprehensive, taking in all the townspeople who could -by any chance have felt aggrieved at being left out. - -The ball was opened by a quadrille, in which Mrs. Rockley and Hampden -took part, while Rockley, with deferential demeanour, led out Mrs. -Effingham, who consented on that occasion only to revive the -recollections of her youth. Mrs. Snowden and Argyll, Hamilton and -Rosamond Effingham, with other not less distinguished personages, -‘assisted’ at this opening celebration. - -After this ceremonious commencement the first waltz took place, in which -Wilfred found himself anticipated as to a dance with Christabel Rockley, -who, with an utterly bewildering look, regretted that she was engaged to -Bob Clarke. That heroic personage swiftly whirled away with the goddess -in his arms, leaving Wilfred more annoyed than he liked to confess, and -divided in his resolutions whether to stay at home and work austerely, -avoiding the lighter amusements, or to buy the best horse in the Benmohr -stud, train him at The Chase, and ride against Bob Clarke for his life -at the next meeting. He had called up sufficient presence of mind to -place his name again on Miss Christabel’s very popular card, rather low -down, it is true, but still available for a favourite waltz, in which -Fred Churbett had promised to assist with his cornet, and Hamilton with -his Sax-horn, a new instrument, believed to be the combination of all -sweet and sonorous sounds possible to the trumpet tribe. - -But all inappropriate thoughts were driven out by the next partner, a -striking-looking girl, to whom he was introduced by Mr. Rockley, very -properly doing duty as chief steward. - -This young lady’s name was stated to be Vera Fane, with great clearness -of intonation. He further volunteered the information that she was the -daughter of his old friend, Dr. Fane, and (in what was meant to be a -whisper) ‘as nice a girl as ever you met in your life.’ - -The young lady smiled and blushed, but without discomposure, at this -evidence of the high value at which she was rated. - -‘Rather too good to be true, don’t you think?’ she said, with a frank -yet modest air. ‘I ought to declare myself much honoured, and all the -rest of it. But you know Mr. Rockley’s warm-hearted way of talking, and -I really think he believes every word of it. He has known me from a -child. But I apologise, and we’ll say no more about it, please. Very -good racing there seems to have been. I was _so_ sorry, in despair I may -say, to miss the steeplechase.’ - -‘Then you only came in to-day?’ asked Wilfred. ‘How was that? I didn’t -think any lady in the district could have forgone the excitement. It -seems to rank with the miracle plays of the Middle Ages.’ - -‘Or rather the masques and tournaments of those of chivalry. But I was -away from home, and had to ride a long way for the ball and the Ladies’ -Bag to-morrow.’ - -‘I am afraid you must be tired. How far have you come to-day?’ - -‘Really,’ said the young lady, with some hesitation, ‘I must plead -guilty to having ridden fifty miles to-day. I am afraid it shows -over-eagerness for pleasure, and dear old Mr. Sternworth might scold me, -if he was not so indulgent to what he calls “the necessities of youth.” -But our home is a lonely spot, and I have so _very_ little change.’ - -‘Fifty miles!’ said Wilfred, in astonishment. ‘And do you really mean to -say that you have ridden that immense distance, and are going to dance -afterwards? It will kill you.’ - -‘You must be thinking of young ladies in England, Mr. Effingham,’ said -the girl, with an amused look; ‘not but what some of them rode fair -distances for the same reasons a hundred years ago, papa says. I daresay -I shall feel tired on Sunday; but, as I’ve ridden ever since I could -walk, it is nothing so very wonderful. You mustn’t think me quite an -Amazon.’ - -‘On the contrary,’ said Wilfred, looking at the girl’s graceful figure, -and recognising that air of refinement which tells of gentle blood, ‘I -am lost in astonishment only. You look as if you had made a start from -“The Big House” with the rest of Mrs. Rockley’s flock. But we must join -this waltz, if you don’t mind, or your journey will have been in vain.’ - -Miss Fane smiled assent, and as they threaded the lively maze, -practically demonstrated that she had by no means so overtired herself -as to interfere with her dancing. Wilfred immediately established her -among the half-dozen perfections he had discovered in that line. There -was, moreover, a frank, unconcealed enjoyment of the whole affair, which -pleased her partner. Her fresh, unpremeditated remarks, showing original -thought, interested him; so much so, that when he led her to a seat -beside her chaperon, having previously secured a second dance at a later -period of the evening—and the _very last_—even Sir Roger de Coverley—the -bitterness of soul with which he had seen Christabel Rockley borne off -by the all-conquering Bob Clarke, was considerably abated. He would have -been incensed if any one had quoted ‘_surgit amari aliquid_,’ -nevertheless; if one may so render the cheerful bard, ‘some charming -person generally turns up, with power to interest.’ It would not have -been so far inapplicable to his, or indeed to the (comparatively) broken -hearts of most of us. - -By the time the dance of dances had arrived, when he was privileged to -clasp the slight waist and gaze into the haunting eyes of the divine -Christabel, he was conscious of a more philosophical state of mind than -in the beginning of the evening. Nevertheless, the mystic glamour of -beauty came over him, fresh and resistless, as the condescending charmer -let her witching orbs fall kindly on his countenance, smiled merrily -till her pearly teeth just parted the rosy lips, and blushed -enchantingly when he accused her of permitting Bob Clarke to monopolise -her. She defended herself, however, in such a pleading, melodious voice; -said it was cruel in people to make remarks, altogether looking so like -a lovely child, half penitent, half pouting, that he felt much minded to -take her in his arms and assure her of his forgiveness, promising -unbounded confidence in her prudence, and obedience to her commands for -the time to come. - -‘There will be some more excitement, do you know, for the Ladies’ Bag -to-morrow,’ said the enchantress. ‘Mr. Churbett’s Grey Surrey may not -win it, after all. Bob told me that a horse of Mr. Greyford’s, that -nobody knows about, has a chance. He’s suspected of having been in good -company before. Won’t it be fun if he wins, though I shall be sorry for -Mr. Churbett. Only Mr. Greyford can’t get a gentleman rider the proper -weight. What is yours?’ - -‘Really,’ said Wilfred, ‘I’m not sure to a few pounds. But why do you -ask?’ - -‘Don’t you see? If you’re not under eleven stone, you can ride him. We -can’t let any one in without an invitation received before the race. You -had one, I know.’ - -‘Oh yes, I believe so; but I never thought of riding.’ - -‘Well, but you _can_ ride, of course. Now, if you’re the proper weight, -you might ride Mendicant for Mr. Greyford; it would do him a service, -and make the race better fun. Besides, all the girls would like to see -you ride, I know.’ - -‘Would _you_ take any interest in my winning, Miss Rockley? Say the -word, and I will do that or anything else in the wide world.’ - -‘Oh, I daresay; just as if you cared what _I_ thought. Now there’s Vera -Fane, that papa introduced you to, she would be charmed to see you win -it. Oh, I know——’ - -‘But yourself? Only say the word.’ - -‘Then _do_ ride—there, don’t look at me like that, or you’ll have mamma -thinking I’m ill and knocked up with excitement; and if she begins to -say I look pale, papa’s capable of carrying me off before the ball’s -over.’ - -Wilfred, thus adjured, veiled the ardent fire of his glances, and then -and there pledged himself to ride Mr. Greyford’s Mendicant for the -Ladies’ Bag, and to win, if Miss Rockley would only back him, which she -promised to do. - -It was surprising how much more interest Wilfred took in the coming -contest, now that he was about to guide one of the chariot racers, to -disperse _pulverem Olympicum_ in his own person. He danced perseveringly -with all the partners suggested to him, covering himself with glory in -the eyes of Mr. Rockley. He had another and yet another dance with Miss -Fane, being much gratified at the interest she expressed concerning the -coming race. He made the acquaintance, too, of Mr. Greyford. - -‘_Re_ Mendicant, he’s a lazy beggar,’ said that gentleman frankly, ‘but -well-bred, and can come at the finish if he likes. I had given up the -idea of starting him for want of a jock, but I shall be happy if you -will ride him for me. We’ll go halves in this wonderful bag if Mendicant -pulls it off.’ - -And so the great race ball was relegated to the limbo of dead joys and -pleasures, to that shadow-land where the goblets we have quaffed, the -chaplets which wreathed our brows, the laughter that kindled our hearts, -the hands that pressed, the hearts—ah me!—that throbbed, have mostly -departed. There do they lie, fair, imperishable, awaiting but the blast -of the enchanted horn to arise, to sparkle and glow, to thrill once -more. Or has the cold earth closed remorselessly, _eternally_, over our -joys and those who shared them, never again to know awakening till Time -shall be no more? - -Much must be conceded to the influence of the Australian climate or to -the embalming influences of active pleasure-seeking, which seems to -possess an Egyptian potency for keeping its votaries _in statu quo_ -while engaged in the worship of the goddess. Whatever may have been the -secret of unfailing youth, most of the race meeting constituents seemed -to possess it, as they turned out after breakfast on Friday morning, -apparently ready to commence another week’s racing by day, and dancing -by night, if the gods permitted. - -About a dozen horses were qualified to start for the Ladies’ Bag. -Hamilton had one, Forbes had one, Bob Clarke (of course) another, so -that the two stables would again be well represented. O’Desmond, who did -not ride himself, had a likely young horse in, and there were several -others with some sort of provincial reputation. There was the great Grey -Surrey, and lastly that ‘dark,’ unassuming, dangerous Mendicant of -Greyford’s with Mr. Wilfred Effingham up. - -That gentleman had never ridden a race before, but was a fair -cross-country rider before he saw Australia, and since then the riding -of different sorts of horses had, of course, tended to improve both seat -and hands. He was aware of the principles of race-riding, and though Bob -Clarke, Hamilton, Forbes, and Churbett had semi-professional skill, he -yet trusted, with the befitting courage of youth, to hold his own in -that tilt-yard. - -He had borrowed a set of colours, and looking at himself in the glass -arrayed as in the traditional races of England, was not dissatisfied -with his appearance. He found himself wondering whether he should be -regarded with indulgence by the critical eyes of Miss Christabel, or -indeed the penetrating orbs of Miss Fane. Was there a chance of his -winning? Would it not be a triumph if, in spite of the consummate -horsemanship of Hamilton and Bob Clarke, the reputation of Grey Surrey, -he should win the prize? The thought was intoxicating. He dared not -indulge it. He partially enveloped himself in an overcoat, which -concealed the glories of his black and scarlet racing-jacket, the only -silken garment which the modern cavalier is permitted to wear (how -differently they ruffled it in the days of the second Charles!), and -hied him to the course. - -Here he was met by congratulations on all sides. - -‘Glad to see you’ve taken to the amateur jock line, Effingham,’ said -Churbett. ‘There’s a world of fun in it, though it involves early -rising. It’s awfully against the grain with me, but I assure you I look -forward to it every year now. It _compels_ me to take exercise.’ - -‘That view of racing never struck me before,’ said Wilfred. ‘But when -we’re at Yass, you know, one must follow the fashion.’ - -‘Especially when certain people look interested. Aha! Effingham, you’re -an awfully prudent card; but we’re all alike, I expect.’ - -‘Pooh, pooh! why shouldn’t I take a turn at the pigskin as well as you -and the others?’ said Wilfred, evading the impeachment; ‘and this sort -of thing is awfully catching, you know.’ - -‘Very catching, indeed,’ assented Mr. Churbett. ‘Is that Miss Fane on -the brown horse next to Mrs. Snowden? Ladylike-looking girl, isn’t she? -Suppose we go and get a bet out of her?’ - -Following up this novel idea they rode over to the little group, where -Mr. Churbett was assailed with all sorts of compliments and inquiries -about the state and prospects of Grey Surrey. - -‘I think the articles should have been selected with reference to your -complexion, Mr. Churbett,’ said Mrs. Snowden; ‘you seem so certain of -carrying it off. I know blue is your favourite colour, and I made my -smoking-cap and slippers of the last fashionable shade on purpose.’ - -‘Always considerate, Mrs. Snowden,’ said the object of this compliment, -as a smile became general at this allusion to Fred’s auburn-tinted hair. -‘You must have been thinking of Snowden, who resembles me in that way, -and the _very_ early days when you used to work slippers for him.’ - -‘Really I forget whether I ever did much in that line for Snowden. It -must have been centuries ago.’ - -‘Oh, but I don’t agree with that at all,’ said the fair Christabel. -‘Suppose some one with dark hair wins it, then he would have to go about -with all sorts of unbecoming trash. Let every one be guided by their own -taste.’ - -‘I daresay a few trifles that will look well on Bob Clarke will be found -in the bag,’ said Hamilton. ‘I heard something about a gorgeous crimson -and gold smoking-cap. I wonder if anybody has been studying _my_ -complexion? If Effingham wins, you will all be thrown out.’ - -‘Then you _are_ going to ride, Mr. Effingham?’ said the fair Christabel, -with a smile so irresistible that it fully repaid him for his troubles -and misgivings. ‘I am sure I hope you will win, though I’m afraid, -between Grey Surrey, No Mamma, and Bolivar, you haven’t a good chance.’ - -‘I wouldn’t be too certain about that,’ said Miss Fane, who had -recognised Wilfred with a pleasant, cordial greeting, and whom he -thought looking uncommonly well in her habit, and indisputably well -mounted. ‘Don’t be alarmed by these great reputations. A little bird -told me about Mendicant, and I’ll take the odds (in gloves), which are -eight to one, I believe, that he’s first or second.’ - -This daring proposal brought rejoinders and wagers upon the head of the -fair turfite, who quietly accepting a few of the latter, declared that -her book was full, but was not to be dislodged from her position. - -Wilfred felt much encouraged, and proportionately grateful to the fair -friend who had stood by him and his unknown steed. So he registered a -vow to remember her in the future—to like and respect and approve of -her—in short, to pay her all those guarded tributes which men in early -life keep for the benefit of women they admire, trust, and look up to, -but alas! do not love. - -Among his few well-wishers must be classed Wilfred’s sisters and mother, -who, honestly pleased to see him ‘respeckit like the lave,’ as Andrew -would have said, secretly thought that he looked handsomer and better -turned out when mounted than almost anybody else in the race—in fact, -nearly as well as Bob Clarke. But even these partial critics could not -assert to themselves, when they saw Master Bob come sailing past the -stand upon Bolivar, a dark bay thoroughbred, looking like a brown satin -angel (Bolivar, not Bob), as one enthusiastic damsel observed, that he -equalled in appearance and get-up that inimitable workman. Still, he -looked very nice, they lovingly thought, and of Wilfred’s clear -complexion, brown hair, well-knit frame, and animated countenance other -fair spectators held a like opinion. - -Grey Surrey came next, ‘terrible’ for a mile, and owing to his Arab -ancestry, a better stayer than might have been thought from his violent -manners. His rider’s admirably fitting nether garments, the wrinkles of -his boots, the shading of his tops, were accurate to a degree. His -bright blue colours had many a time been in the van. Kindly and affable -in the widest sense, with a vein of irresistible comic humour, he was -the most popular squatter in his district—a man of whom none thought -evil—to whom none would dream of doing harm more than to the unweaned -child. To a rare though not too sedulously cultivated intellect Fred -Churbett joined the joyous disposition of a moderate viveur, the soul of -a poet, and the heart of a woman. But the gold held not the due -proportion of alloy—too often, alas! the case with the finer natures. - -The comprehensive cheer which the whole assemblage instinctively gave -showed their appreciation. From the crowd (not so many as on the -previous day, but still were the people not wholly unrepresented) rose -cries of ‘Well done, Mr. Churbett! Hope you’ll win again. Grey Surrey -and The She-oaks for ever!’ - -And as the silky flowing mane glistened in the sun, while the proud -favourite arched his neck and with wide nostril and flashing eye trod -the turf with impatient footstep, as might his Arab ancestors have -spurned the sands of Balk or Tadmor, every friend he had on the course, -which comprehended all the ladies, all the gentlemen, all the -respectable and most of the disrespectable persons, thought that if Fred -Churbett and Grey Surrey did not win yet another victory, there must be -something reprehensible about turf matters generally. - -Probably, in order that the ladies might have a liberal allowance of -sport in recompense for their contributions, and partly in compliance -with the undeveloped turf science of the day, the fashion of ‘heats’ had -always been the rule of this race. Thus, when Grey Surrey came in -leading by a length, with Bolivar and No Mamma racing desperately for -second place, every one of experience stated that the third, or even the -fourth, would be the deciding heat if Bolivar or No Mamma was good -enough to ‘pull it off’ from the brilliant Surrey. Wilfred had adopted -the advice he had received from Mr. Greyford, and while keeping a fair -place, had taken care to save his sluggish steed. He nevertheless -managed to come through the ruck without apparent effort during the last -part of the running, and finished an unpretending fifth. - -On delivering over his horse to Mr. Greyford’s trainer, he was gratified -to find that he had won that official’s unqualified approval by his -style of riding. ‘There isn’t a mark on him, sir,’ he said; ‘and that’s -the way to take him for the first couple of heats. Mendicant’s a lazy -’oss, and an uncommon queer customer to wind up. But if Surrey don’t win -the next heat—and I think Mr. Forbes’s No Mamma will give him all he can -do to get his nose in front—it’s this old duffer’s race, as safe as if -the rest was boiled.’ - -‘But how about Bolivar?’ - -‘Well, sir, Bolivar and No Mamma are a-cuttin’ their own throats the way -they’re a-bustin’ theirselves for second place, and if you go at -whatever wins the third heat from _the_ jump, and take it easy the next -’un, you’ll have this ’ere bag to a moral.’ - -Returning from this diplomatic colloquy to the vortex of society, -Wilfred found himself to be already an object of interest in sporting -circles. Much advice was tendered to him, and counsels offered as to his -future plan of action, but as these were mostly contradictory, he -thought himself justified in holding his tongue and abiding by the -professional opinion of the stable. - -Before the final heat he found Fireball Bill walking the veteran up and -down, with a serious and thoughtful countenance. ‘Look ’ere, sir, don’t -you make too sure of this ’ere ’eat afore you’ve won it. The old ’oss -seems right enough; he’s bound to win if he stands up, but I don’t like -the way he puts down that near foreleg. It’s allers been a big anxiety -to me. He might go away as sound as a roach and crack up half-way round. -But you make the pace from the jump, and keep ’em goin’, or else one on -’em ’ll do yer at the bloomin’ post.’ - -‘What chance is there of that?’ - -‘Every chance, sir. You mind me. I’m a man as has follered racing since -I was the height of a corn-bin, and I knows the ways on ’em. Mr. Clarke -ain’t easy beat, nor Mr. Hamilton neither. They’ll go off steady, yer -see, as if there was no use tryin’ to pass yer, along o’ their havin’ -busted their ’orses in them ’eats as went afore.’ - -‘And a very natural idea. It seems a pity to knock them about, after all -they’ve done.’ - -‘We’ve got _to win this race_, sir, and a race ain’t won till the -numbers is up. Now, Mr. Bob Clarke’s dart is jest this. If he sees you -don’t keep the old ’orse on his top, he and Mr. Hamilton will wait on -yer, savin’ their own ’orses till they come to the straight. Then -they’ll go at you with a rush, and there’s no hamatoor in Australia can -take as much out of a horse in the last ten strides as Bob Clarke. -_You’re_ caught afore the old ’orse can get on to his legs, and the race -is snatched out of the fire by nothin’ but ridin’ and head-work, and -we’re—smothered!’ - -‘Beaten and laughed at! I understand clearly, Bill. I shall always think -you have had more to do with the winning of the race than I have.’ - -‘That’s all right, sir, but keep it dark. All this is confidential-like -between the trainer and the gen’leman as rides. There goes the bell -again. I can hear Mr. Rockley cussin’ all the way from where he stands. -Here’s your ’orse, sir; you’ve got to win, or kill him!’ - -Delivering over the unsuspecting Mendicant with this sound professional -but scarcely humane injunction, Fireball Bill gazed after his charge, -and scrutinised the leg he suspected him of ‘favouring.’ ‘He’s right!’ -he finally exclaimed, after anxious deliberation; ‘but if I hadn’t -primed the cove, ’e’d a’ lost that race, sure’s my name’s William -Scraper.’ - -Wilfred rode on his way in dignified fashion, as befitting the position -of probable winner, but in his heart a feeling of thankfulness to the -old trainer by whose advice he had escaped a catastrophe. What a -mortification it would have been; how the vane of public opinion would -have veered round! He trembled to think of it; and as he drew up after -the others, he hardened his heart, resolved that no artifice of the turf -should mar his triumph that day. - -His rivals went off with an assumption of indifference, as if merely -going round for form’s sake; but he took the old horse by the head and -sent him away as if he was riding against Time from end to end. His two -chief antagonists—for O’Desmond had very properly withdrawn his -colt—waited at a reasonable rate of speed until it became apparent that -Mendicant’s rider had no intention of altering his pace. Then they set -to, and by the way they came up, showed how accurate was Fireball Bill’s -calculation. - -Suddenly, and without a sign of premeditation, Bob Clarke took his horse -by the head, and with one of his many desperate efforts, sent him up so -suddenly to the flank of Mendicant, that Wilfred thought the race was -lost in good earnest. - -But as he heard the approaching hoofs, he too commenced to ‘do the -impossible,’ and found that, though nearly level, Bolivar was unable to -improve his position, while Mendicant, answering whip and spur, -gradually drew in advance, as the winning post and the judge’s stand -(and, as it seemed to Wilfred, half Yass at gaze) came to meet him. A -few strides, a deafening shout, a rally of whips, and the race is over. -But the long, lean head had never been overlapped; and as he pulls up, -head down and distinctly ‘proppy,’ half-a-dozen men struggle for the -honour of leading Mendicant into the weighing-yard, and his rider knows -that he has won. Bolivar, with distended nostril and heaving flank, -follows next, with Bob Clarke sitting languidly on his back, and looking -nearly as exhausted as his horse; while No Mamma, eased at the distance, -drags in, as if she had had enough of it for some time to come. Wilfred -takes his saddle and mechanically goes to scale. ‘Weight!’ says Mr. -Rockley decisively, and all is over. - -In all turf contests, bitter disappointments, deep and lasting -mortifications, sharpened by loss and inconvenience, occur. But when -there comes a real triumph, the sweets of success are rich of flavour. - -Wilfred was the hero of the occasion, Fortune’s latest favourite, -impossible to be deposed until next year. No newer victor could -therefore take away the savour and memorial of his triumph, as, to a -certain extent, he had now done from Bob Clarke. - -Such is the inconsistency of human nature that, although the -steeplechase required about ten times the amount of horsemanship, -besides nerve, experience, and a host of qualities unneeded in a flat -race, Wilfred found himself the observed of all observers, and could not -but discern that his rivals were temporarily in the shade. - -He lost no time in bestowing himself into his ordinary raiment and -joining the homeward-bound crowd, secure of the smiles which ladye fair -never refuses to bestow upon the knight who has worthily done his -devoir. - -Christabel Rockley congratulated him warmly upon his good fortune, and -then turned to console Bob Clarke, a process which apparently involved -more time and explanation, so much so that Wilfred changed his locale, -under pretence of looking after his mother and sisters, and soon found -himself in more sympathetic company. - -He saw that Miss Fane had become a great friend and associate of his -sister Rosamond, so quickly are lifelong alliances cemented among young -ladies. Mrs. Snowden was also in the neighbourhood, and among them he -was flattered to his heart’s content. - -‘I was sure you were going to win it from the first,’ said Mrs. Snowden, -as if stating an incontestable fact. ‘I said to Mrs. Rockley, “How cool -Mr. Effingham looks! Depend upon it, he has ridden in good company -before.”’ - -‘I never bet anything more substantial than gloves,’ said Miss Fane, -with a gleam of mischief in her eyes; ‘but I can quite understand the -gambling spirit now. I longed to put a five-pound note papa gave me at -parting on Mendicant. Dreadfully wicked, wasn’t it? But I should have -won fifty or sixty pounds, perhaps a hundred. I have made a small -fortune, however, in gloves.’ - -‘I shall always think that you were the cause of my winning, Miss Fane,’ -said Wilfred, looking most grateful. ‘No one else believed in me, except -these girls here,’ looking at his sisters. - -‘We are prejudiced,’ said Rosamond, ‘and will remain so to the end of -the chapter. But I thought you were fighting against odds, with such -champions as Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Clarke. Now you have won the tilt and -are the favoured knight. Is the queen of beauty to give you the victor’s -wreath?—and who is she?’ - -‘Oh, Christabel the peerless, of course,’ said Miss Fane. ‘And I think -her the prettiest creature in the world—that is, for a dark beauty, of -course,’ looking at Annabel, who now came up. ‘It’s a case of honours -divided, all the men say.’ - -‘I wonder how we shall settle down in our peaceful homes again,’ said -Beatrice, ‘after all these wild excitements and thrilling incidents. I -feel as if we were leaving the first or second volume of a novel.’ - -‘Why the first or second,’ said Miss Fane, ‘and not the third?’ - -‘Because there’s no possibility of our story being complete in one -volume. There are materials for romances here, but the _dénouement_ is -wanting. Every one will go home again on Monday; the actors and -actresses will throw on their wrappers, the lights will be put out, the -theatre shut up, and no piece announced until next year. There is -something theatrical about all pleasure. This indeed is real melodrama, -with plenty of scene-shifting, comedy in proper proportion, leading -actors, and a hint of tragedy in the last act.’ - -For the Effinghams this had been a completely new experience. Without -complications of the affections, except in Wilfred’s case, a wider -estimate of Australian country life had been afforded to them. Besides -the squirearchy of the land, they had met specimens of the best of the -younger sons whom England’s ancient houses still send, year by year, to -carry her laws, her arts, her ambition, and her energy to the most -distant of her possessions. These include, literally, the ends of the -earth, where they may aid in the heroic work of colonisation, planting -the germs of nations, and raising the foundations of empires. Such men -they had among their immediate neighbours. Still it was pleasant to know -that others of the same high nature and standard of culture, the -Conquistadors of the South, were distributed over the entire continent. - -Moreover, they had fallen across several perfect feminine treasures, as -Annabel declared them to be—friends and acquaintances, most rare and -valuable. Nothing could have exceeded the hospitality and thoughtful -kindness of the ladies of the Rockley family. Mrs. Rockley had been -unwearied in providing for the comfort of her guests, and in that -congenial employment partaking as well in her own person of a reasonable -share of the pleasures of the continuous _festa_, underwent such -fatigue, that nothing but an unruffled temper, with great natural -advantages of constitution, prevented her from breaking down hopelessly -before the week was over. As it was, though there was a slight look of -weariness, an air of responsibility, in the morning, the least occasion -sufficed to bring the ever-cordial smile to the kind face, when all -gravity of mien instantly disappeared. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - THE DUEL - - -In Ireland’s good old days, before the decline of unlimited hospitality -and claret, debt, duelling, and devilment generally, when the Court of -Encumbered Estates was not, the whole duty of man apparently being -transacted with an enviable scorn of ready-money payments, no doubt -exists, that after such a race week as we have essayed to recall, more -than one gentleman’s hackney would have gone home without him, unless -the pistol practice was worse than usual. - -As it was, a contretemps _did_ occur, which could not be settled without -the intervention of seconds. These gentlemen decided that a meeting must -take place. It chanced after this wise. As will happen in all lands, -there had arisen a veiled but distinct antagonism between two men who -aspired to social leadership. These were William Argyll and John -Hampden. - -The former, haughtily impatient of opposition, was prone to follow out -likes and dislikes, with the enthusiasm of his Highland blood. Culture, -travel, and the drill of society had but modified his natural -temperament. Under provocation it was as untamed as that of any son of -MacCallum Mohr who had never quitted the paternal glen. He undervalued -the opinions of his Australian-born neighbours who had not, like -himself, enjoyed the advantages of travel. Hasty in word or deed, -habituated to high consideration from the dwellers near his paternal -estate, he was careless to a fault about giving offence. - -Hampden, though a proud and self-respecting man, was singularly -imperturbable of demeanour. Open-minded, generous, interested in every -idea calculated to advance the welfare of his native land, his position -was high and unquestioned. In his own part of the country he was -respected by his equals and reverenced by his inferiors to a degree -uncommon, but by no means unknown in Australia. The people were much in -the habit of resorting to him for aid or counsel in their difficulties. -And whatever Mr. Hampden said in such cases carried with it the weight -and authority of law. His decisions, indeed, were more often quoted, -more rarely disputed, than those of any bench of magistrates in the -land. - -Although cautious in forming his opinions and chary of expressing them, -John Hampden was noted as one who never gave back an inch from any -position which he assumed. This trait chafed the choleric Argyll, who -had also a considerable ‘following’—admirers of his attainments, and -dominated by his unrelaxing though generous despotism. It therefore -happened that, in public matters, Argyll and Hampden were mostly -observed to take different sides. - -Before the race meeting there arose a dispute, common enough in those -days, between the stock-riders of the two establishments as to the -ownership of certain calves at the annual muster of Mount Wangarua. Some -ill-considered remarks of Argyll’s, reflecting on Hampden’s management, -were repeated with additions. Allusion had been made to ‘indiscriminate -branding,’ than which nothing could have been more uncalled for. A -scrupulously exact man in such matters, many a poor man had reason to -bless the day when his few head of strayed cattle found their way into -the herds which bore the J.H. brand. Rarely was it placed on an animal -without satisfactory proof of ownership. However, ‘accidents will occur -in the best regulated (cattle) families,’ and so had come to pass the -mistake, fully explained afterwards, upon which Argyll had commented -unfavourably. - -The opportunity afforded for withdrawing his hasty expressions was not -availed of. So after a formal interview, the alternative was reached -which, by the laws of society in that early day, compelled a resort to -the pistol. - -Of course, this ultimatum, though known to a few intimate friends, was -carefully concealed from the general public. The rivals met without -suspicious coldness, were seen at the ordinary gatherings, and bore -themselves as became the average pleasure-seekers of the hour. But the -meeting had been fixed for the Monday following the race week, and it -was agreed that the principals, with their seconds, should visit a -certain secluded spot on the homeward route of Hampden’s party, and -there arrange their difficulty. - -Both men were known to be good shots; with rifle and pistol (not yet had -Colonel Colt impressed his revolving signet on the age) Hampden was -known to have few equals. But no surprise was manifested when it was -announced on the eventful Monday that Hampden and his friend Neville, -together with Forbes, Argyll, and Churbett, had departed at daylight and -taken the same road. Every one was in the confused state of mind which -is prone to succeed a season of indulgence. There were bills to pay, -clothes to pack, resolutions as to improvement to be made by those who -had exceeded their usual limit in love, loo, or liquor. So that, except -an expression of astonishment that any reason whatever should have had -power to take Fred Churbett out of his bed at such an abnormal hour, -little was said. - -As they rode through the silent streets of the sleepy town, a moaning -breeze betokened that the exceptionally fine weather they had enjoyed -was about to change for the worse. - -To Fred Churbett, as he rode along with a young surgeon impressed in -case of accident, the day seemed chilly, the fitful wind boding, the -darkening sky gloomy and drear. ‘What if one of these men, in all the -pride of manhood, so lately rejoicing in the sport in which they had -been jointly engaged, should never leave the Granite Glen alive? What a -mockery was this life of ours! And for what? for a careless word—a hasty -jest—for this might a man go down to the dark unknown, with all his sins -upon his head. A melancholy ending to their pleasant days and joyous -nights!’ - -These cheerless meditations were probably compounded in equal -proportions of bilious indigestion and natural regret. Fred’s inner man -had come off indifferently under a regimen of late hours and mixed -refreshments; so much so, that he had professed his intention, when he -returned to the peaceful shades of The She-oaks, ‘to lie on his back for -a month and live on blue-pill.’ Such thoughts would not have occurred to -him had he been engaged as principal. But as a mere spectator of a -mortal combat they were impressively urgent. - -Besides all this, Hampden was a married man—had a wife and half-a-dozen -boys and girls at Mount Wangarua. When he thought that a messenger might -ride up through the far-famed meadows, where the white-faced Herefords -lay thick on the clover sward the summer through, to tell the expectant -wife that the husband—the father, the pattern country gentleman—would -return no more! Fred felt as if he must strike up everybody’s sword, as -in old melodramas, and call upon them in the name of God and man to -desist from a deed at once puerile and immoral. - -But like a dream when morning breaks, and princess and noble, castle and -dragon flee into the shadow-land, whence they came, so his purpose -vanished into thin air, as they suddenly debouched upon the Granite -Glen, and he saw by the set faces of the men, as they dismounted, how -unavailing would be all interference. - -With sudden revulsion of feeling, he prepared to act his part. Motioning -the young surgeon to follow him to the little creek which rippled -plaintively over the grey blocks, shaded by the funereal, sighing -casuarina, they took charge of the horses of the combatants. Forbes and -Neville each produced one of the oblong cases ‘which no gentleman could -be without’ in those days. Twelve paces were stepped by Forbes, in -deference to his similar experiences. The principals took their ground. - -Fred Churbett scanned narrowly, at the moment, the faces he knew so -well. On Argyll’s he saw the look of vehement resolve which he had seen -a hundred times before, while his eyes glowed with angry light. Fred -knew that whenever any one alluded to Hampden’s alleged expression, -‘that he was a hot-blooded Highlander, accustomed to rule semi-savages, -and who did not know how to conduct himself among gentlemen,’ or words -to that effect, Argyll could not be held accountable for his actions. -When the passion fit was over, a more accomplished, courteous gentleman -did not live—generous to a fault, winning, nay, fascinating, of manner -to all with whom he came into contact. - -Hampden’s face, on the other hand, bore its usual serious expression, -with no shadow of change o’er the mild, contemplative gaze. He looked, -as he always appeared to those who knew him, as if he were thinking out -the subject on hand with painstaking earnestness in the interests of -truth. - -Duels were always rare in Australia. Now they are unknown. Society -appears to manage without them in disputes affecting the honour of -individuals. Whether manners have suffered in consequence, is a point -upon which opinions have differed. It had so chanced that Hampden had -never stood ‘on the ground’ before, although in skirmishes with the wild -tribes of his native land it was well known that his cool intrepidity -and unerring aim had more than once saved life. - -On this occasion an observer of character might have believed that he -was more closely occupied in analysing his own and his adversary’s -sensations than in attending to his personal interest. - -That opinion would have been modified, when the critic observed him -raise his hand with quiet precision at the signal. He fired with -instinctive rapidity, and at the falling handkerchief two reports rang -out. - -As each man preserved his position unaltered, a sigh of relief broke -from Fred Churbett. The features of Hampden had not in the slightest -degree altered their expression. The eager observer even thought he -detected a tendency to the slow, humorous smile which was wont to be his -substitute for laughter, as Argyll threw down his weapon with a hasty -exclamation, while a red line on his pistol arm showed that the accuracy -of Hampden’s aim had not been altered by the nature of his target. - -‘You are hit, Argyll?’ said Churbett, starting forward. ‘For God’s sake, -stop this mummery! I know Hampden regrets anything inconsiderate he may -have said.’ - -The brow of Argyll was black with suppressed fury. - -‘A d——d graze, can’t you see, sir?’ he said, as he reluctantly pulled up -his coat-sleeve for the inspection of the surgeon. ‘The matter cannot -stop here. An apology at this stage would be absurd. I am in Mr. -Forbes’s hands, I believe.’ - -That gentleman had already walked gravely forward to meet Mr. Neville, -who, with equal seriousness of demeanour, conferred with his -antagonistic diplomate. Words were exchanged, ending with an ominous -shaking of the head on Forbes’s part. The seconds, having courteously -bowed, departed to their former positions. There they placed pistols in -the hands of the opponents, and took their stations. Even at this stage -the manner of the two men remained as essentially apart as their -constitutions. Argyll stood chafing with impatience, while Hampden’s -eyes wandered calmly over the whole scene—the valley, the little stream, -the threatening sky—as if considering the chances of the season. - -As the pistols were handed to them, Argyll took his weapon with a quick -gleam of the eye, which spoke of inward strife, while Hampden accepted -his mechanically and proceeded to gaze fixedly at Argyll, as if prepared -to give the matter his serious attention. - -At the signal he raised his hand as before, but one report only startled -the birds on the adjacent tree-tops. Hampden held his pistol in the -steady hand which so few had ever known to swerve from a deadly aim, and -then, elevating the muzzle, fired carelessly into space. - -‘We should have improved in our shooting,’ he said, ‘as we went on; -Argyll’s second shot was not so wide as the first. He has spoiled my -coat collar.’ - -‘By Jove!’ ejaculated Neville, ‘rather a near thing. This must end the -matter; I’ll be no party to another shot.’ - -‘I have no objection to state _now_,’ said Hampden, ‘that I regret the -expressions used by me. I beg unreservedly to withdraw them.’ - -After a short colloquy between Argyll and Forbes, the latter came -forward, and with great precision of intonation thus delivered himself. - -‘I have much pleasure in stating, on the part of my principal, that -while accepting Mr. Hampden’s handsome apology and retractation, he -desires to recognise cordially his generous behaviour.’ - -Only the Spartan laws of the duello, inexorably binding upon all men -soever of a certain rank in society, prevented Fred Churbett from -throwing his hat into the air at this termination of the affair. - -As each party moved off in opposite directions, after Argyll had, rather -against his will, submitted to having his arm bandaged, _secundum -artem_, Hampden said to Neville: - -‘What mockeries these affairs are! I could have shot Argyll “as dead as -a herring.” It’s better as it is, though.’ - -‘It’s a good thing his last shot wasn’t an inch or two _inside_ your -collar instead of out,’ said Neville gravely. ‘After all, as you say, -these things are mockeries, and worse. Suppose he _had_ drilled you, and -I was on my way to tell Mrs. Hampden that her husband would never return -to her?’ - -‘But _you_ wouldn’t be able to have given the sad intelligence, old -fellow,’ said Hampden; ‘you would have been fleeing from justice, or -surrendering yourself. Deuced troublesome affair to all concerned, -except the departed. But a man must live or die, in accordance with the -rules of society. After all, there’s nearly as much chance of breaking -one’s neck mustering over that lava country of ours as being snuffed out -in this way. Life’s a queer lottery at best.’ - -‘H—m, ha!’ said Neville, ‘great deal to be got out of the subject; don’t -feel in the humour for enlarging on it just now. What a good fellow that -Churbett is! He had a mind to read the Riot Act himself.’ - - An angry man ye may opine, - Was he, the proud Count Palatine! - -And dire would have been the wrath of our provincial potentate, William -Rockley, had he but known on Sunday morning what deeds were about to be -enacted within his social and magisterial jurisdiction. - -No sympathy had he, a man of strictly modern ideas, with what he called -the mediæval humbug of duelling. He looked upon the policeman as the -proper exponent of such proceedings. Could he have but guessed where -this discreditable anachronism, according to his principles, was being -perpetrated, all concerned would have found themselves in the body of -Yass gaol, in default of sufficient sureties to keep the peace. The -news, however, did not leak out until afterwards, owing to the -discretion of the persons concerned, and the fortunate absence of -serious results. When it did become matter of public comment, his -imperial majesty was furious. He abused every one concerned in -unmeasured terms; swore he would never speak to Argyll or Forbes again, -and would have Hampden struck off the Commission of the Peace. As for -Fred Churbett, he considered him the worst of the lot, because of his -deceitful, diabolical amiability, which permitted him to assist in such -infamous bloodthirsty designs unsuspectedly. Not one of them should ever -darken his doors again. He would never subscribe another shilling to the -Yass Races; indeed, he believed he would sell out, wind up his business, -and leave that part of the colony altogether. - -However, not receiving intimation of this infraction of the law until -matters were somewhat stale, the _status in quo_ was undisturbed. The -whole of the company, with the exception of the few who were in the -secret, were similarly innocent; so the air remained unclouded. An -afternoon walk to Fern-tree Hollow, a shady defile which lay a couple of -miles from the town, was the accepted Sunday stroll. - -Every one turned up to say farewell, thinking it a more suitable time -than on the hurried, packing, saddling, harnessing-up, bill-paying -morrow. Then once more the work of the hard world would recommence. The -idyll had been sung to the last stanza. The nymphs would seek their -forest retreats, the listening fauns would disappear amid the leaves. -The rites of that old world deity ‘Leisure,’ now sadly circumscribed, -had been honoured and ended. This was the last day, almost the last -hour, when Phyllis could be expected to listen to soft sighings, or -Neæra to be seen in proximity to the favouring shade. - -As they strolled homewards, in the evening, with a troubled sunset and a -cooler breeze, as if in sympathy with the imminent farewell, the scraps -of conversation which might have been gathered were characteristic. -Something more than half-confidences were occasionally interchanged, and -semi-sentimental speculations not wholly wanting. - -At the close of the evening, and the end of the stroll, every one, of -course, went to the Maison Rockley, and comforted their souls with -supper, Sunday being an early dinner day, as in all well-regulated -British families. Conversations which had not been satisfactorily -concluded had here a chance of definite ending, as the guests somehow -seemed unwilling to separate when the probability of meeting again was -uncertain or remote. - -With the exception of a little music, there was no attempt at other than -conversational occupation, which indeed appeared to suffice fully for -the majority of the guests. And though ordinary topics gradually -introduced themselves, and Rockley, in the freedom of the verandah, -reiterated his opinions to Mr. Effingham upon the iniquities of the land -law, a subdued tone pervaded, half unconsciously, the various groups, as -of members of one family about to separate for a hazardous expedition. - -‘I feel terribly demoralised,’ said Mrs. Snowden, ‘after all this -dissipation; it is like a visit to Paris must have been to Madame -Sevigné, after a summer in the provinces. Like her, we shall have to -take to letter-writing when we go home to keep ourselves alive. The -poultry are my great stand-by for virtuous occupation. They suffer, I -admit, from these fascinating trips to Yass; for the last time I -returned I found two hens sitting upon forty-five eggs. Now what -philosophy could support that?’ - -‘Whose philosophy, that of the hens?’ inquired Hamilton, who, with his -observant companion, had been mildly reviewing the confidentially -occupied couples. ‘It looks to me like a case of overweening feminine -ambition on their part.’ - -‘It was all the fault of that careless Charlotte Lodore who was staying -with me—a cousin of mine, and a dreadful girl to read. She was so deeply -interested in some new book that she left the poor fowls to their own -devices, and never thought about adjusting their “clutches”—that’s the -expression—until I returned. If you could have seen our two faces as we -gazed at the pile of addled eggs you would have been awed. I _was_ so -angry.’ - -As for Wilfred, he concluded an æsthetic conversation with Miss Fane by -trusting that she would be enabled to accept his mother’s invitation, -and pay them a visit at Warbrok Chase before the winter set in. - -‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure, really,’ said she, ‘but I -seldom manage to leave home, except to see a relation in Sydney, or when -our good friends Mr. and Mrs. Rockley insist on my coming here. But for -them, papa would hardly consent to my visiting in the country at all.’ - -There was evidently some constraint in the manner of the girl’s -explanation, and Wilfred did not press for the solution, trusting to -time and the frank candour with which every one discussed every other -person’s affairs in the neighbourhood. - -Miss Fane took an opportunity of quitting her seat and joining Mrs. -Effingham and Beatrice, with whom, much to Wilfred’s satisfaction, she -maintained a friendly and confidential talk until the little party -commenced to disperse. He discovered at the same time that Christabel -Rockley and Bob Clarke had exhausted their powers of mutual fascination -for the present, so he could not forgo the temptation of hastening, -after the manner of moths of all ages, to singe his wings in a farewell -flutter round the fatal Christabel. That enchantress smiled upon him, -and rekindled his regrets with a spare gleam or two from out her -wondrous eyes, large as must have been the consumption of soul-felt -glances during the evening; yet such is the insatiable desire for -conquest that she listened responsively to his warm acknowledgments of -the pleasure they had enjoyed during the week, nearly all of which was -attributable to the great kindness of Mrs. Rockley and the hospitality -of her father. ‘He should _never_ forget it. The remembrance would last -him all his life,’ and so on, and so on. - - * * * * * - -On Monday morning business in its severest sense set in for the world of -Yass, its belongings, and dependencies. Before dawn all professionals -connected with race-horses were hard at work with the silent energy -which characterises the breed. Jockeys and trainers, helpers and boys, -were steadily employed, each in his own department, strapping, packing, -or saddling up with a taciturn solemnity of mien, as if racing had been -abolished by Act of Parliament, and no further rational enjoyment was to -be hoped for in a ruined world. Correspondingly, the tide of labour and -rural commerce swelled and deepened. Long teams of bullocks slowly -traversed the main street, with the heavy, indestructible dray of the -period, filled with loads of hay, wheat, maize, oats, or flour. Farmers -jogged along in spring-carts, or on rough nags; the shops were open and -busy, while the miscellaneous establishment of Rockley and Company, -which accommodated with equal ease an order for a ton of sugar or a -pound of nails, a hundred palings, or sawn timber for a bridge, was, as -usual, crowded with every sort of client and customer, in need of every -kind of merchandise, advice, or accommodation. - -Shortly after breakfast, therefore, Black Prince pranced proudly up -before his wheeler to the door of Rockley House, looking—but by no means -likely to carry out that impropriety—as if he was bent upon running away -every mile of the homeward journey. Portmanteaus and, it must be -admitted, parcels of unknown size and number (for when did women ever -travel forth, much less return, without supplementary packages?) were at -length conveniently bestowed. - -Adieus and last words—the very last—were exchanged with their kind -hostess and her angelic daughter, who had vowed and promised to visit -The Chase at an early period. Rockley had betaken himself to his -counting-house hours before. Fergus and Allspice were once more honoured -with the weight of their respective mistresses, and the little cortège -departed. Our cavalier had, we know, been prevented by a pressing -engagement from accompanying them on the homeward route; but it was not -to be supposed that two young ladies like Rosamond and Beatrice were to -be permitted to ride through the forest glades escorted merely by -relations. Most fortunately Mr. St. Maur happened to be visiting his -friend O’Desmond, combining business and pleasure, for a few days. As -his road lay past The Chase, he was, of course, only too happy to join -their party. - -Annabel Effingham thought that Bertram St. Maur was perhaps the prince -and seigneur of their by no means undistinguished circle of -acquaintances. A tall, handsome man, with a natural air of command, he -was by Blanche and Selden, immediately after they had set eyes on him, -declared to be the image of a Norman King in their History of England, -and invested accordingly with grand and mysterious attributes. A -well-known explorer, in the first days of his residence in Australia he -had preferred the hazards of discovery to the slower gains of ordinary -station life. He was therefore looked upon as the natural chief and -leader in his own border district, a position which, with head and hand, -he was well qualified to support. - -The homeward journey was quickly performed, a natural impatience causing -the whole party to linger as little as possible on the road. Once more -they reached the ascent above their home, from which they could look -down upon the green slopes, the tranquil lake, the purple hills, of the -well-known landscape. The afternoon had kept fine; the change from the -busy town, the late scene of their dissipation, was not unpleasing. - -‘I am pleased to think that you young people have enjoyed yourselves,’ -said Mrs. Effingham, ‘and so, I am sure, has papa. It has been a change -for him; but, oh, if you knew how delighted I am to see home again!’ - -‘So am I; so are we all,’ said Annabel. ‘I for one will never say a word -against pleasure, for I have enjoyed myself tremendously. But “enough is -as good as a feast.” We have had a grand holiday, and like good children -we shall go back cheerfully to our lessons—that is, to our housekeeping, -and dear old Jeanie.’ - -‘Your mother is right in thinking that I enjoyed myself,’ said Mr. -Effingham. ‘I found most pleasant acquaintances, and had much -interesting talk about affairs generally. It does a man good, when he is -no longer young, to meet men of the same age and to exchange ideas. But -I must say that the pleasure was of an intense and compressed -description; it ought to last you young people for a year.’ - -‘_Half a year_,’ said Annabel, ‘I really think it might. _We_ met -improving acquaintances too,—though I am popularly supposed not to care -about sensible conversation,—Miss Fane, for instance. We shared a room, -and I thought her a delightful, original, clever creature, and so good -too. Can’t we have her over here, mamma? She lives at a place called -Black Mountain, ever so far away, and can hardly ever leave home, -because she has little brothers to teach, and all the housekeeping to -do. I am sorry she is so far off.’ - -‘So am I, Annabel. We should all like to see more of her.’ - -‘I think that there were an unusual number of pretty girls,’ continued -Annabel. ‘As for Christabel Rockley, I could rave about her as much as -if I were a man. She is a lovely creature, and as good-natured and -unselfish as a child.’ - -‘I must say,’ said Mr. Effingham, ‘that for hospitality in the largest -sense of the word, I never saw anything to surpass that of our friends. -I knew Ireland well when I was young, but even that proverbially -generous land seems to me to be outdone by our Australian friends.’ - -‘I hope Jeanie will have a nice dinner for us,’ said Annabel. ‘But we -need never be afraid of the dear old thing not doing everything she -ought to have done. She knew we were coming home to-day, and she will be -ready and prepared for a prince, if we had picked up a stray one at -Yass. Home, sweet home! How glad I am! There is nothing like dissipation -for making one feel truly virtuous.’ - -Of a truth, there is always something sacred and precious connected in -the minds of the widely scattered families of the Anglo-Saxon race about -the very name of ‘home!’ There was no one of the Effinghams whose heart -was not stirred as they rode and drove up to the hall door, and saw the -kindly, loving face of Jeanie, the seriously satisfied countenance of -Andrew, and even the silent Duncan, quite excited for him, as he stood -ready to assist with the horses. The garden in the neighbourhood of the -entrance gate was trim and neat, while showers had preserved the -far-stretching verdure which glorifies the country in whatever -hemisphere. No great time was consumed in unsaddling. Guy personally -superintended the stabling of St. Maur’s horse, while Wilfred conducted -him to one of the spare rooms. Dick Evans, always handy in emergencies, -turned up in time to dispose of the tandem. And in less than half an -hour Effingham and his new acquaintance were walking up and down the -verandah awaiting the dinner-bell, much refreshed and comforted, and in -a state of mind fitted for admiring the landscape. - -‘How fortunate you seem to have been in falling across such a family -residence,’ said St. Maur. ‘You might have been for years in the country -and never heard of anything half so good. What a lovely view of the -lake; and first-class land, too, it seems to be.’ - -‘We owe our good fortune in great part, or I may say altogether, to my -old friend Sternworth. But for him we should never have seen Australia, -or have been stumbling about in the dark after we did come here. And if -it were possible to need any other aid or advice, I feel certain Mr. -Rockley would insist on giving it. I must say that the soil of Australia -produces more friends in need to the square mile than any other I know.’ - -‘It may be overrated in that respect,’ said St. Maur, smiling; ‘but you -are in no danger of overrating Rockley’s benevolence or his miraculous -ways and means of carrying out his intentions. As for Mr. Sternworth, he -is the “Man of Ross”—or rather of Yass— - - To all the country dear, - -and passing rich on not exactly ‘forty pounds a year,’ but the -Australian equivalent. If he introduces any more such desirable -colonists we must have him made rural Dean. You are satisfied with your -investment, I take it?’ - -‘So much so, that I look forward with the keenest relish to the many -changes and improvements [here his visitor gave a slight involuntary -motion of dissent] which I trust to carry out during the next few years. -Everything is reassuring in a money-making aspect, so I trust not to be -indiscreet in developing the property.’ - -‘My dear sir, nothing can be more proper than that we should carry out -plans for the improvement of our estates, after they have shown annual -profit balances for years. But to spend money on improvements in -Australia _before_ you have a reserve fund is—pardon my frankness—held -to be imprudent.’ - -‘But surely a property well improved must pay eventually better than one -where, as at present, all the stock are permitted to roam almost in a -state of nature?’ - -‘When you come to talk of stock paying, my dear sir, you must bear in -mind that it is not the finest animal that yields the most profit, but -the one on which, at a saleable age, you have _expended the least -money_.’ - -The evening passed most pleasantly, with just sufficient reference to -the experiences of the week to render the conversation entertaining. In -the morning their guest departed, and with him the last associations of -the memorable race meeting, leaving the family free to pursue the calm -pursuits of their ordinary life. - -Wilfred found himself freshly invigorated and eager to take up again -occupations connected with the policy of the establishment. He praised -Dick Evans and old Tom warmly for the exact order in which he found all -departments, not forgetting a word of approval for Andrew, of whose good -conduct, however, he was assured under all possible circumstances. - -As the season passed on, it seemed as though the family of the -Effinghams had migrated to one of the poets’ isles— - - Happy with orchard lawns, - Where never wind doth blow or tempest rave— - -so flawless were all the climatic conditions, upon which their -well-being depended. - -Pleasant it was, after the day’s work was done, when the family gathered -round the substantial fire which, red-glowing with piled-up logs, -thoroughly warmed but did not oppressively heat the lofty room. Then -came truly the season of - - Rest, and affection, and stillness. - -Although a certain reaction was apparent after the stupendous adventures -and experiences of the race meeting, yet moderate social intercourse -survived. Mr. Churbett was the first of the personages from the outer -world who presented himself, and the historiette of the duel having -leaked out, he had to undergo a grave lecture and remonstrance from Mrs. -Effingham, which, as he said afterwards, reminded him so of his own -mother that it brought the tears into his eyes. - -Mr. Argyll, luckily for his peace of mind, had occasion to go to Sydney, -otherwise, not to mention chance reviewers and critics, it is hard to -imagine how he could have protected himself against the uncompromising -testimony which Mrs. Teviot felt herself compelled to take up against -him. - -‘Spillin’ the bluid o’ the Lord’s anointed; no that Maister Hampden was -mair than a magistrate, but still it is written, ‘they bear not the -sword in vain.’ And oh, it’s wae to think if Hampden’s bullet had juist -gane thro’ the heart o’ Maister Argyll, and his mither, that gracious -lady, wearyin’ for him by the bonny hills o’ Tarbert! And that Maister -Churbett, I wadna hae thocht it. I could fell him.’ - -Howard Effingham, in a general way, disapproved of duelling, but as a -soldier and a man of the world was free to confess that, as society was -constituted, such an ultimatum could not be dispensed with. He was happy -to hear no casualty had occurred. His own opinion, judging from what he -had seen of colonial society, was that the men composing it were an -exceptionally reasonable set of people, whose lives, from circumstances, -were of exceptional value to the community at large as well as to their -families. In the older countries of Europe, where duelling had formerly -flourished, the direct converse of this proposition often obtained. He -believed that in course of time the practice of duelling would become so -unnecessary, even unfashionable, as to be practically obsolete. - -Mr. Hampden did not belong to their ‘side of the country’ (or -neighbourhood); thus he was necessarily left to receive his share of -admonition from his wife, and such of his personal friends who cared to -volunteer reproof or remonstrance. There were those who smiled -sardonically at this view of the case. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - THE LIFE STORY OF TOM GLENDINNING - - -During one of the long rides which Wilfred was obliged to take from time -to time with Tom Glendinning, it occurred to him to ask about his -previous history. The old man was unusually well; that is, free from -rheumatism and neuralgia. The demons which tortured his irritable temper -were at rest. For a wonder, Tom was communicative. - -‘Sure there’s little use in knowin’ the finds and the kills and blank -days of a toothless old hound like meself. I’m broken-mouthed enough to -know better; but the oulder some gets, the wickeder they are. Maybe it’s -because there’s little hope for them. I was born in the north of -Ireland, where my people was dacent enough. Linen factories they had—no -less. My great grandfather came from Scotland, my father was dead, and -my uncle that I lived with was the sourest old miser that ever the Black -North turned out. I was a wild slip of a youngster always, like a hawk -among barn-door fowl. My mother came from the West. It was her blood I -had, and it ran too free and merry in thim days. She was dead too, but I -loved her people. I liked the sporting notions of ’em, and took to their -ways, their fights, their fairs and the very brogue, just to spite my -uncle and his canting breed. - -‘I hated everything they liked, and liked everything they hated. I was -flogged and locked up for runnin’ away from school. Why should I stay in -and larn out of a dog’s-eared book when the hounds met within five Irish -miles of me? I was always with them when I could slip off—sleepin’ in -the stables, helpin’ the grooms, doin’ anything so they’d let me stay -about the stables and kennel. I could ride any hunter they had at -exercise and knew every fox-covert in the neighbourhood, every hare’s -form, besides being able to tie a fly and snare rabbits. When I was -twelve years old I ran away and made my way down to Mayo, to my mother’s -people—God be with them all their days! I was happy then.’ - -‘I suppose you were, indeed,’ said Wilfred. - -‘Why wouldn’t I be? My mother’s brother was but a small farmer, but he -was a king’s ayqual for kind-heartedness, divilment and manliness. He -could follow the hounds on foot for a ten-mile run. He was the best -laper, wrestler, hurler, and stick-fighter in the barony. The sort of -man I could have died for. More by token, he took to me at once when I -stumbled in sore-footed and stiff like a stray puppy. I was the -“white-headed boy” for my dead mother’s sake.’ - -‘You had all you could wish for, then.’ - -‘I had. I was a fool, too, but sure I didn’t know it. ’Tis that same -makes all the differ. The Squire took a fancy to me, after I rode a -five-year-old for him over the ox-fences one day. I was made dog-boy, -afterwards third whip; and sure, when I had on the cord breeches and the -coat with the hunt button, I was prouder than the king. There was no -divilment in all the land I wasn’t in; but I didn’t drink in thim days, -and I knew my work well. Whin I was twenty-two a fit took me to go to -Belfast and see the ould place again.’ - -‘Did you wish to ask for your uncle’s blessing?’ - -‘Not if I was stritched for it! But my cousin Mary! sure I could never -get her out of my head, and thim black eyes of hers. She kissed me the -night I ran away, and the taste of her lips and the sweet look of her -eyes could never lave me. I can see her face now. I wonder where is she? -And will I see her again when I go to my place!’ - -The old man turned away his head; his voice was still for some moments. -Were there tears in those evil-glowing eyes, that never lowered before -mortal man or quailed under the shadow of death? Who shall say? Wilfred -played with his bridle-rein. When the henchman spoke next he gazed -resolutely before him, towards the far purple mountain peak; his voice -once more was strong and clear. - -‘Whin I seen her again she was a woman grown, but her eyes were the -same, and her heart was true to the wild boy that was born to ruin all -that was nigh or kind to him. The old man scowled at me. There was -little love between us. - -‘“So you’ve grown into a useless man instead of a disobedient lad,” he -said. “Why didn’t ye stay among the rebels and white-boys of the West? -It’s the company that fits ye well; you’ll have the better chance of -being hanged before you’re older. Change your name before it’s a by-word -and a disgrace to honest folks.” - -‘I swore then I’d make him repent his words, and that if I was hanged my -name should be known far and wide. I went back to the wild West. But if -I did I gave him good raison to curse me to his dyin’ day. I soothered -over Mary to marry me, and the day after we were well on the way to -Athlone.’ - -‘Surely then you had a happy life before you, Tom?’ - -‘True for you. If I wasn’t happy, no man ever was. But the divil was too -strong in me. I was right for the first year. I loved my work with the -hounds, and the master—rest his sowl—used to say there wasn’t a whip -west of Athlone could hold a candle to me. He gave me a snug cottage. -Mary was a great favourite entirely with the ladies of the house. For -that year—that one blessed year of my life—I was free from bad ways. -Within the year Mary had a fine boy in her arms—the moral of his father, -every one said—and as she smiled on me, I felt as if what the priest -said about being good and all the rest of it, might be true, after all.’ - -‘And what made the change, Tom?’ - -‘The ould story—restlessness, bad company, and saycret societies. I got -mixed up in one, that I joined before I was married, more for the fun of -the night walks and drillin’s and rides than anything else. The oath -once taken—a terrible oath it was, more by token—I thought shame of -breakin’ it. It’s little I’d care _now_ for a dozen like it. The end of -it was, one night I must go off with a mob of young fools, like myself, -to frighten a strong farmer who had taken the land over a poor man’s -head. I didn’t know then that the best kindness for a strugglin’ holder -there, was to hunt him out of the overstocked land to this place, or -America, or the West Indies. Anyhow, we burned a stack. After I left, -the boys were foolish and bate him. He took to his bed and died—divil -mend him! Two days afterwards I was arrested on a warrant, and lodged in -the county gaol. ’Twas the first time I heard a prison lock turn behind -me. Not the last, by many a score times. - -‘I had no chance at the Assizes. A girl swore to me as Huntsman Tom. -Five of thim was hanged. I got off with transportation. I was four miles -away whin they were heard batin’ Doran. I asked the Judge to hang me -with the rest. He said it couldn’t be done. Mary came every day to see -me, poor girleen; she liked to show me the boy; but I could see her -heart was broke, though she tried to smile—such a smile—for my sake. I -desarved what I got, maybe. But if I’d been let off then, as there’s a -God in heaven I’d have starved rather than have done a wrong turn agin -as long as I lived. If them judges knew a man’s heart, would they let -one off, wonst in a way? Mary was with me every day, wet or dry, on -board the prison ship till she sailed. Is there angels come to hell, I -wonder, to see the wretches in torment? If they do, they’ll look like -_her_, as she stood on the deck and trembled whin the chained divils -that some calls men filed by. She looked at me with her soft eyes, till -I grew mad, and told her roughly to go home and take the child with her. -Then she dropped on her knees and cried, and kissed my hands with the -irons on them and the face of me, like a madwoman. She lifted the baby -to me for a minute, and it held out its hands. I kissed its wheeshy soft -face, and she was gone out of my sight—out of my life—for ever.’ - -‘How did you like the colony?’ - -‘Well enough at the first. I worked well, and did what I was tould. It -was all the relafe there was. I made sure I should get my freedom in a -few years. The first letther I got was from my old uncle. Mary was dead! -He said nothin’ about the child, but he would bring it up, and never -wished to hear my name again. This changed me into a rale divil, no -less. All that was bad in me kem out. I was that desperate that I defied -the overseers, made friends with the biggest villians among the -prisoners, and did everything foolish that came into my head. I was -punished, and the worse I was trated the worse I grew. I was chained and -flogged and starved and put into dark cells. ’Tis little satisfaction -they got of me, for I grew that savage and stubborn that I was all as -one as a wild baste, only wickeder. If ye seen my back now, after the -triangles, scarred and callused from shoulder to flank! I was marked out -for Norfolk Island; ye’ve heard tell of that place?’ - -Wilfred nodded assent. - -‘That _hell_!’ screamed the old man, ‘where men once sent never came -back. Flogged and chained; herded like bastes, when the lime that they -carried off to the boats burned holes in their naked flesh, wading -through the surf with it! But I forgot, there was _one_ way to get back -to Sydney.’ - -‘And what way was that?’ - -‘You could always _kill_ a man—one of your mates—only a prisoner—sure, -it couldn’t matter much!’ said the old man with a dreadful laugh; ‘but -ye were sent up to Sydney in the Government brig, and tried and hanged -as reg’lar as if ye wor a free man and owned a free life. There was thim -there thin that thought the pleasure trip to Sydney and the comfort of a -new gaol and a nate condimned cell all to yourself, well worth a man’s -blood, and a sure rope when the visit was over. Ha! ha!’ - -He laughed long and loud. The sound was so unnatural that Wilfred -fancied if their talk had occurred by a lonely camp in a darksome forest -at midnight, instead of under the garish light of day, he might have -imagined faint unearthly cries and moans strangely mingled with that -awful laughter. - -‘Thim was quare times; but I didn’t go to ‘the island hell’ after all. -An up-country settler came to the barracks to pick a groom, as an -assigned servant—so they called us. He was a big, bold-lookin’ man, and -as I set my eyes on him, I never looked before me or on the floor as -most of thim did. - -‘“What’s that man?” he said. “I like the look of him; he’s got plenty of -devil in him; that’s my sort. He can ride, by the look of his legs. I’m -just starting up-country.” - -‘They wouldn’t give me to him at first; said I was too bad to go loose. -But he had friends in high places, and they got me assigned to him. Next -day we started for a station. When I felt a horse between my legs I -began to have the feelings of a man again. He gave me a pistol to carry, -too. Bushrangers wor on the road then, and he carried money.’ - -‘“You can fight or not, as you like, Tom,” he said, “if we meet any of -the boys; but if you show cur, back you go to the barracks.” - -‘“Sooner to hell,” says I. I felt that I would go through fire and water -for him. He trated me liked a _man_!’ - -‘And did you meet any bushrangers?’ said Wilfred. - -‘We did then—the Tinker’s gang—three of them, and a boy. They bailed us -up in a narrow place. I took steady aim and shot the Tinker dead. As -well him as me—not that I cared a traneen for my life. My master dropped -a second man; the other one and the boy bolted for their lives. - -‘“Well done, Tom!” says my master, when it was all over. “You were a -good cavalry man lost”—he was in the Hussars, no less, at home. “We -don’t part asy, I can tell you. You deserve your freedom, and you’ll get -it.” - -‘He was betther than his word. I got a conditional pardon, not to go -beyond the colonies. Sure I had little taste for lavin’ them. I stayed -with him till he died; the next place I went to was Warbrok, as I tould -ye the first day I seen you.’ - -‘Did you ever hear what became of your child?’ - -‘Ne’er a one of me knows, nor cares. If he’s turned out well, the less -he knows of me the better. If he’s gone to the dogs, there’s scoundrels -enough in the country already. But I nigh forget tellin’ ye, I made -money once by dalin’ in cattle, and every year I sent home £50, thinkin’ -it might do good to the child.’ - -‘And do you know if it went safe?’ - -‘Sure I got a resate for every pound of it, just as if a lawyer had -written it, thankin’ me, but never sayin’ a word about the boy, but that -it would be used for his larning.’ - -‘And what made you leave it off?’ - -‘I didn’t lave it off. They sent back the last of it without a word or -message. That made me wild, and I started drinkin’, and never cried -crack till it was gone. I began to wander about and take billets as a -stock-rider. ’Tis the way I’ve lived iver since. If it wasn’t for the -change and wild life now and thin—fightin’ them divils of blacks, -gallopin’ after wild cattle, and campin’ out where no white man had been -before—I’d been dead with the drink long ago. But something keeps me; -something tells me I can’t die till I’ve seen one from the ould country. -Who it is, I can’t tell. Sometimes I see Mary in my drames, holdin’ up -the child like the last day I seen her. I’d have put a bullet through -me, when I was in “the horrors,” only for thim drames. I shall go when -my time comes. It’s little I’d care if it was in the night that’s -drawin’ on.’ - -Here he rode on for some minutes without speaking, then continued in an -altered voice: - -‘See here now, Mr. Wilfred, it’s little I thought to say to mortial man -the things I’ve let out of my heart this blessed day. But my feeling to -you and your father is the same as I had to my first master—the heavens -be his bed! If he’d always been among such people here—rale gintry—that -cared for him and thought to help him, Tom Glendinning would maybe have -been a different man. But the time’s past. I’m like a beaten fox, nigh -run down; and I’ll never die in my bed, that much I know. You won’t -spake to me agen about this. My heart’s burstin’ as it is; and—I’ll -maybe drop—if it comes on me again—like it—does—now——’ - -He pressed his hand closely, fiercely, upon the region of the heart. He -grew deadly pale, and shook as if in mortal agony; his face was -convulsed as he bowed himself upon the saddle-bow, and Wilfred feared he -was about to fall from his horse. But he slowly regained his position, -and quivering like one who had been stretched upon the rack, guided his -horse along the homeward path. - -‘’Tis spasms of the heart, the doctor tould me it was,’ he gasped at -length. ‘They’d take me off some day, before you could light a match, -“if I didn’t keep aisy and free from trouble,”’ he said. ‘Maybe they -will, some day; maybe something else will be too quick for them. It’s -little I care. Close up, Mr. Wilfred, we’re late for home, and I’d like -to regulate thim calves before it’s dark.’ - -Much Wilfred mused over the history of the strange old man who had now -become associated with their fortunes. - -‘What a life!’ thought he. ‘What a tragedy!’ How changed from the days -when he followed the Mayo hounds; reckless then, perhaps, and impatient -of control, but an unweaned child in innocence compared to his present -condition. And yet he possessed qualities which, under different -treatment might have led to honour and distinction. - - * * * * * - -As far as personal claims to distinction were concerned, few districts -in which the Effinghams could have been located, would have borne -comparison with the vicinity of Lake William. It abounded, as we have -told, in younger sons of good family, whom providence would appear to -have thus guided but a few years before their own migration. This -fortunate concurrence they had themselves often noted, and fully did -they appreciate the congenial companionship. - -Besides the local celebrities, few tourists of note passed along the -southern road without being intercepted by the hospitality of one or -other household. These captives of their bow and spear were shared -honourably. When the Honourable Cedric Rotherwood, who had letters to -Mr. Effingham, was quartered for a month at The Chase, fishing, -shooting, and kangaroo-hunting, the Benmohr men and their allies were -entreated to imagine there was a muster at The Chase every Saturday, and -to rendezvous in force accordingly. A strong friendship accordingly was -struck up between the young men. The Honourable Cedric was only -five-and-twenty, and years afterwards, when Charlie Hamilton went home -with one station in his pocket, and two more paying twenty per cent per -annum upon the original outlay, his Lordship, having then come into his -kingdom, had him down at Rotherwood Hall, and gave him such mounts in -the hunting field, and such corners in the battues, not to mention a run -over to his Lordship’s deer forest in the Highlands, that Charlie, on -befitting occasions, refers to that memorable visit with enthusiasm (and -at considerable length, say his friends) even unto this day. - -Against this court card, socially marked for the Effinghams’ fortune, -one day turned up a couple of trumps, which might be thought to have -made a certainty of the odd trick in favour of Benmohr. Charles -Hamilton, coming home after a day’s ploughing, found two strangers in -the sitting-room, one of whom, a quiet plainly dressed personage, shut -up a book at his entrance, and begged to introduce his friend and -travelling companion, Major Glendinning, ‘who (his own name Kinghart) -had brought a letter from a mutual friend, he believed, Mr. Machell of -Langamilli. The Major had been good enough to accompany him, being -anxious to see the country.’ - -‘Delighted to see you, I’m sure,’ said Hamilton, pocketing the letter -unread. ‘I hope Mrs. Teviot gave you some refreshment. I seldom come -home before dark, now the days are getting short.’ - -‘The old lady did the honours, I assure you,’ said the Major, ‘but we -preferred awaiting dinner, as we had tiffin on the road. As for -Kinghart, he found an old edition in your book-case which was meat and -drink to him.’ - -‘In that case, if you will allow me, I will ask you to excuse me till -the bell rings, as dressing is a serious business after my clay -furrows.’ - -Hamilton had time to look at Willie Machell’s letter, in which he found -Mr. Kinghart described as an out-and-out brick, though reserved at -first, and unreasonably fond of books. Played a goodish game of whist, -too. Henry Kinghart was brother to the famous clergyman and writer of -that name, and was so deuced clever that, if there had been any material -for fiction in this confounded country, which there was not, he -shouldn’t be surprised if he wrote a book himself some day. As for the -Major, he was invaluable. He (Machell) had met him at the Australian -Club, and brought him up forcibly from Sydney. He was the best shot and -horseman he ever saw, and fought no end with his regiment of Irregular -Horse in India. Siffter, N.I., who denied everybody’s deeds but his own, -admitted as much. Relative in Australia—cattle-station manager or -something—that he wanted to look up. He (Hamilton) was not to keep them -all the winter at Benmohr, as he (Machell) was deucedly dull without -them. - -Mr. Kinghart fully answered his warranty, inasmuch as he volunteered -little in the way of remark, and fastening upon one or two rare books in -the Benmohr collection, hardly looked up till Mrs. Teviot came in with -the bedroom candles. The Major seemed indisposed to literature, but had -seen so much, and indeed had transacted personally so large a share of -modern history in Indian military service, that Hamilton, who, like most -Scottish gentlemen, had a brother in the line there and several cousins -in the Civil Service, was deeply interested. He had been in every battle -of note since the commencement of the Mahratta war, and - - A scar on his brown cheek revealed - A token true of ‘Moodkee’ field. - -Without a shade of self-consciousness he replied to Hamilton’s eager -questionings, whom he found to be (from his brother’s letters) -accurately informed about the affairs of Northern India. - -Unfortunately for Mr. Kinghart’s studies, Neil Barrington and Bob -Ardmillan turned up next morning—two men who would neither be quiet -themselves, nor suffer other mortals to enjoy repose. Part of the day -was spent in shooting round the borders of the dam, when the Major -topped Ardmillan’s bag, who was considered the crack shot of the -neighbourhood. In the afternoon, there being many horses, colts and -others, in the stables, Neil proposed an adjournment to the leaping-bar, -an institution peculiar to Benmohr, for educating the inexperienced -steeds to jump cleverly with the aid of a shifting bar enwrapped in -brambles. - -At this entertainment the Major showed himself to be no novice, riding -with an ease of seat and perfection of hand, to which, doubtless, years -of pig-sticking and tent-pegging had contributed. - -In the evening whist was suggested, when Mr. Kinghart showed that his -studies had by no means prevented his paying due attention to an -exacting and jealous mistress. The exigencies of the game thawed his -reserve, and in his new character he was pronounced by the volatile Neil -and the shrewd satirist Bob Ardmillan to be a first-rate fellow. He -displayed with some dry humour the results of a habit of close -observation; in addition, a chance allusion served to reveal such stores -of classical lore, that Argyll’s absence was deplored by Neil -Barrington, who believed that his friend, who was always scolding him -for not keeping up his classics, would have been for once out-quoted. - -Of course such treasures of visitors could not be allowed to lie hid, -and after a few allusions to the family at The Chase had paved the way, -Mr. Kinghart and the Major were invited to accompany Hamilton on a visit -(which he unblushingly asserted to be chiefly on business) to that -popular homestead on the next ensuing Saturday. - -The Effingham family were devoted admirers of the elder and Kinghart, -had but recently read and discussed _Eastward Ho_, _Dalton_, _Rocke_ and -other products of the large, loving mind which was then stirring the -hearts of the most generous portion of English society. It may be -conjectured with what secret triumph, veiled under an assumption of -formal politeness, Hamilton introduced Major Glendinning and Mr. Henry -Kinghart. - -‘Will you think me curious if I ask whether you are related to the -Rector of Beverly?’ inquired Rosamond soon after preliminaries had come -to an end. ‘You must pardon our enthusiasm, but life in the provinces -seems as closely concerned with authors as with acquaintances or -friends, almost more so.’ - -‘My brother Charles would feel honoured, I assure you, Miss Effingham, -if he knew the interest he has aroused in this far-off garrison of the -Norseman he so loves to celebrate,’ said the stranger, with a pleasant -smile. ‘I wish, for a hundred reasons, that he could be here to tell you -so. How he would enjoy roaming over this land of wonders!’ - -Rosamond’s eyes sparkled with an infrequent lustre. Here was truly a -miraculous occurrence. A brother—actually a brother—of the great, the -noble, the world-renowned Charles Kinghart, with whose works they had -been familiar ever since they could read; most of whose characters were -to them household words! - -Certainly there was nothing heroic about the personnel of their literary -visitor—an unobtrusive-looking personage. But now that he was decorated -with the name of Kinghart, glorified with the reflected halo of genius, -there was visible to the book-loving maiden a world of distinction in -his every gesture and fragment of speech. - -Then Major Glendinning, too, a man whom few would pass without a second -glance. Slightly over middle height, his symmetrical figure and complete -harmony of motion stamped him as one perfected by the widest experiences -of training and action. ‘Soldier’ was written emphatically by years of -imprint upon the fearless gaze, the imperturbable manner, the bronzed -cheek, and accurate but unostentatious dress. A man who had shouldered -death and had mocked danger; who had actually shed blood in action—‘in -single fight and mixed array’ (like Marmion, as Annabel said). Not in -old, half-forgotten days, like their father, but in _last year’s_, -well-nigh last month’s, deadly picturesque strife, of which the echoes -were as yet scarcely silent. Annabel and Beatrice gazed at him as at a -denizen of another planet, and left to Rosamond the more rare adoration -which exalts the image of the scholar to a higher pedestal than that of -the warrior. - -There was, however, a sufficing audience and ample appreciation for both -the recent lions, who were by no means suffered by their original -captors to roar softly or feed undisturbed. Before sitting down to the -unceremonious evening meal, Charles Hamilton begged Mrs. Effingham to -defer leaving the drawing-room for a few moments while he made a needful -explanation. - -‘You will not be surprised to hear, Mrs. Effingham,’ he commenced, with -an air of great deference, ‘that Mr. Kinghart shares his distinguished -brother’s views as to our duties to the (temporarily) lower orders, and -the compulsion under which the nobler minds of the century lie, to -advance by personal sacrifice the social culture of their dependents, -more particularly in the colonies, where (necessarily) the feelings are -less sensitive. Mr. Kinghart, therefore, declines to partake of a meal -in any house, unless the servants are invited to share the repast.’ - -‘What nonsense!’ said the gentleman referred to, rather hastily; ‘but I -daresay you recognise our friend’s vein of humour, Mrs. Effingham.’ - -‘It’s all very well, Kinghart,’ replied Hamilton gravely; ‘but I feel -pained to find a man of your intellect deserting his convictions when -they clash with conventionalities. You know the Rector’s opinions as to -our dependents, and here you stand, ashamed to act up to the family -principles.’ - -‘My dear fellow, of course I support Charles’s gallant testimony to the -creed of his Master, but he had no “colonial experience,” whereas I have -had a great deal, which may have led me to believe that I am the deeper -student of human nature. I don’t know whether I need assure Mrs. -Effingham that she will find me outwardly much like other people.’ - -‘How few beliefs shall I retain henceforth,’ said Hamilton sorrowfully. - -‘Putting socialism out of the question,’ said Mr. Kinghart, ‘I shall -always regret that Charles did not avail himself of an opportunity he -once had to visit Australia. He would have been charmed beyond -description.’ - -‘I’m sure _we_ should have been, only to see him,’ said Beatrice; ‘but I -don’t know what we should have had to offer in exchange for what he -would have to forgo.’ - -‘You are leaving out of the question the fact of my brother’s passionate -love of geology, botany, and adventure. The facts in natural history to -which even my small researches have led are so wonderful that I hesitate -to assert them.’ - -‘How fascinating it must be,’ said Rosamond, ‘to be able to walk about -the earth and read the book of Nature like a scroll. You and our dear -old Harley seem alike in that respect. I look upon you as magicians. You -have the “open sesame,” and may find the way to Ali Baba caverns full of -jewels.’ - -‘This last is not so wildly improbable, though you over-rate my -attainments,’ said their visitor, with a quiet smile. ‘I have certainly -found in this neighbourhood indications of valuable minerals, not even -excluding that Chief Deputy of the Prince of the Air—Gold.’ - -‘Why, Kinghart, you are as mad as Mr. Sternworth,’ said Hamilton. ‘All -_savants_ have a craze for impossible discoveries. How _can_ there be -gold here?’ - -‘I took Mr. Hamilton to be a gentleman of logical mind,’ said the -Englishman quietly. ‘Why should not the sequences from geological -premisses be as invariable in Australia as in any other part of the -globe. The South Pole does not invert the principle of cause and effect, -I presume.’ - -‘I did not mean that,’ explained Hamilton, with something less than his -ordinary decisiveness, ‘but there seems something so preposterous in a -gold-field in a new country like this.’ - -‘It is not a new country, it is a very old one; there was probably gold -here long before it was extracted from Ophir. But your men, in digging -holes yesterday for the posts of that new hut, dislodged fragments of -hornblendic granite slightly decomposed and showing minute particles of -gold. I had not time to examine them, but I noted the formation -accurately.’ - -‘What then?’ said his male hearers in a kind of chorus. - -‘What then? Why, it follows inexorably that we are standing above one of -the richest goldfields in the known world!’ - -‘But assuming for a moment, which God forbid,’ said Hamilton, ‘that -gold—_real_ gold—in minute quantities could be extracted from the stone -you picked up, does it follow that rich and extensive deposits should be -contiguous?’ - -‘My dear Hamilton, you surely missed the geological course in your -college studies! Gold once found amid decomposed hornblendic granite, in -alluvial drifts in company with water-worn quartz, has _never_ failed to -demonstrate itself in wondrous wealth. In the Ural Mountains, in Mexico, -and most likely in King Solomon’s time, there were no _little_ mines -where once this precise formation was verified.’ - -‘I devoutly trust that it may not be in our time,’ said Argyll. ‘What a -complete overturn of society would take place; in Australia, of all -places! I should lose interest in the country at once.’ - -‘There might be inconvenience,’ said Mr. Kinghart reflectively, ‘but the -Anglo-Saxon would be found capable of organising order. We need not look -so far ahead. But of the day to come, when the furnace-chimney shall -smoke on these hillsides, and miles of alluvial be torn up and riddled -with excavations, I am as certain as that Glossopteris, of which I have -seen at least three perfect specimens in shale, denotes coal deposits.’ - -‘We must buy you out, Kinghart, that is the whole of it,’ said -Ardmillan, ‘and direct your energies into some other channel. If you go -on proving the existence of gold and black diamonds under these heedless -feet of ours the social edifice will totter. Hamilton will abandon his -agriculture, Argyll his stock-keeping, Churbett his reading and early -rising, Mrs. Teviot will leave off cheese-making, Forbes will cease to -contradict—in short, the whole Warbrok and Benmohr world will come to an -end.’ - -‘It is a very pleasant world, and I am sorry to have hinted at the flood -which will some day sweep over it,’ said Mr. Kinghart; ‘but what is -written is written, and indelibly, when the pages are tables of stones, -set up from the foundation of the world.’ - -Most enjoyable and still well remembered were the days which followed -this memorable discussion. A succession of rides, drives, and excursions -followed, in which Mr. Kinghart pointed out wonders in the world of -botany, which caused Rosamond to look upon him as a sage of stupendous -experiences. - -To Howard Effingham the presence of Major Glendinning was an unalloyed -pleasure. Familiar chiefly with service in other parts of the world, he -was never tired of listening or questioning. Varied necessarily were -incidents of warfare conducted against the wild border tribes of -Hindostan with her hordes of savage horsemen. Such campaigns necessarily -partook of the irregular modes of combat of the foe. Without attaching -importance to his own share of distinction, their guest permitted his -hearers to learn much of the picturesque and splendid successes of the -British arms in the historic land of Ind. - -For himself, his manner had a strange tinge of softness and melancholy. -At one time his mien was that of the stern soldier, proud of the -thoroughness with which a band of marauders had been extirpated, or the -spirit of a dissolute native ruler broken. Scarcely had the tale been -told when a settled sadness would overspread his face, as if in pity for -the heathens’ spoil and sorrow. To his hearers, far from war’s alarms, -there was a strong, half-painful fascination in these tales of daring, -heightened by the frequent presence of death in every shape of -hot-blooded carnage or military execution. - -‘How difficult it is to imagine,’ said Beatrice one day, suddenly -arousing herself, after staring with dilated eyeballs at the Major, who -had been recounting a realistic incident for Guy’s special edification -(how the Ranee of Jeypore had hanged a dozen of his best troopers, and -of the stern reprisal which he was called upon to make), ‘that you, -actually sitting here quietly with us, are one and the same person who -was chief actor in these fearful doings. What a wonderful change it must -be for you.’ - -‘Let me assure you,’ said the Major, ‘that it is a most pleasant change. -I am tired of soldiering, and my health is indifferent. I almost think -that if I could fish out this old uncle of mine, I should be content to -settle in the bush, and take to rural life for the rest of my days.’ - -‘Don’t you think you would find it awfully dull?’ said Annabel; ‘you -would despise all our life so much. Unless there happened to be an -outbreak of bushrangers, you might never have a chance of killing any -one again, as long as you lived.’ - -‘I could manage without that excitement. I have had enough, in all -conscience, to last a lifetime. The climate of your country suits us old -Indians so well. If I were once fairly established, I think I could rear -horses and cattle, especially the former, with great contentment.’ - -‘There is no one of your name in this part of the country,’ said Guy, -‘except our old stock-rider, Tom. He’s such a queer old fellow. I -remember asking him what his surname was one day, and he told me it was -Glendinning. He’s away now, mustering at Wangarua.’ - -‘It is not an uncommon name where my family lived,’ said the Major. ‘I -should like to see him if he is a namesake. He may have heard of the -person I am in search of.’ - -The whole party was extremely sorry to permit their guests to depart; -but after a few days spent in luxurious intercourse, during which -sight-seeing and sport were organised day by day, and every imaginable -book and author reviewed with Mr. Kinghart in the evening, while Guy had -fully made up his mind to go to India, and had got up Indian history -from the Mogul dynasty to the execution of Omichund, a parting had to be -made. It was only temporary, however, as Mr. Kinghart had promised to -visit an old schoolfellow long settled at Monaro, and after a -fortnight’s stay had promised to return this way with the Major before -they said farewell finally. At Warbrok Chase there was great dismay at -the inevitable separation. - -‘I declare,’ said Annabel, ‘that I begin to doubt whether it is prudent -to make such delightful acquaintances. One is so dreadfully grieved when -they depart. It is much better to have everyday friends, who can’t run -away, isn’t it?’ - -‘And who mightn’t be much missed if they did; quite so, Miss Annabel,’ -said Forbes, to whom this lament was made. - -‘Oh, of course _you_ are different at Benmohr and just about here. We -are all one family, and should be a very united one if Mr. Churbett -would leave off teasing me about what silly people say, and Mr. Forbes -would give up his sarcasms, Mr. Hamilton his logic, Mr. Argyll his -tempers, and so on. How I could improve you all, to be sure! But I mean -friends—that is, strangers—like Mr. Kinghart and Major Glendinning, that -are birds of passage. I can’t explain myself; but I’m sure there’s -something true and new about the idea.’ - -‘It may be quite true that young ladies prefer recently acquired friends -to those of long standing, but I am afraid it is not altogether new in -the history of the sex,’ said Mr. Forbes. ‘Still I think I understand -you, Miss Annabel. Which of the illustrious strangers do _you_ chiefly -honour with your regrets, Miss Beatrice?’ - -‘I mourn over Mr. Kinghart,’ said Beatrice, with instinctive defensive -art. ‘He is a library that can talk, and yet, like a library, prefers -silence. I wonder if one would ever get tired of listening to him, and -having everything so delightfully explained. He is sarcastic about -women, too. Perhaps he has been ill-treated by some thoughtless girl. I -should like to wither her.’ - -‘Why don’t you comfort him, Beatrice? Your love for reading would just -suit, or perhaps not suit,’ said Annabel. ‘You would have to toss up -which was to order dinner or make tea. I can see you both sitting in -easy-chairs, with your foreheads wrinkled up, reading away the whole -evening. I wonder if two poets or two authors ever agreed in married -life? Of course, he might scratch out her adjectives, or she might sneer -at his comic element. But, do you know, a thought strikes me. Don’t you -see a likeness to some one in the Major that you’ve seen before? I do, -and it haunts me.’ - -‘No, I never saw any one the _least_ like him; his expression, his -figure, his way of walking, riding, and talking are quite different from -other people. How a man’s life moulds him! I am sure I could tell what -half the men I see have been or _not_ been, quite easily, by their -appearance and ways.’ - -‘But did you notice his eyes?’ - -‘Well, they are soft, and yet piercing, which is unusual; but that is -all.’ - -‘On second thoughts I won’t say, lest I might be thought less sensible -even than I am. I have no capital to fall back upon in that respect.’ - -‘You do say such odd things, my dear Annabel. I think you ought to get -on with our last duet. You only half know your part.’ - -That a certain reaction follows hard upon the most unalloyed pleasure is -conceded. The dwellers at The Chase recognised a shade of monotony, even -of dulness, falling upon their uneventful lives as the friends and -visitors departed. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - ‘SO WE’LL ALL GO A-HUNTING TO-DAY’ - - -The cheering results of this season of prosperity were not without -effect upon the sanguine temperament of Howard Effingham. Prone to -dismiss from his mind all darkly-shaded outlines, he was ever eager to -develop projects which belong to the enjoyments rather than to the -acquisitions of life. Few human beings had commenced with a smaller -share of foresight. _He_ required no exhortation to refrain from taking -heed for the morrow and its cares. For him they could hardly be said to -exist, so little did he realise in advance the more probable evils. - -The time had arrived, in his opinion, to dwell less fixedly upon the -problem of income. The greater question of cultured living could no -longer be neglected. All danger of poverty and privation overtaking the -family being removed, Mr. Effingham for some time past had devoted his -mind to the assimilation of the lives of himself and his neighbours to -those of the country gentlemen of his own land. Something he had already -effected in this way. He had received a shipment of pheasants and -partridges, which, in a suitable locality, were making headway against -their natural enemies. Much of his time was spent, gun in hand, clearing -the haunts of the precious Gallinæ from the unsparing dasyurus (the wild -cat of the colonists), while Guy’s collection of stuffed hawks had -increased notably. Orders had been given to shoot every one that could -be seen, from the tiny merlin, chiefly devoted to moths and -grasshoppers, to the wedge-tailed eagle eight feet between the wings, -discovered on a mighty iron-bark tree, thence surveying the -bright-plumaged strangers. Hares, too, and rabbits had been liberated, -of which the latter had increased with suspicious rapidity. - -Coursing, fishing, shooting, all of a superior description, Howard -Effingham now saw with prophetic vision established for the benefit of -his descendants at The Chase. They would be enabled to enjoy themselves -befittingly in their seasons of leisure, and cadets of the House, when -they visited England, would not have to blush for their ignorance of the -out-door accomplishments of their kinsfolk. In imagination he saw - - The merry brown hares come leaping - Over the crest of the hill, - -or starting from their ‘forms’ in the meadows which bordered the lake. -He saw the partridge coveys rise from the stubbles, and heard once more -the whirr of the cock pheasant as he ‘rocketted’ from the copse of -mimosa saplings. He saw carp, tench, and brown trout in the clear -mountain streams, and watched far down the Otsego ‘laker’ in the still -depths of their inland bay. At the idea of these triumphs, which long -years after his bones rested in an exile’s grave, would be associated -with the name of Howard Effingham, his heart swelled with proud -anticipation. But there was one deficiency as yet unfilled; one -difficulty hitherto not confronted. Much had been attempted, even -something done. Why should he not be more nobly daring still? Why not -organise that sport of kings, that eminently British pastime, nowhere -enjoyed in perfection, hitherto, outside of the ‘happy isles’? _Why not -go in for fox-hunting?_ Could its transplantation be possible? - -True, the gladdening variety of pasture and plough, meadow and woodland, -over which hound and horse sweep rejoicingly in Britain, was not -possible in the neighbourhood. Hedges and ditches, brooks and banks, as -yet gave not change and interest to the programme while educating horse -and rider. Still, he would not despair. - -In the pensive, breezeless autumn, or the winter mornings, when the dew -lay long on the tall grass, and the soft, hazy atmosphere gradually -struggled into the brilliant Australian day, could there be better -scenting weather? Would not the first cry of the hounds, as a dozen -couples, to begin with, hit off the scent of a dingo or a blue forester, -sound like a forgotten melody in his ears? There would be an occasional -fence to give the boys emulative interest; for the rest, a gallop in the -fresh morn through the park-like woodlands, or even across the spurs of -the ranges, would be worth riding a few miles to enjoy. All the -neighbours—now making money fast and not indisposed for amusement—would -be glad to join. A better lot of fellows no Hunt ever numbered amongst -its subscribers. Subscription? Well, he supposed it must be so. It would -be a proprietary interest, and he was afraid Wilfred would object to the -whole burden of maintenance falling upon the resources of The Chase. - -This brilliant idea was not suffered to lapse for want of expansion. -Energetic and persistent in the domain of the abstract or the -unprofitable, Howard Effingham at once communicated with a few friends. -He was surprised at the enthusiasm which the project evoked. A committee -was formed, comprising the names of the Benmohr firm, Churbett, -Ardmillan, Forbes, and the D’Oyleys, besides Robert Malahyde, a -neighbour of Hampden’s and an enthusiastic sportsman. Never was a more -happy suggestion. It pleased everybody. O’Desmond declared that the very -idea recalled ‘The Blazers’; he felt himself to be ten years younger as -he put down his name for a handsome subscription on the spot. Fred -Churbett had always known that Duellist was thrown away as a hackney; -and now that there was something more to be jumped than the Benmohr -leaping-bar, did not care how early he got up. This announcement was -received with shouts of incredulous laughter. - -Wilfred alone was not enamoured of this new project. He foresaw direct -and, still more serious, indirect expenses. It was no doubt a great -matter to have even the semblance of the Great English Sport revived -among them. Still, business was business. If this sort of thing was to -be encouraged, there was no knowing where it would stop. He himself -would be only too glad to have a run now and then, but his instinctive -feeling was that he would be better employed attending to his cattle and -consolidating the prosperity, which now seemed to be flowing in with a -steady tide. - -In truth, of late, affairs had commenced to take a most encouraging, -even intoxicating turn for the better. The whole trade of the -land—pastoral, commercial, and agricultural—was in a satisfactory -condition, owing chiefly to unprecedentedly good seasons. All the -Australian colonies, more particularly New South Wales, have within them -elements of vast, well-nigh illimitable development. Nothing is needed -but ordinary climatic conditions to produce an amount of material -well-being, which nothing can wholly displace. The merchants of the -cities, the farmers of the settled districts, the squatters of the far -interior, were alike prospering and to prosper, it seemed, indefinitely. -The export trade, Mr. Rockley assured him, had increased astonishingly, -while the imports had so swelled that England would soon have to look -upon Australia as one of her best customers. - -‘So you are going to have a pack of foxhounds in your neighbourhood, Mr. -Effingham?’ said Mrs. Rockley. ‘I think it a splendid idea. Chrissie and -I will ride over and see one of your meets, if you ask us.’ - -Then did Wilfred begin solemnly to vow and declare that the chief reason -he had for giving the idea his support was, that perhaps the ladies at -Rockley Lodge might be induced to attend a meet sometimes; otherwise, he -confessed he thought it a waste of money. - -‘Oh, you mustn’t be over-prudent, Mr. Effingham. Mr. Rockley says you -Lake William people are getting alarmingly rich. You must consider the -unamused poor a little, you know. It is a case of real distress, I -assure you, sometimes in Yass when all you men take fits of hard work -and staying at home. Now hunting is such a delightful resource in winter -time.’ - -‘Every one in our neighbourhood has joined,’ said Wilfred, ‘but we shall -want more subscriptions if we are to become a strong Hunt club.’ - -‘Put me down,’ said Mr. Rockley. ‘I haven’t much time, but I might take -a turn some day. Hampden, the Champions, Malahyde, Compton, and Edward -Bellfield are most eager. Bob Clarke wrote forwarding their -subscriptions, though they live rather far off. They hope to have a run -now and then for their money.’ - -‘I think I shall ask your father to let me work him a pair of slippers,’ -said Miss Christabel, ‘or an embroidered waistcoat, if he would like it -better. He deserves the thanks of every girl in the district for his -delightful idea and his spirited way of carrying it out. I hope some of -us won’t take to riding jealous, but I wouldn’t answer for it if ever -Mrs. Snowden and I get together. I’ll tell you who could cut us both -down.’ - -‘And who may that be?’ asked Wilfred. - -‘Why, Vera Fane, of course. Didn’t you know that she rode splendidly? -When she was quite a little child she used to gallop after the cattle at -Black Mountain, where they live, and they say, though she is very quiet -about it, that she can ride _anything_.’ - -‘What sort of a place is this Black Mountain? It hasn’t altogether a -sound of luxury.’ - -‘Oh, it’s a terrible place, I believe, for poor Vera to have to live in -always,’ said the good-natured Christabel. ‘They say it is as much as -you can do to ride there, it’s so rough, and they had to pack all their -stores, I believe, till the new road was made. And they’re very poor. -Mr. Fane is one of those men who never make money or do anything much -except read all day. If it wasn’t for Vera, who teaches her brothers -(she’s the only girl), and keeps the accounts, and looks after the -stores, and manages the servants, and does a good deal of the housework -herself, the whole place would go to ruin.’ - -‘Apparently, if such a good genius was to be withdrawn; but why doesn’t -her father sell out and go away? There are plenty of other stations to -be got in more habitable places.’ - -‘Oh, his wife is buried there—no wonder she died, poor thing. He won’t -hear of leaving the place; and I really believe, lonely as it is, that -Vera likes it too. She is a wonderful girl, always teaching herself -something, when she isn’t darning stockings, or cooking, or having a -turn at the wash-tub, for Nelly Jones, who stayed with her one summer, -told me that they lost their servant once, and Vera _did everything_ for -a month. Sometimes she gets out, as she did to the races last year, and -she enjoys that, as you may believe.’ - -‘I hope she does,’ said Wilfred reflectively. ‘I thought her a very nice -girl, but I had no idea she was such a paragon.’ - -‘She’s a grand girl, and an ornament to her sex,’ said Mr. Rockley -suddenly. ‘I couldn’t have believed such a woman was possible, but I -stopped there a week once, weatherbound. All the creeks were up, and as -you had to cross the river about fifty times to get out of the -confounded hole, I was bound to let the water go down. I should have -hanged myself looking at old Fane’s melancholy phiz and listening to the -rain, if it hadn’t been for Miss Fane. But I’ll tell you all about her -another time. I must be off now. You’ll stay to dinner? I’ll find you -here, I suppose, when I come back.’ - - * * * * * - -If Howard Effingham could only have bent his mind with the same -unflagging perseverance to matters of material advantage that he devoted -to the establishment of the Lake William Hunt, he would have been a -successful man in any country. Never would he have needed to quit his -ancestral home. - -In some enterprises everything appears to go contrary from the -commencement. Hindrances, breakdowns, and mortifications of all kinds -arise, as it were, out of the earth. On the other hand, occasionally, it -appears as though ‘the stars in their courses fought _for_ Sisera.’ The -Hunt scheme had its detractors, who looked upon it as unnecessary and -injurious, if, indeed, it were not also impossible. These amiable -reviewers were discomfited. The sportsmen communicated with proved -sympathetic. All sent a couple or two of hounds, above the average of -gift animals; and one gentleman, relinquishing his position of M.F.H. in -Tasmania, shipped the larger portion of his pack, firmly refusing to -accept remuneration. He further stated that he should feel amply -compensated by hearing of their successful incorporation in the Hunt of -so well known a sporting centre as that of Lake William. - -A kennel had been put up, of course, by Dick Evans. He had the dash and -celerity of a ship carpenter, ensuring stability, but avoiding -precision, the curse of your average mechanic. His colleague, old Tom, -who grumbled at most innovations, was, wonderful to relate, in a state -of enthusiasm. - -Everybody in the district had a couple of hunters, it seemed, which he -desired to get into condition, a task for which there had never before -been sufficient inducement. Stalls and boxes were repaired, and the -tourist through the famed district which lay around Lake William was -enabled to report that nowhere in Australia had he seen such an array of -well-bred, well-conditioned horses. - -Eventually, all necessary preparations were completed. Ten or twelve -couple of hounds had been got together, had been regularly exercised, -and, thanks to old Tom’s efficient services as whip, persuaded to -confine themselves to one kangaroo at a time, also to follow the scent -in early morn with a constancy truly remarkable, considering the -characters which they mostly enjoyed. So forward were all things, so -smoothly had the machinery worked, that after several councils of war a -day was at length fixed for the formal establishment of the ‘Lake -William Hunt Club.’ - -Notices and invitations were sent out in all directions. Even here -fortune favoured them. It so happened that Hampden and St. Maur, with -the Gambiers and a few more _esprits forts_, had business (real, not -manufactured) which compelled their presence within such distance as -permitted attendance. John Hampden was supposed to ride to hounds in -such fashion that he had few equals. Formerly, in Tasmania, a Master of -Hounds himself, his favourite hunter, The Caliph, was even now a -household word. - -Such a glorious season, too! Why does not Nature more frequently -accommodate us with such easy luxuries—weather wherein every one is -prosperous, easy of mind, and, as a natural consequence, charitably -disposed? Everybody’s stock was looking well. Prices were high and -rising. There was a report gaining ground of rich lands having been -discovered and settlements formed in the far south. That fact meant -increased demand for stock, and so tended to make all things more -serene, if possible. Nobody was afraid to leave home, no bush fires were -possible at this time of year, the stock were almost capable of minding -themselves, and if a man had a decent overseer, why, he might go to -England without imprudence. Such was the wondrous concurrence of -fortune’s favours. - -The great and glorious day arrived. Following the run of luck which had -marked the whole enterprise, its beauty would have rejoiced the heart of -any M.F.H. in the three kingdoms. - -As the party commenced to assemble on the green knoll which lay in front -of the garden fence in view of the lake, all connoisseurs united in the -verdict that there could not have been invented a better scenting day. -There had been rain lately, and during the night anxiety had been felt -lest a downpour might mar the enjoyment of the unprecedented pastime. - -Too kind, however, were the elements. The hazy dawn had gradually -yielded to a sunrise toned by masses of slowly moving soft grey clouds. -The air, saturated with moisture, became mild and spring-like as the -morning advanced. The wind changed to a few points nearer west and -gradually lulled to an uncomplaining monotone. The thick, green, -glistening sward, though reasonably damp, was firm and kindly in the -interests of the contending coursers. It was a day of days, a day of -promise, of fullest justification of existence. In such a day hope -returns to each heart, strong and triumphant; care is a lulled and -languid demon, and sorrow an untranslated symbol. - -Nearly all the ladies who were to assist at the grand ceremonial had -ridden or driven over the night before. Warbrok was nearly as fully -occupied as Rockley Lodge had been at the races. It was many a day since -the old walls had included so large and mirthful a party, had listened -to such joyous babble, had echoed to like peals of innocent laughter. - -Of course, the fair Christabel and her mother were early invited guests. -They had brought a girl cousin. Mrs. Snowden had also asked leave to -bring a friend staying with her at the time. Miss Fane had, of course, -been entreated by Mrs. Effingham to be sure to come, but that young lady -had written, sorrowfully, to decline as Dr. Fane was absent on business. -A postscript, partially reassuring, stated that he was expected home the -next day, and if the writer could possibly manage it she might ride part -of the way to Warbrok and join some friends who were to come to the -breakfast. But this was a hazardous supposition, too good to come off. -Deep regret was expressed at The Chase on the receipt of this note, but -the world went on nevertheless, as it does in default of all of us. - -Can I essay to describe the array of dames and demoiselles, knights and -squires and retainers, yeomen, men-at-arms, and others of low degree, -who, on that ever-memorable autumn morn, trampled the green meadow in -front of old Warbrok House? Many a day has passed since the shadows of -the waving forest trees flecked the greensward, since the hillside -resounded to horse-hoof and jingling bridle, while mirthful words and -silvery laughter blended ever and anon with the unaccustomed bay of the -foxhound. - -Ah me! Of the manly forms and bold, eager brows of those who kept tryst -that day, how many have gone down before the onset of battle, the arrow -of pestilence, the thousand haps of a colonist’s life? The stark limbs -are bowed, the bold eyes dimmed, the strong hearts tamed by the slow -sorcery of Time—even of those o’er whom the forest tree sighs not, or -the wild wave moans no requiem. - -How many of that fair company have ridden away for ever into the Silent -Land! What bright eyes have forgotten to shine! How many a joyous tone -is heard no more! - - The halls her bright smile lighted up of yore, - Are lonely now! - -Gone to the Valhalla, doubtless, are many brave souls of heroes; but in -the good year of grace eighteen hundred and thirty-six the chances of -life’s battle sat but lightly on the gallant troop that reined up at the -first meet at Warbrok Chase. Many a goodly muster of the magnates of the -land had been held in that home of many memories ere this; but never -within the ken of the oldest chronicler had anything occurred so -successful, so numerously attended, of such great and general interest -to the district or neighbourhood. - -Resolved that all the concomitants and accessories should be as -thoroughly English as could in any way be managed, Howard Effingham had -personally superintended the details of a Hunt breakfast, such as -erstwhile he had often enjoyed or dispensed within the bounds of Merrie -England. - - North and south, and east and west, - The ‘visitors’ came forth, - -as though minded to give the Squire of Warbrok—a name by which Howard -Effingham was commencing to be known in the neighbourhood—a substantial -acknowledgment of the interest taken by the country-side in his highly -commendable enterprise. The younger squatters, then, as now, the -aristocracy of the land, mustered gallantly in support of the hereditary -pastime of their order. A list might be attempted, were it only like the -names of the ships in Homer’s _Iliad_, some day to be read to curious -listening ears by one unknowing of aught save that such, in the dear -past, were the names of heroes. - -But no thought of the irony of fate fell darkly on the merry party -issuing from The Chase to greet the Badajos and Benmohr contingents, as -they came up from opposite directions. With Harry O’Desmond rode a tall -man in a green hunting frock, whose length of limb and perfect seat -showed off the points of an inestimable grey of grand size and power, -whom all men saw at once to be The Caliph, well known on both sides of -the Straits. It was in truth John Hampden’s famous hunter, a very Bayard -among horses, at whom no horse-loving junior could look without tears in -his eyes. - -Of that party also were the Gambiers—Alick, Jimmy, and Jack—with their -friend Willie Machell. A trio of cheerful hard-riding young squatters, -having made names for themselves as leading dare-devils where anything -dangerous was to be done with the aid of horse-flesh. Their ‘Romeo’ -five-year-olds, with matchless shoulders, but imperfect tempers, carried -them admirably. Will Machell was a tall, mild, gentlemanlike, musical -personage, by no means so ‘hard’ as his more robust friends. He would be -available as a chaperon for the feminine division, as he did not intend -to do more than canter a mile or two after the throw-off. - -Came from the broad river-flats and forest parks of the Murray, Claude -Waring and his partner Rodder, the former tall, dark, jovial; the latter -neat, prudent, and fresh-coloured. - -Came from the volcanic cones and scoria-covered plateaus of Willaree the -broad frame and leonine visage of Herman Bottrell. He was well carried -by his square-built ambling cob, while beside him on a dark bay -five-year-old, with the blood of Tramp in his veins, sat the well-known -figure of ‘Dolly’ Goldkind, a man who in his day had shared the -costliest pleasures of the _haute volée_ of European capitals. -Commercial vicissitudes in his family had forced him to importune -fortune afresh in the unwonted guise of an Australian squatter. She had, -in this instance, not disdained to ‘favour the brave,’ and Dolly was now -in a fair way to see the pavement of the Faubourg St. Germain once yet -again, and to bask amid the transient splendour of the Tuileries. He had -faced gallantly his share of uncongenial solitude, unadorned Nature, and -rude surroundings, always awaiting, with the philosophy born of English -steadfastness, and Parisian _insouciance_, the good time coming. - -Came Bernard Wharton, bronzed by the fierce unshadowed sun of that dread -waste where clouds rarely linger or the blessed rains of heaven are -known to fall. His last whoo-hoop had been heard in his own county, in -the ancestral land. His blue eye was bright, and his smile ready, as -though he had known naught but lightsome toil and the sport of his -Northamptonshire forefathers. - -Ardmillan, Forbes, and Neil Barrington, with all the ‘Benmohr mob,’ as -they were familiarly called, were in the vanguard. Neil Barrington -possessed one valuable attribute of the horseman, inasmuch as he was -ready, like Bob Clarke, to ride anything and at anything. No man had -ever seen Neil decline a mount or a fence, however unpromising. But his -skill was inferior to his zeal, usually provoking comment from the -bystanders. - -On one of these occasions, when he had hit a top rail very hard in an -amateur steeplechase, an expostulatory friend said, ‘Why don’t you lift -your horse, Neil?’ - -‘Lift, be d——d!’ replied the indignant Neil; ‘I’ve enough to do to stick -on.’ - -However, being muscular, active, and fearless, Neil’s star had hitherto -favoured him, so that he was generally well up at the finish. - -One needs a staunch horse for ‘cutting out’ work, but the great raking -Desborough which Bob Clarke brought with him was surely too good to be -knocked about in the Benmohr bogs and volcanic trap ‘rises’ at a muster, -while his condition savoured more of the loose-box than the grass -paddock. Bob was one of those fortunate individuals that every one -everywhere, male and female, gentle and simple, is glad to welcome. So -there was no dissentient to the view of duty he had adopted but Mr. -Rockley. And though that gentleman stated it as his opinion that Master -Bob would have been better at home minding his work if he ever intended -to make money, he extended the right hand of fellowship to him, and was -as gracious as all the world and distinctly the world’s wife (and -probably daughter) was wont to be. - -There were those who thought that Christabel Rockley’s eyes glowed with -a deeper light after Bob’s coming was announced. But such an occasion -would have brightened the girl’s flower-like face even if Bob had been -doomed to eat his heart the while in solitude and disappointment on the -far Mondarlo Plain. - -‘None of the ladies who belonged to “our set,” and could ride at all, -were absent,’ Neil Barrington remarked, ‘except Miss Fane; and it was a -beastly shame she was prevented from coming—most likely by that old Turk -of a father of hers. It was a real pleasure to see her ride, and now -they were all done out of it.’ - -Just as Neil had concluded his lamentation for Vera Fane, who had won -his heart by comforting him after one of his tumbles, saying that she -never saw any one who rode so straight without turning out a horseman in -the end, the Granville party, who had a long distance to come, made -their appearance through the trees of the north gully, and there, on the -well-known bonnie brown Emigrant, between Jack Granville and his sister -Katie, was Vera Fane, or the evil one in her sweet guise. - -So the grateful Neil was appeased, and straightway modified his language -with respect to Dr. Fane’s parental shortcomings; while Wilfred -Effingham, who never denied his interest in the young lady—chiefly, he -avowed, as a study of character—felt more exhilarated than he could -account for. The Granvilles were congratulated, first of all upon their -own appearance, and assured they were not at all late (Rockley had been -devoting them to the infernal deities for the last half-hour), then upon -their thoughtful conduct in bringing Miss Fane. - -‘Deal of trouble, of course,’ quoth Jack Granville. ‘Miss Fane is one of -that sort, ain’t she? She rode over with a small black boy for an -escort, and roused us up about midnight. Nearly shot her, didn’t I, -Katie?’ - -‘I’m afraid I frightened you,’ said Miss Fane, with an apologetic -expression, ‘but papa had only just come home from Sydney. I knew if I -missed this eventful day I should never have such another chance, so I -lifted up Wonga by his hair, poor child, to wake him, and then started -off for a night ride.’ - -There was no time for further amenities, as the Master, triumphant and -distinguished in the eyes of the Australian-born portion of the Hunt, -gorgeous in buckskins, accurate top-boots, and a well-worn pink, moved -off with fourteen couple of creditable foxhounds. A very fair, -even-looking lot they were admitted to be. Old Tom had proved an -admirable whip, displaying a keenness in the vocation which verified the -tales with which he had regaled his acquaintances as to feats and -frolics with the Blazers in the historic County Galway, in the kingdom -of Long Ago. - -A roan cob, with a reputation for unequalled feats in the jumping line, -had, after many trials, been secured by Wilfred as a ‘safe conveyance’ -for his father. He was, indeed, an extraordinary animal; the sort that -some elderly gentlemen are always talking about and never seem able to -get. - -Wallaby was a red roan, low set, of great power and amazing activity. -‘He could jump anything,’ his former owner declared, ‘and was that fond -of it, as you could lead him up to this ’ere three-railed fence with a -halter and he’d clear it and jump back without pulling it out of your -hand.’ This he proceeded to do before Wilfred and his father, after -which there was no question as to his cross-country capability. - -Not above 14 hands 2 inches in height, with short legs, his neat head -and neck, with sloping shoulders and short back, ranked him as fit to -carry a bishop or a banker in Rotten Row. His thighs and gaskins showed -where the jumping came from. Besides these excellences, he was quiet, -fast, and easy in his paces; so that Mrs. Effingham and the girls had no -anxiety about the head of the house when so mounted. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - THE FIRST MEET OF THE LAKE WILLIAM HUNT CLUB - - -‘What a delightful sight!’ said Miss Fane to Rosamond; ‘and how glad I -am that I was so determined to come. I have rather a craze for horses, I -know, but doesn’t it look magnificent. What an array! Everybody within a -hundred miles must be here. I feel as if I could go out of my senses -with excitement. This is strictly between ourselves. But of course you -have seen far larger fields.’ - -‘I was too young before I left home for much in the hunting way,’ said -Rosamond, ‘but I was taken to see a throw-off now and then on the first -day of the season.’ - -‘What was it like? A much finer sight than this?’ - -‘We cannot, of course, compete in appointments—the Hunt servants so -neatly got up; the huntsman such a picture, with his weather-beaten -face, and the whips so smart and trim. Then the grey-haired squires on -their favourite hunters give such a tone to the affair. But we have good -horses out to-day, including yours and mine, which would not be -unnoticed, even that dear Fergus. He wonders what it is all about.’ - -‘And the scenery and the belongings?’ - -‘Well, a lawn in front of a grand historic mansion that has been -besieged more than once since the Wars of the Roses must have the _pas_ -over anything in Australia. Still, as for scenery, it was often tame, -and scarcely came up to that.’ - -Here she pointed with her whip as the hounds spread eagerly over a -grassy flat immediately beneath them. They had been for some time -imperceptibly ascending a slope. - -The mists which had shrouded the mountain-tops had rolled back, and a -panorama of grand and striking beauty stood revealed. Westward lay the -lake, a silver sheet, amid the green slopes which marked its shores. On -the south rose sheer and grim the enormous darkened cone which -terminated the mountain range which they had approached. The released -effulgence of the morning sun magically transfigured to purple masses -the outline of the curving ridge, before crowning it with a tremulous -aureole. Trending westerly, the level ground increased in width, until, -but for its groves of eucalyptus, it might have been dignified by the -name of plain. This gradually merged into a region of park-like forest. - -‘What a charming place for a gallop!’ said Christabel Rockley. ‘I do so -hope the fox, or whatever he is, will be found here. I should not be -afraid to ride fast over this nice, clear country.’ - -‘It is almost too easy,’ said Miss Fane, drawing her bridle-rein, as she -watched old Tom closely. ‘I like forest and range work, I must confess. -But we must look out, or the hounds will be away, and we shall be left -lamenting like so many Lord Ullins.’ - -The girl’s instinct had not deceived her. She had ridden many a day at -her father’s side, when the shy cattle of a neglected herd, ready for -headlong speed at the snapping of a twig, needed quick following to live -with. Keeping her eye on old Tom, she had noted the signs of an -approaching start. - -A leading hound ran along a cattle track, and giving tongue, went off at -score. Three or four comrades of position followed suit, and in the -shortest possible time the whole pack was away, running with a breast -high scent. - -‘The black dingo for a thousand,’ said old Tom to the Master, as he -hustled Boney alongside of the roan cob. ‘I seen Hobart Gay Lass put up -her bristles the minit she settled to the scent. It’s a true tongue the -slut has, and I’ll back her against ’ere a dog of the English lot, -though there’s good hounds among them. We’ll have the naygur to-day, if -there’s vartue in a good scent and a killing pack.’ - -‘Then you know him, Tom?’ - -‘By coorse, I do; he killed Strawberry’s calf, and didn’t I go down on -my two knees and swear I’d have the heart’s blood of him.’ - -‘Then how did you manage to lay the hounds on him here—I thought he was -a lake dog?’ - -‘Divil a doubt of it; but I seen him here one day, just under the range, -pinning a “joey,” and I kept lavin’ a bit of mate for him, just to make -him trot over regular—maybe a bullock’s heart or a hock of a heifer’s -calf, maybe a bird I’d shot. Dingoes is mortial fond of birds. I seen -his tracks here yesterday, and med sure he’d be here wonst more, for the -last time, and here he is forenint us now—glory be to God!’ - -‘Then he’s safe to be a straight goer?’ - -‘It’s twelve mile to the lake, and he’ll make for the little rise, where -there’s rocks, just before you come to Long Point. If he’s pushed there, -he’ll maybe turn to the Limestone Hill, at the back of the big house, -where there’s caves—my curse on thim—and then good-bye.’ - -‘This is pretty country, if there was more fencing,’ said the Master. -‘Perhaps it is as well, though, as there are so many ladies out. The -hounds are running like smoke.’ - -The nature of the ground at this point of the hunt was such as to admit -of all being reasonably well up. True, the pack went at considerable -speed. The scent was burning, and there were no small enclosures, as in -‘Merrie England,’ to check the more delicate damsels or inexperienced -horsemen. The sward was sound and firm, the tall-stemmed eucalypti stood -far apart in the southern forest-park. Bob Clarke and the Benmohr -division, Hampden and the Gambiers, rode easily in front. Rosamond, Miss -Rockley, Miss Fane, and a few other ladies, who were exceptionally well -mounted, had no difficulty in keeping their places. - -‘So this is fox-hunting!’ said Miss Fane. ‘That is, so far as we can -have the noble sport without the fox. It is nice to see the hounds -running so compactly. And I like the musical composite cry with its -harmonies and variations.’ - -‘This dingo,’ said Wilfred, who had established himself at her -bridle-rein, ‘is running very straight and fast. If he makes for the -range behind the house, we shall see him and have a little fencing too.’ - -‘I don’t object to a jump or two,’ said the young lady, ‘if they are not -too stiff. This is the sort of pace that enables one to look about. But -I should like to see the hounds work a little more.’ - -While this conversation was proceeding, every one was at their ease, and -voted the sport most delightful. The front rankers were sailing along, -while the hounds were carrying a good head and forcing Master Dingo -along at a pace which prevented him from availing himself of one or two -hiding-places. - -However, just as Rosamond had compared herself to the Landgrave, in the -German ballad, sweeping on in endless chase, with a horseman on either -hand—St. Maur on the right on a coal-black steed, and Fred Churbett on -the left on the rejoicing Duellist—wondering how long they were going to -have such a pleasant line of country, through which Fergus was -luxuriously striding as if he had commenced the first part of a -fifty-mile stage, the scene changed. The confident pack checked, and -commenced a circular performance which betrayed indecision, if not -failure of scent. - -‘What’s the matter?’ said Miss Fane. ‘Is the whole thing over? Was the -dingo a myth?’ - -‘We have overrun the scent, Miss Fane,’ said Wilfred with dignity. ‘The -hounds have checked, but we shall hit it off again in a few minutes.’ - -He had hardly finished speaking when Miss Fane, who, if it was her first -day after hounds, had ‘kept her side’ well up for many a day in early -girlhood, ‘when they wheeled the wild scrub cattle at the yard,’ took -her horse by the head, with a rapid turn towards two couple of hounds -that she had descried racing down the side of a creek. A neat jump, -following old Tom over the narrow but deep water-course at a bend, -placed her on easy terms with the pack. A new line of country lay spread -out before them at right angles to their late course. - -The hounds had now settled again to the scent. Another ‘blind’ creek, -waterless, but respectable in the jumping way, lay in front. At this -Miss Fane’s horse went so fast and took so extensive a fly, that Wilfred -felt himself compelled to be hard on his Camerton chestnut and ride, if -he intended to keep his place in the front alongside of this ‘leading -lady,’ as Miss Fane’s nerve and experience entitled her to become. - -But the rest of the field were not doomed to defeat and extinction, -although Miss Fane’s knowledge of emergencies had enabled her to fix the -moment when the scent was recovered. - -Scarcely did the hounds swing to their line, for the dingo had turned, -at right angles, in the creek, and so occasioned the outrunning of the -scent, when Forbes, Ardmillan, Neil Barrington, and Fred Churbett were -seen coming up hand over hand. Miss Effingham’s ‘dear Fergus’ was -slipping along with his wonted graceful ease, and permitting the -interchange of a few sentences with Mr. Churbett, who rode at her -bridle-rein. Hampden, with whom was Beatrice, on Allspice, was riding -wide of the hounds, but only waiting for serious business to show what -manner of work he and The Caliph were wont to cut out for themselves. -Bob Clarke, wonderful to relate, was _not_ among the first flight. It -could not have been the fault of Desborough—faster than any horse in the -hunt—and as to jumping, why, he had a man on his back who was a -sufficient answer to any reflections on that score. - -‘May I niver be d——d!’ exclaimed old Tom, ‘if the varmint isn’t going -straight for the paddock! One would think he was a rale fox, to see the -divilment of him. Sure it must be the hounds puts them up to all the -villainy. Well, the bigger the lape, the more divarshion.’ - -Satisfying himself with this view of the matter, old Tom watched with -interest the field gradually approaching a large outer paddock, which -lay at some distance from the house. It was the ordinary two-railed -fence of the colonists, and though fairly stiff, not formidable to any -one who intended going. - -The hounds slipped quietly under the lower rail, and in another moment -were racing, unchecked, along the flat which it enclosed. But with the -field, this obstacle commenced to alter the state of matters. - -The first flight, it is true, came rattling round a point of timber at -any number of miles an hour, when they encountered this obstacle, to the -sardonic entertainment of Tom Glendinning, who had eased his horse to -see the effect. Wilfred and Miss Fane were still leading when the line -of fence suddenly appeared. Wilfred, from his knowledge of the country, -was aware that it was coming, and had prepared his companion for it. - -‘It is not very high,’ she said. ‘We are going so charmingly that I -could not bear to be stopped. Emigrant here’—and she fondly patted the -dark brown neck of the adamantine animal she rode—‘is good for anything -in a moderate way.’ - -‘It is scarcely four feet,’ said Wilfred, ‘but don’t go at it if you are -not quite sure. We can go round.’ - -‘I’m not going round, I can promise you,’ said the girl, with a clear -light glowing in her steadfast eyes. ‘Oh, here it is. Two-railed fences -are not much. Besides, we are leading, and must show a good example.’ - -Whereupon Emigrant’s head was turned towards the nearest panel. The -well-bred horses quickened their speed slightly; Emigrant shook his -arched neck as both cleared the rail with little more trouble than a -sheep-hurdle. As they alighted on the sound greensward, Miss Fane was -sitting perfectly square with her hands down, just a little backward in -her seat, but without the slightest sign of haste or discomposure. - -‘Well done,’ said Wilfred. ‘Prettily jumped. Emigrant has been at it -before.’ - -‘He has been at most things,’ said Miss Fane, looking fondly at her -experienced palfrey. ‘He had all kinds of work before I managed to make -private property of him; but nobody rides him but me now, and I think I -shall manage to keep his old legs right for years to come.’ - -The next advancing pairs were not quite so secure of their horses’ -abilities, and a slight uncertainty took place. It was all very well for -Miss Fane to say the fence was not much; but rails are rails. When they -happen to be new and unyielding, though scarcely four feet in height, a -mistake causes a severe fall. There is no _scrambling_ through an -Australian fence, as a rule. It must be jumped clean or let alone. - -Fergus, the unapproachable, was in good sooth no great performer over -anything stiff. Peerless as a hackney in all other respects, he was not -up to much across country; nor had he been required hitherto, in the -houndless state of the land, to do aught in that line. Nevertheless, -Rosamond, fired by the example of Miss Fane, and inspirited by the -apparent ease with which Emigrant negotiated the obstacle, would have -doubtless run the risk, trusting to Fergus’s gentlemanlike feeling to -see her safe. But all risk of danger was obviated by Bob Clarke’s -promptitude. - -That chivalrous youth, knowing all about Red King, as indeed he did -about every horse in the land, was aware that he was a difficult horse -to ride at timber. ‘Handsome as paint,’ was the general verdict, but he -needed two pairs of hands in company. - -On this occasion the fact of there being other ambitious animals in -front, and the ‘great club of the unsuccessful’ in his rear, had roused -his temper. - -The fair Christabel was by no means deficient in courage, but to-day Red -King had been too much for her. He had fretted himself into foam, and -her pretty hands were sore with holding the ‘reefing’ horse, whose mouth -became more and more callous. - -‘Don’t you ride him at that fence, Miss Christabel,’ said Bob, in a tone -of entreaty. ‘He’ll go through it as sure as you’re alive. I know him.’ - -The girl’s face grew a shade paler, but she set her teeth, and, pointing -with her whip to Miss Fane, who was sailing away in ease and luxury on -the farther side, said, ‘I _must_; they’re all going at it.’ - -‘Very well,’ said he—mentally reprobating Red King’s mouth and temper, -and it may be the obstinacy of young women—‘keep behind me, and we’ll be -next.’ - -Upon this the wily Bob shot out from the leading ranks, closely followed -by the wilful Christabel, whose horse, indeed, left her no option. -Sending Desborough at a hog-backed rail at the rate of forty miles an -hour, with a reprehensibly loose rein, that indignant animal declined to -rise, and, chesting the rail, snapped it like a reed. As Master Bob lay -back in the saddle with his head nearly on his horse’s tail, he had the -pleasure of seeing Christabel pop pleasantly over the second rail, -followed by the other ladies, excepting Mrs. Snowden, who faced the -unbroken fence with considerable resolution. As for the attendant -cavaliers, they negotiated it pleasantly enough, with the exception of a -baulk or two and one fall. Indeed, another rail gave way soon after, -making a gap through which the rear-guard, variously mounted and -attired, streamed gallantly. - -As for Bob Clarke, Red King had managed to run up to Desborough—(great -turn of speed that old King)—and he fancied he saw in the marvellous -eyes a recognition of his unusual mode of easing a stiff leap. - -The next happened to be one rare in Australia, having its origin in Mr. -Effingham’s British reminiscences. A fence was needed in the track of a -marshy inlet from the lake. A ditch with a sod wall thrown up on the -farther side made a boundary sufficing for all the needs of an -enclosure, yet requiring no carriage of material. - -‘We need not make it quite so broad or deep,’ he said, ‘as the ox fences -in Westmeath; but if I can get a couple of hedgers and ditchers, I shall -leave my memorial here, to outlast Dick’s timber skeletons.’ - -Two wandering navvies, on the look-out for dam-making, were fortunately -discovered. The result of their labours was ‘The Squire’s Ditch,’ as the -unusual substitute was henceforth named. It certainly was a relief after -the austerity of posts and rails proper. In a few places the ditch had -been filled in and a partial gap made in the sod wall. At any rate horse -and rider would all go at it with light hearts. So, with the exception -of Wilfred and Miss Fane—the latter having picked out the worst place -she could see—everybody treated themselves indulgently; hit the wall, or -scrambled over the ditch, just as their horses chose to comport -themselves, and rode forward rejoicing. - -The hounds have now lengthened out, while their leaders are racing, with -lowered sterns, at a pace that leaves the heavy brigade an increasing -distance behind. The flat is broken only by an occasional sedgy interval -where the fall to the lake has not been sufficient. For the same reason -the creek, or natural outlet of the watershed, is, though not very wide, -less unequal as to depth than are most Australian watercourses, while -the perpendicular banks show how the winter rains of ages have -channelled the rich black soil. - -‘We have something like a water-jump here,’ said Wilfred to his -companion, as they watched the hounds disappear and climb up, giving -tongue as they scour forward with renewed energy. ‘It is not so very -wide, but the sides are steep. If your horse does not know that sort of -jump, we had better follow it down to the ford, near the lake.’ - -‘Black Mountain is full of small rivers and treacheries of all sorts,’ -said the girl. ‘A horse that can go there can go anywhere, I _think_.’ -Sending Emigrant at it pretty fast, he lowered his head slightly and -‘flew it like a bird.’ - -By the time they approached the Deep Creek, as old Tom averred it had -been christened ever since he knew Warbrok, the greater part of the -field seemed aware that no common obstacle was before them. - -‘See here now, Mr. Churbett,’ said old Tom. ‘It’s an ugly lape unless -you know where to take it, and some of the ladies might get hurted. You -make for the point half a mile down, where ye see thim green reeds. -There’s a little swamp fills it up there, and ye can wade through easy. -More by token, I’m thinkin’, the hounds will turn to ye before ye cross -the three-railed fence into the horse paddock.’ - -Mr. Churbett at once made sail for the point indicated, successfully -piloting, with Forbes and a few men who were more chivalrous than keen, -the feminine division. He was followed by the greater portion of the -rear-guard, who, seeing that there was an obstacle to free discussion in -front, wisely turned when they did. Hamilton, Argyll, and Hampden rode -at the yawner with varied success. - -As for Bob Clarke, seeing that it was impossible to adopt his last -method of simplifying matters, he persuaded Miss Rockley to gallop up -the creek with him, on the off-chance of finding a crossing, which they -did eventually, but so far up that they were nearly thrown out -altogether. - -We cannot claim for the sheep-killing denizen of the Australian waste, -mysteriously placed on our continent a century in advance of the merino, -the wondrous powers of Reynard the Great. But in the pace which enables -him to bring to shame an inferior greyhound, and in the endurance which -keeps him ahead of a fair pack of foxhounds, as well as in his ardent -love of poultry, he undoubtedly does resemble ‘the little tyrant of the -fields.’ - -The distance the black dingo had already come was considerable, the pace -decidedly good. The long slopes, all with an upward tendency, began to -tell. When the fence of the home-paddock was reached, the farther corner -of which impinged upon a steep spur of the main range, the bolt of the -gallant quarry was nearly shot. - -He was viewed by Tom crawling under the lower rail; an enthusiastic -view-holloa rang out from the old man. One more fence and a kill was -certain, unless his last effort sufficed to land him within reach of one -of the ‘gibbah-gunyahs’ (or rock caves) which the aboriginals and their -canine friends had inhabited apparently from remote ages. - -As the field ranged up to the horse-paddock fence, it was seen to be by -no means so moderate a task as the other post and rails. Old Dick, who -had superintended its erection, had been careful that it should be one -of the best pieces of work in the district,—substantial, of full height, -and with solid posts nearly two feet in the ground. Hence it loomed -before the hunt fully four feet six inches in height, with top-rails -which forbade all chance of cracking or carrying out. - -Fortunately for the ladies and a large proportion of the sterner sex, -who would have to ‘jump or go home,’ Wilfred knew of ‘slip-rails’ a -little more than a hundred yards from where the quick eyes of old Tom -had marked the dingo steal through. - -‘I have no doubt you would try it, Miss Fane,’ said Wilfred, who marked -with admiration the game sparkle in his companion’s eye, as her gaze -ranged calmly over the barrier; ‘but it is a high, stiff fence, and -dangerous for a lady. At any rate, as your temporary guardian, I must -forbid your taking it, if you would defer to my control.’ - -‘Certainly, oh, certainly, and many thanks,’ said the girl, blushing -slightly; ‘it is very good of you to take care of me. But what are we to -do? We _can’t_ miss the finish after this delightful run.’ - -‘Certainly not. Do you see the road to the right of us? There is a -slip-rail on the track, which I fancy will be patronised. Follow me.’ - -Slip-rails are contemned by advanced pastoralists, but they stood the -Lake William Hunt in good stead on this occasion. As they rode to the -opening, Miss Fane said: - -‘Pray leave the middle rail up. It will be the last jump, and I daresay -the other ladies will agree with me.’ - -‘Very well,’ said Wilfred. ‘I need not get off.’ - -Riding up to the fence, he lifted out the shifting end of the stout -round rail, and, allowing it to fall to the ground, cantered back to his -fair companion. - -‘Now then,’ she said, ‘see how prettily you will take this, Master -Emigrant! It is quite stiff, though not very high.’ - -In truth the rail, as high as a sheep-hurdle, was slightly hog-backed, -and strong enough to have capsized a buffalo. - -‘You will go first, of course,’ said Wilfred, turning his horse’s head -in the same direction. - -The nice old hackney, albeit his best years had been spent as a -stock-horse amid the unfair country of the Black Mountain run, was -within a shade of thoroughbred. He went at the jump with his hind legs -well under him, and, rising at exactly the proper moment, popped over -with so little effort or disturbance of seat that Miss Fane might have -held a glass of water in her whip-hand. - -If she had turned her head she might not have been so self-possessed; -for, the moment her back was turned, Wilfred Effingham, foreseeing that -the talent would be sure to ride this, the only sensational fence of the -run, turned his horse’s head to the big three-railer. - -He rode an upstanding chestnut five-year-old, which he had selected as a -colt from the Benmohr stud. For some time past he had employed himself -in ‘making’ him, a pleasant task to a lover of horses. He had given the -resolute youngster much schooling over logs, rails, and any kind of -fence which came handy, avoiding those which were not unyielding. He was -aware that no more dangerous idea can be contracted by a timber-jumper, -than that he can break through anything, the first new fence that he -meets being likely fatally to undeceive him. He flattered himself that -Troubadour, from repeated raps, would take care to rise high enough over -any fence. - -At the moment he set him going he saw Argyll and Churbett, with Hampden, -St. Maur, and all the ‘no denial’ division converging on the slip-rails, -having witnessed Miss Fane’s disappearance through them. - -Whether Troubadour was over-anxious to regain Emigrant, cannot be known. -But he went at the fence too fast, hit the top-rail a tremendous bang, -and rolled over into the paddock, narrowly escaping a somersault across -his master. - -He, however, was lucky enough to be thrown, by the mere impetus of the -fall, clear of his horse. Jumping to his feet with the alacrity of -youth, he caught the bridle-rein of the astonished Troubadour, who stood -staring and shaking, just in time to see The Caliph sail over the high -fence with a great air of ease and authority, followed by the others, -among whom Churbett’s horse hit the fence hard, ‘but no fall.’ The -ladies followed Miss Fane’s example and negotiated the middle rail -successfully, as Wilfred jumped into his saddle, and sending his spurs -into the unlucky Troubadour, rejoined his charge without further delay. - -That young lady had pulled up, and was looking at the scene of the -disaster with an anxious expression. Her face had assumed a paler hue, -and her hands fidgeted with the bridle-rein. - -‘I am _so_ glad you are not hurt,’ she said. ‘I thought all sorts of -things till I saw you get up and mount.’ - -‘Thank you very much,’ said Wilfred, with a grateful inflection in his -voice. ‘It was very awkward of Troubadour; but accidents will happen, -and it will teach him to lift his legs another time. But we must ride -for it now; we have been in the front so far. Ha! the hounds are turning -to us; they will have Master Dingo before he reaches the cliffs.’ - -Another mile and the dark quadruped, still at a stretching wolf-gallop, -was decidedly nearer the leading hounds, whose bristles began to rise, -ominous of blood. Old Tom, waving his cap, cheered them on as he rode -rejoicingly forward on the wiry, unflinching grey. Slower and more -laboured became the pace of the aboriginal canine. Before him was the -cliff, upon the lower tier of which, could he have crawled, lay -sanctuary. But in vain he scans eagerly the frowning masses of -sandstone, denuded by the storms of ages. In vain he glances fiercely -back at the remorseless pack, showing his glittering teeth. His doom is -sealed. With a half-turn and a vicious snap, in which his teeth meet -like a steel-trap through Cruiser’s neck, he confronts destiny. The next -moment there is a confused heap of struggling, tearing hounds, a few -seconds of dumb, despairing resistance, and the mothers of the herd are -avenged. - -Miss Fane turns away her head and joins the group of ‘first families,’ -by this time enabled to be in respectably at the death. - -Old Tom in due time appeared with the brush of the dingo, which he held -on high for inspection. It was not unlike that of the true Reynard, -though larger and fuller. It had also a white tag. The old man, -advancing to Miss Fane’s side, thus spoke: - -‘The Masther said I was to give ye the brush, Miss; it’s well ye desarve -it. Sure I’d like to have seen ye with the Blazers. My kind sarvice to -ye, and wishin’ ye the hoith of good fortune.’ - -‘Well done, Tom!’ said Argyll, ‘you have made a very neat speech; and we -all congratulate Miss Fane upon her very spirited riding to-day. As you -say, she well deserves the brush, and I hope she will grace many more of -our meets.’ - -‘We must send the “cap” round for the huntsman, Tom,’ said Hampden, ‘who -found such a straight-goer for the first run of the Lake William Hounds, -and hit off the scent so neatly after the check.’ - -As he spoke he lifted it from the old man’s grey head, and placing a -sovereign in it, rode along the ranks. He returned it with such a -collection of coin as the old man, long accustomed to cheques and -‘orders,’ had not seen for years. - -‘It’s fortunate the fox—the dingo, I mean,’ said Wilfred, ‘chose to make -for the cliffs, instead of the other end of the lake. We should have had -a terrible distance to ride home, though not in the dark, as one often -was in the old country. Now, you must all come in, as we are so near The -Chase. We can put up everybody who hasn’t pressing work to do at home.’ - -The day was done. The hunt was over, with the first pack of hounds that -had ever been followed amid the green pastures which bordered the Great -Lake. It was by no means the last. And indeed a hunter, bred and broken -by one of the very men who then aided to establish that traditional -sport, was fated, when shipped to England, to be one of the few well up -in the quickest thing that the Pytchley saw that season, to be -chronicled in Bell, and to win enduring renown for Australian horses and -Australian riders. But that day, with much of Fate’s glad or sorrowful -doings, was far in the unborn future. So the band of friends and -neighbours returned to The Chase, pleased with themselves, with the day, -and the feats performed, and above all, congratulating Squire Effingham -upon the triumphant opening meet of the season. - -Not all the meets were so well attended. But the grand fact remained -that, at regular intervals, dawn saw the dappled beauties trooping forth -at the heels of old Tom and the Master across the dewy meadows, beneath -the century-old trees of the primeval forest. Still rang out the music, -dear to Howard Effingham’s soul, when the scent lay well in the soft, -cloudy, autumnal mornings. Still were there, occasionally, incidents of -hunting spirit and feats of horsemanship worthy of the traditional -glories of the ne’er-forgotten Fatherland. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - THE MAJOR DISCOVERS HIS RELATIVE - - -After the inauguration, hunting became an organised and well-supported -recreation among the dwellers within the influence of the social -wavelets of the lake. The Benmohr firm found, on the whole—though the -stabling of hunters was not unaccompanied by expense—that it brought -their stud prominently before the public. Hence they found ready sale, -at an ascending scale of prices, for all the colts they could turn out. -Strangers came for the hunting, and made purchases. The hounds, too, -meeting regularly once a week during the winter months, exercised a -repressive influence upon the dingos, so much so, that M.F.H. (not being -a sheep-owner) began seriously to think of preserving these -much-maligned yet indispensable animals. - -So widely spread and honourably mentioned was the fame of the Lake -William Hunt Club, that His Vice-regal Highness the Governor himself -more than once deigned to partake of the hospitality of The Chase, -bringing with him aides-de-camp and private secretaries, pleasant of -manner, and refreshing as such to the souls of the daughters of the -house. - -Meanwhile Wilfred worked away at the serious business of the estate, -only taking occasional interest in these extraneous pleasures; -grumbling, moreover, at the expense, indirect or otherwise, that the -kennel necessitated. - -However, it must be said in justice to him, that it was rarely he was -betrayed into impatience with regard to an occupation which, with other -branches of acclimatised field sports, had become the mainstay of his -father’s interest in life. - -‘Really,’ Mr. Effingham would say, ‘in a few years—say about eighteen -hundred and forty-five or thereabouts—I believe we shall be nearly as -secure of decent sport as we were in old England. The Murray cod are -increasing in the lake. I have brown trout, dace, and tench in the -little river. There are almost too many rabbits; and as to hares, -pheasants, and partridges, we can invite half-a-dozen guns next season, -without fear of consequences. I have been offered deer from Tasmania. -With the inducement of a stag-hunt and a haunch of venison, I don’t see -why we shouldn’t finish our season right royally. Depend upon it, New -South Wales only wants enterprise, in the department of field sports, to -become one of the finest countries under the sun.’ - -There was no doubt that in the eyes of an observer not endowed with the -apprehensive temperament which numbers so many successful men amongst -its possessors, the appearance of matters generally at The Chase -justified reasonable outlay. - -Wilfred had made a few guarded investments—all successful so far. What, -for instance, could pay better than the purchase of the quiet, dairy -steers from the small farmers in the autumn, when grass and cash were -scarce, to fatten them in the lake paddocks? Adjacent freeholds, from -time to time in the market, were added to the snug estate of The Chase. -True, he could not always find the cash at call for these tempting -bargains—(is there anything so enticing as the desire to add farm to -farm and house to house, as in the old, old days of Judah?)—but Mr. -Rockley was ready to endorse his bill, which, with his credit at the -Bank of New Holland, was as good as cash. - -Thus passed the time until the close of the hunting season, before which -Major Glendinning had returned and apparently taken up his abode in the -neighbourhood, in great request at all the stations, and earning for -himself daily the character of a thorough sportsman. He purchased a -couple of horses from the Benmohr stud, on which, from time to time, he -performed such feats across country as caused it to be surmised that, in -the event of his settling in the neighbourhood, Bob Clarke would find a -rival. - -He spoke highly of the standard as to blood and bone of the horses bred -in the district, openly stating that, in the event of the proprietors -being minded to establish a system of shipment to India, they might -expect extraordinary prices for their best horses, while the medium ones -would be worth double or treble their colonial value. - -Mr. Rockley, after reckoning up expenses, together with the rather -serious item of risk of loss on ship-board, decided that there was a -handsome margin. He finished by declaring that in the following spring, -which would be in time for the cool season at Calcutta, he would send a -dozen horses of his own breeding, and join them in a cargo from the -district. - -The idea was adopted. Preparations were made by handling and -stable-feeding as many of the saleable horses as could be spared. -O’Desmond was a warm supporter of the movement. He offered to find from -his long-established stud fully half the number necessary for the -undertaking. The Major, who was compelled to revisit India once more, if -but for the last time, had agreed to accompany the emigrants, and to see -them safely into the stables of old Sheik Mahommed, the great Arab -horse-dealer. - -‘Fancy getting a hundred or two for our colts!’ said Hamilton. ‘Not more -than they are worth when you come to think of their breeding. I look -upon the Camerton stock as the very best horses in New South Wales, -probably in Australia. But of course we never expect more than a third -of such prices in these markets.’ - -‘The Major deserves a statue,’ said Argyll, ‘inscribed—“Ad centurionem -fortissimum, qui, equis canibusque gaudens, primus in Indis et in Nova -Cambria erat.”’ - -‘Very neat and classical,’ affirmed Fred Churbett. ‘I intend to send -Duellist. I should be sure to get three hundred for him, shouldn’t I? -He’s a sweet hack, but the price _is_ tempting. I daresay I could pick -up another one up to my weight.’ - -‘A horse of Duellist’s blood, size, and fashion would sell for that sum -any day in Calcutta,’ assented the Major. ‘He would be a remarkable -horse anywhere, and I need not tell you, would fetch more as a park hack -in London.’ - -‘Would we were both there!’ murmured Fred softly. ‘I fancy I see myself -on him doing Rotten Row. I have half a mind to go with you to Calcutta, -Major. If the trade develops we might make money a little faster than at -present, and have our fling in the old country before these locks are -tinged with grey,’ melodramatically patting his auburn _chevelure_. - -‘It might be a desirable change,’ said Forbes. ‘Many people are said to -improve in appearance as they grow older.’ - -‘But not in mildness of disposition, James,’ retorted Churbett. ‘A -tendency to flat contradiction and aggressive argument has rarely been -known to abate with advancing years. But this is wide of the Indian -Remount Association. I don’t see why we shouldn’t offer to ship and sell -on commission. Many people in the district breed a good nag and don’t -know what to do with him afterwards. Suppose we consult the Squire about -it. He’s not a business man, but he knows India well.’ - -It was agreed that they should make up a party, consisting of Forbes, -Churbett, the Major, and Argyll, to ride over to The Chase that -afternoon. This was always a popular proceeding if any colour of -business, news, or sport could be discovered for the visit. - -As they were nearing the gate of the home-paddock, they encountered -Wilfred Effingham, accompanied by his old stock-rider, bringing in a -draft of cattle. They amused themselves watching the efficient aid -rendered by the dog, and remarked incidentally the fiery impatience and -clever horsemanship of old Tom, who, roused by the difficulty of driving -some of the outlying younger cattle, was flying round the drove upon old -Boney at a terrific pace. - -‘How well that old vagabond rides!’ said Fred Churbett, as Tom came -racing down the range after a perverse heifer, forcing her along at the -very top of her speed, with Boney’s opened mouth just at her quarter, at -which, with ears laid back and menacing teeth, he reached over from time -to time, the old man’s whip meanwhile rattling over her in a succession -of pistol-cracks, while he audibly devoted her to the infernal deities. - -‘There, thin, may the divil take ye for a cross-grained, contrairy, -brindle-hided baste of a scrubber; may I niver if I don’t have ye in the -cask the first time yer bones is dacently covered!’ he wrathfully -ejaculated, as Boney stopped dead at the rear of the drove, into which -the alarmed heifer shot with the velocity of a shell. - -As they rode up to Wilfred and his man, Major Glendinning addressed the -old stock-rider: - -‘By the way, Tom, do you happen to know any one of your own name in this -part of the country—or elsewhere in the colony, as you have been such a -traveller?’ - -‘The divil a know I know,’ replied Tom (who was in one of his worst -humours, and at such times had little control over himself), ‘of any man -but Parson Glendinning that lives on the Hunter River, and he’s a -Scotchman and never seen “the black North” at all. But what raison have -ye to ask _me_? I’m Tom Stewart Glendinning, the stock-rider, and -barrin’ that I was “lagged” and was a fool to myself all my life long, -I’ve no call to be ashamed of my name, more than another man.’ - -As he spoke the old man raised himself in his saddle and looked -steadily, even fiercely, into the eyes of his interlocutor, who in turn, -half astonished, half irritated at the old man’s manner, frowned as he -returned the gaze with military sternness of rebuke. - -Wilfred came up with the intention of rating his follower for his -acerbity, but as he marked the fixed expression of the two men, -something prevented him interposing. A similar feeling took possession -of the others, as they stopped speaking and unconsciously constituted -themselves an audience during this peculiar colloquy. Did a shadow of -doubt, a half-acknowledged idea cross the minds of the spectators, as -they watched the two men whose paths in life lay so wide apart? Was it -the fire which burned with sudden glow, at that moment, in the eyes of -both speakers, as they confronted each other, the chance similarity of -their aquiline features, closely compressd lips, and knitted brows? -Whatever the unseen influence, it was simultaneous, as it awed to -silence men, at no time easy to control, and placed them in a position -of mesmeric domination. - -The Major rapidly, but with strangely husky intonation, then said: - -‘Under that name did you send to Simon Glendinning, in the county of -Derry, certain sums of money?’ - -‘I did thin; and why wouldn’t I, if it was my own? It was asy made in -thim days; the country was worth living in,—not like now, overstocked -with “jimmies” and foreign trash.’ - -‘You sent that money, as I was informed,’ continued the Major, -persistently unheeding the old man’s petulance, ‘for the benefit of a -child, a nephew of your own, whom you desired to provide for?’ - -‘Nephew be hanged! The boy was _my son_, Owen Walter Glendinning by -name. Maybe he’s dead and gone this many a day, for I niver heard tale -or tidings of him since. It’s as well for him and betther. ’Tis little -use I see in draggin’ on life in this world at all, unless you’ve great -luck intirely. But what call have ye to be cross-examinin’ me—like a -lawyer—about my family affairs, and what makes the colour lave yer face -like a dead man’s? Who are ye at all?’ - -‘I am Owen Walter Glendinning! It was for me that your money was used. I -am—your—son!’ - -As he spoke an ashen hue overspread the bronzed cheek, and the strong -man swayed in his saddle as if he would have fallen to the ground. His -lips were clenched, and every feature bore the impress of the agony that -strains nature’s every capacity. As for the spectators, they looked upon -the actors in this life drama, of which the catastrophe had been so -unexpectedly sprung upon them, with silent respect accorded to those -beyond human aid. Words would have been worse than useless. They could -but look, but sit motionless on their horses, but school every feature -to passive recipiency, until the end should come. - -‘God in Heaven!’ cried the old man; ‘do you tell me so? May the tongue -be blistered that spoke the word! It was a lie I tould you—lies—lies—I -tell ye; sure ye don’t belave a word of it?’ - -Then he looked at the despairing face of the soldier with wistful -entreaty and bitter regret, piteous to behold. - -‘It is too late; it is useless to declare that you misled me. You have -betrayed the truth, which in pity for my unworthy pride you attempt to -conceal.’ - -‘It’s all a lie—a lie—a hellish lie!’ screamed the old man, transported -with rage and regret. ‘What you, my son! You! Major Glendinning, a fine -gintleman, and a soldier every inch of ye, the ayquals of the best -gintry in the land and they proud of ye, the son of a drunken old -convict stock-rider! I tell ye it _can’t_ be. I swear it’s a lie. I knew -the man ye spake of. He’s dead now, but he was book-larned and come of -an old family. I heard tell of his sending home money to his nephew in -the North, and our names being the same I just said it out of divilment. -Sure I’d cut my throat if I thought I’d be the manes of harmin’ ye. Why -don’t ye curse me? Why don’t ye tell thim gintlemen I’m a lyin’ old -villain? They know me well. Here, I’ll swear on my bended knees, by the -blessed Virgin and all the saints, there’s no word of truth in what I -said.’ - -As old Tom raved, implored, and blasphemed, cursing at once his own -folly and evil hap, his face writhed with the working of inward feeling. -His features were deadly pale, well-nigh livid; the tears ran down his -furrowed cheeks, while his eyes blazed with an unearthly light. As he -fell on his knees and commenced his oath of renunciation the calm tones -of the Major were again heard. - -‘All this is vain and useless. Get up, and listen to reason. That you -are my—my father, I have now not the slightest reason to doubt. Your -knowledge of the name, of the annual sum sent, is sufficient evidence; -if these facts were not ample, the resemblance of feature is to me at -this moment, as doubtless to our good friends here, unmistakable. Fate -has brought about this meeting, why, I dare not question. You are too -excited to listen now’—here the old man made as though he would burst in -with a torrent of imprecations on the childish absurdity of the -speaker—‘but we shall meet again before I leave for India.’ - -‘May we niver meet again on God’s earth! ’Tis yerself that’s to blame if -this divil’s blast gets out. Sure the Benmohr gintlemen and Mr. Churbett -won’t let on. Mr. Wilfred’s close enough. Kape your saycret, and divil a -soul need hear of the sell ould Tom gave ye. My sarvice to ye, Major!’ - -Here the old man mounted and devoted his energies to the cattle. Wilfred -moved forward, by no means sorry that the strange scene had concluded. - -‘Look here, Effingham, I will ride on to The Chase and make my adieus; -as well now as another time. I return at once to India. You understand -my position, I feel sure.’ - -He rode forward with a more upright seat, a firmer hand upon his -bridle-rein, and that stern lighting of the eyes that may be seen when, -and when only— - - Bridle-reins are gathered up, - And sabres blaze on high, - -ere each man spurs to the death feast, wherein his own name has, -perchance, been sounded on a shadowy roll-call by a phantom herald. - -Hamilton urged his horse alongside of the Major and held out his hand. -Their eyes met as each wrung the proffered palm. But no word was spoken. -Argyll and Churbett rode slightly ahead. Before long they reached the -gate of The Chase, which, with its peculiar fastening, their horses -began to know pretty well, either sidling steadily up or commencing to -gambade at the very sight of it, in token of detestation, as did Grey -Surrey. - -‘It seems odd that I shall perhaps never see this house again,’ said -Major Glendinning, slowly and reflectively. ‘I was beginning to be very -fond of it, and had made up my mind to buy a place for a stud farm and -settle near it. But why think of it now, or of anything else? “What is -decreed by Allah is decreed,” as saith the Moslem. Who am I to complain -of the universal fate?’ - -But as the strong man spoke there was an involuntary tremor in his -voice, a contraction of the muscles, as when the dumb, tortured frame -quivers under the surgeon’s knife. - -‘Oh, how glad I am that you all came to-day,’ said Annabel, as they -walked in; ‘that is, if a girl is permitted to express her pleasure at -the arrival of gentlemen. Perhaps I should have said “how fortunate a -coincidence.” But, as a fact, all our horses are in to-day, and we were -just wondering if we could make up a riding-party after lunch. Mr. -Churbett, I can order you to come, because you never have any work to -do; not like some tiresome people who _will_ go home late at night or -early in the morning.’ - -‘I never get credit for my labours, Miss Annabel. I’m too good-natured -and easily intimidated—by ladies. But did you never hear of my memorable -journey with cattle from Gundagai to the coast, all in the depth of -winter; and—and—in fact—several other exploring enterprises?’ - -‘What, really, Mr. Churbett? Then I recant. But I thought you managed -the station from your verandah, sitting in a large cane chair, with a -pile of books on the floor.’ - -‘An enemy hath done this,’ said Mr. Churbett impressively. ‘Miss -Annabel, I never shall be exonerated till you immortalise The She-oaks -with your presence at a muster. Then, and then only, can you dimly -shadow forth the deeds that the knight Frederico Churbetto, with his -good steed Grey Surrey, is capable of achieving.’ - -‘“I wadna doot,” as Andrew says; and indeed, Mr. Churbett, I should like -very much to see all the galloping and watch you and your stock-riders -at work. You must ask mamma. Only, the present question is, can we have -a canter down to the lake side?’ - -‘We shall be truly thankful,’ said Hamilton. ‘I can answer for it. We -did not know the good fortune in store for us when we started.’ - -‘Oh, thanks, thanks! Consider everything nice said on both sides. But -what have you done to Major Glendinning? He looks so serious.’ - -‘Oh, he’s all right,’ said Hamilton, thinking it best to suffer their -friend to make his explanations personally. ‘Indian warriors, you know, -are apt to suffer from old wounds. Change of weather, I think.’ - -‘Poor fellow!’ said Annabel. ‘It seems hard that if one is not killed in -battle, he should have to suffer afterwards. However, we must cheer him -up. I will go and put my habit on.’ - - * * * * * - -The afternoon was fine, so after a preliminary saddling-up, the whole -party filed off, apparently in high spirits. The roads in one direction -were always sound, while by ascending slightly one of the spurs of the -range a grand view was always obtainable. - -Rosamond rode foremost, as she generally did, by right of the -exceptional walking of Fergus. She was accompanied by Forbes, whose -hackney had been selected after great research, his friends averred, in -order that he might rank as the next fastest pacer in those parts. -Argyll and Wilfred brought up the rear, occasionally joining company -with Annabel and Fred Churbett. The Major and Beatrice went next behind -the leaders. The couples preserved the order in which they set out, with -the exception of the inroad upon Fred and Annabel’s eager colloquies, -which were not deeply sentimental. That amiable personage complained -that no one scrupled to break in upon his _tête-à-têtes_. He ‘thought he -should have to grow a moustache and call some one out, in order to -inspire respect.’ - -Major Glendinning had made frequent visits to Warbrok, and familiar -intercourse having naturally resulted from his intimacy with their -friends at Benmohr, the family had come to look upon him as one of their -particular set. Of a nature constitutionally reserved, and more -specially self-contained from long residence as a military autocrat in -one of the provinces of Northern India, he had read and thought more -deeply than men of his class are apt to do. In proportion, therefore, to -his general reticence was his satisfaction in unlocking his stores of -experience when he met with congenial minds. - -A few chance questions on the part of Beatrice Effingham, after his -first introduction to the family, had discovered to him that she was -better informed as to the administration of Northern India than most -people. Hence grew up between them a common ground of interest in which -he could expatiate and explain. And his listener was never tired of -hearing from an eye-witness and an actor the true story of the -splendours and tragedies of that historic land. - -The real reason of this research, apart from the hunger for literary -pabulum, which at all times possessed Beatrice, was an affectionate -interest in the life of an uncle, who, after entering upon a brilliant -career, had perished through the treachery of a native Rajah. His -adventures had fascinated the romantic girl from early childhood; hence -she had loved to verify every detail of the circumstances under which -the star of the ill-fated Raymond Effingham had faded into darkness. - -By those indescribable degrees of advance, of which the heart can note -the progress, but rarely the first approach, a friendship between the -Major and the thoughtful girl became so apparent as to be the subject of -jesting remark. When, therefore, he had announced his intention of -settling in the neighbourhood, a thrill of unusual force invaded the -calm pulses of Beatrice Effingham. Had his retirement from the service, -from the profession he loved so well, some reason in which her future -was concerned? If so, if he settled down on one of the adjoining -properties, could any union be more consonant with her every feeling, -taste, and aspirations than with one whom, in every way, she could so -fully respect and admire, whose deeds in that wonderland of her fancies -were written on the records of his country’s fame? It was a dream too -bright for reality. And though it would occasionally disturb the even -tenor of Beatrice’s hours in the library, her well-regulated mind -refused to dwell upon possibilities as yet unsanctioned. - -When, therefore, Major Glendinning promptly availed himself of the -opportunity afforded by the ride to the lake to constitute himself her -escort; when, after a few commonplace observations, she observed that -his countenance, though more grave than was usual in her presence, had -yet an expression of fixed resolve, an indefinable feeling of -expectation, almost amounting to dread, took possession of her, and it -was with a beating heart and changing cheek that she listened. - -‘I take advantage of this opportunity, Miss Beatrice, to say the words -which must be said before we part.’ - -‘Part!’ said the girl, shaking in every limb, though she bravely -struggled against her emotions and tried to impart firmness to her -voice. ‘Then you are going to leave us for India? Have you been ordered -back suddenly?’ - -‘That is as it may be,’ said the soldier; and as he spoke their eyes -met. His face wore a look of unalterable decision, yet so fraught was it -with misery, even despair, that she instinctively felt that Fate had -dealt her a remorseless stroke. ‘I have heard this day,’ he continued, -‘what has altered the chief purpose of my life—has killed my every hope. -I return to India by the next ship.’ - -‘You have heard terribly bad news,’ she answered very softly. ‘I see it -in your face. I need not tell you how we shall all sympathise with you; -how grieved we shall be at your departure.’ - -Here the womanly instinct of the consoler proved stronger than that of -the much-vaunted ruler of courts and camps, inasmuch as Beatrice lost -sight of her personal feelings in bethinking herself how she could aid -the strong man, whose features bore evidence of the agony which racked -every nerve and fibre. - -‘I feel deeply grateful for your sympathy. I knew you would bestow it. -No living man needs it more. This morning I rode out fuller of pleasant -anticipation than I can recall, prepared to take a step which I hoped -would result in my life’s happiness. I had arranged for an extension of -leave, after which I intended to sell out and live in this -neighbourhood, which for many reasons—for every reason—I have found so -delightful.’ - -‘And your plans are altered?’ - -This query was made in tones studiously free from all trace of interest -or disapproval, although the beating heart and throbbing brain of the -girl almost prevented utterance. - -‘I have this day—this day only—you will do me the justice hereafter to -believe—heard a statement, unhappily too true, which clears up the -mystery which has rested upon me from my birth. That cloud has been -removed. But behind it lies a foul blot, a dark shadow of dishonour, -which I deemed could never have rested on the name of Walter -Glendinning.’ - -‘Dishonour!’ echoed Beatrice. ‘Impossible! How can that be?’ - -‘It is as I say—deep and ineradicable,’ groaned out the unhappy man. -‘You will hear more from your brother. All is known to him and your -friends of Benmohr. Enough that I have no personal responsibility. But -it is a burden that I must carry till the day of a soldier’s death. You -will believe me when I say that my honour demands that I quit -Australia—to me so dear, yet so fatal. The years that may remain to me -belong to my country.’ - -‘I feel,’ said the girl, with kindling eye and a pride of bearing which -equalled his own, ‘that you are doing what your high sense of honour, of -duty, demands. I can but counsel you to take them, for guide and -inspiration. I know not the doom which has fallen on you, but I can bid -you God-speed, and pray for you evermore.’ - -‘You have spoken my inmost thoughts. God help us that it should be so. -But I were disloyal to every thought and aspiration of my nature if I -stooped to link the life of another, as God is my witness and judge, to -my tarnished name. We must part—never, perhaps, to meet on earth—but, -Beatrice, dearest and only loved—may I not call you so?—I who now look -upon your face, and hear your voice for the last time—you will think in -your happy home of one who tore the heart from his bosom, which a dark -fate forbade him to offer you. When you hear that Walter Glendinning -died a soldier’s death, give a tear to his memory—to his fate who -scorned death, but could not endure dishonour.’ - -Neither spoke for some moments. The girl’s tears flowed fast as she -gazed before her, while both rode steadily onward. The man’s form was -bowed, and his set features wore the livid aspect of him who has -received a death-wound but strives to hide the inward agony. Slowly, -mechanically, they rode side by side along the homeward track, in the -rear of the others until the entrance gate was reached. Then, as if by -mutual impulse, they turned towards each other, and their eyes met in -one long sorrowful glance. Such light has shone in the eyes of those who -parted ere now, sanctified by a martyr’s hope—a martyr’s death. - -‘We shall meet,’ she said, ‘no more on earth; but oh, if you value my -love, cherish the thought of a higher life—of a better world, where no -false human pride, no barrier of man’s cruelty or injustice may sever -us. I hold the trust which my heart, if not my lips, confessed. Till -then, farewell, and may a merciful God keep our lives unstained until -the day of His coming.’ - -She drew the glove from her hand hurriedly. It fell at his horse’s feet. -He dismounted hastily, and placed it in his bosom, and raising her -ice-cold hand to his lips, pressed it with fervour. Then accompanying -her to the hall door, he committed her to the charge of Wilfred, who, -with his mother and sister, stood on the verandah, took a hurried leave -of the family, regretting that he was compelled, by sudden summons, to -rejoin his regiment, and with his friends, who with ready tact made -excuse for returning, took the familiar track to Benmohr. - -Few words were spoken on the homeward road, which was traversed at a -pace that tried the mettle of the descendants of Camerton. That night -the friends sat late, talking earnestly. It was long after midnight -before they separated. On the following day Major Glendinning and his -father met at a spot half-way between The Chase and Benmohr, the -interview being arranged by Hamilton, who rode over and persuaded the -old man to accompany him. What passed between them was never known, but -ere that night was ended the Major was far on his way to Sydney, which -he reached in time to secure a passage in the good ship _Governor -Bourke_, outward bound for China. In the course of the week Mr. -Effingham received a letter in explanation of the circumstances, signed -Owen Walter Glendinning, declaring his unworthiness to aspire to his -daughter’s hand, as well as his inability to remain in the country after -the mystery of his birth had been so unexpectedly revealed to him. He -held himself pledged to act in the matter after the expiration of a year -in accordance with what Mr. Effingham, acting as the guardian of his -daughter’s happiness, might consider in the light of an honourable -obligation. A bank draft drawn in favour of Thomas Stewart Glendinning -was enclosed, with an intimation that an annual payment would be -forwarded for his use henceforth during the writer’s life. - - * * * * * - -The first cloud which the Effinghams had descried since their arrival in -Australia had appeared in the undimmed horizon. The breath of evil, -which knows no bound nor space beneath the sun, had rested on them. -Habitually taking deeper interest in the subjective issues of life than -in its material transaction, they were proportionately depressed. All -that maternal love and the most tender sisterly affection could give was -lavished upon the sufferer. Her well-disciplined mind, strengthened by -culture and purified by religion, gradually acquired equilibrium. But it -was long ere the tranquil features of Beatrice Effingham recovered their -wonted expression; and a close observer could have detected the trace of -an inward woe in the depths of her erstwhile clear, untroubled eyes. - -In his answer to the letter which he had received, Mr. Effingham ‘fully -agreed with the course which his friend had taken, and the determination -which he had expressed. Looking at the situation, which he deplored with -his whole heart, he was unable to see any other mode of action open to -him as a man of honour. Deeply prejudicial as had been the issue to the -happiness of his beloved daughter, he could not ask him (Major -Glendinning) to swerve by one hair’s-breadth from the path which he had -laid down for himself. His wishes would be attended to with respect to -the bank draft forwarded for the use of the person named, but he would -suggest that Mr. Sternworth should be chosen as the recipient of future -remittances. He would, in conclusion, wish him the fullest measure of -success and distinction which his profession offered, with, if not -happiness, the inward satisfaction known to those who marched ever in -the vanguard of honourable duty. In this wish he was warmly seconded by -every member of the family.’ - -Old Tom, after notice of his intention to leave the employment, -presented himself before his master, dressed and accoutred as for a -journey, leading Boney and followed by the uncompromising Crab. His -effects were fastened in a roll in front of his saddle, his coiled -stockwhip was pendent from the side-buckle. All things, even to the -fixed look upon the weather-beaten features, betokened a settled -resolution. - -‘I’m going to lave the ould place, Captain,’ he said; ‘and it’s sorry I -am this day to quit the family and the lake and the hounds, where I laid -it out to lave the ould bones of me. I’m wishin’ the divil betther -divarshion than to bother with the family saycrets of the likes o’ me. -Sure he has lashins of work in this counthry, without disturbin’ the -last days of poor ould Tom Glendinning—and he sure of me, anyhow. My -heart’s bruk, so it is.’ - -‘Hush, Tom,’ said his employer. ‘We can understand Major Glendinning’s -feelings. But, after all, it is his duty to acknowledge the ties of -nature. I have no doubt that after a time he will become—er—used to the -relationship.’ - -‘D——n the relationship!’ burst out the old man menacingly. ‘Ah, an’ sure -I ax yer pardon, yer honour, for the word; but ’tis wild I am that the -Major, a soldier and a rale gintleman every inch of him, that’s fought -for the Queen and skivered them infernal blackamoors in the Injies, -should be given out as the son of a blasted ould rapparee like me. It -was asy knowing when I seen that look on him when he heard the name, but -how could I drame that _my son_ could have turned into a king’s -officer—all as one as the best of the land? If I _had_ known it for -sartain, before he axed me, I’d have lived beside him as a common -stock-rider for years, if he’d come here, and he’s niver have known no -more than the dead. It’s a burning shame and a sin, that’s what it is!’ - -‘It may have been unfortunate,’ said Mr. Effingham; ‘but I can never -regard it as wrong that a father and a son should come to know of the -tie which binds them to each other.’ - -‘And why not, I ask ye?’ demanded the old man savagely. ‘What good has -it done aither of us? It’s sent _him_ back, with a sore heart, to live -among them black divils and snakes and tigers, a murdtherin’ hot -counthry it is by all accounts, when he might have bought a place handy -here and bred horses and cattle—sure he’s an iligant rider and shoots -beautiful, don’t he now? I wonder did he take them gifts after me?’ said -the old man, with the first softened expression and a half sigh. ‘Sure, -if I could have plazed myself _with lookin’ at him_ and he not to know, -I wouldn’t say but that I might have listened to Parson Sternworth -and—and—repinted,—yes, repinted,—after all that’s come and gone! And now -I’m on the ould thrack agin, with tin divils tearin’ at me, and who -knows what will happen.’ - -‘There’s no need for you to lead a wandering life, or indeed, to work at -all, even if you leave the district,’ said Mr. Effingham. ‘I have a sum -in my hands, forwarded by the Major, sufficient for all your wants.’ - -‘I’ll not touch a pinny of it!’ cried out the old man; ‘sure it’s blood -money, no less, his _life_, anyway, that will pay for this! Didn’t I see -his eye, when he shook hands with me, and begged my pardon for his -pride, and asked me to bless him—_me_!’—and here the old man laughed -derisively, a sound not pleasant to hear. ‘If there’s fighting where -he’s going, and he lives out the year, it will be because lead and cowld -steel has no power to harm a man that wants to die. Mr. Effingham, I’ll -never touch it; and why would I? Sure the drink’ll kill me, fast enough, -without help.’ - -‘But why go away? I am so grieved that, after your faithful service, you -should leave in such a state of mind.’ - -‘Maybe I’ll do ye more sarvice before I die, but I must get into the -far-out runs, or I’ll go mad thinking of _him_. It was my hellish timper -that let the words out so quick, or he’d never have known till his dying -day. Maybe the rheumatiz was to blame, that keeps burning in the bones -of me like red-hot iron, till I couldn’t spake a civil word to the -blessed Saviour Himself. Anyhow, it’s done now; but of all I ever -did—and there’s what would hang me on the list—I repint over _that_, the -worst, and will till I die. Good-bye, sir. God bless the house, and thim -that’s in it.’ - -The old man remounted his wayworn steed with more agility than his -appearance promised, and taking the track which led southward, went -slowly along the road without turning his head or making further speech. -The dog rose to his feet and trotted after him. In a few moments the -characteristic trio passed from sight. - -‘Mysterious indeed are the ways of Providence!’ thought Effingham, as he -turned towards the house. ‘Who would ever have thought that the fortunes -of this strange old man would ever have been associated with me or mine. -I feel an unaccountable presentiment, as if this incident, inexplicable -as it is, were but the forerunner of evil!’ - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - BLACK THURSDAY - - -Autumn and winter passed in the ordinary succession of regular duties -and peaceful employments, now become easy and habitual. These the -expatriated family had learned to love. The departure of the old -stock-rider was felt as a temporary inconvenience, but the brothers with -Dick Evans’s aid and counsel felt themselves qualified to supply his -place, and decided not to employ a successor. - -Guy, indeed, had grown into a stalwart youngster, taller and broader -than his elder brother; so much had the pure air, the healthful bush -life, the regular exercise and occasional labour demanded by the station -exigencies done for his development. He was apt at all the minor rural -accomplishments—could ride the unbroken colts, which their own stud now -produced, and was well acquainted with the ways and wanderings of -outlying cattle. The lore of the Waste, in which old Dick was so able an -instructor, was now his. He could plait a hide-rope, make bullock-yokes, -noose and throw the unbranded cattle, drive a team, split and put up -‘fencing stuff’; in many ways do a man’s work, when needed, as -efficiently as his preceptor. Dick prophesied that he would become ‘a -great bushman’ in years to come. Indeed, by tales of ‘taking up new -country’ and of the adventurous branches of station life, he had -fostered a thirst for more extended and responsible action which gave -his parents some uneasiness. - -He had begun to acquire the Australian boy’s contempt for the narrow -bounds involved by a residence on ‘purchased land.’ He impatiently -awaited the day when he should be able to sally forth, with a herd of -his own and the necessary equipment, to seek his fortune amid romantic, -unexplored wilds. He began to lose interest in the daily round of home -duties; and though from long habit and an affectionate nature, as yet -dutifully obedient to his parents’ bidding, he more than once confessed -that he longed for independent action. - - * * * * * - -The season was ‘setting in dry.’ There had been no rain for months. -Around Lake William and near that wide expanse of water an appearance of -verdure was preserved by the more marshy portion of the great flats. -Amid these the cattle daily revelled and fed. They might have been seen -grouped in large droves far out on the promontories, or wading amid the -shallowing reed-beds which fringed the shore, long after the sun had -set, and the breathless night, boding of storms which came not, had -closed in. - -Among the neighbours this state of matters by no means passed without -observation and remark. Nought save desultory discussion ensued. Except -O’Desmond, no one had been long enough in the colony to have had -experience of abnormal seasons. Curiously, he was the one who took the -more despondent view of matters, from which men augured ill. - -‘I hope to heaven that we are not going to have a repetition of 1827,’ -he said; ‘one experience of that sort is enough to last a man for his -lifetime.’ - -‘Was it so very awful?’ said Hamilton, the conversation taking place at -Benmohr, at which convenient rendezvous Wilfred and Churbett had -encountered that gentleman. ‘One fancies that the ancient colonists were -not fertile in expedients.’ - -‘No doubt we have much to learn from the accomplished gentlemen who have -done us the honour to invest in our colony of late years,’ said -O’Desmond grandly, with a bow of the regency; ‘but if you had seen what -I have, you would not undervalue the danger. I don’t care to talk about -it. Only if this year ends badly, I shall leave Badajos to my old couple -and the overseer, muster my stock, and start into the wilderness without -waiting for another.’ - -‘What direction shall you take?’ said Hamilton. - -‘Due south, until I strike the head waters of the Sturt and the -Warburton. These I shall follow down, and make my depôt wherever I -discover a sufficiently tempting base.’ - -‘It has quite the heroic ring about it,’ said Wilfred. ‘But for certain -reasons, I would like to follow you. How about provisions?’ - -‘I take a year’s supply of rations and clothing. We drive our meat -before us.’ - -‘And the blacks?’ - -‘I know all that can be known about them,’ said O’Desmond. ‘They -recognise chiefs among the white men. If one does not fear them, they -are to be dealt with like children.’ - -‘You will find it hard to quit your pleasant life at Badajos for the -desert,’ said Wilfred. - -‘Not at all; the sharper the contrast, the more easily is the change -made. Besides, on such occasions mine is a well-organised expedition. I -take my cook, my groom, my four-in-hand. What do you say? Come with me -for the first week or two. I can promise you a chop broiled to -perfection. I must show you my “reversible griller,” of which I am the -proud inventor.’ - -Here the door was loudly knocked at, and being opened without further -ceremony, disclosed the serious countenance of Wullie Teviot, apparently -out of breath. - -‘Maister Hamilton and gentlemen a’,’ he said, ‘I’m no in a poseetion to -do my errand respectfully the noo, but hae just breath to warn ye that -there’s a muckle bush-fire comin’ fast frae the direction o’ Maister -Effingham’s. I trust we’ll no be the waur o’t.’ - -This ended migratory speculations abruptly. Each man started to his -feet. Hamilton left the room to secure a horse and order out his -retainers, Wilfred to try and make out whether the heavy spreading cloud -on the horizon was across his boundary. - -‘I and my man will go with Hamilton,’ quoth O’Desmond. ‘Effingham had -better make for home, and see how it is likely to affect him.’ - -Hamilton was dashing down the paddock on a bare-backed horse by this -time, to run up the hacks, and also one for the spring-cart, to be -loaded with spare hands for the scene of action, besides that invaluable -adjunct in a bush fire, a cask of water. - -‘I hardly like leaving,’ said Wilfred; ‘it looks selfish.’ - -‘Don’t mind about the sentiment,’ said O’Desmond. ‘If your run is afire -you will need to help Dick Evans and his party. I’ll be bound the old -fellow is half-way there already. He is not often caught napping.’ - -Then Wilfred mounted too, and sped away, galloping madly towards the -great masses of ever-increasing smoke-cloud. It proved to be farther off -than he expected. He had ridden far and fast, when he reached the border -where he could hear the crackling of the tender leaflets, and watched -the red line which licked up so cleanly all dry sticks and bush, with -every stalk and plant and modest tuft of grass. He then found that the -chief duty, not so much of meeting the enemy, as of guiding and -persuading him to turn his fiery footsteps in a different direction, was -being satisfactorily performed by Richard Evans and his assistants. Guy, -in wild delight at being made lieutenant of the party, was dashing ever -and anon into the centre of the smoke and flame, and dealing blows with -his bough like a Berserker. - -‘Head it off, lads,’ Dick was saying when Wilfred rode up. ‘It’s no use -trying to stop it in the long grass; edge it off towards the ranges. -There it may burn till all’s blue.’ - -‘Why, Dick,’ said he to his trustworthy veteran, ‘how did you manage to -get here so quickly? They’ve only just seen it at Benmohr.’ - -‘They’ll find it out pretty quick, sir, if there’s a shift of wind -to-night. It don’t need much coaxing our way, but it means Benmohr, with -a southerly puff or two. If it gets into that grassy bit by the old -stock-yard, it will burn at the rate of fifty mile an hour.’ - -Hour after hour did they work by the line of fire, ere Dick’s vigilance -could permit any kind of halt or relaxation. It was exciting, not -unpleasant work, Wilfred thought, walking up and down the red-gleaming -line of tongues of fire which licked up so remorselessly the tangled -herbage, the lower shrubs, the dead flower-stalks, and all scattered -branches of the fallen trees. - -The night was dark, sultry, and still. As ever and anon the fire caught -some tall, dead tree, and running up it, seized the hollow trunk, -holding out red signals from each limb and cavity, high up among the -branches, the effect against the sombre sky, the dull, massed gloom of -the mountain, was grandly effective. In the lurid scene the moving -figures upon whose faces the fierce light occasionally beat, seemed -weird and phantasmal. Patiently did the wary leader watch the line of -fire, which had been extinguished on the side next to the lower lands, -now casting back a half-burned log far within the blackened area, and -anon beating out insidious tussocks of dried grass, ignited by a -smouldering ember. - -When once the defensive line had been subdued, it was easily kept under -by sweeping the half-burned grass and sticks back from the still -inflammable herbage into the bared space now devoid of fuel. But care -was still needed, as ever and again a half-burned tree would crash down -across the line, throwing forth sparks and embers, or perhaps lighting -up a temporary conflagration. - -All the night through, the men kept watch and ward beside the boundary. -The strangeness of the scene compensated Wilfred and Guy for the loss of -their natural rest as well as for the severity of the exertion. As they -watched the flame-path hewing its way unchecked up the rugged -mountain-side, lighting up from time to time with wondrous clearness -every crag, bush, and tree, to the smallest twig—a nature picture, -clear, brilliant, unearthly, framed in the unutterable blackness of the -night, it seemed as if they were assisting at some Walpurgis revel; as -if in the lone woods, at that mystic hour, the forms of the dead, the -spectres of the past, might at any moment arise and mingle with them. - -As they lay stretched on the dry sward, in the intervals of rest, they -watched the gradual progress of the flame through the rugged, -chasm-rifted, forest-clothed mountain. With every ascent gained, the -flame appeared to hoist a signal of triumph over the dumb, dark, -illimitable forest which surrounded them. Finally, when like a crafty -foe it had climbed to the highest peak, the fire, there discovering upon -a plateau a mass of brushwood and dry herbage, burst out in one -far-seen, wide-flaming beacon, at once a Pharos and a Wonder-sign to the -dwellers at a lower elevation. - -The bush fire had been fought and conquered. It only remained for Dick -and a few to go back on the following day and make sure that the -frontier was safe; that no smouldering logs were ready to light up the -land again as soon as the breeze should have fanned them sufficiently. -The main body of the fire had gone up the mountain range, where no harm -could be done; where, as Dick said, as soon as the first rain came, the -grass would be all up again, and make nice, sweet picking for the stock -in winter. - -The Benmohr people had not been quite so lucky; the wind setting in that -direction, the flames had come roaring up to the very homestead, burning -valuable pasture and nearly consuming the establishment. As it was, the -garden gate caught fire. The farm and station buildings were only -preserved by the desperate efforts of the whole force of the place, led -on by Argyll and Hamilton, who worked like the leaders of a forlorn -hope. After the fight was over and the place saved, Charlie Hamilton, -utterly exhausted with the heat and exertion, dropped down in a faint, -and had to be carried in and laid on a bed, to the consternation of Mrs. -Teviot, who thought he was dead. - -It was now the last week of March, and all things looked as bad as they -could be. Not a drop of rain worth mentioning had fallen since the -spring. The small rivers which ran into Lake William had ceased to flow, -and were reduced each to its own chain of ponds. That great sheet of -water was daily receding from its shores, shallowing visibly, and -leaving islands of mud in different parts of its surface, unpleasantly -suggestive of total evaporation. Strange wild-fowl, hitherto unknown in -the locality—notably the ibis, the pelican, and the spoonbill—had -appeared in great flocks, disputing possession with the former -inhabitants. The flats bordering upon the lake, once so luxuriantly -covered with herbage, were bare and dusty as a highroad. The constant -marching in and out of the cattle to water had caused them to be fed -down to the last stalk. Apparently there was no chance of their renewal. -The herd, though still healthy and vigorous, was beginning to lose -condition; if this were the case now, what tale would the winter have to -tell? The yield of milk had so fallen off that merely sufficient was -taken for the use of the house. The ground was so hard that it was -impossible to plough for the wheat crop, even if there had been -likelihood of the plant growing after the seed was sown. - -Andrew was clearly of the opinion that Australia much resembled Judea, -and that for some good reason the Lord had seen fit to pour down His -wrath upon the land, which was now stricken with various plagues and -grievous trials. - -‘I’m no sayin’,’ he said, ‘that the sin o’ the people has been -a’thegither unpardonable and forbye ordinair’. There’s nae doot a wheen -swearin’ and drinkin’ amang thae puir ignorant stock-riders and splitter -bodies. Still, they’re for the maist pairt a hard delvin’, ceevil -people, that canna be said to eat the bread o’ idleness, and that’s no -wilfu’ in disobeyin’ the Word, siccan sma’ hearin’ as they hae o’t. I’m -lyin’ in deep thocht on my bed nicht after nicht, wearyin’ to find ae -comfortin’ gleam o’ licht in this darkness o’ Egypt.’ - -‘It’s a bad look-out, Andrew,’ said Guy, to whom Andrew was confiding -his feelings, as he often did to the lad when he was troubled about the -well-doing of the community. ‘And it will be worse if the cattle die -after next winter. Whatever shall we do? We shall never get such a lot -of nice, well-bred ones together again. What used the Jews to do in a -season like this, I wonder, for they got it pretty bad sometimes, you -know, when Jacob sent all his sons into Egypt?’ - -‘I mind weel, Maister Guy,’ said the old man solemnly. ‘And ye see he -had faith that the Lord would provide for him and his sons and dochters. -And though they were sair afflicted before the time of deliverance came, -they were a’ helped and saved in the end. He that brocht ye a’ here nae -doot will provide. Pray and trust in Him, Maister Guy, and dinna forget -what ye learned at your mither’s knee, hinny, the God-fearin’ lady that -she ever was. We must suffer tribulation, doubtless; but dinna fear—oh, -dinna lose faith, my bairn, and we shall sing joyful songs i’ the -ootcome!’ - -As the season wore on, and the rainless winter was succeeded by the -hopeless spring, with drying winds and cloudless days, it seemed as if -the tribulation spoken of by Andrew was indeed to be sharp, to the verge -of extermination. - -Not only were great losses threatened by the destruction of the stock, -but the money question was commencing to become urgent. For the past -year no sales of stock had been possible. Few had the means of keeping -the stock they were possessed of. They were not likely to add to their -responsibility by buying others, at however tempting a price. As there -was no milk, there was naturally no butter, cheese, or the wherewithal -to fatten the hogs for bacon. These sources of income were obliterated. -Having no produce to sell, it became apparent that the articles -necessary to be bought were suddenly enhanced in value. Flour rose from -twelve and fifteen to fifty, seventy, finally, _one hundred pounds per -ton_. Not foreseeing this abnormal rise, Wilfred had sold their -preceding year’s crop, as usual, as soon as it reached a better price -than ordinary, merely retaining a year’s supply of flour. That being -exhausted, he was compelled, sorely against the grain, to purchase at -these famine rates. Rice, which could be imported cheaply, was largely -mingled with the flour, as a matter of economy. The bread was scarcely -so palatable, but by the help of Jeanie’s admirable baking, little -difference was felt. - -Mr. Rockley confided that he felt deeply reluctant to charge him and -other friends such high prices for the necessaries of life. The -difficulties of carriage, however, were now amazing. Numbers of the -draught cattle had perished, and fodder was obliged to be carried by the -teams on their journeys, enhancing the cost indefinitely. - -‘The fact is,’ said that unreserved merchant, ‘I am losing on all sides. -The smaller farmers in my debt have no more chance of paying me, before -the rain comes, than if they were in gaol. Everybody purchases the -smallest quantity of goods that they can do with, and I have great -difficulty in buying in Sydney at prices which will leave any margin of -profit. But you come in and dine with us this evening. I’ve got a bottle -of claret left, in spite of the hard times. And keep up your spirits, my -boy! We shall come out of this trouble as we’ve done through others. -This country wasn’t meant for faint-hearted people, was it? If all comes -right, we shall be proud of having stuck to the ship manfully, eh? If -not, it’s better to give three cheers when she goes down, than to whine -and snivel. Come along in. I’ve done with business for the day.’ - -And so Wilfred, who had ridden to Yass in a state of despondency, went -in and was comforted, as happened to him many a time and often, under -that hospitable roof. The dinner was good though the times were bad, -while Rockley’s claret was unimpeachable, as of old. Mrs. Rockley and -Christabel were more than usually warm and sympathetic of manner. As he -sat in the moonlight with Rockley and the ladies (who had joined them), -and heard from his host tales of previous hard seasons and how they had -been surmounted, he felt his heart stir with unwonted hope and a resolve -to fight this fight to the end. - -‘I’ve seen these seasons before,’ said the energetic optimist, ‘and I’ve -always remarked that they were followed by a period of prosperity. Think -of the last drought we had, and what splendid seasons followed it! This -looks as bad as anything _can_ look, but if I could get long odds, I -wouldn’t mind betting that before 1840 we’re crowded with buyers, and -that stock, land, and city property touch prices never reached before. -Look forward, Wilfred, my boy, look forward! There’s nothing to be done -without it, in a new country, take my word.’ - -‘You must admit that it’s hard to see anything cheering just at -present.’ - -‘Not at all, not at all,’ said his host, lighting another cigar. -‘Christabel, go in and sing something. It’s all a matter of calculation. -Say that half your cattle die—mind you, you’ve no business to let ’em -die, if you can help it—hang on by your eyelids, that’s the idea—but say -half of ’em _do_ die, why, the moment the rain comes the remainder are -twice as valuable as they were before, perhaps more than that, if a new -district is discovered. By the way, there _is_ a report of a new -settlement down south; if it comes to anything, see what a rush there’ll -be for stock, to take over on speculation. That’s the great advantage of -a new country; if one venture goes wrong, there are a dozen spring up -for you to choose from.’ - -‘Do you think it would be a good idea to take away part of the stock, -and try and find a new station?’ - -‘I really believe it would; and if I were a young man to-morrow it’s the -very thing that I would go in for. We have not explored a tenth part of -the boundless—I say boundless—pasture lands of this continent. No doubt -there are millions of acres untouched, as good as we have ever -occupied.’ - -‘But are they not so far off as to be valueless?’ - -‘No land that will carry sheep or cattle, or grow grain, can be -valueless in Australia for the next century to come. And with the -increase of population, all outer territories will assume a positive -value as soon as the present depression is over.’ - -While in Yass, Wilfred consulted their good friend and adviser, Mr. -Sternworth, who had indeed, by letter, when not able to visit them -personally, not ceased to cheer and console during the disheartening -season. - -‘This is a time of trial, my dear Wilfred,’ he said, ‘that calls out the -best qualities of a man, in the shape of courage, faith, and -self-denial. It is the day of adversity, when we are warned not to -faint. I can fully enter into your distress and anxiety, while seeing -the daily loss and failure of all upon which you depended for support. -It is doubly hard for you, after a term of success and progress. But we -must have faith—unwavering faith—in the Supreme Ruler of events, and -doubt not—doubt not for one moment, my boy—but that we shall issue -unharmed and rejoicing out of this tribulation.’ - -Among their neighbours, unusual preparations were made to lighten the -impending calamity. Unnecessary labourers were discharged. The daily -work of the stations was, in great measure, done by the proprietors. The -Teviots were the only domestic retainers at Benmohr; they, of course, -and Dick Evans were a part of the very composition of the -establishments, and not to be dispensed with. The D’Oyleys discharged -their cook and stock-rider, performing these necessary duties by turns, -week alternate. - -Fred Churbett retained his married couple and stock-rider, declaring -that he would die like a gentleman; that he could pay his way for two -years more; after which, if times did not mend, he would burn the place -down, commit suicide decently, and leave the onus on destiny. He could -not cook, neither would he wash clothes. He would be as obstinate as the -weather. - -O’Desmond made full preparations for a migration in spring, if the -weather continued dry and no rain fell in September. There would be a -slight spring of grass then, rain or no rain. He would take advantage of -it, to depart, like a patriarch of old, not exactly with his camels and -she-asses, but with his cattle and brood mares, his sheep and his oxen, -his men-servants and his maid-servants—well perhaps not the latter, but -everything necessary to give a flavour of true colonisation to the -movement. And he travelled in good style, with such observances and -ceremony as surrounded Harry O’Desmond in all that he did, and made him -the wonder and admiration of less favoured individuals. - -He had his waggonette and four-in-hand, the horses of which, corn-fed at -the commencement, would, after they got on to the grasses of the great -interior levels, fare well and indeed fatten on the journey. A roomy -tent, as also a smaller one for his body-servant, cook, and kitchen -utensils, shielded him and his necessaries from the weather. Portable -bath and dining-table, couch, and toilette requisites were available at -shortest notice; while a groom led his favourite hackney, upon which he -mounted whenever he desired to explore a mountain peak or an unknown -valley. The cottage was handed over to the charge of the gardener and -his wife, old servants of the establishment. And finally, the -long-expected rain not appearing in September, he departed, like a -Spanish conquistador of old, to return with tales of wondrous regions, -of dusky slaves, of gold, of feather-crowned Caciques, and palm-fanned -isles, or to leave his whitening bones upon mountain summit or lonely -beach. - -It was believed among his old friends that Harry O’Desmond would either -return successful, with hardly-won territory attached to his name, or -that he would journey on over the great desert, which was supposed then -to form the interior of the continent, until return was hopeless. - -His servants would be faithful unto death. None would ever question his -order of march. And if he were not successful in founding a kingdom, to -be worked as a relief province for Badajos, he would never come back at -all. Some day there would be found the traces of a white man’s -encampment, amid tribes of natives as yet unknown—the shreds of tents, -the waggonette wheels, the scattered articles of plate, and the more -ordinary utensils of the white man. From beneath a spreading tree would -be exhumed the bones of the leader of the party. Such would be the -memorials of a pioneer and explorer, who was never known to turn back or -confess himself unsuccessful. - -As to the labour question, Dick Evans and his wife were indispensable -now, more than ever, as the brothers had resolved not to remain _in -statu quo_. Wilfred had determined to organise an expedition, and to -take the greater part of the herd with him. In such a case it would have -been suicidal to deprive themselves of Dick’s services, as, of course, -he would be only too eager to make one of the party. He cheerfully -submitted to a diminution of wages, stating that as long as he and the -old woman had a crust of bread and a rag to their backs they would stand -by the captain and the family. - -‘If we could only get through the winter,’ he said, ‘I shouldn’t have no -fear but we’d box about down south with the cattle till we dropped on a -run for them. There’s a lot of fine country beyond the Snowy, if we’d -only got a road over the mountains to it. But it’s awful rough, and the -blacks would eat up a small party like ours. I don’t hardly like the -thoughts of tacklin’ it. But what I’m afraid on is, that if the winter -comes on dry we’ll have _no cattle to take_. They’re a-gettin’ desprit -low now, and the lake’s as good as dried up.’ - -The outlook was gloomy indeed when even the sanguine Dick Evans could -make no better forecast. But Wilfred was the sailing-master, and it did -not become him to show hesitation. - -‘We must do our best, and trust in God, Dick,’ he said. ‘This is a -wonderful country for changes; one may come in the right direction yet.’ - -As for Andrew and Jeanie, they would not hear of taking any wages until -times improved. They had cast in their lot with the family, and Jeanie -would stay with her mistress and the girls, who were dear to her as her -own children, as long as there was a roof to shelter them. - -Andrew fully recognised it as a ‘season of rebuke and blasphemy.’ He who -ordered the round world had, for inscrutable reasons, brought this -famine upon them. Like the children of Israel, he doubted but they would -have to follow the advice given in 1 Kings xviii. 5: ‘And Ahab said to -Obadiah, Go into the land, unto all fountains of water, and unto all -brooks; peradventure we may find grass to save the horses and mules -alive, that we lose not all the beasts.’ - -‘And did they?’ asked Guy. - -‘Nae doot; as maist like we shall do gin we use the same means as -gracious Elijah. No that I’m free to testify that I conseeder the -slayin’ o’ the prophets o’ Baal a’thegither a needcessity. It wad have -been mair wiselike on the pairt o’ Elijah to have disestablished their -kirk and garred them lippen a’ their days to the voluntary principle. -But let that flee stick to the wa’; dinna doot, laddie, that ae day the -heavens will be black wi’ clouds, and there will be a great rain.’ - -Perhaps the one of the whole party most to be pitied was Howard -Effingham. With the eagerness of a sanguine nature, he had become fixed -in the idea that the prosperity with which they had commenced was to be -continuous. Inspired with that belief he had, as we have seen, commenced -to indulge himself with the reproduction, on a small scale, of the -pleasant surroundings of the old country. He had fancied that the -production of cattle, cheese, butter, bacon, and cereals would go on -almost automatically henceforth, with a moderate amount of exertion on -Wilfred’s part and of supervision on his own. It was not in his nature -to be absorbed in the money-making part of their life; but in the -acclimatisation of birds, beasts, and fishes, in the organisation of the -Hunt Club, in the greyhound kennel, and in the stable his interest was -unfailing, and his energy wonderful. - -Now, unfortunately, to his deep regret and mortification, he saw his -beloved projects rendered nugatory, worthless, and in a manner -contemptible, owing to this woeful season. - -What was likely to become of the fish if the lake dried up, as it showed -every disposition to do? How was one to go forth fowling and coursing -when every spare moment was utilised for some purpose of necessity? - -As for the hounds, some arrangement would have to be made about feeding -and exercising these valuable animals. The horseflesh was wanting, the -time was not to be spared, the meat and meal were not always -forthcoming. Terrible to imagine, the kennel was commencing to be an -incubus and an oppression! - -In the midst of this doubt and uncertainty a letter came from a -well-known sportsman, Mr. Robert Malahyde, keenest of the keen, offering -to take charge of the hounds until the season became more tolerable. His -district was not so unfavourably situated as the neighbourhood of Yass, -and from his larger herds and pastures he would be able to arrange the -‘boiler’ part of the management more easily than Mr. Effingham. - -A meeting of the subscribers was quickly called, when it was agreed that -the hounds be sent to Mummumberil till the seasons changed. - -As for the pheasants and partridges, which had flourished so -encouragingly during the first season, the curse of the time had fallen -even on them. The native cat (dasyurus) had increased wonderfully of -late. Berries and grass seeds were scanty in this time of famine. In -consequence, the survival of the fittest, coupled with acts of highly -natural selection, ensued. The native cats selected the young of the -exotic birds, but few of the adult game seemed likely to survive this -drought. - - - - - CHAPTER XX - AN UNEXPECTED DEVELOPMENT - - -An expedition was to be organised in spring, and the stock removed, no -matter where. It would be the only chance for their lives. As it was, -the winter was fast coming upon them. Every blade of the ordinary -herbage had disappeared. The nights commenced to lengthen. Frosts of -unusual severity had set in. Even now it seemed as if their last hope -might be destroyed and their raft dashed on the rocks ere it was -floated. - -But one morning Dick Evans came up to Wilfred, sadly contemplating the -attenuated cows which now represented the once crowded milking-yard. He -was riding his old mare, barebacked, with his folded coat for a saddle, -and spoke with unusual animation. - -‘I believe we’re right for the winter after all, sir. I never thought to -see this, though old Tom told me he’d know’d it happen once afore.’ - -‘What do you mean?’ - -‘Well, I took a big walk this morning to see if I could find tracks of -this old varmint. I thought she might be dead, but I warn’t satisfied, -so I took a regular good cruise. I found some tracks by the lake, where -I hadn’t been for some time, and there sure enough I finds my lady, as -snug as a wallaby in a wheat patch. Look how she’s filled herself, sir.’ - -Wilfred replied that the old mare appeared to have found good quarters. - -‘When I got to the lake, sir, I was reg’lar stunned. It was as dry as a -bone, but through the mud there was a crop of “fat hen” comin’ up all -over, miles and miles of it, as thick as a lucerne field on the Hunter. -The old mare was planted in a patch where it was pretty forrard. But -it’s growin’ so’s you can see it, and there’ll be feed enough in a week -or two for all our cattle and every hoof within twenty miles of the -lake.’ - -‘Wonderful news, Dick; and this “fat hen,” as you call it, is good and -wholesome food for stock?’ - -‘Can’t beat it, sir; first-chop fattening stuff; besides, there’s rushes -and weeds growin’ among it. You may pound it, we’ll have no more trouble -with the cattle for the winter, and they’ll be in good fettle to start -south in the spring.’ - -This was glorious news. It was duly related at the breakfast-table, and -after that meal Wilfred and Guy betook themselves to the lake. There -they beheld one of Nature’s wondrous transformations. - -The great lake lay before them, dry to its farthermost shore. The -headlands stood out, frowning in gloomy protest against the conversion -of their shining sea into a tame green meadow. Such, in good sooth, had -it actually become. Through the moist but rapidly hardening mud of the -lake-surface millions of plants were pushing themselves with vigour and -luxuriance, caused by the richness of the ooze from which they sprang. -Far as the eye could see, a green carpet was spread over the lately -sombre-coloured expanse. The leaves of the most forward plants were -rounded and succulent, while nothing could be more grateful to the -long-famished cattle than the full and satisfying mouthfuls which were -in parts of the little bays already procurable. - -Even now, guided by the mysterious instinct which sways the hosts of the -brute creation so unerringly, small lots had established themselves in -secluded spots, showing by their improved appearance how unusual had -been the supply of provender. - -‘What a wonderful thing,’ said Guy; ‘who would ever have thought of the -old lake turning into a cabbage-garden like this? Dick says this stuff -makes very good greens if you boil it. Why, we can let Churbett and the -Benmohr people send their cattle over if it keeps growing—as Dick -says—till it’s as high as your head. But how in the world did this seed -get here? That’s what I want to know. The lake hasn’t been dry for ten -years, that’s certain, I believe. Well, now, did this seed—tons of -it—lie in the mud all that time; and if not, how was it to be sowed, -broadcast, after the water dried up?’ - -‘Who can tell?’ said Wilfred. ‘Nature holds her secrets close. I am -inclined to think this seed must have been in the earth, and is now -vivified by the half-dry mud. However it may be, it is a crop we shall -have good cause to remember.’ - -‘I hope it will pull us through the winter and that’s all,’ said Guy. ‘I -mustn’t be done out of my trip down south. I want to find a new country, -and make all our fortunes in a large gentlemanlike way, like Mr. St. -Maur told us of. You don’t suppose he goes milking cows and selling -cheese and bacon.’ - -‘You mustn’t despise homely profits, Guy,’ said the elder. ‘Some of the -largest proprietors began that way, and you know that “Laborare est -orare,” as the old monks said.’ - -‘Oh yes, I know that,’ said the boy; ‘but there’s all the difference -between Columbus discovering America, or Cortez when he climbed the tree -in Panama and saw two oceans, and being the mate of a collier. I must -have a try at this exploring before I’m much older. There’s such a lot -of country no one knows about yet.’ - -‘You will have your chance, old fellow, and your triumph, like others, I -hope. But remember that obedience goes before command, and that Captain -Cook was a boy in a collier before he became a finder of continents.’ - -Wilfred found it necessary to ride over to Benmohr to arrange definitely -about the time of departure. He had nearly reached the well-known gate -when a horseman rode forward from the opposite direction. He was well -mounted, and led a second horse, upon which was a pack-saddle. Both -animals were in better condition than was usual in this time of -tribulation. - -Effingham was about to pass the stranger, whose bronzed features, half -concealed by a black beard, he did not recall, when he reined his horses -suddenly. - -‘You don’t remember me, Mr. Effingham. I am on my way to the old place. -I’ve got something to tell you.’ - -It took more than another glance to enable him to recognise the speaker, -and then it was a half-instinctive guess that prompted him to connect -the bold black eyes and swarthy countenance with Hubert Warleigh. - -‘The same,’ said the horseman. ‘I saw you did not know me; most likely -took me for a station overseer or a gentleman. I was a swagman when you -saw me last, so I’m getting on, you see.’ - -‘I beg you a thousand pardons,’ said Wilfred, shaking his hand -cordially. ‘I did not know you at first sight; the beard alters your -appearance, you must admit. I hope you are coming to stay with us. My -father will be delighted to see you. He often speaks of you.’ - -‘I thank him, and you too. If _my_ father had been like him, I should -have been a different man. But I had better tell you my business before -we go farther. They say you are going to shift the cattle; is that -true?’ - -‘We start almost at once. But we haven’t settled the route.’ - -‘That’s just as well. I’ve found a grand country-side away to the south, -and came to show you the way—that is, if you believe my story.’ - -‘Look here,’ cried Wilfred excitedly, ‘come with me to Benmohr to-night, -and we’ll talk it over with Argyll and Hamilton. We must hold a council -over it. It’s near sundown, and I intended to stay there.’ - -Hubert Warleigh drew back. ‘I don’t know either of them to speak to. The -fact is, I have lived so much more in the men’s huts than the masters’ -until the last few months, that I don’t fancy going anywhere unless I’m -asked.’ - -‘Come as my friend,’ said Wilfred impetuously. ‘It is time you took your -proper position. Besides, you are the bearer of good tidings—of news -which may be the saving of us all.’ - -He allowed himself to be persuaded. So the two young men rode up to the -garden gate, at which portal they were met by Argyll. Ardmillan and Neil -Barrington were playing quoits on the brown lawn. Fred Churbett (of -course) was reading in the verandah. - -‘Let me introduce my friend, Mr. Hubert Warleigh,’ said Wilfred. ‘He has -just come in from a journey, and I have prevailed on him to accompany -me.’ - -‘Most happy to see you, Mr. Warleigh,’ said Argyll, with cordial -gravity. (He knew all about ‘Gyp’ Warleigh, and had probably said -contemptuous things, but accepted Wilfred’s lead, and followed suit.) -‘The man will take your horses. Effingham, you know your way to the -barracks.’ - -Hubert Warleigh followed his newly-acquired comrade into the building, -where the appearance of matters indicated that some of the other -habitués had been recently adorning themselves. Mrs. Teviot, however, -promptly appeared on the scene with half-a-dozen towels, and supplies of -warm water. - -‘Weel, Maister Effingham, this is a sair time and a sorrowfu’. To think -o’ a’ the gentlemen gangin’ clean awa’, and a’ the milch kye, puir -things, into thae waste places o’ the yearth, and maybe deein’ o’ drouth -or hunger, and naebody to hae a crack wi’ but thae fearsome saavages -‘It’s very hard upon all of us, Mrs. Teviot, but if it won’t rain, what -are we to do? We can’t stay at home and let the cattle die. You know the -Israelites used to take away their beasts in time of famine, and they -seem to have had them pretty often.’ - -‘How do you do, Mrs. Teviot?’ said Warleigh. ‘How’s Wullie this dry -weather? I suppose you forget me staying a night in the hut with old Tom -Glendinning, three or four years ago.’ - -‘Gude sake, laddie!’ said the old woman in a tone of deep surprise, ‘and -is that you, clothed and in your right mind, like the puir body in the -Book? And has some one casten oot your deevil? Oh, hinnie! but I’m a -prood woman the day to see your father’s son tak’ his place amang -gentlefolk ance mair. The Lord guide ye and strengthen ye in the richt -path! Man, ye lookit sae douce and wiselike, hoo was I to ken ye, the -rantin’ dare-deevil that ye were syne?’ - -‘I have been living among the blacks, Mrs. Teviot,’ said the prodigal, -with a transient glance of humour in his deep eye; ‘perhaps that may -have improved me. But I am going to try to be a gentleman again, if I -don’t find it too dull.’ - -‘Aweel! The denner is dishen’ up the noo; dinna wait to preen yersels -ower muckle,’ added the good old dame as she vanished. - -In despite of her warning, her old acquaintance produced several -articles of raiment from the large valise, which had been unstrapped -from his led horse, and proceeded to change his dress. When they walked -into the house Wilfred thought he had rarely seen a handsomer man. - -His clear, bronzed complexion, his classically cut features, his large -dark eyes, with, what was then more uncommon than is the case now, a -bushy, coal-black beard, made the effect of his countenance picturesque -and striking in no ordinary degree. - -His tall and powerful frame, developed by toil and exercise into the -highest degree of muscular strength, was perfect in its symmetry as that -of a gladiator. His very walk showed the effect of years of woodcraft, -with the hunter’s lightness of footstep, and firm, elastic tread. As he -entered the dining-room there was a look of surprise, even admiration, -visible on every face. - -‘Mr. Warleigh,’ said Argyll, ‘allow me to make my friends known to you. -Hamilton, my partner—Ardmillan—Forbes—Neil Barrington—Fred Churbett. -Now, you are all acquainted. Dinner and Mrs. Teviot won’t admit of -further formalities.’ - -In despite of his former preferences for humble companionship, and his -depreciation of his own manners and habitudes, Wilfred was pleased and -interested by the unaffected bearing of his protégé during the dinner -ceremony. He well knew all the men present by reputation, though they -had no previous acquaintance with him, except, perhaps, as a stock-rider -on a cattle-camp. - -Without attempting to assume equality of language or mingle in -discussion, for which his lack of education unfitted him, he yet bore -himself in such self-possessed if unpretending fashion as impressed both -guests and entertainers. - -When the dinner was cleared away, and pipes were lit, in accordance with -the custom of bachelor households (O’Desmond’s always honourably -excepted), Wilfred Effingham thought the time favourable for opening the -serious business of the evening. - -‘I take it for granted,’ he said, ‘that we are all agreed to start for -“fresh fields and pastures new” in a few days. Equally certain that we -have not settled the route. Is that not so? Then let me take this -occasion of stating that Mr. Warleigh has arrived from the farthest out -station on the south, and that he is in possession of valuable -information as to new country.’ - -‘By Jove!’ said Argyll, ‘that is the very thing we were discussing when -you rode up, and are as far from a decision as ever. If Mr. Warleigh can -give us directions, we ought to be able to keep a course moderately -well—I mean with the aid of an azimuth compass.’ - -‘Argyll would undertake to find the road to Heaven with that compass of -his,’ said Ardmillan. - -When the laugh had subsided, which arose from this allusion to a -well-known habit of Argyll’s, who always carried a compass with him—even -to church, it was asserted—and was wont to state that no one but an -idiot could possibly lose his way in Australia who had sense enough to -comprehend the points of that invaluable instrument—Hubert Warleigh said -quietly, ‘I’m afraid the road to my country is a good deal like the road -to h—ll, that is, in the way of being the most infernal bad line for -scrub, mountain, and deep rivers I ever tackled, and that’s saying a -good deal. But I promised Captain Effingham to do him a good turn when I -got the chance, and when I heard of this dry season I came prepared to -show the way, if he liked to send his stock over, and go myself. As you -all seem to be in the same box, equally hard up, I don’t mind acting as -guide. We’ll be all the better for going as a strong party, as the -blacks are treacherous beggars and the tribes strong.’ - -‘The road, you say, is as bad as bad can be,’ said Hamilton. ‘I suppose -the good country makes up for it when you get there?’ - -‘I’ve seen all the best part of New South Wales,’ said the explorer. ‘I -never saw anything that was a patch on it before. Open forest country, -rivers running from the Snowy Mountains to the sea, splendid lakes, and -a regular rainfall.’ - -‘The last is better than all,’ said Hamilton. ‘One feels tired of -working up to a decent thing, and then having it knocked down by a -change of season. I, for one, will take the plunge. I am ready to start -at once for this interesting country, where the rivers don’t dry up, the -grass grows at least once a year, and rain is not a triennial -phenomenon.’ - -‘The same here!—and—I, and I,’ came from the other proprietors. - -‘I suppose there’s room enough for all of us; we needn’t tread on each -other’s toes when we reach the land of promise?’ said Ardmillan. - -‘Enough for the whole district of Yass and something to spare,’ said -their guest. ‘I was only over a portion of it, but I could see no end of -open country from the hill-tops. It’s a place that will bear heavy -stocking—thickly grassed and no waste country to speak of. After you -leave the mountains, which are barren and rough enough, you drop down -all of a sudden upon thinly-timbered downs—marshy in places, but grass -up to your eyes everywhere.’ - -‘I like that notion of marshes,’ said Fred Churbett pensively. ‘I feel -as I should enjoy the melody of the cheerful frog again. His voice has -been so long silent in the land that I should hail him as a species of -nightingale, always supposing that he was girt by his proper -surroundings of the “sword-grass and the oat-grass and the bulrush by -the pool.”’ - -‘How was it you managed to drop across this delightful province, -Warleigh?’ said Wilfred. ‘I should like to hear, if you don’t mind -telling us, how you crossed the mountains towards the south. Old Tom and -Dick Evans said they were inaccessible; that there was no good country -between them and the coast.’ - -‘Old Tom knew better,’ said their guest quietly. ‘We had a long talk the -last time I was at Warbrok; he said then if any one could find a road -for cattle the other side of the Snowy River, after you pass -Wahgulmerang, he was dead certain there was any amount of fine country -beyond, between it and the coast.’ - -‘How did he get to know?’ - -‘It seems he was stock-keeping once on one of the farthest out runs, and -a mate of his, who was “wanted” for some cross work or other, came along -and asked him to put him away for a bit, till the police got tired of -hunting him. The old man gave him some rations, and told him of a track -through the gullies, which took him to the leading spur, by which, of -course, he could get on to the table land. Only an odd white man or so -had ever been there. After a week he got “tired of looking at forty -thousand blooming mountains” (as he told Tom afterwards), and being a -resolute chap, with gun and ammunition, he thought he would make in -towards the coast. Anyhow he was away all the winter. When he came back -he told Tom that he had dropped in with a small tribe of blacks, who had -taken to him. They spent the winter by the side of a great lake, fishing -and hunting. There was plenty of fine grass country in all directions -when you got over the main range.’ - -‘And why did he come away from Arcadia?’ asked Argyll. - -‘From where?’ asked the unclassical narrator. ‘No; that wasn’t the name. -It was Omeo. A grand sheet of water on a kind of hill-plain, with ranges -all round, and one tremendous snow-peak you could see from anywhere. -Well, he got tired of the whole thing—didn’t know when he was well off, -like most men of his sort—so he made tracks back again. Old Tom didn’t -believe all the story. But he thought afterwards that there must be -something in it, and that it would be worth while some day to have a -throw in and find the lake at any rate.’ - -‘Then we are to suppose that you made the attempt and succeeded?’ said -Ardmillan. ‘I confess that I envy you. But how did you manage by -yourself?’ - -‘You remember the day I left your place?’ said Gyp Warleigh, nodding to -Wilfred. ‘I felt so savage and ashamed of myself that I determined to do -something, or get rubbed out in the attempt. So I made through Monaro, -crossed the Snowy River near Buckley’s crossing, and made straight for -the foot of the big range. I was well armed, and had as much rations as -I could carry. I knew the blacks were bad, but I had lived with more -than one tribe, and thought I could manage them. I set myself to track -the man old Tom spoke of. Of course, I’m a fair bushman,’ he added -gravely. ‘I’ve never done anything else much all my life, so there’s no -great credit in it.’ - -‘Had you no compass with you?’ inquired Argyll. ‘No? Then I differ from -you in thinking there was nothing extraordinary in the adventure. Not -one man in ten thousand would have risked it, or come out with his -life.’ - -‘What does a man want with a compass who can see the sun now and then?’ -asked the Australian. ‘He can steer by the lie of the country, the -course of the water, if he has the bushman’s eye. I tracked up the old -man’s mate, and found his first camp on the table land. It was easy -after that. He couldn’t help but follow the leading range. It wasn’t -such rough country after the first day. Game was plenty, so I lived -well.’ - -‘How about the niggers?’ asked Churbett. ‘I should have felt too nervous -to sketch or make any use of my opportunities. Fancy going to sleep at -night and thinking you mightn’t want any breakfast!’ - -‘I had a better chance than most men. I’m half a blackfellow myself in -the way of knowing their language and most of their ways. I did one of -their old men a service, and he taught me a secret that saved my life -more than once. Still, I didn’t want to run across them if I could help -it.’ - -‘I should have thought you couldn’t avoid them,’ said Hamilton. ‘They -are great trackers, and have eyes like hawks.’ - -‘I know that, but I could see their smokes a long way. I lay by during -the day and travelled late and early. One day I climbed a tree on the -top of a range, when I saw a cluster of snowy mountains, and on the far -side of them the waters of a lake. I had found Omeo.’ - -‘You must have felt like Columbus or Cortez gazing upon the two oceans,’ -said Ardmillan. ‘What a grand sensation.’ - -‘Columbus discovered America, didn’t he? The other chap I don’t remember -hearing about. Well, I partly discovered Omeo, I suppose, and a bitter -cold morning it was. I crawled down to the shore, and before I got there -could see miles and miles of splendid open country, stretching away to -the west. There were no more mountains; and as I pulled up next day, on -the bank of a big river, I found myself surrounded by a tribe of -blacks.’ - -‘They slew you, of course,’ said Fred Churbett. ‘Lights half turn, and -slow music from the orchestra. What a dramatic situation! If they didn’t -do that, Warleigh, what did they do?’ - -‘It was a close shave, I tell you,’ said the hero of the adventure. ‘But -they had just lost a fellow of about my age; so they adopted me, as luck -would have it. I could patter their lingo a bit, for they talked a sort -of Kamilaroi, in which I could make myself understood. Anyhow I lived -three or four months with them, and wandered nearer the coast. The -country kept getting better, and the grass was something to see after -this brickfield of a place. Towards spring my friends drew back to the -Monaro side again, and one fine day I gave them the slip, and here I am -now, good for the return trip. All I can do for any of you in the way of -showing new country, you’re welcome to. I’m bound to Mr. Effingham and -his father first of all. I’m their man till the exploring racket’s -finished.’ - -‘Gentlemen,’ said Argyll, rising to his feet oratorically, ‘friends, -countrymen, and fellow-pastoralists, I feel assured that you are all -grateful for the unexpected turn our plans have taken, owing to the -valuable information conveyed to us this night by my gallant and -honourable friend, Mr. Hubert Warleigh. If he carries out his promise of -acting as guide to us as far as this fair unknown land, I know you too -well to think for one moment that he will be suffered to confer this -benefit upon us gratuitously, the power to do which he has acquired at -peril of his life. (Hear, hear.) I beg to move that every man present at -this meeting pledges himself to contribute in kind, say at the rate of -ten per cent of his number, with the object of forming a herd with which -Mr. Warleigh may begin squatting life in the fine district he has been -fortunate enough to discover.’ - -The proposition was carried by acclamation. Further suggested by Neil -Barrington, ‘that this meeting do drink Mr. Warleigh’s health,’ and Mrs. -Teviot appearing with the ‘materials,’ which included a bottle of -Glenlivet, the suggestion was forthwith carried out. - -Mr. Warleigh quietly declined the cheering beverage, and after a mild -request that he would change his mind, no notice was taken of the -eccentric proceeding. When at a tolerably late hour Wilfred and Hubert -retired to the barracks, the greatest unanimity prevailed. They were -provided with a goal and a guide. Nothing could be more satisfactory. -From the first they would have a course, and when the difficulties of -the road arose, they could, as a strong and united band, overcome -ordinary obstacles, and protect themselves from known dangers. - -On the following morning Wilfred returned to The Chase, having persuaded -his newly-acquired friend to accompany him, not, however, without some -difficulty. - -‘You have no notion,’ he said, ‘how queer and strange I felt at Benmohr -last night. I am the equal of any man there by birth, yet I could see -that they were helping me not to feel out of place, knowing what they -did. I couldn’t help thinking that I was like a stock-rider that comes -in and stands twisting his cabbage-tree hat before the master and his -friends, when he’s asked if everything will be ready for the muster next -day, and if he’ll have a glass of grog.’ - -‘But, my dear fellow, you could never look like that; your -appearance—excuse me for alluding to it—gives you a great pull in -society. After all, how many men are there who have had every advantage -that education can give them, who chiefly hold their tongues, or say -nothing worth listening to when they do speak.’ - -‘Ah, but they understand things if they don’t talk; a poor ignorant -devil like me, when he hears matters touched on, as happened last night, -without any of them intending it, for they tried not to talk above me, -knows no more than the dead what they are at. I feel as if I could cut -my throat when it comes across me that, by other people’s neglect and my -own folly, I have lost the best part of my birthright.’ - -‘There’s time yet,’ said Wilfred, deeply touched by the sadness of the -tone, in which this grand stalwart cadet of a good house bewailed the -fate which had reduced him, mentally, to the condition of a -bullock-driver. - -‘You are young enough yet for anything; there is time enough and to -spare for you to improve yourself. So don’t be downhearted. As I said -before, your looks and your family name will carry you through -anything.’ - -‘If I thought so,’ said the younger son, ‘I might do something, even -now, to mend matters. And you really think that a man of my age could -make himself as good at books as some of the men we have just met, for -instance?’ - -‘I _have_ known men beginning late in life,’ said Wilfred, ‘who passed -stiff examinations, and when they commenced they could do little but -read and write. Now you are steady and have full control over yourself, -have you not?’ - -‘God knows!’ said his companion drearily. ‘I won’t go so far as that; -but I haven’t touched a drop of anything since your father shook hands -with me at Warbrok, and I don’t intend, for seven years at any rate. I -knelt down as soon as I was out of sight, and swore a solemn oath -against anything stronger than tea. And so far I’ve kept it.’ - -Much surprised were all at The Chase when Wilfred and his companion rode -up, and after a hurried introduction, passed on together to the former’s -bedroom. - -The young ladies endeavoured as much as possible to prevent themselves -from gazing too uninterruptedly at the interesting quasi-stranger; but -found it to be a difficult task. - -In despite of the educational defects and social disabilities of Hubert -Warleigh, there was about him a grandly unconscious, imperturbable -expression, like that of an Indian chief, which suited well his splendid -figure and bronzed features. He quietly addressed his host and answered -a few questions with but little change of countenance, and it was only -after an unusually playful sally on the part of Annabel that he relaxed -into a frank smile, which showed an unblemished set of teeth, under his -drooping moustache. - -‘I feel as if he had been taken in battle, and we were holding him in -captivity,’ said that sportive maiden, after the girls had retired to -Mrs. Effingham’s room for their final talk. - - ‘All stern of look and strong of limb - The chieftain gazed around; - And silently they looked on him - As on a lion bound. - -He has just that sort of air—very picturesque, of course—for he is the -handsomest man I ever saw; don’t you think so, Rosamond? I suppose he -can read and write? What a cruel shame to have brought him up like that? -Fancy Selden reared in such a way, mamma?’ - -‘I can hardly fancy such a thing, my dear imaginative child,’ said the -mother. ‘But how thankful we ought to be that we have been able to keep -dear Selden at school, even in this trying time.’ - -Mr. Effingham, who attributed the change which had taken place in Hubert -Warleigh’s habits in some measure to his own exhortation, was very -pleased and proud. He welcomed the young man into his family circle with -warmth, and in every way endeavoured to neutralise the _gêne_ of the -position by drawing him out upon topics in which his personal experience -told to advantage. - -He constrained him to repeat the tale of his exploration, and dwelt with -great interest upon his sojourn with the blacks, which, he said, -deserved a place in one of Fenimore Cooper’s novels. - -Annabel wanted to know whether there were any young men in the tribe who -at all resembled Uncas. But Hubert had never heard of Chingachgook or of -his heroic son. Magua and Hawkeye were as unknown to his unfurnished -mind as the personages of the Nibelungen-Lied. So they were compelled to -avoid quotations in their conversation, and only to use the cheapest -form of English which is made. It was a matter of regret to these -kind-hearted people when they made any allusion which they perceived to -be as the word of an unknown tongue to the stranger within their gates. -His half-puzzled, half-pained look was piteous to see. It was like that -of some dumb creature struggling for speech, or blindly feeling for a -half-familiar object. - -To the artless benevolence of youth it would have been interesting to -remedy the deficiencies of a nature originally rich and receptive, but -void and barren from lack of ordinary culture. Mrs. Effingham, however, -compelled to regard things from a matron’s point of view, was not sorry -to think that this picturesque, neglected orphan would in a few days -quit their abode for a long journey. - -As the time drew near, and preparations were proceeded with, a great -sadness commenced to overspread The Chase. Wilfred had never been absent -for any lengthened period before, nor Guy for more than a week under any -pretence whatever. He was frantic with delight at the change of plan. - -‘I’m so glad that “Gyp” Warleigh is going with us, even if he hadn’t -found this new district. Dick says he’s the best bushman in the country, -and can go straight through a scrub and come out right the other side, -without sun or compass or anything, just like a blackfellow. You see -what a place I’ll have across the mountains after a year or two.’ - -‘I wish it was not so far and so dangerous, my child, as I am sure it -must be,’ said Mrs. Effingham, stroking the boy’s fair brow, as she -looked sadly at the eager face, bright with the unquestioning hopes of -youth. ‘You will enjoy the travel and adventure and even the risk, but -think how anxious your poor mother and sisters will be!’ - -‘Oh, I’ll write by every chance,’ said Guy, anxious as a page who sees -the knights buckle on armour for the first skirmish, not to be deprived -of his share of the fray. ‘There will be lots of opportunities by people -coming back.’ - -‘What! from a place just discovered?’ said his mother, with a gentle -incredulity. - -‘Ah, but Dick says if it’s half as fine as Hubert Warleigh calls it—not -that he’s a man to say a word more than it deserves—that it will be -rushed like all new settlements with hundreds of people, and there will -be a town and a post-office and all kinds of humbug in no time. People -move faster in Australia than in that slow old Surrey.’ - -‘You mustn’t say a word against our dear old home, my boy,’ said his -mother, playfully threatening him, ‘or I shall fear your being turned -into a backwoodsman, or at any rate something different from an English -gentleman, and that would break my heart. But I hope plenty of -tradespeople and farmers, and persons of all kinds, will come to your -Eldorado. It will make it all the safer, and more comfortable for you -all.’ - -‘Farmers, mother!’ said the boy indignantly. ‘What are you thinking of? -We don’t want any poking farmers there, taking up the best of the flats -and the waterholes after we have found the country and fought the blacks -for them. We can keep it well enough with our rifles. All I want is a -good large run, and not to see a soul near it except my own stock-riders -for years to come.’ - -‘You are going to be quite a mediæval baron, Guy,’ said Annabel, who had -stolen up and taken his hand in hers, the three hearts beating closely -in unison. ‘I suppose you will set up a dungeon for refractory vassals.’ - -‘I am sure he will be a good boy, and remember his mother’s teachings -when she is far away,’ said the fond parent, as the tears filled her -eyes, looking at the fair, bright-eyed face which she might never see -more after the last wave of her hand—the last fond, lingering farewell, -which was so soon to be. - -Well it is for the young and strong, who go laughing and shouting into -the battle of life, as if there were no ambuscades, defeats, weary -retreats, or hopeless resistance. Well for the sailor boy, who leaps on -to the deck as if there were no wreck or tempest, fatal mermaid or dead -men’s bones, beneath the smiling, inconstant wave! They have at least -their hour of hot-blooded fight and stubborn resistance to relentless -Destiny. But, ah me! how fares it with those who are left behind, -condemned to dreary watchings, for tidings that come not—to sickening -fears, that all too soon resolve themselves into the reality of doom? -These are the earth’s true martyrs—the fond mother—the devoted wife—the -loving sisters—the saddened father. Theirs the torture and the stake, -sacrificed to which they are in some form or other, while life lasts. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - A GREEN HAND - - -Matters were well advanced for the road. The thousand-and-one trifles -that are so easily forgotten before the commencement of a long journey, -and so sorely missed afterwards, were nearly completed under the -tireless tendance of Dick Evans. The three young men were chatting in -the verandah, after a long day’s drafting, when a strange horseman came -‘up from the under world.’ - -‘I wonder who it is,’ said Guy. ‘Not any of the Benmohr people, for they -have no time to spare until they come to say good-bye. I should say all -the other fellows were too hard at work. It’s a chance if Churbett and -the D’Oyleys will be ready for a fortnight. He looks like a gentleman. -It must be a stranger.’ - -‘It is a gentleman, as you say,’ replied Hubert Warleigh, ‘and not long -from home, by the cut of his jib.’ - -‘How can you tell?’ asked Wilfred. ‘He is a tall man and has a gun, -certainly, which last favours your theory.’ - -‘I see,’ said Hubert, ‘a valise strapped to the back of his saddle; -holsters for pistols, and top-boots. He is a “new chum,” safe enough; -besides, when he got to the slip-rails, he took the top one down first.’ - -‘You must be right,’ said Wilfred, smiling. ‘I used to disgrace myself -with the slip-rail business. Who in the world can it be? He has come at -the wrong time for being shown round, unless he wants an exploring -tour.’ - -The horseman rode up in a leisurely and deliberate fashion; a tall, -fresh-complexioned man, whose blue eyes and dark hair reminded Wilfred -of many things, and a half-forgotten clime. The lower part of the -stranger’s face was concealed by a thick but not fully-grown beard; and -as he advanced, with a look of great solemnity, and inquired whether he -had the honour to see Mr. Wilfred Effingham, that gentleman, for the -life of him, could not remember where he had set eyes upon him before. - -‘That is my name,’ said Wilfred. ‘Will you allow us to take your horse, -and to say that we are very glad to see you? Guy, take this gentleman’s -horse to the stable.’ - -‘I thank you kindly. I believe that I have a letter of introduction -somewhere to you, sir, from an acquaintance of mine in Ireland—a -dissipated, good-for-nothing fellow, one Gerald O’More. I thought it -might be as useful in Australia as the writing of a better man.’ - -‘Gerald O’More was a friend of mine,’ said Wilfred coldly, with a frown -unseen by the stranger, busily engaged in unfastening his multifarious -straps and buckles. ‘There must be some mistake about the reputation.’ - -‘It’s little matter,’ said the stranger coolly. ‘There’s hundreds in -Ireland it would suit to the letter, and proud of it they’d be. Maybe it -was Tom Ffrench I was thinking of—but it’s all as one. It’s thinking he -was of coming out here himself, the same squireen.’ - -‘I wish to Heaven he had,’ said Wilfred, with so hearty an accentuation -that the stranger raised his head, apparently struck by the sudden -emotion of his tone. ‘There is no man living I would as soon see this -moment.’ - -‘So this wild counthry hasn’t knocked all the heart out of ye, Wilfred, -me boy,’ said the stranger, holding out his hand, while such a smile -rippled over his face as only a son of mirth-loving Erin can produce. -‘And so ye didn’t know your old chum because he had a trifle of hair on -his face, and he coming ten thousand miles to make an afternoon call. I -trust the ladies are well this fine weather, and haven’t had their -bonnets spoiled by the rain lately.’ - -Wilfred gazed for one moment at the now well-known features, the bright -fun-loving eyes, the humorous curves of the lips, and then grasping both -hands, shook them till his stalwart visitor rocked again. - -‘Gerald, old man!’ he exclaimed in tones of the wildest astonishment, -‘is it you in the flesh? and how in the name of everything magical did -you ever manage to leave green Rathdown and come out to this burned-up -land of ours? But you are as welcome as a week’s rain—I can’t say more -than _that_. To think that a beard should have altered your face so! But -I had no more thought of seeing you here than our old host of Castle -Blake.’ - -‘True for you! What a brick he was! God be with the days we spent there -together, Will. Maybe we’ll see them again, who knows? Didn’t I find my -way here like an Indian of the woods? ’Tis a great bushman I’ll make, -entirely. And, in truth, there’s no life would suit me better. An -Irishman’s a born colonist, half made before he leaves old Ireland. Was -that your young brother that I used to make popguns for? What a fine boy -he has grown!’ - -‘Yes, that was Guy; he’s anxious, like you, to be a bold bushman. Let me -introduce my friend Mr. Warleigh, the leader of an expedition we are all -bound upon next week.’ - -‘Very glad to meet Mr. Warleigh, I’m sure, and I hope he’ll be kind -enough to accept me as a supernumerary—cook’s mate, or anything in the -rough-and-ready line. I’m ready to ship in any kind of craft.’ - -‘You don’t mean to say you would like to go with us, Gerald? We are -bound for “a dissolute region, inhabited by Turks,” as your illustrious -countryman expressed it. For Turks read blacks,—in their way just as -bad.’ - -‘Pardon me, my dear fellow, for the apparent disrespect; but you don’t -fancy people come out to this unfurnished territory of yours to amuse -themselves? What else did I come for but to work and make money, do you -suppose?’ - -‘Now I won’t have any explanations till I’ve shown you to my mother and -the girls. How astonished they will be!’ - -They were certainly astonished. So much so, indeed, that Mr. O’More -began to ask why it should be so much more surprising that he came than -themselves. - -‘But we were ruined,’ said Annabel, ‘and would not have had anything to -eat soon, or should have had to go to Boulogne—fancy what horror!’ - -‘And am I, Gerald O’More, such a degenerate Irish gentleman that I can’t -be ruined as nately and complately as any ancestor that ever frightened -a sub-sheriff?’ (Here they all laughed at his serio-comic visage.) ‘In -sober earnest, I _was_ ruined, not entirely by my own fault, but so -handily that when the old place was sold there was nothing left over but -the lodge at Luggie-law, where you and I used to fish and shoot and -drink potheen, Wilfred, in cold evenings.’ - -‘Why not live there, then? I’m sure we were snug enough.’ - -‘Why not?’ said O’More—and as he spoke his features assumed a sterner, -more elevated expression—‘because I wouldn’t turn myself into a poor -gentleman, with a few hangers-on, and a career contemptibly limited -either for good or evil. No! I’d seen many a good fellow, once the -genial sportsman and boon companion, change into the lounger and sot. So -I packed my gun and personal possessions, put the lodge in my pocket, -and here I am, with all the world of Australia before me.’ - -‘A manly resolve,’ said Mr. Effingham, ‘and I honour you for it, my dear -boy. You find us in the midst of a disastrous season, but those who know -the land say that the next change must be for the better. You will like -all our friends, and enjoy the free life of the bush before you are a -month at it. Australia is said, also—though we have not found such to be -the case lately—to be an easy country to make money in.’ - -‘So I have found already,’ said O’More. - -‘How?’ said everybody in a breath. ‘You can’t have had any experience in -money-making as yet.’ - -‘Indeed have I,’ said the newly-arrived one. ‘Why, the first day I came -to Sydney I bought a half-broke, well-bred colt for a trifle, and as I -came through Yass I exchanged him for the horse I am now riding and a -ten-pound note.’ - -‘What a wonderful new chum you must be!’ said Guy impulsively. ‘I’ve -heard of lots that lost nearly all the cash they had the first month, -but never of one who made any. You will be as rich as Mr. Rockley soon.’ - -‘Amateur horse-dealing doesn’t always turn out so well. But I always buy -a good horse when I see him. I shall get infatuated about this country; -it suits me down to the ground.’ - -The evening was passed in universal hilarity. Mr. O’More’s spirits -appeared to rise in the inverse proportion to the distance which -separated him from the Green Isle. Every one was delighted with his -_naïveté_ and resolves to do great things in the way of exploration. The -expedition he regarded as an entertainment for his special benefit, -declaring that if it had not been finally settled he would have got one -up on his own account. - -As good luck would have it, the Benmohr cattle escaped from the -mustering paddock after they had been collected, and having ‘made back’ -to fastnesses, which they had been permitted to occupy in consideration -of the season, took some days in recapturing. So that yet another week -of respite, to everybody’s expressed disgust but secret relief, was -granted. Besides, Fred Churbett was not quite ready—he seldom was—and -the D’Oyleys were just as well pleased to scrape up a few more of their -outliers. There remained then ‘a little season of love and laughter’ for -Mr. Gerald O’More to utilise in improving the acquaintance. - -And he was just the man to do this. He won old Dick’s good-will by the -hearty energy with which he threw himself into the small labours -which, of course—for who ever knew an overland journey quite provided -for, or a ship’s cargo stowed away, on the appointed day of its -departure?—remained to be got through. He had devoted himself _en -amateur_ to the duties of third mate on the voyage out, and, being a -yachtsman of experience, entitled himself to the possession of a -certificate, should he ever require, as he thought seriously was on -the cards, to work his way home. In matters connected with ropes and -fastenings he showed an easy superiority. Sailors are proverbially the -most valued hands in Australia, from their aptitude to make the best -kind of bushmen. Their adaptiveness to every kind of labour, grounded -on the need for putting out their strength at the orders of a despotic -superior, is a fine training for bush life. Having nautical tendencies -superadded to recent experiences, Gerald O’More fulfilled these -conditions, and was rated accordingly. - -‘He’s the makings of a fust-rate settler, that young gentleman is,’ said -Dick Evans. ‘He’s a man all over, and can ketch hold anywhere. He’s got -that pluck and bottom as he don’t know his own strength.’ - -His exuberant spirits by no means exhausted themselves during the labour -of the day, when in check shirt and A.B. rig he was in the forefront of -the drafting, branding, loading, or packing which still went on. In the -evening, after a careful toilette, he was equally tireless in his -society duties, and kept all the lady part of the family entertained by -his varied conversation, his songs, jokes, and tales of many lands. He -struck up a great alliance with Annabel, who declared that he was a -delightful creature, specially sent by Providence to raise their spirits -in this trying hour. - -It was well enough to talk lightly of the Great Expedition, but as the -day approached for the actual setting out of the Crusade, deep gloom -settled upon the inmates of The Chase. - -Wilfred Effingham had never before quitted home upon any more -danger-seeming journey than a continental trip or a run over to Ireland. -He was passionately devoted to his mother and sisters, whom at that -period of his life he regarded as the chief repositories, not only of -all the virtues, but of all the ‘fine shades’ of the higher feminine -character. By no means deficient of natural admiration for the unrelated -daughters of Eve, he regarded his sisters with a love such as only that -relation can furnish. With them he was ever thoughtful, fond, and -chivalrous. For their comfort and advantage he was capable of any -sacrifice. Rosamond, nearest to him in age, had been from childhood his -close companion, and for her he would have laid down his life. These -feelings were reciprocated to the fullest extent. - -And now he was going away—the dutiful son, the fond brother, the kindly, -cheerful companion—away on a hazardous journey into an unknown, -barbarous region, exposed to the dangers of Australian forest wayfaring. -Guy, too, was on the march—the frank, fearless boy, idolised, as is the -younger son ofttimes, with the boundless love with which the mother -strains the babe to her bosom. - - He was the last of all, yet none - O’er his lone grave may weep. - -He was not the _very_ last, Selden and Blanche coming after, as was -pointed out to Mrs. Effingham, when her tears flowed at Selden’s -accidental quotation from ‘The Graves of a Household,’ for these lines -referred to one beneath the lone, lone sea, and even in the recesses of -the bushland mourning over his grave would be possible. - -‘Oh, my darling,’ said the tender mother, ‘do not jest on such a -subject. How could I live were either of you to die in the wilderness? -Why did this terrible season come to rob me of my sons? But promise me, -promise me, both of you, as you love your mother, not to run unnecessary -risks. Danger, ah me! I know there must be, but you will think of your -poor mother, and of your father and sisters, and not needlessly court -danger. Guy, you _will_ promise me?’ - -‘Don’t be so frightened, mother,’ said the younger son. ‘I won’t go -running after risks and dangers. Why, it’s ten to one nobody gets hurt. -There are only blacks; and there’s no water to drown us, that’s one -consolation.’ - -When did generous youth perceive the possibility of danger until forced -upon him by sudden stroke of fate? ‘Whom the gods love die young’ is -true in one sense, inasmuch as they escape the melancholy anticipations -which cloud the joys of maturer life. For them trains never collide, nor -coaches upset; sword-strokes are parried, and bullets go wide; ships -founder not; disease is only for the feeble; they are but the old who -die! - -Wilfred more truly understood the matron’s tender dread, and her -reasons. - -‘Don’t fret, my darling mother,’ he said as he clasped her hand, ‘I’ll -look after Guy. You know he obeys me cheerfully, so far; and you know I -am pretty careful. I will see he does nothing rash, and he will be -always under my eye.’ - -‘Remember, dear, I trust him to you,’ said Mrs. Effingham, returning her -son’s fond clasp, but not wholly reassured, being of the opinion that -what Wilfred considered careful avoidance of danger other people -characterised as unflinching though not impetuous determination to get -through or over any given obstacle. - - * * * * * - -Off at last! The tearful breakfast is over. The long string of cattle -has poured out of the mustering paddock gates, followed by Hubert -Warleigh, with Duncan Cargill and Selden, who were permitted to help -drive during the first stage; Mr. O’More, in cords and top-boots, with a -hunting-crop in his hand, wisely declining a stock-whip for the present. -His horse bears a cavalry headstall bridle, with a sliding bridoon -rein—‘handy for feeding purposes,’ he says. He has yet to learn that, -after a week’s cattle-driving, most horses may be trusted to graze with -the reins beneath their feet, which they will by no means tread upon or -run off with. - -A couple of brown-faced youngsters, natives of Yass, have been hired, as -road hands and to be generally useful, for the term of one year. These -young persons are grave and silent of demeanour; have been ‘among -cattle’ all their lives, and no exception can be taken to their -horsemanship. They afford an endless fund of amusement to O’More, who -forces them into conversation on various topics, and tries to imitate -their soft-voiced, drawling monotone. - -Dick Evans drives the horse-dray, destined to go no farther than the -Snowy River, after which the camp equipment will be carried on -pack-horses, the road being closed to wheels. They are now being driven -with the cattle, accoutred with their pack-saddles and light loads to -accustom them to the exercise. - -Dick has had a characteristic parting with Mrs. Evans, who saw him -prepare to depart without outward show of emotion. - -‘Now mind you behave yourself, Evans, while you’re away, and don’t be -running off to New Zealand, or the Islands, or anywheres.’ - -‘All right, old woman,’ said Dick, cracking his whip. ‘You’ll be so -precious fond of me when I come back that we shan’t have a row for a -year afterwards.’ - -‘No fear; not if you was to stop away five year!’ retorted his spouse, -with decision. ‘Take care as I don’t marry again afore you come back, if -you hang it out too long.’ - -‘Marry away and don’t mind me, old woman,’ returned the philosophical -Dick; ‘_I_ shan’t interfere with the pore feller. Leave us the old mare, -that’s all. A good ’oss, that you can’t put wrong in saddle or harness, -ain’t met with every day.’ - -Here Mrs. Evans, seeing a smile on the faces of the listeners, began to -think she was occupying an undignified position. Putting her apron to -her eyes, with a feeble effort at wiping a few tears away, she solemnly -told her incorrigible mate that she hoped God would change the wicked -old heart of him, as wasn’t thankful for a good wife, as had cooked and -worked for him, and been dragged about the country all these years, and -now to be told she was worse than a brute beast! Here _real_ tears came. - -‘The mare can hold her tongue, at any rate,’ quoth Dick; ‘and where’s -the woman you can say as much of, barrin’ Mrs. Wilson of Ours, as was -born deaf and dumb? But come, I didn’t mean to fret ye, and me on the -march. Give us a buss, old woman! Now we part all reg’lar and military -like. You know women’s not allowed with the rigiment in war time. Mind -you take care of the missus and the young ladies, and keep a civil -tongue in your head.’ - -With this farewell exhortation and reconciliation Dick shook off his -spouse, and walked briskly away by the side of the team. The cattle, -glad to feel themselves unchecked, struck briskly along the track. -Wilfred and Guy came up at a hand-gallop, and took their places behind -the drove. The first act of the migratory drama was commenced, with all -the actors in their places. - -The first day’s stage was arranged to reach only to a stock-yard near -Benmohr. It was a longish day’s drive, but, being the first day from -home, all the more likely to steady the cattle. Having got so far, and -secured them inside the rails, with Dick and his team camped by the dam, -Wilfred left Guy in charge and rode over, with O’More and Hubert -Warleigh, to spend a last civilised evening at Benmohr. It was necessary -for the latter, now recognised as the responsible leader of the -expedition, to give Argyll, Hamilton, and the others instructions as to -the route. - -A fair-sized party was assembled around that hospitable board. All the -men present had been actuated by the same feelings, apparently, as -themselves, viz. with a trustworthy person in charge of the camp, they -might as well enjoy themselves once more at dear, jolly, old Benmohr. - -‘Hech! sae ye’re here to look at a body ance mair, Maister Effingham; -and whatten garred you to list Maister O’More, and him juist frae hame, -puir laddie, to gang awa’ and be killed by thae wild blacks?’ - -‘I suppose you wouldn’t mind _my_ being rubbed out, Mrs. Teviot,’ said -Hubert. ‘It’s only gentlemen from England that are valuable. Imported -stock, eh?’ - -‘Noo, Maister Hubert, ye ken weel I wad be wae eneugh if onything -happened to yer ain sell, though ye hae nae mither to greet for ye, -mair’s the peety, puir lady! But your hands can aye keep your heed; and -they say ye can haud ane o’ thae narrow shields and throw a spear as -weel’s ony o’ the blacks. They’ll no catch _you_ napping; but this young -gentleman will maybe rin into ambushes and sic-like, like a bird into -the net o’ the fowler.’ - -‘Then we must pull him out again,’ said Hubert gravely. ‘I hope you are -not going to be rash, Mr. O’More. See how you will be missed.’ - -‘I am aware, as I have not had the good fortune to live much in -Australia,’ said Gerald, ‘that I must be made of sugar or salt, -warranted to melt at the first wetting. But my hands have kept my head -in an Irish fair, before now; and I think half-a-dozen shillelahs at -once must be nearly as bad as a blackfellow’s club.’ - -‘They are deuced quick with the boomerang and nullah,’ said Hubert; ‘you -can hardly see the cursed things before they are on to you.’ - -‘And a barbed spear is worse than all the blackthorns in Tipperary,’ -said Wilfred; ‘so look out and don’t cast a gloom over the party by your -early death. Mrs. Teviot, give me a parting kiss and your blessing, for -that _is_ the dinner-bell.’ - -‘Maister Effingham!’ said the old dame, in accents of such unfeigned -surprise and disapproval that all three men burst out laughing. ‘Eh, -ye’re jist laughin’ at the auld woman, ye bad laddie; but ye ken weel -that ye hae my blessing; and may the mercy and guidance o’ the Lord God -of Israel bring ye a’ safe hame to your freends and relations—my -gentlemen and a’, as I’m prayin’ for’t—and a bonnie day it will be when -we see ye a’ back again—no forgetten that daft Neil Barrington, that -gies me as muckle trouble as the hail o’ ye pitten thegither.’ - -At the conclusion of this farewell ceremony with Mrs. Teviot, who indeed -took a most maternal interest in the whole company, they hied themselves -at once to the dining-room. - -‘So you are to join our party, Mr. O’More?’ said Hamilton. ‘You could -not have come at a better time to understand our bush life.’ - -‘Awfully glad of the chance, I assure you,’ said that gentleman. ‘It was -the hope of something of the sort that brought me out. If this affair -had not been on, I should have fancied I had been induced to come to a -new country under false pretences.’ - -‘Why so?’ asked Forbes. - -‘Because you are all so unpardonably civilised. I expected to sit upon -wooden stools and eat biscuits and beef, to sleep in the open air, and -to be returning fire with my pistols as I came up from the wharf. -Instead of which (I will take turkey, if you please) I find myself here, -at The Chase, and half-a-dozen other houses in the lap of luxury.’ - -‘Oh, come!’ said Forbes deprecatingly, ‘are you not flavouring the -compliment a little too strongly?’ - -‘I think Mr. O’More comes from the Emerald Isle,’ said Ardmillan. ‘May I -ask if you have ever kissed the Blarney stone?’ - -‘Of course; all Irishmen make a point of it. It abates their naturally -severe tendencies. But joking apart, all you people live as well as most -of us in the old country. Wilfred here can bear me out. If claret was a -little more fashionable, I don’t see a pin to choose.’ - -‘There will be a change of fare when we’re on the road,’ said Fred -Churbett. ‘Who knows when we shall see pale ale again? The thought is -anguish; and those confounded pack-horses carry so little.’ - -‘But think of the way we shall enjoy club breakfasts, clean shirts, -evening parties, and all that, when we _do_ get back,’ said Neil -Barrington. ‘We shall be like sailors after a three years’ cruise. I -must say I always envied _them_.’ - -‘I think, if the company is unanimous,’ said Hamilton, ‘that we might as -well have a serious talk about the route. Captain Warleigh, as we must -now call him, will be off early to-morrow, so the greater reason for -proceeding to business.’ - -‘I was going to remind you all,’ said Hubert, ‘that we ought to agree -about our plans. It’s plain sailing across Monaro, though the feed is -bad until we come to the Snowy River. Of course, we all go on -to-morrow.’ - -‘Which way?’ asked Hamilton. - -‘Past Bungendore, Queanbeyan, and Micalago. We cross the Bredbo and the -Eumeralla higher up, and go by the Jew’s flat, and Coolamatong.’ - -‘We shall follow in a couple of days,’ said Argyll. - -‘And I in three,’ said Forbes. - -‘You needn’t follow in a string, unless you like,’ said their guide; -‘the feed will be cut up if one mob after the other goes over it. All -the stock-riders hereabouts know the Monaro country, so you can travel -either right or left of me, as long as you fetch up at Buckley’s -Crossing, of the Snowy River.’ - -‘What sort of a ford is it?’ inquired one of the D’Oyleys. - -‘It’s always a swim with the Snowy,’ said the captain, ‘summer and -winter, and a cold one too, as I can witness. But the grass is better, -though rough, after you cross, and we have an old acquaintance waiting -there to join the party. He knows the country well.’ - -‘Who the deuce is he?’ said Argyll. ‘We shall be well off for guides.’ - -‘Not more than you will want, perhaps,’ said the leader. ‘We’re not over -Wahgulmerang yet. But the man is old Tom Glendinning—and a better -bushman never saddled a horse. He has been living for some time at one -of the farthest out stations, Ingebyra, and wants to join us. He asked -me not to mention his name till we had actually started.’ - -‘So,’ said Wilfred reflectively, ‘the old fellow is determined to make -his latter days adventurous. I see no objection, do you, Argyll? He and -his history will be probably buried among the forests of this new -country we are going to explore.’ - -‘It cannot matter in any way,’ answered Argyll. ‘He will, as you say, -most likely never return to this locality.’ - -‘Many of the old hands have histories, if it comes to that,’ said -Hubert, ‘and very queer ones too. But they have paid the price for their -sins, and old Tom won’t have time to commit many more—if shooting an odd -blackfellow or two doesn’t count.’ - -‘Have we any more general instructions to receive?’ inquired Hamilton, -who was, perhaps, the most practical-minded of the party. - -‘Only these: we must all be well armed. Pistols are handy, and a rifle -or a double barrel is necessary for every man of the party. We _may_ -have no fighting to do; but blacks are plentiful, big fellows, and -fierce too. We must be able to defend ourselves and more, or not a man -will come back alive. After we cross the Snowy River, I shall halt till -you all come up; then we can join the smaller mobs of cattle, so as to -be close together in case of trouble. Everything will have to be packed -from the Snowy; so it will be as well not to take more than is -required.’ - -‘You are fully prepared for all the privations of the road, Mr. O’More?’ -asked Argyll. ‘They may strike you as severe after your late life at -headquarters.’ - -‘That is the very reason, my dear fellow. You surely haven’t forgotten -that when you were at home you fancied all Australian life to be -transacted in the wilderness. I expected the wilderness; I demand the -desert. With anything short of the wildest waste I shall be -disappointed.’ - -‘That’s the way to take it,’ said Fred Churbett. ‘I had all those -feelings myself when I arrived, but I was betrayed into comfort when I -bought The She-oaks, and have hardly gone nearer to roughing it than a -trip to the Tumut for store cattle.’ - -There was a laugh at this, Fred’s tendency to comfort being proverbial; -though, to do him justice, he was capable of considerable exertion when -roused and set going. - -‘Is this Eldorado of yours near the coast, Warleigh?’ inquired Forbes. -‘If so, there will be sure to be good agricultural land, and some kind -of a township will spring up.’ - -‘I believe there’s a passage from the lakes to the sea, near which would -be a grand site for a township. I hadn’t time to look it out. It gave me -all I knew to get back.’ - -‘What does any one want a town for?’ growled Argyll. ‘Next thing, people -will be talking about _farms_. Enough to make one ill. Are we going to -risk our lives and shed our blood, possibly, for the benefit of -storekeepers and farmers, to spoil the runs after we have won them?’ - -‘Don’t be so insanely conservative, Argyll,’ said Forbes. ‘Even a farmer -is a man and a brother. We shall want some one to buy our raw products -and import stores. We might as well give Rockley the office if we found -a settlement. _He_ would do us no harm.’ - -Here there was a chorus of approbation. - -‘Of course I except Rockley—as good a fellow as ever lived. But he holds -peculiar views upon the land question, and might induce others to come -over on that confounded farming pretence, which is the ruin of -Australia.’ - -‘The country I can show you, if we reach it, is large enough to hold all -your stock and their increase for the next twenty years, with -half-a-dozen towns as big as Yass.’ - -‘If this be the case, the sooner we get there the better,’ said -Hamilton. ‘You start in earnest to-morrow, and we shall follow the day -after. I shall keep nearly parallel with you. Ardmillan comes next, then -Churbett, lastly the D’Oyleys. We shall be the largest party, as to -stock, men, and horses, that has gone out for many a day.’ - -‘All the more reason why we should make our mark,’ said O’More. ‘I -wouldn’t have missed it for five hundred pounds. I might have stayed in -Ireland for a century without anything of the kind happening. I feel -like Raymond of Antioch, or Godfrey of Bouillon. I suppose we shan’t -meet to drink success to the undertaking every night.’ - -‘This is the last night we shall have _that_ opportunity,’ said Argyll. -‘Here come the toddy tumblers. The night is chilly, but it will be more -so next week, when we are on watch or lying under canvas in a teetotal -camp.’ - -‘We can always manage a good fire, unless we are in blacks’ country,’ -said Hubert; ‘that is one comfort; there’s any amount of timber; and you -can keep yourselves jolly in a long night by carrying firewood.’ - -Long before daylight Hubert Warleigh arose and awakened Wilfred. Their -horses had been placed so as to be easily procurable, and no delay took -place. The stars were in the sky. A faint, clear line in the east yet -told of the coming dawn, as the friends rode forth from Benmohr gate and -took the track to the scene of the last night’s camp. - -When they reached the spot the sun had risen, and no one was on the -ground but Dick Evans, who was in a leisurely way packing up the camp -equipage, including the tent and cooking utensils. - -‘Here’s the breakfast, Mr. Wilfred,’ he said cheerily; ‘the cattle’s on -ahead. I kept back the corned beef, and here’s bread and a billy of tea. -You can go to work, while I finish packing. I’ll catch up easy by -dinner-time, though the cattle’s sure to rip along the first few days.’ - -‘This is a grand institution,’ said Gerald. ‘I wouldn’t say a toothful -of whisky would be out of place, and the air so fresh; but sure “I feel -as if I could lape over a house this minute,” as I heard a Connemara -parlour-maid say once.’ - -‘Nothing is more appetising,’ said Wilfred, ‘than a genuine Australian -bush meal. A slice or two of meat, a slice of fresh damper, and a pot of -tea. You may travel on it from one end of the continent to another.’ - -‘He was a great man that invented that same,’ said O’More. ‘Would there -be a little more tay in the canteen? Beef and bread his unaided -intellect might have compassed; but the tay, even to think of that same -in the middle of the meal, required inspiration. When ye think of the -portableness of it too. It was a great idea entirely!’ - -‘Bushmen take it morning, noon, and night,’ said Warleigh. ‘The doctors -say it’s not good for us—gives us heartburn, and so on. But if any one -will go bail for a man who drinks brandy and water, I’d stand the risk -on tea.’ - -‘So I suspect. Even whisky, they do say, gets into the head sometimes. I -suppose you never knew a man to kill his wife, or burn his house, or -lame his child for life, _under the influence of tay_?’ - -An hour’s riding brought them to the cattle, which had just been -permitted ‘to spread out on a bit of rough feed,’ as the young man at -the side next them expressed it. A marshy creek flat had still remaining -an array of ragged tussocks and rushy growths, uninviting in ordinary -seasons, but now welcome to the hungry cattle. They found Guy sitting on -his horse in a leisurely manner, and keeping a sharp look-out on the -cattle. - -‘What sort of a night had you?’ said Wilfred. ‘Were they contented?’ - -‘Oh, pretty fair. They roared and walked round at first; then they all -lay down and took it easy. Old Dick roused us out and gave us our -breakfast before dawn. We had the horses hobbled short, and were on the -road with the first streak of light. This is the first stop we have -made.’ - -‘That’s the way,’ said Hubert. ‘Nothing like an early start; it gives -the cattle all the better chance. Some of these are very low in -condition. When we get over the Snowy, they’ll do better.’ - -‘Shall we have a regular camp to-night,’ asked Guy, ‘and watch the -cattle?’ - -‘Of course,’ said Hubert; ‘no more yarding. It is the right thing after -the first day from home.’ - -‘And how long will the watches be?’ asked Guy, with some interest. ‘If I -sleep as soundly as I did last night, I shan’t be much good.’ - -‘Oh, you’ll soon come to your work. Boys always sleep sound at first, -but you’ll be able to do your four hours without winking before we’ve -been a week on the road.’ - -The ordinary cattle-droving life and times ensued from this stage -forward. They passed by degrees through the wooded, hilly country which -lies between Yass and Queanbeyan, all of which was so entirely denuded -of grass as to be tolerably uninteresting. - -By day the work was tedious and monotonous, as the hungry cattle were -difficult to drive, and the scanty pasture rendered it necessary to take -advantage of every possible excuse for saving them fatigue. - -At night matters were more cheerful. After dark, when the cattle were -hemmed in—they were tired enough to rest peacefully—Guy had many a -pleasant talk by the glowing watch-fires. This entertainment came, after -enjoying the evening meal, with a zest which only youth and open-air -journeying combined can furnish. - -As for Gerald O’More, he examined and praised and enjoyed everything. He -liked the long, slow, apparently aimless day’s travel, the bivouac of -the night, the humours of the drovers. He ‘foregathered’ with all kinds -of queer people who visited the camp, and learned their histories. He -felt much disappointed that there were no wild beasts except the native -dog and native bear (koala), neither of which had sufficient confidence -in themselves to assume the offensive. - -The next week was one of sufficient activity to satisfy all the ardent -spirits of the party. In the first place, the cattle had to be driven -across the river, the which they resisted with great vehemence, never -before having seen a stream of the same magnitude. However, by the aid -of an unlimited quantity of whip-cracking, dogging, yelling, and -shouting, the stronger division of the herd was forced and hustled into -the deep, swift current. Here they bravely struck out for the opposite -side, and in a swaying, serpentine line, followed by the weaker cattle, -struggled with the current until they reached and safely ascended the -farther bank. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - INJUN SIGN - - -Having crossed their Rubicon, and being fairly committed to the task of -exploration, a provisional halt was called, and arrangement for further -progress made. One by one the other drovers arrived, and having -successively swum the river, guarded or ‘tailed’ their cattle until the -plan of campaign was fully matured. - -Duncan Cargill was sent back with the team. The contents of the waggon, -which, in view of this stage, had been economised as to weight, were -distributed among the pack-saddles. Such apportionment also took place -among the other encampments. Dick Evans as usual distinguished himself -by the neat and complete manner in which he arranged his packs. - -Wheeled carriages being impossible because of the nature of the country, -it is obvious that nothing but the barest necessaries can be -conveyed—flour, tea, sugar, camp-kettles large enough to boil beef, -billy-cans, frying-pans, quart-pots, axes, and the ruder tools, with the -blankets of the party, are all that can be permitted. Meat—indifferent -as to quality, but wholesome and edible—they had with them. Each man -carried his gun, on the chance of a sudden attack by blacks. It would be -obviously unreasonable to ask the enemy to wait until the pack-horses -came up, even supposing that guns could be safely carried in that -fashion. So each man rode with his piece slung carbine-fashion, and if -he had such weapon, his pistols in the holsters of the period. - -Reasonable-sized, but by no means luxurious, tents were carried, in -which those who were off watch could repose, also as shelter against -rain, if such a natural phenomenon should ever again occur in Australia. - -A few days sufficed to make all necessary arrangements, during which -Hubert Warleigh’s prompt decisions extorted universal respect. - -‘The country is partly open, as you see, for another hundred miles,’ -said he, ‘but after that, turns very thick and mountainous. The Myalls -will soon be on our tracks, and may go for us any time. What we have to -do, is to be ready to show fight with all the men we can spare. The -feed’s mending as we go on.’ - -‘Certainly it is,’ said Hamilton. ‘Our cattle are fresher than they were -a week since.’ - -‘My idea is to box the cattle into larger mobs, which will give us more -men to handle if we fight. We can draft them by their brands when we get -to the open country. The driving will be much the same and the men less -scattered about.’ - -‘A good proposal,’ said Argyll. ‘It will be more sociable, and, as you -say, safer in case of a surprise. But are you certain of an attack? Will -all these precautions be necessary?’ - -‘I know more of the Myall blacks of this country than most men,’ said -Warleigh gravely. ‘You see, we are going among strong tribes, with any -amount of fighting men. Big, well-fed fellows too, and fiercer the -farther you go south.’ - -‘How do you account for that?’ - -‘The cold climate does it and the living. Fish and game no end. It’s a -rich country and no mistake. When you see it, you won’t wonder at their -standing a brush to keep it.’ - -‘What infernal nonsense!’ said Argyll. ‘Just as if the brutes wouldn’t -be benefited by our occupation.’ - -‘They won’t look at it in that light, I’m afraid,’ said Fred Churbett. -‘History tells us that all hill-tribes have exhibited a want of -amiability to the civilised lowland races. In Scotland, I believe, to -this day, the descendants of a rude sub-variety of man pride themselves -upon dissimilarity of dress and manners.’ - -‘What!’ shouted Argyll, ‘do you compare my noble Highland ancestors with -these savages, or the lowland plebeians who usurped our rights? As well -compare the Norman noble with the grocer of Cheapside. Why——’ - -‘May not we leave the settlement of this question till we are more -settled ourselves?’ said Wilfred. ‘Our present duty is to be prepared -for our Australian Highlanders, who, as Warleigh knows, have a pretty -taste for ambuscades and surprises.’ - -It was decided that Wilfred and the Benmohr men should mix their cattle -and take the lead, followed by Churbett and the D’Oyleys, which, with -Ardmillan’s and Neil’s, would make three large but not unwieldy droves. -It must be borne in mind that five hundred head of cattle was considered -a large number in those primitive times, and that, although the road was -rough and the country mountainous, the added number of stock-riders -which the co-operative system permitted gave great advantages in -droving. - -Fred Churbett and Gerald O’More struck up a great intimacy, dissimilar -as they were in temperament and constitutional bias. The unflagging -spirits and ever-bubbling mirth of the Milesian were a constant source -of amusement to the observant humorist, while Fred’s tales of Australian -life were eagerly listened to by the enthusiastic novice. - -For days they kept the track which led from one border station to -another, finding no alteration from their previous experience of -wayfaring. But one evening they reached a spot where a dense and -apparently interminable forest met, like a wall, the open down which -they had been traversing. ‘Here’s Wargungo-berrimul,’ said Hubert -Warleigh, ‘the last settled place for many a day. We strike due south -now, towards that mountain peak far in the distance. A hundred miles -beyond that lies the country that is to make all our fortunes.’ - -‘Wasn’t it here old Tom Glendinning was to join us?’ said Wilfred. - -‘Yes; it was here I picked up the old fellow as I came back, with my -clothes torn off my back, and very little in my belly either. He swore -he would be ready, and he is not the man to fail in a thing of this -sort. By Jove! here the old fellow comes.’ - -A man on a grey horse came down the track which led from the station -huts to the deep, sluggish-looking creek. Such a watercourse often -follows the windings of the outer edge of a forest, defining the -geological formations with curious fidelity. - -A few minutes brought the withered features of the ancient stock-rider -into full view. He looked years older, and his eyes seemed unnaturally -bright. His figure was bowed and shrunken since they had seen him last, -but he still reined the indomitable Boney with a firm bridle-hand; and -not only did Crab follow him, but two large kangaroo dogs, red and -brindled as to colour, followed at his horse’s heels. - -‘My sarvice to ye, Mr. Wilfred,’ he said, touching his hat with a -gesture of old days. ‘So ye were bet out of Lake William and the Yass -country at last. Well, ’tis a grand place ye’re bound for now. To thim -that gits there, it’s a fortune—divil a less!’ - -‘Very glad to have you again, Tom. I hope the country will bear out its -character. What a fine pair of dogs you have there!’ - -‘’Tis thrue for ye, Master Wilfred; they’re fast and savage divils—never -choked a dingo. ’Tis little they care what they go at, from a bull to a -bandicoot, and they’d tear the throat out of a blackfellow, all the same -as an old-man kangaroo.’ - -‘Formidable animals, indeed,’ said Wilfred. ‘Gerald, here are a couple -of dogs warranted to fight like the bloodhounds of Ponce de Leon.’ - -‘The situation is becoming dramatic,’ said O’More. ‘I shouldn’t mind -seeing the wild man of the woods coursed by these fellows, if we could -be up in time to stave off the kill. But what splendid dogs they are! -taller and more muscular than the home greyhounds, with tremendous -chests and shoulders—very fine drawn too. They must have a cross that I -don’t know of.’ - -‘Thrue for you, sir. I heard tell that their mother—a great slut -entirely—came from a strain of Indian dogs that was brought to Ingebyra -by the ould say-captain that took it up. He said it was tigers they -hunted in India.’ - -‘Polygar dogs, probably,’ said Wilfred. ‘There is a fierce breed of that -name used by the Indian princes; the packs, in their wild state, worry a -tiger now and then. However that may be, they are fine fellows. How did -you get them, Tom?’ - -The old man attempted a humorous chuckle as he replied: - -‘Sure, didn’t they nearly ate the super himself last week, and him -comin’ in on foot after dark, by raison that his horse knocked up at the -four-mile creek. “Tom,” he says, “as you’re goin’ out to this new -country, you can take them two infernal savages with you. I’d a good -mind to shoot the pair of them. But the blacks will likely kill the lot -of you, so it will save me the trouble.” “All right,” says I, “my -sarvice to ye, sir. Maybe we’ll show the warrigals a taste of sport -before they have the atin’ of us.” So here we are—ould Tom Glendinning, -Boney and Crab, Smoker and Spanker—horse, fut, and dthragoons. ’Tis my -last bit of overlanding, I’m thinkin’. But I’d like to help ye to a good -run before I go, Mr. Wilfred, and lay me bones where ye’d have a kind -word and a look now and agen at the grave of ould hunstman Tom.’ - -The camp was always early astir. The later watchers took good care to -arouse the rest of the party at the first streak of dawn. Dick Evans and -Tom were by that time enjoying an early smoke. Hubert Warleigh, tireless -and indefatigable, needed no arousing. In virtue of his high office, he -was absolved from a special watch, as more advantageously employed in -general supervision of the party. - -Argyll, wonderful to relate— - - Whose soul could scantly brook, - E’en from his King a haughty look, - -was so impressed by the woodcraft of this grand-looking, sad-voiced -bushman, that to the wild astonishment of his friends he actually -submitted to hear his opinions confuted. - -As they plunged into the sombre trackless forest, where the tall -iron-bark trees, with fire-blackened stems, stood ranked in endless -colonnades, they seemed to be entirely at the mercy of their -lately-gained acquaintance. He it was who rode ever in the forefront, so -that the horsemen on the right and left ‘lead’ could with ease direct -their droves in his track. He it was who decided which of two apparently -similar precipices would prove to be the ‘leading range,’ eventually -landing the party upon a grassy plateau, and not in a horrible craggy -defile. He it was who gauged to a quarter of an hour the time for -grazing, and so reaching a favourable corner in time to camp. He saw the -pack-saddles properly loaded, apportioned the spare horses, and -commanded saddle-stuffing. Did a tired youngster feel overcome by the -desire of sleep, so strong in the lightly-laden brain of youth, allowing -his side of the drove to ‘draw out,’ he was often surprised on waking to -see them returning with a dark form pacing silently behind them. Did a -tricky stock-rider—for they were not all models of Spartan virtue—essay -to shirk his just share of work, he found a watchful eye upon him, and -perhaps heard a reminder, couched in the easily comprehended language of -‘the droving days.’ - -Before they had been a week on the new division of their journey, every -one was fain to remark these qualities in their leader. - -‘I say, Argyll,’ said Fred Churbett, who, with Ardmillan and Neil -Barrington, had ridden forward from the rearguard, leaving it to the -easy task of following the broad trail of the leading herd, ‘how about -going anywhere with that compass of yours? Could you steer us as -Warleigh does through this iron-bark wilderness?’ - -‘I am free to confess, Fred, that it does good occasionally to have the -conceit taken out of one. You must admit, however, that he has been over -the ground before. Still, he seems to have a kind of instinct about the -true course when neither sun nor landmarks are available, which -travellers assert only savages possess. You remember that dull, foggy -day? He had been away only an hour when he said we were making a -half-circle, and so it proved.’ - -‘And the confounded scrub was so thick,’ said Ardmillan, ‘that I tore -the clothes off my back hunting up a pack-horse. But for the tracks, I -knew no more than the dead where I was.’ - -‘This half-savage life he has lived has developed those instincts,’ said -Churbett. ‘He could do a little scalping when his blood was up, I -believe. I saw him look at that cheeky ruffian Jonathan as if he had a -good mind to break his neck. Pity he missed the education of a -gentleman.’ - -‘He is ignorant, of course, poor chap, from no fault of his own,’ said -Argyll; ‘but he is not to be called vulgar either. Blood is a great, a -tremendous thing; though he doesn’t know enough for a sergeant of -dragoons, yet there is a grand unconsciousness in his bearing and a -natural air of authority now that he is our commanding officer, which he -derives from his family descent.’ - -That night they reached the base of a vast range, which, on the morrow, -they were forced to ascend; afterwards, still more difficult, to -descend. This meant flogging the reluctant cattle every step of the -downward, dangerous track. Above them towered the mountain; below them -the precipice, stark and sheer, three hundred feet to the granite -boulders over which the foaming Snowy rolled its turbulent course to the -iron-bound coast of a lonely sea. - -Mr. Churbett and others of the party had a grievance against Destiny, as -having forced them from their pleasant homes to roam this trackless -wild, but no such accusation was heard from the lips of Gerald O’More. -His spirits were at the highest possible pitch. Everything was new, -rare, and delightful. The early rising was splendid, the droving full of -enjoyment, the scenery enthralling, the watching romantic, the shooting -splendid, the society characteristic. He made friends with all the men -of the party, but the chosen of his heart was old Tom, who discovered -that O’More had known of his old patron in Mayo. He thereupon conceived -a strong liking and admiration for him, as a ‘rale gintleman from the -ould counthry.’ - -Daily the old man recounted legends of the early days of colonial life, -and instructed him in the lore of the sportsmen of the land. So when the -cattle were ‘drawing along’ quietly, or feeding under strict -guardianship, Tom and he would slip off with the dogs, which generally -resulted in a kangaroo tail baked in the ashes for the evening meal, a -brush turkey, or a savoury dish of ‘wallaby steamer’ for the morning’s -breakfast. - - * * * * * - -Wilfred’s watch was ended. He was anxious enough to find his couch in -the tent, where he could throw himself down and pass instantly into the -dreamless sleep which comes so swiftly to the watcher. But he saw their -leader move off on his round, with his usual stately stride, as if sleep -and rest were superfluous luxuries. - -The morn arose, tranquil, balm-breathing, glorious. As the cattle -followed the course of a stream through the still, trackless forest, a -feeling of relief, amounting to exhilaration, pervaded the whole party. -It was generally known that the outskirts of the wilderness would be -reached that evening—that ere another day closed they might have a -glimpse of the long-sought land of promise. - -Every one’s wardrobe was in a dilapidated and unsatisfactory condition. -The horses were jaded, the cattle leg-weary, the men tired out, with the -dismal monotony of the wilderness. - -The stage of this day was unusually short; indeed, not above half of the -usual distance. The leader, Hubert, wished the rearguard to close up, in -case of accidents. In the event of a surprise, they must have their -whole available force within call. - -As is customary, there were dissentients. ‘Why lose half a stage?’ ‘Why -not send a scout forward? The wild men of the woods might, after all, be -peaceably inclined.’ This last suggestion was Argyll’s, who, always -impatient, could with difficulty brook the slow, daily advance of the -leading drove. The impetuous Highlander, who had not hitherto had -experience of hand-to-hand fighting with the wild tribes of the land, -was inclined to undervalue the danger of an attack upon a well-armed -party. - -But Hubert Warleigh, in this juncture, showed that he was not disposed -to surrender his rights as a duly appointed leader. ‘I am sorry we don’t -agree,’ he said; ‘but I take my own way until we reach the open country. -As to the blacks, no man can say I was ever afraid of them (or of -anything else, for that matter), only I know their ways. You don’t, of -course, and I think it the right thing to be well prepared. Old Tom saw -a heavy lot of tracks yesterday—all of fighting men too, not a gin or a -picaninny among them. He didn’t like the look of it. We must camp as -close as we can to-night, and keep a bright look-out, or Faithfull’s men -won’t be all they’ll have to brag about.’ - -Argyll thought these were groundless fears; that they were losing time -by remaining in this hopeless wilderness longer than was necessary. But -he was outvoted by the others. - -Meanwhile the first drove, after having been fed until sundown, was -camped in a bend of the sedgy creek, and the usual watch-fires lighted. -This spot was peculiarly suitable, inasmuch as the long line of an -outcrop of volcanic trap, which ran transversely to the little -watercourse, closed one side of the half-circle. This was not, of -course, an actual fence, but being composed of stone slabs and enormous -boulders, did not invite clambering on by the footsore cattle. - -The other contingent was camped a short distance in the rear, in an -angle of the lava country, also thickly timbered. - -With the lighting of the watch-fires and the routine attention to the -ordinary duties of the camp, a more tranquil spirit pervaded the party. -Argyll’s impatience had subsided, and, with his usual generosity, he had -taken upon himself the task of making the round of the camps, and seeing -that the order as to each man having his firearms ready, with a supply -of cartridges, was carried out. Fred Churbett grumbled a good deal at -having to take all this trouble for invisible or problematical savages. - -‘By me sowl, thin, Mr. Churbett,’ said old Tom, ‘if ye had one of their -reed spears stickin’ into ye for half a day, as I had wanst, you’ld -never need twice tellin’ to have yer gun ready, like me, night and day. -’Tis the likes of me knows them, and if it wasn’t for Gyp Warleigh, it’s -little chance some of yees ’ud have to see yer friends agin.’ - -‘Don’t you think he’s frightening us all?’ said Gerald O’More, with a -careless laugh. ‘They must be wonderful fellows, by all accounts. They -have no bows and arrows, not even wooden swords, like Robinson Crusoe’s -savages. Surely they don’t hit often with these clumsy spears of theirs. -Warleigh’s anxiety is telling upon his nerves.’ - -Old Tom glared wrathfully into the speaker’s eyes for a little space -before he answered; when he did, there was an air of bitter disdain, -rarely employed by the old man in his intercourse with gentlemen. - -‘Sure ye don’t know the man, nor the craytures yer spakin’ about, half -as well as ould Crab there. Why would ye, indade, and ye jist out of the -ship and with the cry of the Castle Blake hounds still in yer ears. It’s -yerself that will make the fine bushman and tip-top settler in time, but -yer spoilin’ yerself, sir, talkin’ that way about the best bushman -between this and Swan River, I don’t care where the other is. Take care -of _yerself_ then, Mr. O’More, when the spears begin flyin’, and don’t -get separated from the party, by no manner of manes.’ - -‘You may depend upon me, Tom,’ said O’More, with a good-humour that -nothing was apparently able to shake. ‘My hands were taught to keep my -head. I have been in worse places than this.’ - -‘Bedad, if ye seen a blackfellow steadyin’ his womrah to let ye have a -spear at fifty yards, or comin’ like a flash of lightning at ye wid only -his nullah-nullah, ye’d begin to doubt if ye iver _wor_ in a worse -place.’ - -‘There’s something in this country that alters the heart of an -Irishman,’ said O’More, ‘or I’d never hear one talk of a scrimmage with -naked niggers as if it was a bayonet charge at a breach.’ - -‘There’s Irishmen that’s rogues. I’m never the man to deny there’s fools -among them,’ said the old man sardonically. ‘Maybe we’ll know who’s -right and who’s wrong by this time to-morrow. My dogs has had their -bristles up all day, and there’s blacks within scent of us this blessed -minit, if I know a musk-duck from a teal.’ - - * * * * * - -How fades the turmoil and distraction of daily thought beneath the cool, -sweet, starry midnight! As each man paced between the watch-fires, -gazing from time to time towards the recumbent drove, the silent, dark, -mysterious forest, the blue space-eternities of the firmament, a feeling -of calm, approaching to awe, fell on the party. High over the dark line -of the illimitable forest rose towering snow-clad pinnacles, ghostly in -their pallid grandeur. The rivulet murmured and rippled through the -night-hush, plainly audible in the oppressive silence. - -‘One would think,’ said Argyll to O’More, as they met on one of their -rounds by a watch-fire, ‘that this night would never come to an end. -What possesses me I can’t think, but I have an uncanny feeling, as Mrs. -Teviot would say, that I cannot account for. If there was a ghost -possible in a land without previous occupation, I should swear that one -was near us this minute.’ - -‘Do you believe in ghosts then?’ asked O’More. - -‘Most certainly,’ said Argyll, with cheerful affirmation; ‘all -Highlanders do. We have our family Appearance—a spectre I should -recommend no man to laugh at. But that something is going to happen I -will swear.’ - -‘What on earth _can_ happen?’ said O’More. ‘If it be only these skulking -niggers, I wish to Heaven they would show out. It would be quite a -relief after all this humbug of Warleigh’s and that old fool of a -stock-rider.’ - -‘The old man’s no fool,’ said Argyll gravely; ‘and though I felt annoyed -with Warleigh to-day, I never have heard a word against his courage and -bushmanship. Here he comes. By Jove! he treads as silently as the -“Bodach Glas” himself. What cheer, General?’ - -Hubert held up a warning hand. ‘Don’t speak so loud,’ he said; ‘and will -you mind my asking you to stand apart and to keep a bright look-out till -daylight? Old Tom and I and the dogs are agreed that the blacks are not -far off. I only hope the beggars will keep off till then. I intend to -get out of this tribe’s “tauri” to-morrow. In the meantime have your -guns handy, for you never can tell when a blackfellow will make his -dart.’ - -‘I shouldn’t mind going into half-a-dozen with a good blackthorn,’ said -O’More. ‘It’s almost cowardly to pull a trigger at naked men armed with -sharp sticks.’ - -Hubert Warleigh looked straight at O’More’s careless, wayward -countenance for a few seconds before he answered; then he said, without -sign of irritation: - -‘You will find them better at single-stick than you have any idea of. -You are pretty good all round, but you can’t allow for their wild-cat -quickness. As for the sharpened sticks, as you call them, if you get one -through you, you won’t have the chance of saying where you would like -another. Don’t go too near the rocks; and if they make a rush, we must -stand them off on that she-oak hill.’ - -‘And what about the cattle?’ asked Argyll. - -‘Let them rip. Blacks can’t hurt them much. They may spear a few, but we -can muster every hoof again inside of ten days. There are no other herds -for them to mix with, and they won’t leave the water far. I must move -round now, and see that the men are ready.’ - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - THE BATTLE OF ROCKY CREEK - - -‘By Jove!’ said Argyll, ‘this looks serious. I must get away to my fire. -We _must_ stick to his directions. I’m in good rifle practice; they’ll -remember me in days to come!’ - -As O’More shrugged his shoulders and moved off, a shower of spears -whistled through the air, while a chorus of cries and yells, as though -from a liberated Inferno, rang through the woods along the line of the -broken, stony country, though no human form could be seen. - -The commotion created by this sudden onslaught, in spite of Hubert -Warleigh’s precautions, was terrific. The startled, frantic cattle -dashed through the watch-fires, scattering the brands and almost -trampling their guardians underfoot. Then the heavy-footed droves rolled -away, madly crashing through the timber, until the echo of their hoofs -died away in the distance. Several head, however, had been mortally -wounded, well-nigh transfixed in some cases. They staggered and fell. - -At the first surprise of the onset, guns were fired with an instinctive -desire of reprisal, but no settled plan of defence seemed to be -organised. Then amid the tumult was heard the trumpet-like voice of -Hubert Warleigh. - -‘Every man to his tree; don’t fire till you are sure; look out for the -rocks! Keep cool. We have only to stand them off for an hour. It’s near -daylight.’ - -His words reassured all. And a shot which came from his double-barrelled -rifle apparently told, as a smothered yell was heard from the cover. - -‘Take that, ye murdtherin’ divils!’ said old Tom, who had crawled behind -a fallen log, and now raising himself, poured three shots from a gun and -a brace of horse-pistols into the enemy. ‘I seen one of ye go down thin, -and it’s not the only one we’ll have this blessed night.’ - -‘There’s number two,’ said Gerald O’More, as he rolled over a tall man -with stripes of white and red pigment, who had dashed out for an -instant. - -‘Well done, O’More!’ cried Hubert, with a cheery ring in his voice. -‘Make as much noise as you like now, but don’t give away a chance. Look -out!’—as three spears hissed dangerously close—‘you’ll be hit if you -don’t mind, and——’ - -‘Hang the brutes!’ shouted O’More. ‘We could charge if we could only see -them. What do you think of it, Hamilton?’ - -‘We shall come out straight,’ said that gentleman, with his customary -coolness, ‘if we behave like disciplined troops and not like recruits. -Pardon me, O’More, but this impetuosity is out of place. If one of us -get hurt it may demoralise the men and give the blacks confidence.’ - -‘Never fear,’ said the excited young man. ‘It’s not the front rankers -that drop the fastest. By George!’ This half-ejaculation was elicited by -a spear-point which, passing between the arm and body, grazed his side. - -‘I told you so,’ said Hamilton. ‘Why the deuce can’t you behave -reasonably! These imps of darkness can see us better than we see them. -How they are yelling in the rear!’ - -‘That’s to draw us off,’ said Gerald. ‘I won’t go behind a tree now, if -I was to be here for seven years. But that spear didn’t come far. It’s -one they throw with the hand—old Tom taught me that much; I’ll have the -scoundrel if I see the night out.’ - -A sustained volley along the line from the main body of stock-riders at -the rear, headed by Ardmillan, Neil Barrington, and Argyll, appeared to -have told upon the enemy. More than one dying yell was heard. The spears -were less constant, and though several blows and bruises had been -inflicted by thrown boomerangs and nullahs, no serious casualty had -occurred among the white men. - -On the right wing of the advanced guard old Tom had ensconced himself -behind a huge fallen tree, which hid both himself and his dogs. These -last growled ominously, but took no further part, as yet, in the fray. - -From behind his entrenchment the old man fired rapidly, from time to -time loudly exulting, as a death-cry rang out on the night air or a -spear buried itself in the fallen tree. - -‘Throw away, ye infernal black divils!’ shouted the old man; and after -the cautious stillness it was strange to hear the reckless tones echoing -through the forest shades. ‘I’ll back the old single-barrel here against -a scrubful of yees—always belavin’ in a little cover.’ - -‘Tek it cool, full-private Glendinning,’ said Dick Evans, who had -advanced in light-infantry skirmishing order from the rear. ‘Not so much -talking in the ranks, and mark time when ye’re charging the inimy; it -looks more detarmined and collected-like—as old Hughie Gough used to -say. Please God, it’ll soon be daylight; perhaps they’d gather thick -enough then to let us go at ’em with the bayonet like.’ - -‘Maybe ye won’t be so full of yer pipeclay if ye gets one of thim reed -spears into ye—my heavy curse on them! Mr. Hubert says he catched a -sight of that divil’s-joynt of a Donderah; the thribe says he was niver -known to lave a fight without a dead man’s hair.’ - -‘He don’t know white men yet,’ said Dick, ‘’ceptin’ he’s sneaked on to a -hut-keeper. He’ll be taken down to-night if he don’t look out! Well -done, Master Guy!’ - -This exclamation was due to the result of a snapshot from Guy, who had -drawn trigger upon a savage, who, bounding forward, had thrown two -spears with wonderful rapidity, and bolted for his cover, his whole -frame quivering with such intensity of muscular action, that the limbs -were scarcely visible in the dim light. However, the keen eyes and ready -aim of youth were upon him; he reached the scrub but to spring upward -and fall heavily back, a dead man. - -Although none of the whites had as yet been wounded, while several of -their savage enemies had been disabled or killed outright, still the -contest was unsatisfactory. - -They were uncertain as to the number of their enemies, who, concealed in -the scrub, sent forth volleys of spears. Occasionally an outburst of -cries and yells arose, so fiendishly replete with hatred, that the -listeners in that sombre forest involuntarily felt their blood curdle. -For aught they knew, the tribe might be gradually surrounding them. -Indeed, an attempt of this kind was made. But it was frustrated by their -watchful leader, who charged into the darkness with a few picked men, -and drove the wily savages back to the main body. - -On this occasion he had caught a glimpse of the giant Donderah, whose -cruelty had been a chronicle of the tribe. - -‘I can’t make out where the big brute got to,’ he said to old Tom, ‘or I -should be easier in my mind. He’s a crafty devil, though he’s so big and -strong, and he has some superstition, they told me, about never going -out of a fight without a death to his credit. He knows about me, too, -though we never met. It wasn’t his fault that I got back alive. A black -girl told me that. They named him after the mountain. There’s not a -blackfellow from here to the coast that can stand before him, they say. -If O’More doesn’t take care, he’ll have him as sure as a gun. I have -half a mind to see if he has dropped flat in that stone gunya.’ - -It happened just then that one of the lulls, common in savage warfare, -took place. Hubert Warleigh flitted, noiseless and shadow-like, to -another part of the camp, lest a diversion should be effected in a -weaker spot. - -Before changing position he gave instructions to old Tom, whose -practised eye and ear could be depended upon, and whose distrust of the -savage he knew to be proof against apparent security. - -‘I’ll be back soon,’ he said, ‘for if Donderah did not fall back with -the others, we are none of us too safe. I’ve known him drag a man out, -with half a tribe close to his heels.’ - -Old Tom was much of the same opinion, for at the border stations tales -of the Myall blacks were told by the aboriginals employed about the -place. The exploits of the Titanic Donderah, ‘cobaun big fellow and -plenty boomalli white fellow,’ had attained Homeric distinction. - -The old man peered keenly through the dim glades, and listened as he -bent forward, still sheltered by his tree, and resting one hand upon the -neck of the dog Smoker, whose low growling he strove to repress. - -‘Bad scran to ye,’ he said, ‘do ye want every murdtherin’ thief of the -tribe to know the tree I’m under? Maybe _he’s_ not far off, and ye’re -winding him. I never knew yer tongue to be false, or I’d dhrive in the -ribs of ye. Ha, ye big divil!’ he screamed, ‘ye’re there afther all; -’twas a bould trick of ye to hide in that stone gunya. Ye nearly -skivered that gay boy from the ould country. Holy saints! sure he’s a -dead man now! Was there ever such a gommoch!’ - -This uncomplimentary exclamation was called forth by the apparition of a -herculean savage, who leaped out of the lava blocks of the rude, -circular miami—a long-abandoned dwelling-place, probably a century old, -and but slightly raised above the basaltic rocks of the promontory. -Starting up, as if out of the night, he flung two spears at the only -white man unsheltered. Like a diving seal he cast himself downwards, and -was again invisibly safe. - -One of the javelins nearly made an end of Gerald O’More. It was from -such weapons, hurled with a sinewy arm, that the half-dozen cattle in -the camp had fallen. They found, next morning, that a spear, piercing -the flank, had gone _clean through_ an unlucky heifer, and passed out at -the other side. - -However that may have been, Gerald the Dauntless was not the man to -remain to be made a target of. Rushing forward, with a shout that told -of West of Ireland associations, he charged the miniature citadel, -determined to kill or capture his enemy. Before he reached the -apparently deserted gunya, a dark form might have been observed by eyes -more keen for signs of woodcraft, to worm itself, serpentlike, along the -path which O’More trod heedlessly. - -As if raised by magic from the earth, suddenly the huge Donderah stood -erect in his path, and with the bound of a famished tiger, sprang within -Gerald’s guard. The barrel of his fowling-piece was knocked up, and with -one tremendous blow the Caucasian lay prone upon the earth. His foe -commenced to drag him within the circle of the (possibly) sacrificial -stones. - -But before he could effect his purpose, a hoarse cry caused the savage -to pause and falter. Hubert Warleigh, with his gun clubbed, was bounding -frantically towards the triumphant champion. - -But the distance was against the white man, though his panther-like -bounds reduced the race to a question of seconds. - -‘Hould on, Mr. Hubert!’ yelled old Tom, who had quitted his coign of -vantage, followed by the excited dogs, no longer to be restrained. -‘Sure, we’ll have him, the murdtherin’ thafe. The others is fell back, -since thim two dropped to Mr. Hamilton’s pay-rifle—more power to him. -Here, boys! hould him! hould him! Smoker! Spanker! soole him!’ - -The old man yelled like a fiend; and as the startled savage saw the grim -hounds stretching to the earth in full pursuit of him, he dropped his -prey in terror of the unaccustomed foe. - -‘At him, Spanker! hould him, Smoker!’ screamed the old man, ‘tear the -throat of him. Marciful Saver! did any one ever see the like of that! -But I’ll have the heart’s blood of ye, if ye were the Diaoul out of h—l, -this—night.’ - -This mixture of religious adjuration and profanity from the lips of the -excited old stock-rider was elicited by another cast of the fatal dice. - -As the brawny savage glanced at the dogs, which were rapidly nearing -him, and upon the powerful form of Hubert Warleigh, who bade fair to -challenge him before he could reach his covert, loaded as he was, he -unwillingly relinquished his victim. With a couple of bounds he reached -the gunya, where, crouching behind the largest boulder, he awaited the -attack. But it was not like Hubert Warleigh to leave the wounded man. -Stooping for a moment, he raised O’More in his arms, with a violent -effort threw him across his shoulder, and marched towards the -encampment. - -As he half turned in the effort, the savage raised himself to his full -height, and, poising a spear, stood for a moment as if uncertain whether -he should expend its force upon the old stock-rider and his dogs or -against his white antagonist. - -At that moment a yell from the main body of blacks showed that they had -been forced to retreat. He was therefore separated from his companions, -towards whom the wary stock-rider was advancing with a view of cutting -him off. - -‘Look out!’ shouted the old man to Hubert, as he marked the savage take -sudden aim. ‘By——! he’ll nail you!’ - -At the warning cry Hubert swung half round, turning his broad breast to -the foe and shielding his unconscious burden as best he might. The wild -warrior drew himself back for an instant, and then—like a cloth-yard -shaft from a strong yew bow—the thin, dark, wavering missile sped only -too truly. Deeply, venomously it pierced the mighty chest, beneath which -throbbed the true and fearless heart of Hubert Warleigh. Freeing one -hand, he broke the spear-shaft across like a reed-stalk, and without -stay or stagger strode forward with his burden. - -As the last battle scene was enacted, the dawn light struggled through a -misty cloud-rack, and permitted clearer view of the tragedy to the rank -and file of the expedition. - -When the deadly missile struck their leader, a wild shout broke from the -whites, and a charge in line was made towards the stone gunya, -immediately in the rear of which the main body of the natives had -collected for a desperate stand. - -As if in answer, a strange, unnatural cry, half human only, burst upon -their ears. They turned to behold a singular spectacle. Carried away by -his exultation at the triumph of his aim and his revenge upon the foeman -who had baulked him of his prey, the champion of a primeval race -lingered ere he turned to flight in the direction of his companions. - -He was too late. The bandogs of destiny were upon him, grim, merciless, -with red glaring eyes and gleaming fangs. In his attention to his spear -he had forgotten to pick up his nullah-nullah (or club), with which he -would have been a match for any canine foe. A few frantic bounds were -made by the doomed quarry as the eager dogs looked wolfishly up into his -terror-stricken countenance. Another step, and the red dog, springing -suddenly, seized his throat with unrelaxing grip, while Spanker’s sharp -tusks sank into his flank, tearing at the quivering flesh as he fell -heavily upon the earth. - -‘Whoo-whoop, boys! Whoop!’ screamed old Tom, breathless and excited to -the blood-madness of the Berserker. ‘That’s the talk. Worry, worry, -worry! good dogs, good dogs! At him Spanker, boy, ye’re blood up to the -eyes. Stick to him, Smoker, throttle him like a dingo. How the eyes of -him rolls. Mercy be hanged!’ he replied in answer to the protest of one -of the men. ‘What mercy did he show to Mr. Hubert, and him helpless, -with that gossoon in his arms? Maybe ye didn’t think of the harm ye were -doing, ye black snake that ye are,’ he continued, apostrophising the -writhing form, which the ruthless hounds dragged to and fro with the -ferocity of their kind; the brindle dog revelling in the dreadful -banquet, wherein his head was ever and anon plunged to the glaring eyes, -while the red hound held his fell grip upon the lacerated throat. - -‘Maybe it’s kind father to ye to dhrive yer spear through any mortial -craychur that belongs to a strange thribe, white or black. There’s more -like ye, that’s had betther tachin’, so I’ll give ye a riddance out of -yer misery. And it’s more than ye’d do for me av ye had me lyin’ there -under the fut of ye.’ - -With this closing sentiment, nearer to recognition of a sable brother -than he had ever been known to exhibit, the old stock-rider raised his -gun. ‘Come off, ye divils! d’ye hear me, now?’ he said, striking the -brindle dog heavily with his gun, who then only drew off, licking his -gory lips and looking greedily at the bleeding form; while the red dog, -more obedient or less fell of nature, relinquished his hold at the first -summons. - -‘Ye’ve had yer punishment, I’ll go bail, in this world, whatever happens -in the next,’ said the old man grimly, as he pulled the trigger of his -piece in a matter-of-fact manner. The charge passed through the skull of -the mangled wretch, who, leaping from the earth and throwing out his -arms in the death agony, fell on his face with a crash. - -‘There’s an ind of ye,’ said the ruthless elder. ‘The blood of a betther -man will be cowld enough before the day’s out. Come away, dogs, ye’ve -had divarshion enough for one huntin’. Sure, they’re far away—the black -imps of Satan,’ he said, as he listened intently to a distant chorus of -wailing cries. ‘It’s time to get the camp in order. I wonder when we’ll -git thim bullocks agin?’ - -It was indeed time to comply with the old man’s suggestion. Leaving the -quivering corpse, the men turned away with a sense of relief, to -commence their less tragic duties. At the camp much was to be arranged; -all disorder was rife since the attack. - -Huddled together were heaps of flour-bags, camp-kettles, and pannikins. -The tents were overthrown, torn, and bedraggled. The frantic cattle had -stampeded over the spot chosen with circumspection by the cook, as the -strewn débris of beef and damper witnessed. - -The horses were nearly all absent—some hobbled, some loose. Not a hoof -of the horned herd was to be seen. Everything in the well-ordered camp, -so lately presenting a disciplined appearance, seemed to have been the -sport of evil genii. - -Worse a hundredfold than all, beneath a hastily pitched tent, tended -with anxious faces by his comrades, was stretched a wounded man, whose -labouring breath came ever thickly and more blood-laden as the sun rose -upon the battlefield, which secured for the white man one of the richest -provinces of Australia. Yes! the stark limbs were feeble, the keen eye -was dim, the stout heart was throbbing wildly, or feebly pulsating with -life’s waning flame. Hubert Warleigh lay a-dying! His hour was come. The -hunter of the hills, the fearless wood-ranger, was helpless as a sick -child. The weapon of his heathen foe had sped home. - -Argyll, Hamilton, Ardmillan, and the others stood around his rude pallet -with saddened hearts. Each voice was hushed as they watched the spirit -painfully quitting the stalwart form of him whom they had all learned to -know and to trust. - -‘We have bought our country dearly,’ said Wilfred, as a spasm distorted -the features of the dying man and caused his strong limbs to quiver and -writhe. Over his chest was thrown a rug, redly splashed, which told of -the death-wound, from which the life-blood welled in spite of every -attempt to staunch it. Beside him sat Gerald O’More, buried in deepest -grief. - -‘Better take the lie of the country from me,’ said the wounded man -feebly. ‘One of you might write it down, with the bearings of the -rivers, while my head keeps right. How hard it seems! Just made a start -for a new country and a new life. And now to be finished off like this! -The Warleigh luck all over. I might have known nothing could come of it, -but——’ Here his voice grew choked and indistinct, while from the -saturated wrappings the blood dripped slowly and with a dreadful -distinctness upon the earthen floor. A long pause. Again he held up his -hand. ‘It will take every man that can be spared to get the cattle and -horses together again. A week ought to do it; it’s easy tracking with no -others about. You can knock up a “break” to count through. Make sure -you’ve got the lot before you start away. Leave Effingham and Argyll -with me. I’ll tell them about the course; you’re near the open country. -I little thought when I saw it next I should be —should be—like this.’ - -They obeyed the dying leader to the last. All left the tent except -Wilfred and Argyll. The success of the expedition depended on the cattle -being recovered without loss of time. Though a monarch dies, the work of -this world must go on. Few indeed are they for whom the wheels of the -mighty machine can be stopped. Hubert Warleigh was the last man to -desire it. - -‘It’s no good stopping to “corroboree” over me,’ he said, with a touch -of humour lighting up the glazing eye. ‘It’s lucky you haven’t O’More to -wake as well as me. You won’t laugh at blacks’ weapons any more, eh, -Gerald?’ - -‘Small laughing will do me for many a day, my dear boy. You have -forgiven the rash fool that nearly lost his own life and wasted that of -a better man? I deserve all I’ve got. But for you—cut off in the prime -of your days, how shall I ever forget it? Forgive me, Hubert Warleigh, -as you hope to be forgiven.’ - -Here the warm-hearted passionate Milesian cast himself on his knees -beside the dying man, and burying his face in his hands, sobbed aloud in -an agony of grief and humiliation. ‘Don’t fret over it, O’More,’ said -the measured tones of the dying man. ‘It’s all in the day’s work. People -always said I’d be hanged, you know; but I’m going off the hooks -honourably, anyhow. _You_ couldn’t help it; and, indeed, I was away when -you charged that poor devil Donderah. I’m afraid old Tom’s dogs mauled -him badly. But look here,’—turning to Wilfred,—‘you get a pencil and -I’ll show you how the rivers run. There’s the Bogong Range—and the three -rivers with the best country in Australia between them. When you come to -the lower lakes, you can follow them to the sea. There’s an outlet, but -it’s choked up with sand-bars. Somewhere near the mouth there’s a decent -harbour and a good spot for a township. It will be a big one some day. -Now you’re all right and can shift for yourselves. Effingham, I want to -say a word to you before I go.’ - -Wilfred bent over him and O’More and Argyll left the tent. ‘Come near -me,’ he whispered, in tones which, losing strength with the decay of -life’s force, sounded hollow and dull. ‘I feel it so hard and bitter to -die. I should have had a chance—my only chance—here, and as head -explorer I might have risen to a decent position. Such a simple way to -go under too. If that rash beggar hadn’t mulled it with Donderah I -should have been right. Some men would have left him there. But I -couldn’t do it—I _couldn’t_ do it.’ - -‘Old Tom and his dogs avenged you,’ said Wilfred. ‘They ate Donderah -alive almost, before the old man shot him.’ - -‘Poor devil!’ said the dying man; ‘so he came off worse than I did. Old -Tom wouldn’t show him much mercy. I shan’t be long after him. Hang it! -what a puff of smoke a fellow’s life is when he dies young. It seems the -other day I was learning to ride at Warbrok, and Clem and Randal coming -home from the King’s School for the holidays. Well, the three Warleighs -are done for now. The wild Warleighs! wild enough, and not a paying game -either. But I’m running on too fast about all these things, and my -heart’s going, I feel. Are you sure you’ve got the chart all right, with -the rivers and the lakes all correct—and the harbour——’ - -‘I think so. We can make our way to the coast now. But why trouble -yourself about such matters? Surely they are trifles compared with the -thoughts which should occupy your last moments?’ - -‘I don’t know much about that,’ said the stricken bushman, raising -himself for an instant and looking wistfully in his companion’s face. -‘If a man dies doing his duty he may as well back it right out. What -gave me the only real help I ever had? Your father’s kind words and your -family’s kind acts. They made a man of me. It’s on that road that I’m -dying now, respected as a friend by all of you, instead of like a dog in -a ditch or a “dead-house.” Now I have two things to say before I go. I -want you to have the best run. It’s all good, but the best’s the best, -and you may as well have it. I was to have my pick.’ - -Wilfred made a gesture of deprecation, but the other continued, with -slow persistence: - -‘You see where the second river runs into the third one? The lake’s -marked near it on the south. There’s an angle of flat country there, the -grandest cattle-run you ever set eyes on. Dry, sheltered rises for -winter; rich flats and marshes for summer. Naturally fenced too. I -christened it “The Heart” in my own mind. It’s that shape. So you sit -down there, and leave Guy on it when you go home. He’ll do something -yet, that boy. He’s a youngster after my own heart. And there’s one more -thing—the last—the very last.’ - -‘Rest yourself, my dear fellow,’ said Wilfred, raising his head and -wiping the death-damp from his forehead, as his eyes closed in a -death-like faint. But the dying man raised himself unsteadily to a -sitting position. An unearthly lustre gleamed in the dim eyes, the white -lips moved mechanically, as the words, like the murmur of the -breeze-touched shell, issued from them. - -‘I told you I loved your sister Annabel. When I looked at her I thought -I had never seen a woman before. Tell her she was never out of my head -for one moment since the day I first saw her. Every step I made since -was towards a life that should have been worthy of her. I would have -been rich for her, proud for her, even book-taught for her sake. I was -learning in spare moments what I should have known as a boy. She might -never have taken to me—most likely not; but she would have known that -she had helped to save a man’s life—a man’s soul. Tell her that this man -went to his death, grieving most for one thing, that he should see her -face no more. And now, give me your hand, Wilfred, for Gyp Warleigh’s -time is up.’ - -He grasped the hand held out to him with a firm and nervous clasp; then -relinquishing it gradually, an expression of peace and repose overspread -his face, the laboured breathing ceased. His respiration became more -natural and easy, but the ashen hue of his face showed yet more -colourless and grey. The tired eyes closed; the massive head fell back -on the pillow of rugs; the lower portion of the features relaxed; a -slight shiver passed over the frame. Wilfred bent closely, tenderly, -over the still face. The faithful spirit of the last male heir of the -house of Warleigh had passed away. - -When the stock-riders returned that evening after the long day’s -tracking and heard of their leader’s death, many a wild heart was deeply -stirred. At day-dawn they dug him a deep grave beneath a mighty -spreading mountain ash, and piled such a cairn above him that no -careless hand could disturb the dead. As they removed his clothes for -the last sad robing process, two small volumes fell from an inner -pocket. - -‘Ha!’ said Neil Barrington, ‘one of them is the book I saw him poring -over that day. I wonder whether it’s a novel? By Jove, though, who’d -have thought that? Why, it’s an old History of England. The poor old -chap was getting up his education by degrees. It makes the tears come -into one’s eyes.’ - -Here the good-hearted fellow drew his handkerchief across his face. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - GYP’S LAND - - -The cattle were tracked down and regathered without difficulty. In the -virgin forest no slot but their own could possibly exist. When they -quitted the scene of their encounter, the explorers passed into a region -of grand savannahs and endless forest parks, waving with luxuriant -grasses. Each day awakened fresh raptures of admiration. But the rudest -stock-rider never alluded to the ease with which they now followed the -well-fed herd, without a curse (in the nature of an epitaph) upon those -who had robbed them of a comrade and a commander. - -‘A magnificent country,’ said Argyll, as on the third day they camped -the foremost drove on the bank of a broad river in the marshy meadows, -on which the cattle spread out, luxuriating in the wild abundance of -pasture; ‘and how picturesque those snow-peaks; the groves of timber, -sending their promontories into the plains; the fantastic rocks! It is a -pastoral paradise. And to think that the only man of our party who fell -a victim should be poor Warleigh, the discoverer of this land of -promise!’ - -‘The way of the world, my dear fellow,’ said Ardmillan. ‘The moment a -man gets his foot on the threshold of success, Nemesis is aroused. Poor -Gyp had been fighting against his demon for years, and had reached the -region of respectability. He would soon have been rich enough to -conciliate Mrs. Grundy. She would have enlarged upon his ancient birth, -his handsome face and figure, with the mildest admission that he had -been, years ago, a little wild. Of course he is slain within sight of -his promised land.’ - -‘We had all got very fond of him, and that’s the truth,’ said Hamilton. -‘He was the gentlest creature, considering his tremendous -strength—self-denying in every way, and so modest about his own -endowments. It was very touching to listen to his regrets for the -ignorance in which he had been suffered to grow up. I had planned, -indeed, to supply some of his deficiencies after we were settled.’ - -‘I should think so,’ said Fred Churbett. ‘I wouldn’t have minded doing a -little myself. I don’t go in for “moral pocket-ankercher” business, but -a man of his calibre was better worth saving than a province of savages. -Amongst us we should have coached him up, in a year or so, fit to run -for the society little-go; and now to think that one of these wretched -anthropoids should have slain our Bayard!’ - -‘What made it such a beastly shame,’ said Neil Barrington, ‘is that we -shall all get “disgustingly rich,” as Hotson said, and be known as the -pioneers of Gyp’s Land (as the men have christened the district), while -the real hero lies in a half-forgotten grave.’ - -‘Time may make us as unthankful as the rest of the world,’ said Wilfred. -‘We can only console ourselves with the thought that we sincerely -mourned our poor friend, and that Hubert Warleigh’s memory will remain -green, long after recognition of his services has faded away. It has had -a lasting effect upon O’More. The poor fellow believes himself to blame -for the disaster. I have scarcely seen him smile since.’ - -‘He’s a good, kind-hearted fellow,’ said Fred Churbett, ‘and I honour -him for it. He told me that he never regretted anything so much in his -life as disregarding Warleigh’s advice about the blacks. He said the -poor chap made no answer to some stupid remarks about being afraid of -naked savages, but smiled gravely, and walked away without another word. -Yet, to save O’More’s life, he gave his own!’ - -‘Whom the gods love die young,’ said Hamilton. ‘Some of us may yet have -cause to envy him. And now, about the choice of runs. How are we to -arrange that?’ - -‘We are now in the good country,’ said Argyll. ‘Towards the coast, we -shall all meet with more first-class grazing land than we know what to -do with. I think no one should be nearer than seven miles or more than -ten miles from any other member of the Association. I for one will go -nearer to the coast.’ - -‘And I,’ said Fred Churbett, ‘will stay just where I am. This is good -enough for me, as long as I can defend myself against the lords of the -soil.’ - -There was no difficulty in locating the herds of the association upon -their ‘pastures new.’ In every direction waved the giant herbage of a -virgin wilderness. There were full-fed, eager-running rivers, for which -the melting snow at their sources furnished abundant supplies. There -were deep fresh-water lakes, on the shores of which were meadows and -headlands rich with matted herbage. - -Wild-fowl swarmed in the pools and shallows. Kangaroos were so plentiful -that old Tom’s dogs ‘were weary at eve when they ceased to slay,’ and -commenced to look with indifference upon the scarcely-thinned droves. -Timber for huts and stock-yards was plentiful; so that axes, mauls, and -wedges were soon in full and cheerful employment. Each squatter selected -an area large enough for his stock for the next dozen years, keeping -sufficiently close to his friends for visiting, but not near enough for -complications. In truth, the rivers and creeks were of such volume that -they easily supplied natural boundaries. - -As for Wilfred and Guy, they carefully followed out the instructions of -their lost friend, until they verified the exact site of the ‘run’ he -had recommended to them. This they discovered to be a peninsula. On one -side stretched the shore of a lake, and on the other a deep and rapid -river flowed, forming a natural enclosure many miles in extent, into -which, when they had turned their herd, they had little trouble in -keeping them safely. - -‘My word!’ said Guy, ‘this is something like a country. Why, we have run -for five or six thousand head, and not a patch of scrub or a range on -the whole lot of it. Splendid open forest, just enough for shelter; -great marshes and flats, where the stock are up to their eyes in grass -and reeds. When the summer comes, it will be like a garden. It rains -here _every year_ and no mistake.’ - -‘We are pretty far south,’ said Wilfred; ‘in somewhere about latitude -37—no great distance from the sea. That accounts for the climate. You -can see by the blacks’ miamis, which are substantial and covered with -thatch, that a different kind of dwelling-place is necessary, even for -the aboriginals. You will have to build good warm huts, I fancy, or the -winter gales and sleet-storms will perish you.’ - -‘You let me alone for that!’ said the ardent youngster. ‘We shall have -lots of time to work, as soon as the cattle are broken in and the -working bullocks get strong. Our drays must come by sea; but sledges are -all right for drawing split stuff. I shall build on that bluff above the -lake. We can keep a good look-out there for the blacks, that they don’t -come sneaking up by day or night. Oh, how jolly it all is! If I could -forget about dear old Hubert, I should be perfectly happy.’ - -‘I suppose we shall have to choose a site for the township.’ - -‘Township!’ said Guy. ‘What do we want with a beastly township? Two -public-houses and a blacksmith’s shop to begin with! The next thing will -be that they will petition the Government to survey some land and cut it -up in farms.’ - -‘Well, that’s true,’ assented Wilfred, smiling at his impetuosity; ‘but -we must not be altogether selfish. Remember, there is a good landlocked -harbour and a deep anchorage. A township is morally certain to be -formed, and we may as well take the initiative. Besides, we promised -Rockley to let him know if there was any opening for a mercantile -speculation.’ - -‘That alters the matter,’ said Guy. ‘I would black old Billy’s boots if -he was short of a valet—not to mention kind Mrs. Rockley, whom all the -fellows would walk barefoot to serve. I may be mistaken, but you’re -rather sweet upon Christabel, ain’t you? I’m not in the marrying line -myself, but I don’t know a prettier girl anywhere.’ - -‘Pooh! don’t talk nonsense, there’s a good fellow,’ said Wilfred with a -dignified air. ‘There are miles of matters to be thought about before -anybody—dark or fair. But you are right in your feelings about Rockley -and his dear, kind wife, which makes me proud of my junior partner. We -shall want somebody to buy and sell for us, to order our stores, etc.; -and as nothing can come from Sydney on wheels, we shall have to get them -from that new settlement they call Port Phillip, that we heard at the -“Snowy” they were making such a talk about. We can’t escape a town; and -as there is bound to be a chief merchant, we had better elect our own -King William to that high office and dignity.’ - -‘With all my heart,’ said Guy; ‘only you frightened me at first, talking -about a town. We haven’t come all this way—through those hungry forests -and terrible cold rivers, not to mention the blacks—to be crowded out of -our runs, for farmers.’ - -‘You needn’t be alarmed, Guy. Remember, this district is a very large -one. You will have twenty years’ squatting tenure, you may be sure, -before an acre of your land is sold.’ - -Guy was correct in his anticipations of the probability of there being -water-carriage before long. The surplus hands, who were paid off and -sent back to New South Wales, talked largely, as is their wont, about -the wonderful new district. Port Phillip, just settled, had a staff of -adventurers on hand, ready for any kind of enterprise. Within a few -weeks a brig, with a reasonable supply of passengers, did actually -arrive at the little roadstead, which had already been dignified with -the title of The Port. There was the usual assortment of alert -individuals that invariably turn up at the last new and promising -settlement in Australia,—land speculators, storekeepers, gentlemen of no -particular calling, waifs and strays, artisans and contractors. But -among the babel of strange tongues resounded one familiar voice, the -resonant cheery tones of which soon made themselves heard, to the great -astonishment and equal joy of such of the wayfarers as had assembled at -the disembarkation. Their old and tried friend, Mr. William Rockley, -once more greeted them in the flesh. - -‘Well, here you all are, safe and sound, except poor Gyp Warleigh!’ said -that gentleman, after the ceremony of greeting and hand-shaking had been -most cordially performed. ‘Most melancholy occurrence—terrible, in -fact—heard of it at Port Phillip—all the news there, of course—very -rising place. Ran down in the _Rebecca_, brig—nearly ran on shore too. -Thought I’d come on and see you all; find out if anything was to be -done. Nothing like first chance, at a new settlement, eh? Queer fellow, -our captain; too much brandy and water. Catch me sailing with him after -we get back.’ - -Mr. Rockley added new life and vigour to the infant settlement. His -practical eye fixed upon a spot more suitable for a township than The -Port, which he disparaged as a ‘one-horse’ place, which would never come -to much. Indifferent anchorage, with no protection against south-east -gales. Might be made decent with a breakwater; but take time—time. A few -miles up the river—fine stream, deep water, and good wharfage. He should -run up a store, and send down a cargo of odds and ends at once. Fine -district—good soil, splendid climate, and so on. Must progress—_must_ -progress. Never seen finer grass, splendidly watered too. You’ve fallen -on your feet, I can tell you. All through Gyp Warleigh too. Poor -fellow!—awful pity! - -Mr. Rockley borrowed a horse, rode inland and visited the stations, -being equally encouraging and sanguine about their prospects. ‘_Can’t_ -go wrong; lots of fat cattle in a year or two; make all your fortunes; -can’t help it; only look out for the rascally blacks; don’t allow -yourselves to be lulled into security; have a slap at you again some -day, take my word for it. Know them well; never trust a blackfellow; -always make him walk in front of you—can’t help using a tomahawk if he -sees a chance; keep ’em at arm’s length—no cruelty—but make ’em keep -their distance. Glorious rains at Yass and all over New South Wales. -Season changed with a vengeance! Stock rising like mad; ewes two guineas -a head and not to be got. Cattle, horses, snapped up the moment they’re -offered. Everybody wild to bring stock overland to Port Phillip. By -Jove! that _is_ a wonderful place if you like; fine harbour—make -half-a-dozen of Sydney—thirty miles from the Heads to the town. Not so -picturesque of course; but splendid open country, plains, forests, and -fertile land right up to the town. Great place by and by. Nothing but -speculation, champagne, and kite-flying at present. Bought town -allotments; buy some more as we go back. You’d better pick up two or -three corner lots, Wilfred, my boy. Money? Never mind _that_! I’ll find -the cash. Your security’s first-rate now, I can tell you.’ - -And so their guest rattled on, brimful of great ideas, large -investments, and goodwill to all men, as of yore. - -Wilfred, who had indeed now no particular reason for remaining, but on -the contrary many motives to draw him towards The Chase, was only too -glad to avail himself of a passage in the _Rebecca_, the truculent -captain notwithstanding. That worthy, who appeared to be a compound of -sailor and smuggler, with a dash of pirate, swaggered about the beach -for a few days, and after a comprehensive carouse with such of his late -passengers as he could induce to join him, announced his intention of -sailing next day—and did so. - -Arrived at Melbourne, as the infant city had just been christened, -Wilfred was astonished at the life and excitement everywhere -discernible. On the flats bordering the river Yarra Yarra had been -hastily erected a medley of huts, cottages, and tents, in which resided -a miscellaneous rout of settlers, storekeepers, speculators, -auctioneers, publicans, Government officials, artisans, and labourers. - -He witnessed for the first time the initial stage of urban colonisation. -What he chiefly wondered at was the restless energy, the sanguine -spirits, the dauntless courage of the miscellaneous host employed in -founding the southern metropolis. - -The situation had been well chosen. The river which bisected the baby -city, though not broad, was yet clear, deep, and, as its aboriginal name -implied, ‘ever flowing.’ Large vessels were compelled to remain in the -bay, but coasters came up the river and discharged on the banks of the -natural basin, which had decided the site of the town. - -Around—afar—stretching even to the distant horizon, were broad plains, -park-like forests, hill and dale. The soil was rich for the most part; -while a far blue range to the north-east pointed to an untried region, -beyond which might lie (ay, and _did_ lie) treasures yet undreamed of. - -‘All truly wonderful,’ said Wilfred. ‘The world is a large place, as the -little bird said. We have got outside of our garden wall with a -vengeance. How slow it seems of us to have been sitting still at Lake -William, ignorant of this grand country, only five hundred miles off—not -to mention “Gyp’s Land.” I wonder if this will ever be much of a town. -It is a long way from Sydney, which must always be the seat of -Government.’ - -‘Will it be much of a place?’ echoed Rockley in a half-amused, -meditative way. ‘I am inclined to think it will. Let us ask this -gentleman. How do you do, Mr. Fawkner?’ he said, shaking hands with a -brisk, energetic personage, who came bustling along the river-bank. -‘Fine weather. Thriving settlement this of yours. My friend is doubting -whether it will ever come to much. Thinks it too far from Sydney.’ - -‘What!’ said the little man, who, dressed in corduroy trousers, with a -buff waistcoat and long-skirted coat, looked like an Australian edition -of Cobbett. ‘Will it prosper? Why, sir, it will be the metropolis of the -South—the London of this New Britain, sir! Nothing can stay its -progress. Tasmania, where I came from, possesses a glorious climate and -fine soil, but no extent, sir, no scope. New South Wales has fine soil, -boundless territory, but eccentric climate. In Port Phillip, sir, below -35 south latitude, you have climate, soil, and extent of territory -combined.’ - -Here the little man struck his stick into the damp, black soil with such -energy that he could hardly pull it out again. - -‘I agree with you,’ said Rockley good-humouredly, smiling at Fawkner’s -vehemence as if he, personally, were the most imperturbable of men. ‘But -you won’t get the Sydney officials to do much for you for years to come. -Five hundred miles is a long way from the seat of Government.’ - -‘Cut the painter, sir, if they neglect us,’ said the pioneer democrat. -‘We shall soon be big enough to govern ourselves. Seen the first number -of the _Port Phillip Patriot_? Here it is—printed with my own hands -yesterday.’ - -Mr. Fawkner put his hand into a pocket of the long-skirted coat, and -produced a very small, neatly printed broadsheet, in which the -editorials and local news struggled amid a crowd of advertisements of -auctions, notices of land sales, and other financial assignations. - -‘And now, gentlemen, I must bid you good-bye,’ said the little man. -‘Canvassing for subscriptions to build a wooden bridge across the Yarra. -Cost a lot of money, but must be done—must be done. Large trade with -South Yarra—lime, timber, firewood—shortest way to the bay too.’ - -‘Put us down for five pounds,’ said Rockley. ‘It will improve the value -of the corner allotments we intend to buy—won’t it, Wilfred? Good-bye.’ - -‘Wonderful man that,’ said Rockley; ‘shrewd, energetic, rather too fond -of politics. Came over in the first vessel from Van Diemen’s Land. He -and Batman thought they were going to divide all this country between -them. You see that clear hill over there? They say that’s where Batman -stood when he said, “All that I see is mine, and all that I don’t see.”’ - -‘Very good,’ said Wilfred. ‘Grand conception of the true adventurer. And -were his aspirations fulfilled?’ - -‘Well, he bought all the land hereabouts—a few millions of acres—from -blackfellows who called themselves chiefs. The other colonists disputed -his royalty. The Government backed them up, and sent a superintendent to -reign over them. However, he will do very well. Who’s this tall man -coming along? St. Maur, as I’m a living sinner!’ - -And that gentleman it turned out to be, extremely well-dressed, and -sauntering about as if in Bond Street. His greeting, however, was most -cordial, and smacked more of the wilderness than of the _pavé_. - -‘By Jove!’ he said, ‘you here, Rockley? I was just thinking of you and -Effingham. Can’t say how glad I am. Come into my miami. What a pity you -couldn’t have a throw in! Lots of money to be made. Made some myself -already.’ - -‘Daresay,’ said Rockley. ‘You’re pretty quick when there’s a spec. on -hand. What have you been about?’ - -‘Mixed herd of cattle. Turned overlander, as they call it here; brought -over one on my own account, and another that I picked up on the road. -Just going over to see Howie’s horses sold. I want a hack. You come and -lunch with me and Dutton and Tom Carne. We’re over at “The Lamb”—some -fellows from Adelaide there.’ - -‘Certainly,’ said Rockley, always ready for anything in the way of -speculation or enterprise. ‘Nothing better to do; and, by the way, -Effingham, _we_ shall want horses for riding home; for, as for going -back with that atrocious, reckless, buccaneering ruffian, I’ll see him -d——d first!’ - -Here the sentence, ending with more force than elegance, merged in the -loud ringing of an auctioneer’s bell in close proximity to a large -stock-yard at the corner of Bourke and Swanston Streets, near where a -seductive soft-goods establishment now stands. - -The yard contained over a hundred head of horses, which were permitted -to run out one at a time, when, being completely encircled by the crowd, -they remained confused, if not quieted, until their fate was decided. - -An upstanding, unbroken grey filly happened to be separated just as they -arrived— - - And struggling fiercely, but in vain, - And snorting with erected mane. - -The desert-born was on the point of being knocked down for fifty pounds, -when Wilfred, infected by the extravagance of the day, bid another -pound. She finally became his at the low price of sixty guineas. - -‘She’s very green,’ said St. Maur; ‘just haltered, I should say. -However, she has plenty of condition, and if you are going a journey, -will be quiet enough in a week.’ - -‘I like her looks,’ said Wilfred. ‘It’s an awful price; but stock have -risen so, that we shall reap the advantage in another shape. But for -Rockley I should have gone back by sea.’ - -‘I never consider a few pounds,’ said that gentleman, ‘where my life’s -concerned. I can just tell you, sir, that, in my opinion, the _Rebecca_ -is more than likely never to see Sydney at all if bad weather comes on. -I shall buy that brown cob.’ - -After the cob had been bought, and a handsome chestnut by St. Maur, the -friends strolled up to the famous Lamb Inn, long disestablished, like -the cafés of the Quartier Latin, and there met with certain choice -spirits, also rejoicing in the designation of ‘overlanders.’ They seemed -on terms of intimacy with St. Maur, and cordially greeted his two -friends. One and all had been lately concerned in large stock -transactions—had been equally fortunate in their sales. Apparently they -were minded to indemnify themselves for the perils of the waste by a -full measure of such luxuries as the infant city afforded. - -‘Great place this Melbourne, St. Maur,’ said a tall man with bushy -whiskers. ‘Decomposed basaltic formation, with an outcrop of empty -champagne bottles. I saw a heap opposite Northcott’s office yesterday -like a glass-blower’s débris. As fast as they emptied them they threw -them out of the window. Accumulation in time—you know.’ - -‘Northcott does a great business in allotments and house property,’ said -St. Maur; ‘but it can’t last for ever. Too much of that champagne -element. But what’s become of Warden—he was to have been here?’ - -‘Forgot about the hour, I daresay,’ said the man with the whiskers. -‘Most absent fellow I know. Remember what he said to the Governor’s wife -at Adelaide? She asked him at dinner what he would take. Joe looked up -from a dream (not of fair women, but of drovers and dealers), and -thinking of the cattle he had just brought over, replied, “Six pounds a -head all round, and the calves given in!”’ - -Mr. Joe Warden, blue-eyed and fair-haired as Cedric the Saxon, long -afterwards famed as the most daring and successful of the explorers of -that historic period, shortly joined them, apologising for his -unpunctuality by declaring that he had bought two corner allotments and -a flock of ewes within the last ten minutes. - -‘This is the kingdom of unlimited loo as applied to real estate—the -region of golden opportunity, you see, Rockley,’ said St. Maur. ‘We are -all hard at it buying and selling from morning to night. Must go the -pace or be left behind. Half-acre allotments in Collins Street have -brought as much as seventy pounds this very morning. Try that claret.’ - -‘Quite right too. A very fair wine,’ quoth Mr. Rockley, slowly savouring -the ruby fluid. ‘My dear St. Maur, you are right to buy everything that -you can, as long as your credit lasts. I can see—and I stake my business -reputation on the fact—a tremendous future in store for this town. It is -not much in itself. The river’s a mere ditch; the harbour a great ugly -bay; the site of the town too flat; but the country!—the country around -is grand and extensive. Nothing can take that away. It is not so rich as -the spot my friend and I have just left; but it’s fine—very fine. I’m -not so young as I was, but I shall pitch my tent here and never go back -to Sydney.’ - -‘I hope to see Sydney again,’ said St. Maur; ‘but in the meantime I -shall stay and watch the markets. I quite agree with you that there is -money to be made.’ - -‘Of course there is,’ said Rockley; ‘but how long will it last? People -can’t live upon buying and selling to each other for ever. Some fine day -there will be an awful smash, in which some of you brisk young people -will be caught. But the settlement is so first-class in soil and -situation that it _must_ pull through. I shall buy a few allotments, -just to give me an interest, as the racing men say.’ - -‘We can accommodate you,’ said Mr. Raymond. ‘But why don’t you stay and -set up in business here? You’d make a fortune a month, with your name -and connections. Never mind Mrs. R. for the present; we’re all bachelors -here.’ - -‘I see that—and a very jolly set you are. I wouldn’t mind a month or two -here at all. But my friend Effingham and I are tied to time to get home, -and as we’re going overland we haven’t much time to spare.’ - -‘Well, look us up whenever you come back. The door of the Lamb Inn is -always open—night or day, for that matter. St. Maur and I are thinking -of buying it, aren’t we, Bertram, and turning it into a Club? We offered -Jones a thousand for it, but he wouldn’t take less than twelve hundred.’ - -‘That would have been only a hundred apiece for a dozen of us,’ said the -man with the large whiskers, whose name was Macleod. ‘Almost concluded -it, but Morton died of D.T., Southey got married, and Ingoldsby went -home. Nice idea, you know, being our own landlords.’ - -‘Not bad at all,’ said Rockley, who approved of everything when he was -in a good-humour. ‘A _very_ original, business-like idea. Well, I must -say good-bye to you all, gentlemen. I really wish I could stay longer.’ - -‘Stay till next week,’ pleaded Raymond. ‘We are going to give a ball. No -end of an entertainment. Two real carriages just landed, and the -families pledged to bring them.’ - -‘I notice a good many stumps in Collins Street,’ said Wilfred. ‘Won’t -that be a little dangerous for returning?’ - -‘Not with decent horses,’ said a young fellow with a dark moustache and -one arm. ‘I drove tandem through it about two o’clock this morning.’ - -‘But you do everything so well, Blakesley,’ said St. Maur. ‘Speaking as -an ordinary person, I must say I should funk the “Rue Bourke” or Collins -after dark. But that is not our affair. Providence _couldn’t_ injure a -lady when there are only ten in the community.’ - -‘What about that brig, the _Rebecca_, that’s sailing to-morrow for -Sydney?’ said a fresh-coloured, middle-aged personage who had spoken -little, and, indeed, seemed oppressed with thought. ‘You came down in -her, Rockley, didn’t you?’ - -‘Like nothing about her,’ said that gentleman with decision. ‘Badly -found, badly manned, and the worst thing about her is the skipper. You -don’t catch me in her again, I can tell you. Effingham and I are going -overland.’ - -‘Indeed!’ said the speaker, much surprised. ‘I thought we should have -been fellow-passengers. I never dreamed of any one riding all the way to -Sydney, five or six hundred miles, when they could go by sea! If I’d -known, I’d have changed my mind and started with you. It’s too late now; -I’ve paid my passage.’ - -‘Look here, Bowerdale,’ said Mr. Rockley with earnestness, ‘I’ve paid my -passage, and I forfeit it cheerfully rather than run the risk. If you -knew Captain Jackson, you’d do it too. He’ll lose the ship and all hands -some day, as sure as my name’s Rockley.’ - -‘There’s a good deal of luck in these things, I believe,’ said the -other. ‘I must risk it anyhow. I can’t afford to lose the money, and I -want to get back to my wife and chicks as soon as I can. We officials -haven’t unlimited leave either, you know.’ - -‘D——n the leave!’ said Mr. Rockley volcanically, ‘and the money too. I’ll -settle the last for you, and you can pay when you sell that suburban -land you bought in Collingwood. There’s a fortune in _that_. Your -chief’s a good fellow; he’ll arrange the leave. Half the Civil Servants -in Sydney have had a shot at Melbourne land, you know. Say the word, and -come with us. There’s a spare horse, isn’t there, Effingham?’ - -‘Lots of horse-flesh,’ said Wilfred, following his friend’s cue. ‘Mr. -Bowerdale will just complete our party—make it pleasanter for all.’ - -‘You _are_ a good fellow, Rockley,’ said Mr. Bowerdale, smiling; ‘and I -thank you, Mr. Effingham; but I can’t alter my arrangements, though I -feel strangely tempted to do so. I have had a fit of the blues all the -morning. Liver, I suppose—too much excitement. But I make a point of -always carrying a thing through.’ - -‘Take your own way,’ grumbled Rockley. ‘Well, I must be off, St. Maur. -Effingham, did you forget about the pack-saddle? It’s a strange thing -nobody can remember anything but myself. St. Maur, I beg to thank you -and these gentlemen for their most pleasant entertainment. Come and see -me at Yass, all of you, when you stop land-buying, or it stops you. -Good-bye, Bowerdale; I can’t help thinking you’re a d——d fool.’ - -So the worthy and choleric gentleman departed, with his surplus steam -not wholly blown off. All the way back he kept exploding at intervals, -with remarks uncomplimentary to his unconvinced friend, who left by the -_Rebecca_, which, with crew, captain, and passengers, was _never more -heard of_. - - * * * * * - -On the following morning Mr. Rockley and Wilfred rode forth along the -Sydney road, then far from macadamised, and chiefly marked out by -dray-ruts and a mile-wide trail made by the overlanders. Mr. Rockley -rode one stout cob and led another. Wilfred bestrode an ambling black -horse of uncertain pedigree, and led the grey filly, upon whose -reluctant back he had managed to place a pack-saddle with their joint -necessaries. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV - BOB CLARKE ONCE MORE WINS ON THE POST - - -The homeward-bound horsemen had no difficulty about the road, well -marked as it was by the travelling stock. There was also, as now, a mail -service from Sydney. They met the mailman about half-way. He was riding -one horse and leading another; he had often to camp out without fire, -for fear of blacks. In due time they reached the site of the border town -of Albury, on the broad waters of the Murray, all unknowing of the great -wine-cellars its grapes were yet to fill, with reisling, muscat, and -hermitage in mammoth butts, rivalling that of Heidelberg. Much less did -they forecast the iron horse one day to rush forward, breathing woe and -disquiet to the shy dryad of the river oaks, by the gleaming stream and -the still depths of the reed-fringed lagoons. - -Rude were the ways by which they travelled from the Murray to the -Murrumbidgee River, by way of Gundagai, the great meadows of which were -then undevastated by flood. Thence to Bowning, and so on to Yass, in -which city the travellers were greeted with enthusiasm. The next morning -saw the younger far on his way to The Chase. - -What a change had taken place since the exodus—that memorable departure! -But one little year had passed away, and what a transformation! - -With the season everything had changed; all Australia was altered. Life -itself was so different from that day when, half-despairingly, they rode -behind their famished cattle, and turned their faces to the wilderness. - -Now it had been crossed; the promised land won—a land of milk and honey -as far as they were concerned—of olives and vineyards—all the biblical -treasures—no doubt looming in the future. - -For this prosperity the discovery of Port Phillip was accountable, -conjointly with the lavish, exuberant season. The glorious land of -mountain and stream, valley and meadow, laden with pastoral wealth and -bursting with vegetation, had been in a manner gifted to them by the -gallant, ill-fated Hubert Warleigh. They were all revelling in the -intensity of life, forming stations, buying and selling, speculating and -calculating, and where was he? Lying at rest beneath the sombre shade of -the forest giant, far from even the tread of the men of his race. Left -to moulder away, with the fallen denizens of the primeval forest; to -fade from men’s minds even as the echo of the surges, as the spring -songs of the joyous birds! - -It seemed increasingly hard to realise. As he approached the well-known -track that led from the main road to Warbrok he could see the very tree -near which he had waved a farewell at their first meeting. There was the -gate through which they had ridden on the occasion of his second visit, -when he had been received on terms of equality by the whole family. - -‘How glad I am now that we did that!’ Wilfred told himself. ‘We tried -our best to raise him from the slough into which he had fallen, and from -no selfish motive; how little we thought to be so richly repaid! One -often intends a kindness to some one who dies before it is fulfilled. -Then there is unavailing, perhaps lifelong regret. Here it was not so, -thank God! And now, home at last——’ - - * * * * * - -Of that happy first evening what description can be given that faintly -shall suggest the atmosphere of love and gratitude that enveloped the -family, as once more Wilfred sat among them in the well-remembered room? -Speech even died away, in that all might revel in an uninterrupted view -of the returned wanderer. How improved, though bronzed and -weather-beaten, he was after his wayfaring! - -‘And to think that Wilfred has returned safe from those dreadful blacks! -And oh, poor dear Hubert Warleigh! That fine young man, so lately in -this room with us, full of health and strength, and now to know that he -is dead—killed by savages—it is too dreadful!’ - -‘Mamma! mamma!’ said Annabel, sobbing aloud, ‘don’t speak of it. I can’t -bear it.’ - -Here she arose and left the room. - -‘She is very sensitive, dear child,’ said Mrs. Effingham. ‘I do not -wonder at her feeling the poor fellow’s death. I can’t help thinking -about him, as if he were in some way more than an acquaintance.’ - -‘You have come back to a land of plenty, my son,’ said Mr. Effingham, -‘as you have doubtless observed. If you had known that such rain was to -fall, it might have saved you all the journey.’ - -‘My dear sir,’ answered Wilfred, ‘don’t flatter yourself that, myself -excepted, one of our old society will be contented to live here again. -The land we have reached opens out such an extensive field that no sane -man would think of staying away from it. Rockley will follow, and half -Yass, I believe. No one will be left but you and I and the Parson.’ - -‘What an exodus! It amounts to a misfortune,’ said Rosamond. ‘It seems -as if the foundations of society were loosened. We shall never be so -happy and contented again.’ - -‘We never may,’ said Wilfred; ‘but we shall be ever so much richer, if -that is any compensation. Stock of all kinds are fetching fabulous -prices in Port Phillip. By the bye, how is Dr. Fane? His store cattle -are now worth more than the Benmohr fat cattle used to be.’ - -‘We had Vera here for a whole month,’ said Rosamond. ‘She is the dearest -and best girl in the whole world, I believe, and so handsome we all -think her. She said her father had sold a lot of cattle at a fine price, -and if he didn’t spend all the money in books, they would be placed in -easy circumstances.’ - -As Wilfred paced the verandah, smoking the ante-slumber pipe—a habit he -had rather confirmed during his journeyings and campings—he could not -but contrast the delicious sense of peaceful stillness with much of the -life he had lately led. All was calm repose—amid the peaceful landscape. -No possibility here of the wild shout—the midnight onset—as little, -perhaps, of lawless deeds as in their half-forgotten English home. A -truly luxurious relief, after the rude habitudes and painful anxieties -of their pioneer life. - -The night’s sound sleep seemed to have concentrated the repose of a -week, when Wilfred awoke to discover that all outer life was painted in -rose tints. That portion of the herd which had been left behind had -profited by the unshared pasturage to such an extent that they resembled -a fresh variety. Daisy and her progeny looked nearly as large as -shorthorns, and extreme prices had been offered for them, old Andrew -averred, by the cattle-dealers that now overspread the land. - -A field of wheat, by miraculous means ploughed and harrowed, since the -Hegira, promised an abundant crop. - -‘Weel, aweel!’ said Andrew, who now appeared bearing two overflowing -buckets of milk, ‘ye have been graciously spared to return from yon -fearsome wilderness, like Ca-aleb and Joshua. And to think o’ that puir -laddie, juist fa’en a prey to thae Amalekites, stricken through wi’ a -spear, like A-absolom! Maist unco-omon—ane shall be taen and the t’ither -left. It’s a gra-and country, I’m hearin’.’ - -‘The finest country you ever set eyes on, Andrew. The Chase seems a mere -farm after it. If it was not for the family, I should soon pack up and -go back there.’ - -‘I wadna doot. Rovin’ and rampa-agin’ aboot the waste places o’ the -yearth is aye easy to learn. But ye’ll ken yer duty to yer forebears and -the young leddies, Maister Wilfred, no’ to tak’ them frae this -douce-like hame.’ - -‘Oh yes, I know,’ said Wilfred. ‘Of course I shall stay here, and shall -be very happy and make lots of money again. All the same, it’s a -wonderful new country. Half the people here will be wanting to get away -when they hear about it. But how did you get this fine crop of wheat put -in without working bullocks? I’m afraid, Andrew, you must have been -taking a leaf out of Dick Evans’s book, and using other people’s -cattle.’ - -‘Weel, aweel!’ said Andrew, looking doubtful, ‘I winna deny that there -micht be some makin’ free wi’ ither folks’ beasties. But they were juist -fair savin’ their lives wi’ oor grass parks, and when the rain fell, it -was a case o’ needcessity to till the land, noo that the famine was -past.’ - -With regard to the ‘fatal maid,’ Wilfred Effingham had much difficulty -in reaching a determination worthy of a man who prided himself upon -acting on logically defensible grounds. He was by no means too certain, -either, that he could lay claim to Miss Christabel’s undivided -affections. So much of her heart as she had to give, he suspected was -bestowed upon Bob Clarke. If that were so, she would cling to him with -the headlong hero-worship with which a woman invests the lover of her -girlhood, more particularly if he happens to be ill-provided with this -world’s goods. - -The result of all this introspection was that Wilfred, like many other -men, sought refuge in delay. There was no need of forcing on the -decision. He had work to do at home for months to come. And the marriage -question might be advantageously postponed. - -Unpacking his valise after breakfast, he produced a number of -newspapers, the which, as being better employed, he had not opened. Now, -in the leisure of the home circle, the important journals were -disclosed. Each one, provincially hungry for news, seized upon one of -the messengers from the outer world. ‘Ha!’ said Wilfred suddenly, ‘what -is this? Colonel Glendinning, of the Irregular Horse, desperately -wounded. Wonderful gallantry displayed by him. Chivalrous sortie from -cantonments. Why, this must be our Major, poor fellow!’ - -He was interrupted by a faint cry from Beatrice, and looking round he -saw that she had grown deadly pale. He had just time to catch her -fainting form in his arms. But she was not a girl who easily surrendered -herself to her emotions. Rousing herself, she looked around with a -piteous yet resolved expression, and with an effort collected her mental -forces. - -‘Mother,’ she said, ‘I must go where _he_ is. Tell my father that I have -always deferred to his wishes, but that now I _must_ join him—I feel -responsible for his life. Had I but conquered my pride, a word from me -would have kept him here. And now he is dying—after deeds of reckless -daring. But I must go; I will die with him, if I cannot save him.’ - -‘Dearest Beatrice, there is no need to excite yourself,’ said the fond -yet prudent mother. ‘You have only to go to your father. He will consent -to all that is reasonable. I myself think it is your duty to go. Major -Glendinning is severely wounded, but good nursing may bring him round. I -wish you had a companion.’ - -‘Where could you have a better one than Mrs. Snowden?’ cried Annabel -hastily. ‘She said she half thought of going home by India, and I know -she does not care which route she takes. She has been there before, and -knows all about the route. If papa would only make up his mind to go, -half the trouble would be off his mind, and he would enjoy the voyage.’ - -‘There could not be a more favourable time, my dear sir,’ said Wilfred -in the family council at a later hour. ‘I shall be here now. It is a -matter of life and death to poor Beatrice as well as to the Colonel. You -had better arrange to start by the first vessel, and to bring back some -Arab horses on your return.’ - -‘It is the only thing to be done,’ said Rosamond, who had just returned -from her sister’s room. ‘I wouldn’t answer for Beatrice’s reason if she -is compelled to wait here. She has repressed her feelings until now, and -the reaction is terrible. It is most fortunate that Mrs. Snowden is -ready to leave Australia.’ - -Subjected to the family pressure, aided by the promptings of his own -heart, Mr. Effingham was powerless to resist. The acclimatisation -question was artfully brought up. He at once yielded, and before the -evening was over, a letter was in the mail-bag, requesting their Sydney -agent to take passages by the first outward-bound boat for India, and to -advise by post, or special messenger, if necessary. - -Beatrice, informed of this determination, gradually recovered that -calmness allied to despair which simulates resignation. She busied -herself unweariedly in preparation for the voyage, cherishing the hope -of soothing the last hours of her lover, if indeed it was denied her, to -watch over his return to the world of love and hope. - -Mrs. Snowden arrived on the following day, and cordially acceded to the -proposition made to her, to share the adventures of the voyage and of -Indian travel. - -‘If you knew,’ she said, ‘how grateful I feel for the opportunity of -changing the scene of my sorrows and being of use to my friends after -this lonely life of mine, you would not thank me. I would go many a mile -by sea or land to nurse the Major myself. Between me and Beatrice he -will be well looked after.’ - -All circumstances seemed favourably shaped for the errand of mercy. A -ship was about to sail for China, whence the opium clippers might be -trusted for a swift run to the historic land. Almost before the news of -the intended journey had reached Yass, so that the parson could drive -over and express his entire concurrence with the arrangement, the little -party had set out for Sydney. - - * * * * * - -In the fulness of time the very last evening, before the Rockley family -left Yass, arrived. All the party from The Chase had been in to say -good-bye, and had returned. Some mysterious business kept Wilfred in -town, and that special evening he of course spent at Rockley Lodge. - -For it was not to be supposed that, on that momentous evening, the -family declined to see their friends. In the ‘Maison Rockley’ the head -of the house was so absorbed in his business pursuits that, except at -dinner-time, and for an hour after, he could hardly be said to possess -any family life whatever. He was grateful, therefore, for the presence -of such friends who would take the burden of domesticity, in part, off -his hands, and made no scruple of expressing, in the family circle, his -thanks for such services. - -It so turned out that, on this particular morning, he had found time, -for once in a way, to give his daughter an earnest lecture about her -ridiculous fancy, as he termed it, for Bob Clarke; a young fellow who, -without any harm in him, would never come to much, or make any money -worth speaking of, seeing that he was far too fond of those confounded -horses, out of which no man had ever extracted anything but ruin, in -Australia. That they had never heard a word from him for ever so long; -most probably he was flirting away in Tasmania, and did not cast a -thought upon her. And here was Wilfred Effingham, than whom he did not -know a finer fellow anywhere—steady, clever, a man of family, and in -every way desirable. If he liked her, Christabel—he couldn’t say whether -he did or not, he had no time to trouble about such rubbish—why didn’t -she take him, and have done with it, and settle down creditably for the -rest of her life, instead of wasting her time and vexing her -friends?—and so on—and so on. - -Christabel wept piteously during this paternal admonition, delivered, as -usual, with a loud voice and a fierce expression of countenance, but had -gone away reflecting that although she was, so to speak, badly treated -in this instance, yet, as she had succeeded in getting her own way all -her life, she probably might enjoy a reasonable portion of it in the -future. - -Meanwhile, being fairly malleable and of the texture which is bent by -circumstances, she began to consider, when alone in her room, whether -there was not something of reason in her father’s arguments. Here she -was placed in the position of only having to accept. Of the true nature -of Wilfred’s feelings she herself had little doubt. There is something, -too, not wholly without temptation to the female heart in the -unconditional surrender of the lover, then and there urging his suit. -There may be also a wild impulse to accept the inevitable, and thus for -ever extinguish the uneasiness of anxiety and suspended judgment. - -Then, Wilfred Effingham was very good-looking—fair perhaps in -complexion, and she did not admire fair men, but brown-bearded, -well-featured, manly. All the girls voted him ‘so nice-looking,’ and the -men invariably spoke of him as a good fellow. He was well off; he would -have The Chase some day, and she would be the great lady of the Yass -district, with her carriage and her servants; could entertain _really_ -well. She would also, beyond doubt, be envied by all her schoolfellows -and girl friends. - -The prospect was tempting. She thought of Bob’s dark eyes, and their -passionate look when he last said good-bye. She thought of the happy -days when he rode at her bridle-rein, and would lean over to whisper the -cheery nonsense that amused her. She thought of the thrill at her heart, -the strange deadness in every pulse, when The Outlaw went down, and they -lifted Bob up, pale and motionless; of her joy when he appeared next day -on the course, with his arm in a sling, but with eyes as bright and -smile as pleasant as ever. These were dangerous memories. But they were -boy and girl then. Now she was a woman, who must think of prudence and -the wishes of her parents. - -Then Bob would be poor for many a day, if, indeed, he ever rose to -fortune. Through her heart passed the uneasy dread, which -gently-nurtured women have, of the unlovely side of poverty, of shifts -and struggles, of work and privation—of a small house and bad servants, -of indifferent dresses, and few thereof. Such thoughts came circling up, -like birds of evil aspect and omen, ready to cluster round the corse of -the slain Eros. - -_Les absens sont toujours torts_, says the worldly adage. In his -absence, the advocacy for Bob Clarke was perhaps less brave and -persistent than it would otherwise have been. The girl strove to harden -her heart, by clinging to the prudent side of the case, and recalling -her father’s angry denunciations of any other course than an affirmative -reply to Wilfred Effingham, should he this night tell her the real -purport of his constant visits. - -He himself had resolved to risk his fate on this last throw of the dice, -and so far everything assisted his plans. Mr. Rockley was in an -unusually genial frame of mind at dinner—cordial, of course, as ever, -but unnaturally patient under contradiction and the delays consequent -upon the cook’s unsettled condition. Mrs. Rockley excused herself after -that meal as having household matters to arrange. But Christabel, whose -domestic responsibilities had always been of the faintest, was at -liberty to remain and entertain Mr. Effingham and her father, indeed she -was better out of the way at the present crisis. Wilfred had no thought -of leaving early in order to accommodate his friends in their presumed -state of bustle and derangement, for it was one of those rare households -where visitors never seem to be in the way. None of the feminine heads -of departments were fussy, anxious, ‘put out,’ or had such pressing -cares that visitors came short of consideration. - -Mrs. Rockley’s talent for organisation was such that no one seemed in a -hurry, yet nothing was left undone. The house was nearly always full of -inmates and visitors, male and female, with or without children. Still, -wonder of wonders, there was never any awkwardness or failure of -successful entertainment. Rockley, personally, scoffed at the idea of -being responsible for the slightest share of household management. He -merely exacted the most complete punctuality, cookery, house-room and -attendance for the ceaseless flow of guests, the cost of which he -furnished, to do him justice, ungrudgingly. Whatever might need to be -done next day (if the whole family, indeed, had been ordered for -execution, as Horace Bower said), William Rockley would have dined and -conversed cheerfully over his wine, suggested a little music (for the -benefit of others), smoked his cigar in the verandah, and mocked at the -idea of any guest being incommoded by the probably abrupt translation of -the family, or going away a moment before the regulation midnight hour. - -Therefore, when Rockley told him that he hoped he was not going to run -away a moment before the usual time for any nonsensical idea of being in -the way because they were starting for Port Phillip on the next day -(what the deuce had that got to do with it, he should like to know?), -Wilfred fully comprehended the _bona fides_ of the request, and prepared -himself to make the most of a _tête-à-tête_ with Miss C. Rockley, if -such should be on the cards. - -So it came to pass that while Mr. Rockley and Wilfred were lounging in -the Cingalese arm-chairs, which still adorned the verandah, Christabel -betook herself to the piano, whence she evoked a succession of dreamy -nocturnes and melancholy reveries which sighed through the hushed night -air as though they were the wailings of the Lares and Penates mourning -for their dispossession. - -‘Bowerdale hasn’t turned up,’ said Rockley abruptly. ‘The _Rebecca_ has -never been heard of. She sailed the day we left Melbourne. Queer things -presentiments. You remember his saying he felt hypped, don’t you?’ - -‘Yes, quite well. What an awful pity that he should have persisted in -going by her—after your warning, too!’ - -‘Didn’t like to lose his passage-money, poor fellow!’ continued the -sympathising Rockley. ‘I’d have settled that for him quick enough, but -he wasn’t the sort of man to let any one pay for him. Leaves a wife and -children too. Well, we must see what can be done. Fortune of war might -have been our case if I hadn’t taken Jackson’s measure so closely.’ - -‘Happy to think you did,’ said Wilfred, with natural gratitude. ‘If you -had not been so determined about the matter, I should have risked the -sea-voyage. I was tired of land-travelling.’ - -‘We should all have been with “Davy Jones” now. No cigars, eh? This -claret’s better than salt water? I suppose we all have our work to do in -this world; mine is not half done yet; yours scarcely begun. By Jove! I -forgot to leave word at the office about my Sydney address—where to send -all the confounded packages, about a thousand of them. I’ll run down and -see that put straight. Don’t you go till I come back. Tell Mrs. Rockley -she must have a little supper ready for us.’ - -Rockley lighted a fresh cigar and plunged into the night, while Wilfred -lost no time in repairing to the piano, which he managed to persuade the -fair performer to quit for the verandah, under the assumption that the -room was warm, and the night air balmy in comparison. - -For a while they walked to and fro on the cool freestone pavement, -talking on indifferent subjects, while Wilfred gazed steadfastly into -the girl’s marvellous eyes, ever and anon flashing under the soft -moon-rays, as if he could read her very soul. She was dressed that -evening in a pale-hued Indian muslin, which but partly veiled the -exquisite graces of her form. How well he remembered it in after-days! -There was a languor in her movements, a soft cadence in the tone of her -voice, a quicker sympathy in her replies to his low-toned speech, which -in some indefinable manner encouraged him to hope. He drew the lounges -together, and telling her she needed rest, sat by her side. - -‘You are really going away,’ he said; ‘no more last farewells, and -Heaven knows when we shall meet again. I feel unutterably mournful at -the idea of parting from your mother, Mr. Rockley—and—yourself. My -sisters were in the depths of despair yesterday. I don’t think it -affects _you_ in the least.’ - -‘Why should you think I am hard hearted?’ asked the girl as she raised -herself slightly, and leaning her face on her hand, curving the while -her lovely rounded arm, looked up in his face with the pleading look of -a spoiled child. ‘Do you suppose it is so pleasant to me to leave our -home, where I have lived all my life, and travel to a new place where we -know nobody—that is, hardly any one?’ - -‘How we all—how I,’ said Wilfred, ‘shall miss these pleasant evenings! -How many a one have I spent in your father’s house since we first met! I -can safely say that I have never been so kindly treated under any roof -in the whole world. As to your father, my dear old governor has always -been too good, but I scarcely think he could do more for me than Mr. -Rockley has done.’ - -‘Papa is always kind, that is, to people whom he likes,’ said Christabel -with an absent indifference, as if Mr. Rockley’s philanthropy and -irritability, his energy and his hospitality, were qualities of much the -same social value. - -At that moment the moonbeam was darkened by a passing cloud, and Wilfred -drew nearer to the girl until he could almost feel her breath upon his -hair, and hear her heart palpitate beneath the delicate fabric of her -dress. - -‘Christabel,’ he said, ‘ask your heart this night whether I am right in -hoping that you will not accompany your parents to this rude settlement. -Here you are known, honoured—yes, loved! Why leave one who would cherish -you while life lasted?’ - -Christabel Rockley spoke not nor moved, but she cast her eyes down, till -in the clear light the long dark lashes could be seen fringing her -cheek. Her bosom heaved—she made no sign. - -‘Christabel,’ he murmured, ‘darling Christabel, I have long loved you, -fondly, passionately. One word will make me the happiest of living men. -Bow but your head in token that you grant my prayer, and I will take it -as a sign from Heaven. Stay with my mother till she embraces you as a -loved daughter. Only say the word. Will you try to return, in your own -good time, my deep, my unalterable love?’ - -She raised her head and looked fixedly at him as he stood there, the -embodiment of love’s last appeal, in the direct path of the moon’s rays. -His face and form, instinct with strong emotion, seemed glorified by the -flood of light in which it was encircled. - -‘I can hardly tell,’ she said. ‘I have been trying to think—asking -myself if I can give you my heart, and this pale face of mine, that you -set so much value on—foolish boy! I think I may, in a little while, if -you will bear with me, but I would rather not say, for good and all, -just at this moment. You _will_ give me more time, won’t you? Ah! what -is that?’ she suddenly broke off, with almost a shriek, as the roll of -horse-hoofs smote clearly through the still night air upon the senses, -almost upon the overwrought hearts of the listeners. ‘Who can it be? -Surely it isn’t papa riding back on the warehouse-keeper’s cob?’ - -Not so. The hoofs of no mortal cob ever rang upon turf or roadway with -the long, regular strokes of the steed of the coming horseman. - -‘A thoroughbred horse!’ said Wilfred. ‘Tired, too, by his rolling -stride. Whoever can it be at this time of night?’ - -Then he saw Christabel’s pale cheek faintly flush. How lovely was the -warmer tint as it stole from cheek to brow, while her eye sparkled -afresh like a lamp relumed. ‘Only one person is likely to come here -to-night to say good-bye to us,’ she almost whispered. ‘I did not think -he would take the trouble. Oh, it can’t be——’ - -As she spoke, the clattering hoofs ceased abruptly at the garden gate. A -hasty step was heard on the gravel, and Bob Clarke, pale as death and -haggard with fatigue, stood before them. - -‘I swore I would say good-bye,’ he said. ‘So I am here, you see. I have -ridden a hundred miles to do it. Ha! Effingham! Back from Port Phillip? -Christabel Rockley, answer me—am I too late?’ - -‘Oh, Bob!’ she cried, and as she spoke she rose and stood by his side, -taking one hand in both of hers. ‘You are not too late. But you will -have to forgive me, and you, too, Wilfred Effingham, for being a silly -girl that did not know her own mind. It would have served you right, -Master Bob, and it will be a lesson to you not to put off important -business. If Desborough had gone lame—I suppose it is he, poor fellow, -that you have nearly ridden to death—you would have lost Christabel -Rockley for good and all, whatever she may be worth. I was not sure, and -papa was angry. But I am now—_I am now_. Oh, Bob, my dear old Bob, I -will wait for you till I am a hundred if you don’t make a fortune -before!’ - -Bob Clarke looked doubtfully from one face to the other, scrutinising -Wilfred’s with a fierce, questioning glance. But as their eyes met he -saw that which quenched all jealous fears. - -‘My dear fellow,’ said Wilfred, coming forward and holding out his hand, -‘you have had your usual luck and “won on the post.” I congratulate you -heartily, on my honour, as a man and a gentleman. Christabel has freely -told you that but for your opportune arrival her hand might have been -disposed of differently. You won’t wonder that any man should do his -best to win her. But from my soul I can now rejoice that it was not so; -that I have been spared the discovery, when too late, that her heart was -yours—yours alone. Look upon me now as your lifelong friend. Let us keep -our own counsel, and all will go well.’ - -‘Wilfred Effingham has spoken like himself,’ said Christabel, whose -features were now illuminated with the pure light of love that knows -neither doubt nor diffidence in the presence of the beloved one. ‘You -see, I should have had some excuse, Bob, if I had thrown you over, you -procrastinating old stupid. Why did you leave me doubting and wondering -all this time? However, I shall have plenty of time to scold you. Here -comes papa at last.’ - -At this simple announcement the three faces changed as the well-known -step of Mr. Rockley was heard—firm, rapid, aggressive. But the girl’s -features, at first troubled, gradually assumed a steadfast look. Bob -Clarke raised his head, and drew himself up as if scanning the line of -country. Wilfred Effingham’s countenance wore the abstracted look of one -raised by unselfish aims above ordinary considerations. - -‘I thought I should never get away from that confounded old idiot,’ Mr. -Rockley commenced. ‘Why, Bob Clarke! where have you sprung from? We -heard you had gone to Port Phillip, or Adelaide, or somewhere; very glad -to see you, wherever you came from. Better stay to-night; we can give -you a bed. Why the deuce didn’t you take your horse round to the stable -instead of letting the poor devil stand tied up at the gate after the -ride he seems to have had? Christabel, perhaps you’ll tell them to bring -in supper. I feel both hungry and thirsty—giving directions, directions, -till I’m hoarse.’ - -Christabel glided away, whereupon Bob Clarke faced round squarely and -confronted his host. - -‘Mr. Rockley, I came here to-night to tell you two things. I apologise -for being so late, but I only heard you were leaving yesterday. I have -ridden a hundred miles to-day.’ - -‘Just like you,’ said Rockley; ‘and why the deuce didn’t you make them -send you in supper all this time? You look as if you hadn’t saved -yourself any more than your horse.’ - -Truth to tell, Master Bob _was_ rather pale, and his eyes looked -unnaturally bright as he bent them upon the speaker. - -‘Plenty of time afterwards, sir,’ he said; ‘the business was important. -First of all, Mr. Hampden has given me a partnership, and I am going to -take up country in Port Phillip under the firm of Hampden and Clarke. -The cattle are drafted and started—five hundred head of picked -Herefords—Joe Curle is with them, and young Warner. I’m going by sea to -be ready for them when they come over.’ - -‘I’m sincerely glad to hear it, my dear Bob,’ said Rockley in his most -cordial manner—one peculiar to him when he had become aware of something -to another man’s advantage. ‘Why, you had better come down with us this -week in the _Mary Anne_. I’ve chartered her, and she is crammed full, -but, of course, I can give any one a passage. I can’t tell you how glad -I am. Mrs. Rockley!’ he cried out as that well-beloved matron appeared -and held out her hand with a smile of good omen to the not fully -reassured Bob, ‘are we never to have anything to eat to-night? Here’s -Bob Clarke has ridden a hundred and fifty miles, and dying of hunger -before your eyes; but, of course, of course’—here he changed into a -tragic tone of injury—‘if I’m not to be master in my own house——’ - -Mrs. Rockley, with her placid countenance, only relieved by a glance at -Wilfred, swiftly withdrew, and Rockley, to whom it had suddenly occurred -as he looked at Wilfred that complications might arise from his -subjecting his daughter to the perilous companionship of a sea-voyage -with so noted a detrimental as Bob Clarke, looked like a hound that had -outrun the scent, desirous of trying back, but not quite certain of his -line. - -‘Well, Bob, I am sure you will do well in Port Phillip; you have had -lots of experience, and no man can work harder when he likes, I will say -that for you; but it’s a fast place, a very fast place, I tell you, sir; -and if you give yourself up to that confounded racing and -steeplechasing, I know what will come of it.’ - -‘Mr. Rockley,’ said Bob again, with the air of a man who steadies his -horse at a rasper, ‘I came to ask you for your daughter. I know I’ve not -done much so far, but she likes me, and I feel I shall be successful in -life or go to the devil—according to your answer this night.’ - -Mr. Rockley looked first at one and then at the other of his young -friends in much astonishment. This surprise was so great that for once -he was unable to give vent to his ideas. - -Before he could gather self-possession, Wilfred Effingham spoke. ‘My -dear Rockley, from circumstances which have come to my knowledge, but -which I am in honour bound not to reveal, I can assure you that your -daughter’s happiness is deeply concerned in my friend Clarke’s proposal. -As a friend of the family—who takes the deepest interest in her future -welfare—let me beg of you to give the matter your most favourable -consideration.’ - -Mr. Rockley’s face passed through the phases of wild astonishment and -strong disapproval before he replied. It had then relaxed into one of -humorous enlightenment. - -‘I see how it is. That monkey, Christabel, has enlisted you on her side. -Well, I tell you both that I should have preferred Wilfred Effingham as -my son-in-law. I am not going to hide my opinion on that or any other -subject. But as she has made her choice, I will not—I say I will -not—make her life miserable. Not that I have any objection to you, Bob, -my boy, except on the score of that confounded horse-racing. It’s very -well in its way. No man enjoys a race more than I do; but it’s not the -thing for a young fellow who has his way to make in the world.’ - -‘I’ll never own another race-horse,’ quoth Bob, with desperate -self-renunciation, ‘as long as I live, if——’ - -‘Oh yes, you will,’ said Mr. Rockley, with superior forecast; ‘but what -I want you to do is to promise not to go head and shoulders into it for -the next few years, when you’ll have all your work cut out for you, if -you want to be a man and make a home for your wife and family. Well, -it’s done now, and here’s my hand, my boy; you’ve got a good little -girl, if she is a pretty one. But take my advice, don’t give her too -much of her own way at the beginning. Show that you intend to be master -from the start, _put her down_ if she shows temper; when she gives in, -you can be as kind to her as you like afterwards. Better that than for -her to have the whip-hand. Women don’t understand moderation. That was -always my way, wasn’t it, Bessie?’ he inquired, appealing to Mrs. -Rockley, who having entered the room had come in for this piece of -practical advice, delivered in a loud tone of voice. ‘I’ve been giving -your future son-in-law—there he is; I know he is a favourite of yours; -you needn’t say he isn’t—a useful piece of advice, which I hope he’ll -have the sense to act up to. Supper ready in the next room? I fancy -we’re all in want of a little refreshment; what do you think, Bob?’ - -That gentleman had private ideas upon the subject, but did not disclose -them further than by looking over at Mrs. Rockley, and giving practical -effect to the suggestion. - -The _partie carré_ enjoyed a cheerful but not very conversational -repast. Wilfred and Bob Clarke felt more disposed to drink than to eat. -Neither had much to say, so Rockley had it all his own way with Port -Phillip speculations, advice to Bob Clarke of where to go for -first-class cattle country, and how to manage economically for the first -few years. Mrs. Rockley was tired, but found a few reassuring words for -the anxious Bob, explaining that Christabel had a headache, but would be -sure to be quite well in the morning. She also indicated her sympathy -with Wilfred, and her approval of his generosity in backing up his -rival’s claim. This, she assured him, she nor Christabel would ever -forget. - -Finally, Mr. Rockley looked at his watch in the midst of a suggestion to -buy more cattle on Hampden’s account and take up two or three runs, -inasmuch as it was all one trouble and not much more expense; when, -discovering that it was past midnight, he broke up the parliament. -Wilfred made his final adieus, and at daylight was fast leaving the town -behind him, on his way to The Chase, accompanied by divers ‘companions -of Sintram,’ in the guise of vain regret and dull despair, with also -(though not unalloyed) a curious sense of relief. - -Taking the most philosophical view of the subject, the after-taste of -refusal by a woman is rarely exceeded in this life for corroding -bitterness. The non-preference of oneself, to the average suitor, fills -the individual, unless he be free from every tinge of vanity, with wrath -and disgust. In vain the proverbial salve is applied by superficial -comforters. The foiled fisherman will not be consoled. He will throw -away his flies and burn his rod. Henceforth he and angling have parted -for ever. Such in effect for a while is the lament of most men who have -the evil hap to pin so much of their present and prospective happiness -upon one cast—and lose it. The proud man suffers deeply, in secret. The -selfish man mourns for the loss of personal gain. The true and manly -lover is shaken to the centre of his being. The vain man is wroth -exceedingly with childish anger; furious that any woman should disdain -him—_him_! The susceptible, fickle suitor, who promptly bears his -incense to another shrine, is to be envied, if not commended. But - - To each his sufferings, all are men, - Condemned alike to groan. - -Who loves vainly is stricken with a poisoned arrow. The wound rankles in -the flesh of every son of Adam, oft producing anguish, even unto death, -long after the apparent hurt is healed. - -Wilfred Effingham was not more than ordinarily vain. He had not been, in -so many words, rejected. Indeed, he had been nearly accepted. But he -could not disguise from himself that it amounted to much the same thing. -Yet he reflected that he had cause to be thankful that the girl had not -been permitted to complete the measure of her self-deception—to promise -her hand where she could not truly have given her heart. Better far, a -thousand times, that this should have happened beforehand, he thought, -‘than that I should have seen after marriage the look that came into her -eyes when they rested on Bob Clarke.’ - -He did not admit that permanent injury to his health would result from -this defeat. It was not a crushing disaster, from which he could never -rally. Rather was it a sharp repulse, useful in teaching caution. Brave -men, great men, had profited by blows like this ere now. He would retire -within his entrenchments—would perhaps be the better fitted to take the -field in a future campaign. - -A necessity lay upon him of acquainting his family with a portion, at -any rate, of such momentous events. He did not go too deeply into his -feelings for Christabel Rockley, yet permitted his mother and sisters to -perceive that all probability of her appearing at The Chase as Mrs. -Effingham, junior, was swept away by arrangement with Bob Clarke—duly -ratified by the irrevocable if reluctant consent of Mr. Rockley. - -His condition of mind was, doubtless, closely gauged by his relatives. -With instinctive delicacy they ministered indirectly to his hurt spirit. -While not displeased that the lovely Christabel had not appropriated the -beloved, their Wilfred, they never permitted him to perceive how widely -their estimate differed from his own. They counselled steady occupation, -and led him to take pleasure once more in intellectual pursuits. - -A diversion, happily, was effected in due time. He commenced to discover -that his mental appetite had returned—that he could read once more and -even _laugh_ occasionally at the conceits of authors, much indeed as if -his heart had not been broken. Then letters with good news from Beatrice -and her father arrived. The voyage had been safe and speedy. On their -arrival they had found the Colonel—such was his present rank—better than -their fears had led them to expect. Ghastly and numerous, in all truth, -were his still unhealed wounds; his state of weakness pitiable to see. -But the fever from which he had suffered had left him. And when the eyes -of the sick soldier met those of Beatrice Effingham, beaming upon him -with a world of love and tenderness, all felt that a stage on the way to -recovery had been reached. Such, too, came to be the opinion of the -doctor and nurse, a portion of whose duties the two ladies had assumed. - -Then letters came from the new country, _via_ Port Phillip:—‘The climate -was more moist than that of New South Wales, but the water never failed, -and the grass was beyond all description. Immigrants from all the world -were pouring in fast; the place bade fair to be another Britain. Money -was being made rapidly. Stock were any price you chose to ask. A cattle -trade was springing up with Tasmania. Argyll thought he would go home -for a couple of years, leaving Hamilton in charge. Fred Churbett was in -great form, fully convinced that he was intended for a dweller in the -waste places of the earth. He felt so happy and contented that he didn’t -think he would take a free passage to England, with a season box at the -Royal Opera, if it were offered to him.’ - -As for Guy, all written symbols were inadequate to express the length, -breadth, and depth of his happiness under the new and romantic -conditions. The cattle were doing splendidly—no one would know them. And -no wonder—the feed was unparalleled. He had got up two good slab huts, a -stock-yard, and a calf-pen. They were now splitting rails for a horse -paddock. - -The Port Phillip news (from Guy) became presently more sensational. The -Benmohr people, with Ardmillan, Churbett, and the rest, had arranged to -leave their stations for a while, and come to Yass for Christmas. A -better time to get away might never come. There was no chance of -bush-fires. The blacks were quiet. The cattle were thoroughly broken in; -you couldn’t drive them off the runs if you tried. There was nothing to -do this year but brand calves. So they would turn up before Christmas -Day. - -He didn’t think he would have been able to get away, but Jack Donnelly -had offered to look after the run in his absence, and with old Tom -there, no harm could come to the cattle. A couple of months would see -them back, and he really thought they deserved a holiday. - -Such intelligence had power to renovate the morale of the whole -household, from Mrs. Effingham—who, in good sooth, had with difficulty -kept up a reasonably cheerful appearance, in default of her absent -husband and daughter—down to Mrs. Evans, expectant of the errant Dick. - -Jeanie and Andrew were overjoyed at the tidings, and Duncan was at once -despatched to Benmohr to acquaint Mrs. Teviot and Wullie with the -glorious news, in case they had not as yet received a letter. But they -had; and Mrs. Teviot threatened Duncan with the broom for daring to -think ‘her gentlemen wadna acquent her the vara meenute they kenned they -could win hame to Benmohr.’ - -Comes then a letter from Sternworth. News had been received from -O’Desmond, who had discovered a splendid tract of country beyond the -lower Oxley marshes, hitherto considered impassable, and after remaining -upon it during the winter and spring, was coming back to Badajos. _He_ -too hoped to arrive before Christmas. The long-vacant homes of the -district would be again filled up, thank God! - -‘Won’t it be delightful to see dear Guy again,’ said Annabel, ‘and to -have the old house full once more, with friends and neighbours. I _must_ -kiss one of them. Mr. Churbett, I think. You would not object to that, -mamma, would you?’ - -‘_He_ would not,’ said Wilfred. ‘I don’t wonder that you and Rosamond -are delighted at the chance of seeing their faces again. It seems hard -that fate should have decided to separate us. Either they should have -remained here, or we should have pulled up stakes, like Rockley, and -migrated there.’ - -‘There is another friend coming that I shall be charmed to welcome—whom, -like Annabel, I shall be ready to embrace, and indeed _shall_ kiss on -the spot.’ - -‘Is my last belief in womanhood to be uprooted?’ exclaimed Wilfred -languidly. ‘Is my immaculate sister Rosamond actually going to join the -“fast” division?’ - -‘You need not be alarmed,’ she replied. ‘It is only Vera Fane; and I did -not speak of her visit before, because I was not sure she would be able -to come.’ - -‘Vera Fane!’ said Wilfred. ‘How does she happen to come our way? I -thought she was in Sydney. Didn’t some one say she was going to be -married?’ - -‘Oh, to that handsome cousin, Reginald, that came from England, _via_ -Melbourne, the other day. You heard that, did you? So did we, and were -agonised at the thought of losing her for good. But she is coming up -here at mamma’s invitation, given long ago, to stay with us over -January. Her father won’t be at Black Mountain till then; he can’t leave -Norman, who has had a bad time with scarlet fever.’ - -‘Well, you will have another lady in the house to fill Beatrice’s place, -and help to amuse your guests. She is quite equal to a pair of ordinary -young ladies in the matter of rational conversation, perhaps more.’ - -‘So Mr. Argyll thinks, evidently,’ said Annabel; ‘he paid her the -_greatest_ attention once he met her over here. I know she thinks him -very clever and distinguished-looking. They would suit one another -famously.’ - -‘I don’t think so at all,’ said Wilfred shortly. ‘But I must get away to -my work.’ - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI - THE RETURN FROM PALESTINE - - -Matters had been pleasant enough in the early days at Lake William, and -the Benmohr men considered that nothing could be more perfect than their -old life there. But this new region was so much more extensive, with a -half-unknown grandeur, rendering existence more picturesque and exciting -in every way. There were possibilities of fortunes being made, of cities -being built, of a great Dominion in the future—vast though formless -visions, which dwarfed the restricted aims of the elder colony. Such -aspirations tended to dissuade them from residing permanently in their -former homesteads. - -But they were coming back for a last visit—a long farewell. There were -friends to see, adventures to relate, transactions to arrange. A -pleasant change from their wild-wood life, an intoxicating novelty; but -once experienced, they must depart to return no more. - -The absentees did not await Christmas proper, but arrived beforehand, -having tempted the main in the yacht _Favourite_, sailing master -Commodore Kirsopp, R.N., from Melbourne. Such passengers as Ned White, -Jack Fletcher, Tom Carne, and Alick Gambier offered such an irresistible -combination. - -Once more the homesteads around Lake William appeared to awaken and put -on their former hospitable expression. Mrs. Teviot had scrubbed and -burnished away at Benmohr, until when ‘her gentlemen’ arrived, welcomed -with tears of joy, they declared themselves afraid to take possession of -their own house, so magnificently furnished and spotlessly clean did it -appear to them after their backwoods experience. - -Mr. Churbett stood gazing at his books in speechless admiration (he -averred) for half an hour; afterwards inspecting his stable and Grey -Surrey’s loose-box with feelings of wonder and appreciation. Neil -Barrington declared that he was again a schoolboy at home for the -holidays, not a day older than fourteen, and thereupon indulged himself -in so many pranks and privileges proper to his assumed age that Mrs. -Teviot scolded him for a graceless laddie, and threatened to box his -ears, particularly when he kissed her assistant, an apple-cheeked damsel -lured from one of the neighbouring farms in order to help in her work at -this tremendous crisis. - -Guy Effingham was hardly recognisable, so his sisters declared, in the -stalwart youngster who galloped up to The Chase in company with Gerald -O’More, whom he had invited to spend Christmas in his father’s house. -There was the old mischievous, merry expression of the eyes, the frank -smile for those he loved; but all save his forehead was burned several -shades darker, and a thick-coming growth of whisker and moustache had -changed the boyish lineaments and placed in their stead the sterner -regard of manhood. - -Gerald O’More had also sustained a change. His manner was more subdued, -and his spirits, though ready as of old to respond to the call of mirth, -did not seem to be so irrepressible. He had altered somewhat in figure -and face, having lost the fulness which marks the newly-arrived -colonist, and along with the British fairness of complexion, sacrificed -to the Australian sun, had put away the half-inquiring, half-critical -tone of manner that characterises the immigrant Briton for his first -year in Australia. He now ranked as the soldier who had shared in the -toil, the bivouac, the marches of the campaign; no longer a recruit or -supernumerary. - -‘He has never been so jolly since poor Hubert’s death,’ whispered Guy to -Rosamond in their first confidential talk. ‘He thought it was his fault -that the poor chap wasn’t able to defend himself. But he’ll get over it -in time. A better-hearted fellow couldn’t be. He’s a stunning bushman -now, and a tiger to work.’ - -‘What’s “a tiger to work”?’ asked Rosamond, laughing. ‘I must make you -pay a forfeit for inelegant expressions, as I used to do in old -school-days.’ - -‘I should never have known half as much,’ said the boy, as he turned to -his sister with a look of deepest love and admiring respect, ‘if it -hadn’t been for you, Rosamond. How early you used to get up on those -winter mornings, and how Blanche and I and Selden hated the sound of -that bell! But there’s nothing like it,’ he added with a tone of manly -decision. ‘I polished off a fellow about the date of the battle of Crecy -in great style the other day. You would have been quite proud of me.’ - -‘You keep up your reading, then, dear Guy, and don’t forget your -classics, though you are in the bush? When you go to England, some day, -you must show our friends that we do more than gallop after cattle and -chop down trees in Australia.’ - -‘Oh, we have great reading at night, I can tell you; only those tallow -candles are such a nuisance. I’ve got a new friend, a Cambridge fellow, -just out from home, on the other side of me, and he’s a regular -encyclopædia. So, between him and the Benmohr people, I shan’t rust -much.’ - -‘I am delighted to hear it. I hope you will have an Oxford man on your -other side, as you call it. A literary atmosphere is everything for -young people. Who is your other neighbour?’ - -‘Jack Donnelly, and not half a bad fellow either. Though his father -can’t read or write, he knows Latin, but not Greek, and he’s awfully -fond of reading. You should hear the arguments he and Cavendish have—the -Cambridge man, I mean.’ - -‘What do they argue about?’ - -‘Oh, everything—England and Ireland, Conservative and Democratic -government, native Australians and Britishers. They’re always at it. -Jack’s a clever fellow, and very quick; awfully good-looking too. You -should see him ride. Cavendish says he’ll make his mark some day—he’s -full of ambition.’ - -‘It is very creditable of him to try. If his father had not cared for -his children in that way, he might never have risen above his own grade. -Young gentlemen, too, should maintain the position which they have -inherited. Don’t lose sight of that.’ - -‘That’s what Hamilton’s always saying; he’s a wonderful fellow himself. -See him in town, you’d think he never had his hands out of kid gloves, -and yet he can keep time with the best working man we have, at any rough -work.’ - -‘You cannot have a better model, my dear Guy. Mamma and I are so -thankful that you are among men who would do honour to any country.’ - -Great was the joy expressed and many were the congratulations which -passed on both sides when the explorers returned. They had so much to -tell about the new home, so much to admire in the old one. It was a -suburb of Paradise in their eyes, with its cultured aspect and gracious -inhabitants, after the untamed wilderness. - -They were never tired of praising their former homes and neighbours. If, -by some Arabian Nights arrangement, they could transport them bodily to -the new colony, complete happiness, for once in this imperfect world, -would be attained. - -The Benmohrs found their apartments in apparently the same state of -faultless order in which they had quitted them. No smallest article had -been moved or changed. A velveteen shooting-jacket, which Argyll -remembered hanging up just as he started, was the very object which -greeted his eyes when he awakened after the first night in his own bed. - -The worst of it was that the breaking up of all this comfort and -domesticity would be so painful. The climate had changed permanently -(people always jump to this conclusion in Australia directly they begin -to forget the last drought), and was simply Elysian. The lake was full; -once more they listened to the music of its tiny surges. But for choice, -the new country was about ten times more valuable. The pleasant old -station homesteads must go. However, they were here now for a spell of -pure enjoyment, not to bother their heads with the future. - -Money was plentiful, the gods be praised! Everything was _couleur de -rose_; they would revel in ease and enjoyment with a free spirit until -Christmas was over. The cares of this world might then have their -innings, but by no means till the New Year chimes called them to new -duties. There was nothing now but such pleasant rides and drives; -lingering rambles, after the heat of the day; expeditions into Yass, -where they were fêted as if they had included the South Pole in their -discoveries. Mr. Sternworth alluded to their return in his sermon, -drawing tears from his congregation when he spoke of the strong, brave -man they would never see more, whom many there present had known from -childhood. But he had died as a Warleigh should die, doing his duty -gallantly, and giving his life to save that of a comrade. - -Before the third week of December had passed, another sensational -arrival was chronicled. O’Desmond drove through the town on his way to -Badajos in his four-in-hand, looking as if he had encountered no -discomforts to speak of. His horses were in high condition; the bits and -brasses were faultlessly polished; the drag hardly looked as if it had -been a thousand miles from a coach-builder, much less covered up with -boughs during the deadly summer of the waste. - -But observers noted that Harry O’Desmond, upright and well set up as -ever, was thinner and older-looking; that, although he received their -greetings with his old stately cordiality, there was an expression upon -his worn and darkened countenance rarely imprinted save by dread -wayfaring through the Valley of the Shadow—— - -So had it been with him, in truth. Passing the farthest known -explorations, his party came into a waste and torrid region, -indescribably dread and hopeless. There, apparently, no rain had fallen -for years. The largest trees had perished from desiccation of the soil; -even the wild animals had died or migrated. The few they encountered -were too weak to flee or resist. For weeks they had undergone fearful -privations; had tasted the tortures of thirst and hunger, well-nigh unto -death. - -With men weakened and disheartened, O’Desmond knew that to linger was -death. With a picked party of his long-tried followers he pushed on, -leaving just sufficient to support life with the depôt. On the _very -last_ day which exhausted nature could have granted them they passed the -barriers of the Land of Despair. They saw before them—such are the -wondrous contrasts of the Australian waste—a land of water-pools and -pastures, of food and fruit. - -But simultaneously with their glimpse of the haven of relief came the -view of a numerous, athletic party of blacks, clustered near the -river-bank. For war or hunting, this section of the tribe had surely -been detailed. There were no women or children visible—a bad sign, as -the sinking hearts of the emaciated wayfarers well knew. They were brave -enough under ordinary circumstances of fight or famine. But this bore -_too_ hardly upon human nature, coming, as it did, after the toils and -privations of the terrible desert. - -But there was one heart among the fainting crew which neither hunger, -thirst, nor the shadow of coming death had power to daunt. Aware that -with savages a bold yet friendly bearing is the acme of diplomacy, -O’Desmond decided upon his course. - -The chief stood before his leading braves, doubtful if not hostile. - -Suddenly recollecting that among his private stores, faithfully -distributed, upon which alone they had been subsisting of late, was a -package of loaf sugar, the idea flashed across his mind of tempting the -palate of the savage. - -Raising a handful of lumps of the rare and precious commodity, he -advanced cheerfully and presented them to the leader, who regarded them -distrustfully. His retinue stared with pitiless eyes at the wasted white -weaklings. It was the supreme moment. Life and death swayed in the -scales. - -Harry O’Desmond so recognised it, under his forced smile, as he lifted -one of the smaller fragments to his lips, and with great appearance of -relish began to masticate. Slowly and heedfully did the chief likewise. -The charm worked. The flavour of the far-borne product, for which so -many of the men of his colour had died in slavery, subjugated the -heathen’s palate. He smiled, and motioned the others to advance. -O’Desmond followed up his advantage. Every remaining grain was -distributed. In a few minutes each warrior was licking his lips -appreciatively. A treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, was as -good as signed. - -That day the starving wanderers feasted on fish and flesh, brought in -profusion by their new comrades. They had never seen a white man before, -and were, like many of the first-met tribes, not indisposed to be -peaceful. - -When shown the encampment, the clothes, the equipment, the strange -beasts, they pointed to the sky, snapping their fingers in wonder as -they marked the leader’s height and stalwart frame, but made no attempt -to raid the treasures of the white ‘medicine man.’ - -So the expedition was made free of a waste kingdom, bisected by the -deep-flowing stream of the Moora-warra, with its plains and forests, its -lagoons and reed-brakes. And for long years after, until O’Desmond sold -out the full-stocked runs for the high prices of the day, never was shot -fired or spear lifted in anger between the dwellers on the Big River. - -Wilfred had called at Badajos to congratulate their old friend. Upon his -return he found that the household had received an important addition. -Dr. Fane had ridden over with his daughter from Yass, and was with -difficulty persuaded to rest for a few days at The Chase before -returning to Black Mountain. Like most people who lead uneventful lives, -he was in a hurry to get home, though compelled to admit that he had -nothing particular to do when he got there. - -The Parson had stolen a day, he said, and driven over with them, proud -of the honour, he further stated, of taking charge of Miss Fane’s -impedimenta, which, though the most reasonable of damsels in that -respect, could not be carried upon Emigrant. That accomplished palfrey -she had brought over chiefly for the pleasure of having him to ride -while at The Chase. Besides, his presence saved her a world of anxiety, -as when they were separated she was always imagining that he had got out -of his paddock, been stolen, or fallen lame, such accidents being proper -to valuable horses in Australia. - -So when Wilfred arrived he found every one in most cheerful and animated -vein. Argyll was describing the features of the new country to Dr. Fane, -who was deeply interested in its geological aspect; his daughter, -apparently, had found the narrative, interspersed as it was with ‘moving -incidents by flood and field,’ equally entertaining. - -Mr. Sternworth, with Rosamond beside him, was questioning Hamilton about -the spiritual welfare of the infant settlement of Melbourne; promising, -moreover, a handsome subscription to St. James’s, the new Church of -England, at that time in course of erection. Gerald O’More, with Fred -Churbett and Neil Barrington, was having an animated, not to say noisy, -conversation with Annabel. Peals of laughter, of which a large -proportion was contributed by the young lady, were the first sounds that -met his ear upon entering the room. All seemed so capable of mutual -entertainment, without his aid, countenance, or company, that he was -sensible of a _soupçon_ of pique as he surveyed the festive scene. - -However, he cordially welcomed Miss Fane and her father to The Chase, -mentally remarking that he had never seen that young lady look so well -before, or had thought her half so handsome. Her response did much to -clear his brow and banish from his heart all unworthy feelings. The -steadfast gaze was frank and kindly as of yore. She appeared -unaffectedly pleased to see him again. - -‘You know you belong to the band of heroes whom we have felt so proud to -honour upon their return,’ she said. ‘Papa has a famous classical -parallel, I know, for your exploits and safe arrival at Lake William. He -did explain it to me, but I have forgotten. Mr. Sternworth, what is it?’ - -‘Never mind, Vera,’ replied the old gentleman, ‘I never talk Latin in -the presence of young ladies. I can always find something more amusing -to say. You must sing us those new songs you brought from Sydney. That -would be more appropriate, wouldn’t it, Mrs. Effingham?’ - -‘I don’t know much Latin, you unkind old godfather, but what I do know I -am not in the least ashamed of.’ - -‘Argyll’s making the pace pretty good, isn’t he, Fred,’ remarked Neil -Barrington, ‘with that nice Miss Fane? She’s the only “model girl” I -ever took to. I’m her humble slave and adorer. But I never expected to -have the great MacCallum More for my rival. Did you ever see him hard -hit before, Fred?’ - -‘Never, on the word of a gentleman-pioneer,’ rejoined Mr. Churbett. -‘It’s this exploration, new country, perils-of-the-wilderness business -that has done it. “None but the brave deserve the fair.” _We_ are the -brave, sir, in this fortunate instance. We have solved the mystery of -the unconquered Bogongs. We have gazed at the ocean outlets of the Great -Lakes. We have proved ourselves to be the manner of men that found -empires. Under the circumstances heroes always hastened to contract -matrimonial alliances. Cortez did it. Dunois did it. William of Argyll -is perilously near the Great Hazard. And I, Frederick de Churbett, am -hugely minded to do likewise, if that confounded Irishman would only -leave off his nonsense and let a fellow get a word in edgeways.’ - -Mr. Churbett had reason for complaint, inasmuch as Gerald O’More, when -his national gallantry was kindled to action, appeared determined to -permit ‘no rival near the throne,’ as he successively devoted himself to -Annabel, Rosamond, and Miss Fane, or indeed occasionally kept all -engaged in conversation and entertainment at the self-same time. It -became difficult to discover, for a while, so rapid as well as brilliant -were his evolutions, whom he intended to honour with his exclusive -admiration. At length, however, those who were in the position of calm -spectators had no doubt but that Annabel, with whom he kept up a -ceaseless flow of badinage and raillery, was the real attraction. If so, -he was likely to find a rival in the sarcastic Ardmillan, with whom he -had more than once bade fair to pass from jest to earnest. For the -cooler Scot was in the habit of waiting until he saw his antagonist upon -the horns of a dilemma, or luring him on to the confines of a manifest -absurdity. This he would explode, blowing his rival’s argument into the -air, and graciously explaining his triumph to the surrounding fair. - -Such was the satisfaction which filled the heart of Mrs. Effingham, that -but for the absence of her husband and daughter she would certainly have -gone the daring length of giving a party. But the absence of her husband -was, to the conscience of the matron, an insuperable objection. No -amount of specious argument or passionate appeal could alter her -determination. - -‘My dears, it would be wrong,’ she quietly replied, in answer to -Annabel’s entreaty and Rosamond’s sober statement that there could not -be any objection on the point of etiquette. ‘Suppose anything should -happen to your father or Beatrice about the time—travelling is so very -uncertain—we should never have another happy moment.’ - -So the project, much to Annabel’s openly expressed and Rosamond’s -inwardly felt disappointment, was given up. However, Mrs. Effingham -relented so far as to say that, although her principles forbade her to -give a party, there could be nothing indecorous in asking their friends -to dine with them on Christmas Day, when the time for dear Guy’s -departure for the station would, alas! be drawing nigh. - -This was a grand concession, and all kinds of preparations were made for -the celebration of the festival. In the meanwhile, as there was next to -nothing doing on any of the stations, what between riding-parties, -chance visits, special arrivals for the purpose of bringing over new -books or new music, it seemed as if The Chase had been changed into the -caravanserai of the district. It would have been difficult to tell -whether the neighbours lived more of their time with the Effinghams or -at their own stations. - -During this exciting season Wilfred Effingham was commencing to -experience the elaborated torture of seeing the woman he _now_ -discovered to be his chief exemplar made love to by another man, -apparently with prospects of success. When he set himself to work -seriously to please, William Argyll was rarely known to fail. The -restless spirit was stilled. The uncontrollable temper was lulled, like -the wave of a summer sea. All the powers of a rare intellect, the stores -of a cultivated mind, were displayed. Brave, athletic, of a striking -personal appearance, if not regularly handsome, he was a man to whom few -women could refuse interest, whom none could scorn. Besides all this, he -was the heir to a fine estate in his native land. - -When, therefore, day by day, he devoted himself in almost exclusive -attendance to the appropriation of Miss Fane, keeping close to her -bridle-rein in all excursions, monopolising her in the evenings, and -holding æsthetic talks, in which she apparently took equal interest, the -general conclusion arrived at was that Miss Fane was only awaiting a -decorous interval to capitulate in due form. - -Yet Wilfred was constrained to confess that however much he may have -deserved such punishment, there was no change in her manner towards him. -When he touched upon any of their old subjects of debate, he found she -had not forgotten the points on which they had agreed or differed, and -was ready, as of old, to maintain her opinions. - -She seemed pleased to linger over reminiscences of those days and the -confidences then made. - -‘Nobody would know Black Mountain now,’ she said. ‘Since we have grown -rich, comparatively speaking, from “the providential rise in the price -of store cattle” (as one auctioneer called it), papa has indulged me by -making all kinds of additions, and I suppose we must say -improvements—new fences, new furniture, new stables, plants in the -garden, books in the library. Money is the latter-day magician -certainly.’ - -‘And you are proportionately happier, of course,’ said Wilfred. - -‘Frankly,’ said Miss Fane, ‘I am, just at present. I feel like one of -Napoleon’s generals, who were ennobled and enriched after having risen -from the ranks. No doubt they enjoyed their new dignities immensely. If -they didn’t, their wives did. I won’t say we were _roturiers_, but we -were very, _very_ poor. And it is so nice now to think we can dress as -well as other people, and have the ordinary small luxuries of our -position, without troubling about the everlasting ways and means.’ - -‘We are much alike in our experiences,’ answered Wilfred. ‘We should -soon have been absolutely ruined—the ways and means would have simply -been obliterated.’ - -‘I suppose so; but I never could believe in the poverty of any of you -Lake William people. You seemed to have everything you could possibly -want. The best part of our present good fortune is, that the boys are at -a good school, while papa can buy as many new books as he can coax me, -in mercy to his eyesight, to let him read. So I can say that we are -quite happy.’ - -‘I wonder you don’t think of going to Europe. Dr. Fane could easily sell -at a high price now; and then, fancy “the kingdoms of the earth and the -glory of them.”’ - -‘You are quoting the Tempter, which is not quite respectful to me—for -once; but there is a reason why papa cannot bear the thought of leaving -our dear, lonely old home. My poor mother was buried there, and his -heart with her. For me, I have from childhood imbibed his feelings for -the place of her grave.’ - -Rosamond here approached, and carried off her friend upon some mission -of feminine importance. Wilfred, feeling that the conversation had taken -a direction of melancholy which he could not fathom or adequately -respond to, rejoined his other guests. But he could not help dwelling -upon the fact that his conversations with Miss Fane seemed so utterly -different from those with any other woman. Before the first sentences -were well exchanged, one or other apparently struck the keynote, which -awakened sympathetic chords, again vibrating amid harmonious echoes and -semi-tones. - -To complete the universal jubilation, Mr. O’Desmond, in acknowledgment -of the interest which the inhabitants of the district had shown in his -safe return, announced his intention of giving an entertainment at -Badajos on New Year’s Day, at which amusements would be provided for his -humbler neighbours as well as for the gentry of the district. He had -ridden over to The Chase, and entreated Mrs. Effingham’s advice as to -decorations and dispositions. It was to be a _very_ grand affair. No one -who knew O’Desmond doubted but that, having undertaken such a project, -he would carry it out with elaborate completeness. So that, among the -young people and general population of the district, the Badajos Revels -were looked forward to with intense expectation. - -‘What will the general plan of arrangement be?’ said Fred Churbett to -Hamilton. ‘Something in the Elizabethan style, with giants, salvage-men, -and dwarfs, speeches and poetical addresses to the Queen of the land, -whoever she may be? Anyhow, he is going to spend a lot of money about -it. I hear the preparations are tremendous.’ - -‘In that case it will form a telling relief to the general lack of -variety in these affairs,’ said Hamilton. ‘Every one has made such a -heap of money now, that it hardly matters what is spent, in reason. We -shall have to turn to hard work again in January. I wonder whether the -old boy has fallen in love, like everybody else, and is going to make -his proposals with what he considers to be “befitting accessories.”’ - -‘Shouldn’t wonder at all,’ said Fred. ‘It appears to me that we are -beginning to enter upon a phase of existence worthy of Boccaccio, -without the plague—and the—perhaps unreserved narratives. It certainly -is the realm of Faerye at present. The turning out into the world of -fact will come rather hard upon some of us.’ - - * * * * * - -So matters passed on, materially unchanged, until the actual arrival of -Christmas Day, on which sacred commemoration Mr. Sternworth, who had -been temporarily relieved by the Dean of Goulburn, stayed with them at -The Chase for a week, and performed services to a reasonable-sized -congregation in the dining-room, which was completely filled by the -family, with friends and humble neighbours. On the evening before, too, -which invested the service with additional feelings of hope and -thankfulness, most satisfactory letters had been received from India. -Mr. Effingham told how— - -‘The Colonel was recovering rapidly. His medical attendant advised a -visit of at least two years to Europe. As the cold weather season had -set in, he might take his passage. Beatrice and he were to be married -before he left. He (Mr. Effingham) would sail for Australia directly the -ceremony was over. Indeed, he was tired of India, and now that the -Colonel, poor fellow, was recovering, would have been bored to death had -it not been for his menagerie. Then followed a list of profitable and -unprofitable beasts, birds, and even fishes, which, if he could -transport successfully to The Chase, would make him a happy man for the -rest of his life. People might say he was amusing himself, but the -profits of some of his ventures would in days to come be _enormous_. For -instance, take the Cashmere goats, of which he had succeeded in getting -a small flock. The fine hair or “pushta,” combed from near the skin, in -contrast to the coarse outer fleece, was worth a guinea a pound. A shawl -manufactured from it sold for a fabulous sum. These animals would thrive -(he felt certain) in Australia; and then what would be the consequence? -Why, the merino industry would be dwarfed by it—positively dwarfed!’ - -The family of this sanguine gentleman did not go the whole length of his -conclusions, having found that some unexpected factor commonly -interfered with the arithmetical working out of his projects. But they -were delighted to think they should shortly see his face again. And -Beatrice was to receive the reward of her unchanged love and devotion! -She would have, dear girl, a lifelong claim to care for the health and -happiness of him whom she had, as the Surgeon-General averred, ‘raised -up from the dead.’ - -Files of Indian papers showed that on every side honours and decorations -had been heaped upon the gallant and now fortunate soldier. Here was one -of the mildest extracts— - -‘Colonel Glendinning, V.C., has been made a Companion of the Bath. He -will probably be knighted. But will the country tolerate this tardy and -barren honour? Of his stamp are the men who have more than once saved -India. If the present Government, instead of making promotions at the -bidding of parliamentary interest, would appoint a _proved leader_ as -Commander-in-Chief, Hindostan might be tranquil once more and Russia -overawed.’ - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII - THE DUEL IN THE SNOW - - -Just before the commencement of the stupendous festivities of Badajos, a -letter arrived, by which the parson was informed that Mr. Rockley, -having business at Yass, had resolved to run up from Port Phillip and -see them all. Mr. St. Maur, who had an equally good excuse, would -accompany him. - -This was looked upon as either a wondrous coincidence or a piece of -pure, unadulterated good luck. When the hearty and sympathetic accents -of William Rockley were once more heard among them, everybody was as -pleased as if he, personally, had been asked to welcome a rich uncle -from India. - -‘I never dreamed of seeing St. Maur in these parts,’ said Neil -Barrington. ‘He’s such a tremendous swell in Melbourne that I doubted -his recognising us again. What business can he possibly have up here?’ - -‘Perhaps he is unwilling to risk a disappointment at the game which will -be lost or won before January, “for want of a heart to play,”’ said -Ardmillan. ‘He may follow suit, like others of this worshipful company. -Hearts are trumps this deal, unless I mistake greatly.’ - -‘Didn’t we hear that he had been left money, or made a fortune by town -allotments down there? Anyhow he’s going home, I believe; so this will -be his last visit to Yass for some time.’ - -‘If we make money at the pace which we have been going for the last -year, we shall all be able to go home,’ pronounced Ardmillan. ‘Yet, -after all the pleasant days that we have seen here and at Benmohr, the -thought is painful. This influx of capital will break up our jolly -society more completely than the drought. In that case we should have -had to cling to a sinking ship, or take to the boats; now, the vessel is -being paid off, and the crew scattered to the four winds.’ - -‘Sic transit,’ echoed Neil lugubriously. ‘I forget the rest; but -wherever we go, and however well lined our pockets may be, it is a -chance if we are half as happy again in our lives as we have been in -this jolly old district.’ - - * * * * * - -Christmas had come and gone. The Badajos Revels were imminent. Rockley -and St. Maur had declared for remaining until they were over, in despite -of presumably pressing engagements. - -‘I believe old Harry O’Desmond would have made a personal matter of it -if we had left him in the lurch,’ said Mr. Rockley. ‘He spoke rather -stiffly, St. Maur, when you said all Melbourne was waiting to know the -result of our deputation to the Governor-General, and that they would be -loth to take the excuse of a country picnic.’ - -‘The old boy’s face was grim,’ said St. Maur; ‘but I had made up my mind -to remain. I like to poke him up—he is so serious and stately. But we -should not have quarrelled about such a trifle.’ - -In the meantime, terrific preparations were made for the fête; one to be -long remembered in the neighbourhood. O’Desmond’s magnificence of idea -had only been held down, like most men of his race and nature, by the -compulsion of circumstances. Now, he had resolved to give a free rein to -his taste and imagination. It was outlined, in his mind, as a -recognition of the enthusiasm which had greeted his return to the -district in which he had lived so long. This had touched him to the -heart. Habitually repressive of emotion, he would show them, in this -form, how he demonstrated the feelings to which he denied utterance. - -In his carefully considered programme, he had by no means restricted -himself to a single day or to the stereotyped gaieties of music and the -dance. On this sole and exemplary occasion, the traditional glories of -Castle Desmond would be faintly recalled, the profuse, imperial -hospitalities of which had lent their share to his present sojourn near -the plains of Yass. Several days were to be devoted to the reception of -all comers. Each was to have its special recreation; to include picnics -and private theatricals, with dresses and costumes from a metropolitan -establishment. A dinner to the gentry, tradespeople, and yeomen of the -district; to be followed by a grand costume ball in a building -constructed for the purpose, to which all ‘the county’ would be invited. - -‘What a truly magnificent idea!’ said Rosamond Effingham, a short time -before the opening day, as they all sat in the verandah at The Chase, -after lunch and a hard morning’s work at preparations. ‘But will not our -good friend and neighbour ruin himself?’ - -‘Bred in the bone,’ said Gerald O’More. ‘Godfrey O’Desmond, this man’s -great-grandfather, gave an entertainment which put a mortgage on the -property from that day to this. Had a real lake of claret, I believe. -Regular marble basin, you know. Gold and silver cups of the Renaissance, -held in the hands of fauns, nymphs, and satyrs—that kind of -thing—hogsheads emptied in every morning. Everything wonderful, rich, -and more extravagant than a dream. Nobody went to bed for a fortnight, -they say. Hounds met as usual. A score of duels—half-a-dozen men left on -the sod. County asleep for a year afterwards.’ - -‘The estate never raised its head again, anyhow,’ said Mr. Rockley, ‘and -no wonder. An extravagant, dissolute, murdering old scoundrel, as they -say old Godfrey was, that deserved seven years in the county gaol for -ruining his descendants and debauching the whole country-side. And do -you believe me, when I mentioned as much to old Harry one day, he was -deuced stiff about it; said we could not understand the duties of a man -of position in those days. I believe now, on my solemn word, that he’d -be just as bad, this day, if he got the chance. I daren’t say another -word to him, and I’ve known him these twenty years.’ - -‘Let us hope there won’t be so much claret consumed,’ said Miss Fane. ‘I -believe deep drinking is no longer fashionable. I should be grieved if -Mr. O’Desmond did anything to injure his fortune. It may be only a -temporary aberration (to which all Irishmen are subject, Mr. O’More), -and then our small world will go on much as before.’ - -‘If we could induce a sufficient number of Australian ladies to colonise -Ireland,’ said O’More, bowing, ‘as prudent and as fascinating as Miss -Fane,’ he continued, with a look at Annabel, ‘we might hope to change -the national character. It only wants a dash of moderation to make it -perfect. But we may trust to O’Desmond’s colonial experience to save him -from ruin.’ - - * * * * * - -Thus the last hours of the fortunate, still-remembered year of 1840 -passed away. A veritable jubilee, when the land rejoiced, and but few of -the inhabitants of Australia found cause for woe. Great were the anxious -speculations, however, as to weather. In a _fête champêtre_, everything -depends upon that capricious department. And this being ‘a first-class -season,’ unvarying cloudlessness could by no means be predicted. - -The malign divinities must have been appeased by the sacrifices of the -drought. A calm and beauteous summer morn, warm, but tempered by the -south sea-breeze, bid the children of the Great South Land greeting. - -The New Year opened radiantly as a season of joy and consolation. The -whole district was astir from earliest hours; the preparations for the -momentous experiences of the day were utterly indescribable, save by a -Homeric Company of Bards (limited). - -As the sun rose higher, - - From Highland, Lowland, Border, Isle, - How shall I name their separate style, - Each chief of rank and fame, - -with his ‘following,’ appeared before the outer gates of Badajos, where -such a number were gathered as would almost have sufficed to storm the -historic citadel, in the breach of which Captain O’Desmond had fallen, -and from which the estate had been named. - -The first day had been allotted to a liberally rendered lawn party, -which was to include almost the whole available population of town and -district, invited by public proclamation as well as by special -invitation. Indeed, it had been notified through the press that, on New -Year’s Day, Mr. O’Desmond would be ‘at home’ prepared to receive _all_ -his friends who desired to personally congratulate him upon his return -from the interior. - -Never was there such a muster before, since the first gum-tree was -felled, within sight of Yass Plains. An uninterrupted procession wound -its way steadily on from the town, from all the country roads, down -gullies, and across flats and marshes. Every farm sent its -representative. So did every shop in the town, every station in the -district. Not a woman in the land had apparently remained at home. Who -minded the infant children on the 1st of January 1840 will always remain -an unsolved mystery. - -The arrangements had been carefully considered by a past-master of -organisation; and they did not break down under the unprecedented -strain. As the horsemen and horsewomen, tax-carts, dog-carts, carriages, -tandems, waggons and bullock-drays even, arrived at the outer gate, they -were met by ready servitors, who directed them, through a cunningly -devised system of separate lanes, to temporarily constructed enclosures, -where they were enabled to unharness and otherwise dispose of their -draught animals and vehicles. - -Sheds covered with that invaluable material the bark of the eucalyptus -had been erected, and hay provided, as for the stabling of a regiment of -cavalry; while small paddocks, well watered and with grass ‘up to their -eyes’ (as the stock-riders expressed it), suited admirably those not -over-particular rovers, who, having turned loose their nags, placed -their saddles and bridles in a place of security, and thus -disembarrassed themselves of anxiety for the day. - -When these arrangements had been satisfactorily made, they were guided -towards the river-meadow, on a slope overlooking which the homestead and -outbuildings were situated. Here was clustered an encampment of tents -and booths, of every size and shape, and apparently devoted to as many -various classes of amusement and recreation. - -The short grass of the river flat, as it was generally called, was -admirably adapted for the present purposes and intentions. The -propitious season, with its frequent showers, had furnished a fair -imitation of English turf, both in verdure and in thickness of sward, -the latter quality much assisted by the stud flock of the famed Badajos -merinoes. - - * * * * * - -The concluding day of the memorable Badajos Revels, the unrivalled -and immortal performance, had arrived. The last act was about to be -called on. All the arrangements had been more than successful. The -sports and pastimes had gone through without hitch or contention. -The populace was enthusiastic in praise of the liberality which had -ministered so lavishly to their amusement. The aristocracy were no -less unanimous in their approbation. That battues, the picnics, the -costume ball, had been, beyond all description, delightful, -fascinating, well carried out, in such perfect taste—extraordinary -good form—intoxicating—heavenly—utterly, indescribably delicious; -the adjectives and superlatives varying with the age, position, sex, -or character of the speaker. - -And now the modern miracle-play was to finish with a presentment, unique -and marvellous beyond belief. The main body of guests and revellers had -departed soon after daylight. ‘Conclamatum est, Poculatum est,’ said a -young Irish priest. ‘I shall have to go into “retreat” if Father Mahony -gets word of me at the ball. Wasn’t I Lord Edward Fitzgerald to the -life? But I durstn’t stay away an hour longer from my flock.’ Many were -the half-repentant, homeward-bound wayfarers who held similar opinions. -And the continuous passage of the fords of the Yass River might have -suggested to the Scots, by birth or extraction, King James’ army after -Flodden— - - Tweed’s echoes heard the ceaseless plash, - While many a broken band, - Disordered through her currents dash, - To gain the Scottish land. - -There was not, it is true, such need for haste, but the pace at which -the shallower fords were taken might have suggested it. - -However, a considerable proportion of the house parties and guests of -the neighbouring families, with such of the townspeople and others whose -time was not specially valuable, remained for the closing spectacle. -Much curiosity was aroused as to the nature of it. - -‘Perhaps you can unfold the mystery of this duel which we are all taking -about,’ said Annabel to St. Maur, with whom she had been discussing the -costumes of the ball. - -‘I happen to be in O’Desmond’s confidence,’ he replied; ‘so we may -exchange secrets. Many years ago, in Paris, he fell across an old -picture representing a fatal duel between Masks, after a ball. So he -pitched upon it for representation, as a striking if rather weird -interlude.’ - -‘What a strange idea! How unreal and horrible. Fancy any of the people -here going out to fight a duel. Is any one killed?’ - -‘Of course, or there wouldn’t be half the interest. He proposes to dress -the characters exactly like those in the picture, and, indeed, brought -up the costumes from town with him. Your brother, by a coincidence, -adopted one—that of a Red Indian. It will do for his second.’ - -‘Thoroughly French, at any rate, and only for the perfect safety of the -thing would be horrible to look at. However, we must do whatever Mr. -O’Desmond tells us, for _years_ to come. I shall be too sleepy to be -much shocked, that’s one thing. But what are they to fight with? -Rapiers?’ - -‘With foils, which, of course you know, are the same in appearance, only -with a button on the end which prevents danger from a thrust.’ - -‘Wilfred, my boy!’ had said O’Desmond, making a progress through the -ball-room on the preceding night, ‘you look in that Huron dress as if -you had neglected to scalp an enemy, and were grieving over the -omission. Do the ladies know those odd-looking pieces of brown leather -on the breast fringe are _real scalps_? I see they are. You will get no -one to dance with you. But my errand is a selfish one. You will make a -principal man in that “Duel after the Masquerade” which I have set my -heart upon getting up to-morrow.’ - -‘But in this dress?’ - -‘My dear fellow, that is the very thing. Curiously, one of the actors in -that weird duel scene is dressed as a Huron or Cherokee. You know Indian -arms and legends, even names, were fashionable in Paris when -Chateaubriand made every one weep with his Atala and Chactas? You could -not have been more accurately dressed, and you will lay me under lasting -obligation by taking the foils with Argyll, and investing your second -with this dress.’ - -‘With Argyll!’ echoed Wilfred with an accent of surprise. - -‘I know he is called the surest fencer in our small world, but I always -thought you more than his match. He never, to my mind, liked your thrust -in tierce.’ - -‘You are right,’ said Wilfred. ‘Grisier thought me perfect in that. I -shall meet him with pleasure. If only to show him—— Bah! I am getting so -infected with the spirit of your Masquerade that one would think it a -real duel. Command me, however.’ - -‘A thousand thanks. Not later than three to-morrow afternoon. The ladies -will not forgive us if we are not punctual.’ - -From Wilfred Effingham’s expression of relief one might have thought -that he had received good tidings. Yet, what was it after all—what could -it lead to? A mock duel; a mere fencing match. What was there to clear -his visage and lighten his heart in such a game as this? - -A trifle, doubtless. But William Argyll was to be his antagonist. -Towards him he had been unconsciously nurturing a causeless resentment, -which threatened to drift into hatred. Argyll was sunning himself daily -(he thought) in the smiles of Vera Fane, pleased with the position and -confident of success. And though she, from time to time, regarded -Wilfred with glances of such kindly regard that he was well-nigh tempted -to confess his past sins and his present love, he had resolutely kept -aloof. - -Why should he court repulse, and only be more hopelessly humiliated? Did -not all say—could he not see—that Miss Fane was merely waiting for -Argyll’s challenge to the citadel of her heart to own its conquest and -surrender? - -The Benmohr people, who knew something of everything and did not suffer -their knowledge to decay for lack of practice, were devoted to fencing. -Their lumber-room was half an armoury, holding a great array of foils, -wire masks, single-sticks, and boxing-gloves. With these and a little -pistol practice the dulness of many a wet afternoon had been enlivened. -Perhaps in their trials of skill those with the foils were most popular. - -This was Argyll’s favourite pastime. A leading performer with all other -weapons, he had a passion for fencing, for which his mountain-born -activity pre-eminently fitted him. Effingham, a pupil of the celebrated -Grisier, was thought to be nearly, if not quite his match. And more than -once Argyll’s hasty temper had blazed out as Wilfred had ‘touched him’ -with a succession of rapid hits, or sent the foil from his hand by one -of the artifices of the fencing school. Now, however, a trial would be -afforded, the issue of which would be final and decisive. To each the -requisite notice had been given, and each had accepted the chances of -the contest. No one in future would be able to assert that this or that -man was the better swordsman. - -A larger gathering took place at luncheon than could have been expected. -Many were the reasons assigned for the punctuality with which all the -ladies showed up. Fred Churbett, indeed, openly declared that the -gladiator element was becoming dangerously developed, and that it would -be soon necessary to shed blood in good earnest, to enjoy a decent -reputation with the ladies of the land. - -‘I saw O’Desmond’s people making astounding changes in the anterior of -the amphitheatre, Miss Annabel, from my bedroom window this morning. I -should not be surprised at the arena being changed to an African forest, -with a live giraffe and a Lion Ride, after Freiligrath. Do you remember -the doomed giraffe? How - - With a roar the lion springs - On her back now. What a race-horse!’ - -‘I should not be surprised at anything,’ said Annabel. ‘Badajos is -becoming an Enchanted Castle. How we shall endure our daily lives again, -I can’t think. Every one is going home to-morrow, so perhaps the spell -will be broken. Heigh-ho! When are we to be allowed to take our seats? I -shall fall asleep if they put it off too long.’ - -‘At three o’clock precisely the herald’s horn will be blown, and we -shall see what we shall see. I hope Argyll will be in a good temper, or -terrible things may happen.’ - -‘What is this about Mr. Argyll’s temper?’ said Miss Fane. ‘Is he so much -more ferocious than all the rest of you? I am sure that _I_ have seen -nothing of it.’ - -‘Only my nonsense, Miss Fane,’ said Fred, instantly retreating from his -position. ‘The best-hearted, most generous fellow possible. Impetuous -and high-spirited, you know. Highlanders and Irishmen—all the world, in -fact, except that modern Roman, the Anglo-Saxon—are inclined to be -choleric. Ha! there goes the bugle.’ - -All were ready, indeed impatient, for the commencement. Many -acquaintances had indeed ridden out from Yass, and reinforced the -spectators. Mr. Rockley had appeared at lunch—scarcely in the best of -tempers—and had given vent to his opinion that it was quite time for -this foolery to be over. Not that he made this suggestion to O’Desmond -personally. - -When the entrances were thrown open, and the spectators pressed into -their seats with something of the impatience which in days of old seems -to have characterised the frequenters of the amphitheatre, a cry of -delighted surprise broke from the startled guests. - -In order to reproduce the accessories of the imaginary conflict with -fidelity of detail, O’Desmond has spared no trouble. The Bois de -Boulogne had been simulated by the artifice of transplanting whole -trees, especially those which more closely resembled European -evergreens. These had been mingled with others stripped of their -foliage, by which deciduous deception the illusion of a northern winter -was preserved. A coating of milk-white river sand had been strewn over -the arena, imparting the appearance of the snow, in which the now -historical masqueraders fought their celebrated duel. By filling up the -openings left for windows, and excluding the sun from the roof as much -as possible, an approach to the dim light proper to a Parisian December -morning was produced. As hackney-coaches appeared, one at either end of -the arena, and driving in, took their stations under trees, preparatory -to permitting their sensational fares to alight, the burst of applause -both from those familiar with the original picture, and others who were -overcome by the realism of the scene, was tremendous. And when forth -stepped from one of the carriages a Red Huron Indian, and with stately -steps took up his position as second, to so great and painful a pitch -rose the excitement among the ladies that ‘the boldest held’ her ‘breath -for a time.’ - -Pierrot now, with elastic springing gait, moved lightly forward towards -his antagonist, a reckless Debardeur, who looked as if he had been -dancing a veritable ‘Galop d’Enfer’ before he quitted the ‘Bal d’Opera.’ -Each performed an elaborate salute as they took their ground. The -seconds measured their swords punctiliously. - -As the enthusiasm of the crowd broke forth in remark and exclamation, -before the first passes were interchanged, Harry O’Desmond himself made -his appearance among the ladies, and took his seat between Rosamond -Effingham and Miss Fane, prepared to receive the shower of -congratulations at once poured upon him. - -‘Yes, I _have_ taken a little trouble; but I am amply repaid, Miss -Effingham, if I have succeeded in adding to the amusement of my lady -friends. For those I have the honour to address’—and here the gallant -_impresario_ looked as if the lady beside him had but to ask for a -Sultan’s circlet, to have it tossed in her lap—‘what sacrifices would I -not make?’ - -‘Our distinguished host is becoming desperate,’ thought Rosamond. ‘I -wonder who _she_ is? I am nearly certain it is Vera Fane. He and the -Doctor are great friends. Now I think of it, he said the other day that -she was, with one exception, the pearl of the district. Mamma, too, has -been hinting at something. A nice lady neighbour at Badajos would be -indeed a treasure.’ - -‘What an exciting piece of sword-play this will be, Mr. O’Desmond,’ she -said. ‘One cannot help thinking that there is something real about it. -And I have an uneasy feeling that I cannot account for, such as I should -call a presentiment, if all were not so perfectly safe. What do you say, -Vera?’ - -‘I say it is a most astonishing picture of a real duel. I ought to enjoy -it very much, only that, like you, I feel a depression such as I have -never had before. Oh, now they are beginning! Really it is quite a -relief.’ - -‘I must take a foil with the winner,’ said O’Desmond, ‘if you think it -is so serious, just to see if I have forgotten my Parisian experiences. -It reminds one of the Quartier Latin, and the students’ pipes—long hair -and duels—daily matters of course. Ha! a wonderfully quick carte and -counter-carte. There is something stirring in the clink of steel, all -the world over, is there not, Miss Effingham?’ - -The pictured scene was accurately reproduced. Each man, with his second, -fantastically arrayed. The nearer combatant, in his loose garb, had his -sword-arm bared to the elbow, for the greater freedom required with the -weapon. Four other men, picturesquely attired, were present. Of these, -two stood near to him whose back was towards the part of the theatre -where the Effinghams and Miss Fane were sitting. - -The contest proceeded with curious similitude to an actual encounter. -Attack and defence, feint and challenge, carte, tierce, ripeste, -staccato, all the subtle and delicate manœuvres of which the rapier -combat is susceptible, had been employed, to the wonder and admiration -of the spectators. - -It was evident, before they had exchanged a dozen passes, that the men -were most evenly matched. Much doubt was expressed as to who would prove -the victor. - -Latterly, Wilfred, who, with equal tenacity and vigilance, had the -cooler head, commenced to show by small but sure signs that he was -gaining an advantage. Step by step he drew his antagonist nearer to him, -and employing his favourite thrust, after a brilliant parry, touched him -several times in succession. At each palpable hit the spectators gave a -cheer, which evidently disturbed Argyll’s fiery temperament. He bit his -lip, his brow contracted, but no token, excepting these and a burning -spot on his cheek, showed the inward conflict. Suddenly he sprang -forward with panther-like activity, and for one second Wilfred’s eye and -hand were at fault, as, with a lightning lunge, Argyll delivered full -upon his adversary’s chest a thrust, so like the real thing that, though -the foil (as the spectators imagined) passed outside, the hilt of the -mimic weapon rapped sharply, as if he had been run through the body. At -the same moment he sank down, and was scarcely saved from falling, while -Argyll, impatiently drawing back his weapon, threw it down and turned as -if to leave the scene—half urged by his second—as was the successful -combatant in the weird picture. - -‘Why—how wonderfully our brave combatants have imitated the originals, -Mr. O’Desmond?’ said Rosamond, with unfeigned admiration. ‘The Debardeur -sinks slowly from the arms of his second to the ground; his sword-point -strikes the earth; his comrade and the Capuchin bend over him. They act -the confusion of a death-scene well. His antagonist casts down his -blood-stained sword—why, it _looks_ red—and hurries from the spot.’ - -‘Yes,’ O’Desmond continued, ‘everything is now concluded happily, -successfully, triumphantly, may I say; it needs but, dearest Miss -Effingham, that I should offer you——’ What Mr. O’Desmond was minded to -offer his fair neighbour can never be known, for at that moment a -shriek, so wild and despairing, rent the air, that all conversation, -ordinary and extraordinary, ceased. - -More astonishing still, Miss Fane sprang from her seat, and rushing into -the arena with the speed of frenzy, knelt by the side of the defeated -combatant, and with every endearing epithet supported his head, wringing -her hands in agony as she gazed on the motionless form beside her. - -O’Desmond, leaping down without a thought of his late interesting -employment, gave one glance at the fallen sword, another at the fallen -man, and divined the situation. - -‘By ——!’ he said, ‘_the button has come off the foil_, and the poor boy -is run through the body. He’ll be a dead man by sundown.’ - -‘Not so sure of that; keep the people back while I examine him,’ said -Mr. Sternworth, pushing suddenly to the front. ‘Stand back!’ he cried -with the voice of authority. ‘How can I tell you what’s wrong with him -if you don’t give him air? Miss Fane, I entreat you to be calm.’ - -He lowered his voice and spoke in softened tones, for he had seen a look -in Vera Fane’s face which none had ever marked there before. As she -knelt by the side of the wounded man, from whose hurt the blood was -pouring fast, in a bright red stream; as with passionate anxiety she -gazed into his face, while her arms supported him in his death-like -faint, her whole countenance betrayed the unutterable tenderness with -which a woman regards her lover. - -The spectators stood assembled around the ill-fated combatant. Great and -general was the consternation. - -The nature of the mischance—the loss of the button which guards the -fencer in all exercises with the foil—was patent enough to those -acquainted with small-sword practice. But a large proportion of the -crowd, with no previous experience of such affairs, could with -difficulty be got to believe that Argyll had not used unjustifiable -means to the injury of his antagonist. These worthy people were for his -being arrested and held to bail. His personal friends resented the idea. -Words ran high; until indeed, at one time, it appeared as if a form of -civic broil, common in the middle ages, would be revived with -undesirable accuracy. - -Now, alas! the festive aspect of the scene was abruptly changed. -O’Desmond’s grief at this most untoward ending to his entertainments was -painful to witness. Argyll’s generous nature plunged him into a state of -deep contrition for his passionate action. - -The women, one and all, were so shocked and excited by the sight of -blood and the rumour, which quickly gained credence, that Wilfred -Effingham was dying, that tearful lamentations and hysterical cries were -heard in all directions. Nor indeed until it was authoritatively stated -by the medical practitioner of the district, who was luckily present, -that Mr. Effingham having been run through the body, had therefore -received a dangerous but not necessarily fatal wound, was consolation -possible. - -This gentleman, however, later on would by no means commit himself to a -definite opinion. ‘Without doubt it was a critical case. Though the -cœliac axis had been missed, by a miracle, the vasa-vasorum blood-vessel -had suffered lesion. The left subclavian artery had been torn through, -yet, from its known power of contraction, he trusted that the interior -lining would be closed, when further loss of blood would cease. Of -course, unfavourable symptoms might supervene at any moment—at any -moment. At present the patient was free from pain. Quiet—that is, -absolute rest—was indispensable. With no exciting visits, and—yes—with -the closest attention and good nursing, a distinctly favourable -termination might be—ahem—hoped for.’ - -But an early doom, either alone or with all the aids that affection, -friendship, ay or devoted love, could bring, was not written in the book -of fate against Wilfred Effingham’s name. In the course of a week the -popular practitioner alluded to had the pleasure of informing the -anxious inhabitants of the Yass district ‘that the injury having, as he -had the honour to diagnose, providentially not occurred to the trunk -artery, the middle coat of the smaller blood-vessel had, from its -elastic and contractile nature, after being torn by the partially -blunted end of the foil, caused a closure. In point of fact, the injury -had yielded to treatment. He would definitely pledge himself, in fact, -that the patient was bordering upon convalescence. In a week or two he -would be ready to support a removal to The Chase, where doubtless his -youth, temperate habit, and excellent constitution would combine to -produce a complete recovery.’ - -These agreeable predictions were fulfilled to the letter. Yet was there -another element involved in the case, which was thought to have -exercised a powerful influence, if, indeed, it was not the chief factor -in his recovery. The vision of sudden death which had passed before the -eyes of the guests at Badajos had surprised the secret of Vera Fane’s -heart. Of timid, almost imperceptible growth, the faint budding -commencement of a girl’s fancy had, all in silence and secrecy, ripened -into the fragrant blossom of a woman’s love. Pure, devoted, -imperishable, such a sentiment is proof against the anguish of -non-requital, the attacks of rivalry, even the ruder shocks of falsehood -or infidelity. Let him, then, to whom, all unworthy, such a prize is -allotted by a too indulgent destiny, sacrifice to the kind deities, and -be thankful. It may have been—was doubtless—urged by Miss Fane’s -admirers, that ‘that fellow Effingham was not half good enough for her, -more especially after his idiotic affair with Christabel Rockley’; but, -pray, which of us, to whom the blindly swaying Eros has been gracious, -is not manifestly overrated, nay, made to blush for shortcomings from -his early ideal? - -So must it ever be in the history of the race—were the secrets of all -hearts known. Let us be consoled that we are not conspicuously inferior -to our neighbours, and chiefly strive, in spite of that mysterious -Disappointment—poor human nature—to gain some modest eminence. Let -Wilfred Effingham, then, enjoy his undeserved good fortune, _comme nous -autres_, assured that with such companionship he will be stronger to -battle for the right while life lasts. - -‘How could you forgive me?’ he said, at the close of one of the happy -confidences which his returning strength rendered possible. ‘I should -never have dared to ask you after my folly.’ - -‘Women love but once—that is, those who are worthy of the name,’ she -said softly. ‘I had unwisely, it would seem, permitted my heart to -stray. It passed into the possession of one who—well, scarce valued -sufficiently the simple offering. But you do _now_, dearest, do you not? -I will never forgive you, or rather, on second thoughts, I _will_ -forgive you, if hereafter you love any other woman but me.’ - -‘You are an angel. Did I say so before? Never mind. Truth will bear -repetition.’ - - * * * * * - -Old Tom Glendinning commenced to fail in health soon after the permanent -settlement of the district; his detractors averred, because the blacks -left off spearing the cattle and took to station work. He lived long -enough to hear of General Glendinning’s marriage, at which he expressed -great satisfaction, coupled with the hope that the Major (as he always -called him) would return to India, ‘av it was only to have another turn -at thim murdtherin’ nay-gurs, my heavy curse on thim, from Bingal to -Galantapee.’ - -He was carefully nursed by Mrs. Evans, who had at length followed her -husband to the new country, after repeated assurances that it was -impossible for him to return to Lake William, but that she might please -herself. - -They buried the old stock-rider, in accordance with his last wishes, on -an island in the lake, within sight of Guy’s homestead, near his ancient -steed Boney, who had preceded him in decease. The dog Crab survived him -but a few weeks, and was carefully interred at his feet. It was noticed -that no black of any description whatever, young or old, male or female, -wild or tame, would ever set foot on the green, wave-washed islet -afterwards. - -Andrew and Jeanie, after a few years, retired to a snug farm within easy -distance of The Chase, at which place, for one reason or other, they -spent nearly as much time as at home. Andrew’s aid was continually -invoked in agricultural emergencies, more particularly when business -called Wilfred away; while Jeanie’s invaluable counsel and reassuring -presence, when the inmates of Mrs. Wilfred’s nursery developed alarming -symptoms, was so largely in request that Andrew more than once remarked -that ‘he didna ken but what he saw far mair o’ his auld dame before he -had a hame o’ his ain. But she had aye ta’en a’ her pleasure in life at -ither folk’s bedsides. Maist unco-omon!’ - -Duncan, having once enjoyed an independent life in the new country, -could not be induced to return to The Chase. He saved his money, and -with national forecast commenced business in the rising township of -Warleigh. Of this settlement he became in time the leading alderman (the -burgesses obtained a municipality in the after-time), and rose finally -to be mayor. - -The _Melbourne Argus_ printed _in extenso_ Mr. Cargill’s address to the -electors of West Palmerston when a candidate for a vacancy in the -Legislative Council. It was certain he would be returned at the head of -the poll, doubtless to represent a Liberal Ministry before long. May -there never be invited a less worthy personage to the councils of the -land than the Hon. Duncan Cargill, M.L.C. - -Mr. Rockley, after his return to Port Phillip, hurled himself with his -accustomed energy at every kind of investment. Not satisfied with -extensive mercantile transactions, he bought agricultural lands, the -nucleus of a fine estate. In Parliament he made such vigorous, idiomatic -onslaughts upon the Government of the day as led the Speaker -occasionally to suggest modification. He developed Warleigh, the town to -which he had originally attached himself, wonderfully, and besides -aiding all struggling settlers in the bad times, which arrived, as he -had prophesied, close on the heels of inflation and over-trading. In a -general way he benefited by good advice, friendly intercourse, and -substantial assistance, everybody with whom he came into contact. As a -magistrate, a perfect Draco (in theory), he was never known to remit a -fine for certain offences. It was whispered, nevertheless, that he had -many a time been known to pay such out of his own pocket. - -It is comforting to those who honour liberality and unselfishness to -know that he amassed a large fortune. He continued to invest from time -to time in land, the management of which chiefly served to occupy his -mind in declining years. When the grave closed over the warm heart and -eager spirit of William Rockley, men said that he left no fellow behind -him. There are still those who believe him to have been unsurpassed for -energy of mind and body, with a clear-headed forecast in affairs, joined -to the warm sympathy which rendered it impossible to omit a kindness or -forgo a benefit. - -The larger portion of the estate was willed to Christabel and her -husband, but from the number of junior Clarkes of all sorts and sizes -who fill the commodious family drag, a considerable subdivision of -landed property will probably take place in another generation. Bob -Clarke adopted easily the position of country gentleman. He no longer -rides steeple-chases, but his four-in-hand team is certainly superior in -blood, bone, matching, and appointments to anything south of the line. - -But little remains to tell. Our small community reached that stage when, -as with nations, the less history needed the better for their happiness. -As to this last apocryphal commodity (as some have deemed), Wilfred -Effingham avers that Vera and he have such a large supply on hand that -he is troubled in spirit only by the thought that something in the -nature of evil _must_ happen, were it only in accordance with the law of -averages. - -The Port Phillip investments paid so well that, upon the sale of Benmohr -by Argyll and Hamilton, he purchased that ever-memorable historic -station. Mrs. Teviot and Wullie remained in possession almost as long as -they lived, but never could be brought to regard Mr. Effingham in any -other light than that of a neighbour and a visitor of ‘their gentlemen.’ -He was often reminded of the muddy winter evening when he first arrived. - -Dean Sternworth—thus promoted—lives on, growing still more wonderful -roses, and experiencing an access of purest pleasure when a Marie Van -Houte or Souvenir de Malmaison excites the envy of the district. - -Marrying, christening, and, indeed, burying the inhabitants of Yass—for -death also is in Arcadia—his unobtrusive path is daily trodden, ‘and, -sure the Eternal Master found, his single talent well employed.’ - -Among his chief and enduring pleasures are his monthly visits to Lake -William to perform service in the freestone church, which has been -erected by the Effingham family and their neighbours on a spot easy of -general access. On such occasions Dr. Fane is generally found at The -Chase, where the friends argue by the hour together. Such a period of -continuous mutual entertainment must it have been that, on one occasion, -was familiarly referred to by Master Hubert Warleigh Effingham as -lasting ‘till all was blue.’ - -Howard Effingham has once more been placed by circumstances in the -enviable position of a man who has nothing in this world to attend to -but his favourite hobby, to which he is sufficiently attached to devote -every moment of his spare time to it. That fortunate ex-militaire has -now few other foes to consider than the native cat (dasyura), the black -cormorant, and the dingo. - -It must be confessed that they give him more trouble than ever—in his -youth—did the Queen’s enemies. The cormorants eat his young fish, and -when the captain extracted from the dead body of one of them no less -than six infantine trout, the tears (so his grandson averred) came into -his eyes. The partridges, even the gold and silver pheasants were not -sacred from the native cat. An occasional dingo makes his appearance, -wandering from Black Mountain (the doctor was always an indifferent -‘poisoner,’ says the parson), and a brace of gazelle fawns have never -been sufficiently accounted for. But the exhibition of strychnine -crystals provides a solution, and the land has peace. - -On the whole, progress has been made. The furred, feathered, or finned -emigrants are steadily increasing; fair shooting can soon be allowed, -and extermination will be impossible. - -Between ourselves, a leash of foxes were turned loose in the -gibba-gunyahs, near which the first dingo was killed, by the Lake -William hounds, and Jack Barker swore (only he ‘stretches’ so) that he -saw the vixen feeding five cubs—one with a white tag to his brush (Jack -is always circumstantial), with the biggest buck ’possum he ever saw. - -The Lake William hounds have long been back in their kennels. John -Hampden makes a point of attending the first meet, and O’Desmond (whose -heart was not broken, or was at least successfully repaired by his -subsequent marriage) is a steady supporter, as of yore. - -But somehow the whole affair doesn’t feel so jolly as when Argyll and -Hamilton, Ardmillan and Forbes, Fred Churbett and Neil, Malahyde and -Edward Belfield—all the ‘Benmohr mob’ in fact—were safe for every meet. - -Perhaps, though with enthusiasts his steady march is disregarded, old -Time may possibly have had something to do with the decrease of -enthusiasm. Mrs. Wilfred does not approve of her husband riding so hard -as in the brave days of old. She herself, from circumstances, is often -absent, and scarcely enjoys lending Emigrant, still _nearly_ as good as -ever, to lady visitors. A heavy autumn shower, too, acted unfavourably -upon the health of the M.F.H., and explained practically what lumbago -most closely resembles. - -Still Howard Effingham, nobly loyal to his ideal, presses gallantly -forward to the realisation of his hopes. The coming year will see an -opening meet of the Lake William hounds, such as, in _one_ respect, at -least, was never ridden to in Australia before. - -On some grey-hued, red-dawning May morn, freshly recalling, like the -verse of an old song, how many a hunting day of yore, will he view a -_fox_ away from the upper corner of the ti-tree covert, on the rocky -spur of the yellow-box range—a _real_ fox—as red, as wiry, with as white -a tag to his brush as ever a straight-goer that stretched across the -pastures before the Pytchley or the Quorn. Nevertheless _Australian born -and bred_. - -Standing in his stirrups, he watches the leading hounds pour through the -paddock fence, the remainder settling to the scent, or at silent speed -sweeping over the forest parks that border the lake meadows. Rosamond -St. Maur is far away, alas! and Fergus out at grass; but Major-General -Sir Walter Glendinning, on leave from India, is trying the speed of the -best Arab in the Mofussil. Mrs. O’Desmond is watching her husband -anxiously, Guy is home from Port Phillip, with Bob Clarke and Ardmillan, -each on a horse ‘fit to go for a man’s life,’ and wild with frolic -spirits. Mrs. Vera Effingham is out, and, as luck would have it, ready -and willing to remind Emigrant of old Black Mountain days. John Hampden, -taking The Caliph by the head, now snow white, but still safe across -timber, echoes back Wilfred’s ‘Forrard, forrard, away!’ as he sails off -with the lead, and forgetting his wife and family, feels perfectly, -ecstatically happy. Then, and then only, will Howard Effingham -acknowledge that he has at length achieved the position of which he has -so often dreamed—then will he hold himself to be in real, completest -earnest—an Australian Squire. - - THE END - - _Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - BY ROLF BOLDREWOOD. - _Crown 8vo. 6s. each._ - -WAR TO THE KNIFE; or, Tangata Maori. - - _ACADEMY._—“A stirring romance.” - -A ROMANCE OF CANVAS TOWN, and other Stories. - - _ATHENÆUM._—“The book is interesting for its obvious insight into life -in the Australian bush.” - - _Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. each._ - -ROBBERY UNDER ARMS. - - A STORY OF LIFE AND ADVENTURE IN THE BUSH AND IN THE - GOLD-FIELDS OF AUSTRALIA. - - _GUARDIAN._—“A singularly spirited and stirring tale of Australian -life, chiefly in the remoter settlements.... Altogether it is a capital -story, full of wild adventure and startling incidents, and told with a -genuine simplicity and quiet appearance of truth, as if the writer were -really drawing upon his memory rather than his imagination.” - -A MODERN BUCCANEER. - - _DAILY CHRONICLE._—“We do not forget _Robbery under Arms_, or any of -its various successors, when we say that Rolf Boldrewood has never done -anything so good as _A Modern Buccaneer_. It is good, too, in a manner -which is for the author a new one.” - -THE MINER’S RIGHT. - - A TALE OF THE AUSTRALIAN GOLD-FIELDS. - - _WORLD._—“Full of good passages, passages abounding in vivacity, in -the colour and play of life.... The pith of the book lies in its -singularly fresh and vivid pictures of the humours of the -gold-fields—tragic humours enough they are, too, here and again.” - -THE SQUATTER’S DREAM. - - _FIELD._—“The details are filled in by a hand evidently well -conversant with his subject, and everything is _ben trovato_, if not -actually true. A perusal of these cheerfully-written pages will probably -give a better idea of realities of Australian life than could be -obtained from many more pretentious works.” - -A SYDNEY-SIDE SAXON. - - _GLASGOW HERALD._—“The interest never flags, and altogether _A -Sydney-Side Saxon_ is a really refreshing book.” - -A COLONIAL REFORMER. - - _ATHENÆUM._—“A series of natural and entertaining pictures of -Australian life, which are, above all things, readable.” - -NEVERMORE. - - _OBSERVER._—“An exciting story of Ballarat in the fifties. Its hero, -Lance Trevanion, is a character which for force of delineation has no -equal in Rolf Boldrewood’s previous novels.” - -PLAIN LIVING. A Bush Idyll. - - _ACADEMY._—“A hearty story, deriving charm from the odours of the bush -and the bleating of incalculable sheep.” - -MY RUN HOME. - - _ATHENÆUM._—“Rolf Boldrewood’s last story is a racy volume. It has -many of the best qualities of Whyte Melville, the breezy freshness and -vigour of Frank Smedley, with the dash and something of the abandon of -Lever.... His last volume is one of his best.” - -THE SEALSKIN CLOAK. - - _TIMES._—“A well-written story.” - -THE CROOKED STICK; or, Pollie’s Probation. - - _ACADEMY._—“A charming picture of Australian station life.” - -OLD MELBOURNE MEMORIES. - - _NATIONAL OBSERVER._—“His book deserves to be read in England with as -much appreciation as it has already gained in the country of its birth.” - - _Fcap. 8vo. 2s._ - -THE SPHINX OF EAGLEHAWK. - - A TALE OF OLD BENDIGO. [_Macmillan’s Pocket Novels._ - - _QUEEN._—“There is the usual mystery, the usual admirable gold-fields’ -local colour, which we expect from our favourite Rolf Boldrewood.” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - BY RUDYARD KIPLING - - _Uniform Edition. Red cloth, gilt tops. Extra crown 8vo. 6s. each._ - -STALKY & CO. Thirtieth Thousand. - -THE DAY’S WORK. Fifty-first Thousand. - - _MORNING POST._—“The book is so varied, so full of colour and life -from end to end, that few who read the first two or three stories will -lay it down till they have read the last.” - -PLAIN TALES FROM THE HILLS. Forty-third Thousand. - - _SATURDAY REVIEW._—“Mr. Kipling knows and appreciates the English in -India, and is a born story-teller and a man of humour into the -bargain.... It would be hard to find better reading.” - -LIFE’S HANDICAP. Being Stories of Mine Own People. Thirty-first -Thousand. - - _BLACK AND WHITE._—“_Life’s Handicap_ contains much of the best work -hitherto accomplished by the author, and, taken as a whole, is a -complete advance upon its predecessors.” - -MANY INVENTIONS. Twenty-eighth Thousand. - - _PALL MALL GAZETTE._—“The completest book that Mr. Kipling has yet -given us in workmanship, the weightiest and most humane in breadth of -view.... It can only be regarded as a fresh landmark in the progression -of his genius.” - -THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. Rewritten and considerably enlarged. -Thirty-third Thousand. - - _ACADEMY._—“Whatever else be true of Mr. Kipling, it is the first -truth about him that he has power, real intrinsic power.... Mr. -Kipling’s work has innumerable good qualities.” - -WEE WILLIE WINKIE, and other Stories. - -SOLDIERS THREE, and other Stories. - - _GLOBE._—“Containing some of the best of his highly vivid work.” - -THE JUNGLE BOOK. With Illustrations by J.L. KIPLING, W.H. DRAKE, and -P. FRENZENY. Forty-seventh Thousand. Crown 8vo. Cloth gilt. 6s. - - _PUNCH._—“‘Æsop’s Fables and dear old Brer Fox and Co.,’ observes the -Baron sagely, ‘may have suggested to the fanciful genius of Rudyard -Kipling the delightful idea, carried out in the most fascinating style, -of _The Jungle Book_.’” - -THE SECOND JUNGLE BOOK. With Illustrations by J. LOCKWOOD KIPLING. -Thirty-third Thousand. - - _DAILY TELEGRAPH._—“The appearance of _The Second Jungle Book_ is a -literary event of which no one will mistake the importance. Unlike most -sequels, the various stories comprised in the new volume are at least -equal to their predecessors.” - -“CAPTAINS COURAGEOUS.” A STORY OF THE GRAND BANKS. Illustrated by I.W. -TABER. Twenty-third Thousand. - - _ATHENÆUM._—“Never in English prose has the sea in all its myriad -aspects, with all its sounds and sights and odours, been reproduced with -such subtle skill as in these pages.” - -FROM SEA TO SEA. In Two Vols. - - ------------------ - -SOLDIER TALES. With Illustrations by A.S. HARTRICK. Tenth Thousand. - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - _ATHENÆUM._—“By issuing a reprint of some of the best of Mr. Kipling’s -_Soldier Tales_, Messrs. Macmillan have laid us all under an -obligation.” - -A FLEET IN BEING. NOTES OF TWO TRIPS WITH THE CHANNEL SQUADRON. -Fifty-third Thousand. Crown 8vo. Sewed, 1s. net.; Cloth, 1s. 6d. net. - - _ARMY AND NAVY GAZETTE._—“A very admirable picture of the life of -officers and men who go down to the sea in the ships of Her Majesty’s -fleet.” - -THE KIPLING BIRTHDAY BOOK. Compiled by JOSEPH FINN. Authorised by the -Author, with Illustrations by J. LOCKWOOD KIPLING. 16mo. 2s. 6d. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - THE CHEAP EDITIONS OF - - MRS. HENRY WOOD’S NOVELS - - _Crown 8vo, in green cloth, price 2s.; or in red cloth, gilt lettered, - price 2s. 6d. each._ - - Sale nearly Three Million Copies. - - ------------------ - - EAST LYNNE. Five Hundredth Thousand. - THE CHANNINGS. Two Hundredth Thousand. - MRS. HALLIBURTON’S TROUBLES. One Hundred and Fiftieth Thousand. - THE SHADOW OF ASHLYDYAT. One Hundred and Tenth Thousand. - LORD OAKBURN’S DAUGHTERS. One Hundred and Fifth Thousand. - VERNER’S PRIDE. Eighty-fifth Thousand. - ROLAND YORKE. One Hundred and Thirtieth Thousand. - JOHNNY LUDLOW. First Series. Fifty-fifth Thousand. - MILDRED ARKELL. Eightieth Thousand. - ST. MARTIN’S EVE. Seventy-sixth Thousand. - TREVLYN HOLD. Sixty-fifth Thousand. - GEORGE CANTERBURY’S WILL. Seventieth Thousand. - THE RED COURT FARM. Eightieth Thousand. - WITHIN THE MAZE. One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Thousand. - ELSTER’S FOLLY. Sixtieth Thousand. - LADY ADELAIDE. Sixtieth Thousand. - OSWALD CRAY. Sixtieth Thousand. - JOHNNY LUDLOW. Second Series. Thirty-fifth Thousand. - ANNE HEREFORD. Fifty-fifth Thousand. - DENE HOLLOW. Sixtieth Thousand. - EDINA. Forty-fifth Thousand. - A LIFE’S SECRET. Sixty-fifth Thousand. - THE HOUSE OF HALLIWELL. Fifteenth Thousand. - POMEROY ABBEY. Forty-eighth Thousand. - COURT NETHERLEIGH. Forty-sixth Thousand. - THE MASTER OF GREYLANDS. Fiftieth Thousand. - THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. Fifteenth Thousand. - ASHLEY. Fifteenth Thousand. - BESSY RANE. Forty-second Thousand. - JOHNNY LUDLOW. Third Series. Twenty-third Thousand. - ORVILLE COLLEGE. Thirty-eighth Thousand. - LADY GRACE. Twenty-first Thousand. - ADAM GRAINGER. Fifteenth Thousand. - THE UNHOLY WISH. Fifteenth Thousand. - JOHNNY LUDLOW. Fourth Series. Fifteenth Thousand. - JOHNNY LUDLOW. Fifth Series. Fifteenth Thousand. - JOHNNY LUDLOW. Sixth Series. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - THE NOVELS OF ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY. - - _Popular Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. each._ - -NELLIE’S MEMORIES. 30th Thousand. - - _STANDARD._—“Miss Carey has the gift of writing naturally and simply, -her pathos is true and unforced, and her conversations are sprightly and -sharp.” - -WEE WIFIE. 22nd Thousand. - - _LADY._—“Miss Carey’s novels are always welcome; they are out of the -common run, immaculately pure, and very high in tone.” - -BARBARA HEATHCOTE’S TRIAL. 20th Thousand. - - _DAILY TELEGRAPH._—“A novel of a sort which it would be a real loss to -miss.” - -ROBERT ORD’S ATONEMENT. 17th Thousand. - - _STANDARD._—“A most delightful book.” - -WOOED AND MARRIED. 21st Thousand. - - _STANDARD._—“There is plenty of romance in the heroine’s life. But it -would not be fair to tell our readers wherein that romance consists or -how it ends. Let them read the book for themselves. We will undertake to -promise that they will like it.” - -HERIOT’S CHOICE. 18th Thousand. - - _MORNING POST._—“Deserves to be extensively known and read.... Will -doubtless find as many admirers as readers.” - -QUEENIE’S WHIM. 18th Thousand. - - _GUARDIAN._—“A thoroughly good and wholesome story.” - -MARY ST. JOHN. 16th Thousand. - - _JOHN BULL._—“The story is a simple one, but told with much grace and -unaffected pathos.” - -NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS. 19th Thousand. - -_NEW YORK HOME JOURNAL._—“One of the sweetest, daintiest, and most -interesting of the season’s publications.“ - -FOR LILIAS. 14th Thousand. - - _VANITY FAIR._—“A simple, earnest, and withal very interesting story; -well conceived, carefully worked out, and sympathetically told.” - -UNCLE MAX. 15th Thousand. - - _LADY._—“So intrinsically good that the world of novel-readers ought -to be genuinely grateful.” - -ONLY THE GOVERNESS. 15th Thousand. - - _PALL MALL GAZETTE._—“This novel is for those who like stories with -something of Jane Austen’s power, but with more intensity of feeling -than Jane Austen displayed, who are not inclined to call pathos twaddle, -and who care to see life and human nature in their most beautiful form.” - -LOVER OR FRIEND? 12th Thousand. - - _GUARDIAN._—“The refinement of style and delicacy of thought will make -_Lover or Friend?_ popular with all readers who are not too deeply -bitten with a desire for things improbable in their lighter literature.” - -BASIL LYNDHURST. 10th Thousand. - - _PALL MALL GAZETTE._—“We doubt whether anything has been written of -late years so fresh, so pretty, so thoroughly natural and bright.” - -SIR GODFREY’S GRAND-DAUGHTERS. 8th Thousand. - - _OBSERVER._—“A capital story.” - -THE OLD, OLD STORY. 9th Thousand. - - _DAILY NEWS._—“Miss Carey’s fluent pen has not lost its power of -writing fresh and wholesome fiction.” - -THE MISTRESS OF BRAE FARM. 10th Thousand. - - _PALL MALL GAZETTE._—“Miss Carey’s untiring pen loses none of its -power, and her latest work is as gracefully written, as full of quiet -home charm, as fresh and wholesome, so to speak, as its many -predecessors.” - -MRS. ROMNEY and “BUT MEN MUST WORK.” - - _PALL MALL GAZETTE._—“By no means the least attractive of the works of -this charming writer.” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - STALKY AND CO. - - - By RUDYARD KIPLING - - - - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - THE - METTLE OF THE PASTURE - - - - - By JAMES LANE ALLEN - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - - MIRANDA OF THE BALCONY - - - By A.E.W. MASON - - - - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - YOUNG APRIL - - - By EGERTON CASTLE - - - _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - - VALDA HÂNEM - THE ROMANCE OF A TURKISH HARÎM - - By DAISY HUGH PRYCE - - - - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - THE ENCHANTER - - - By U.L. SILBERRAD - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - - - - DONNA TERESA - - - By F.M. PEARD - - - - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - VIA CRUCIS - - - By F. MARION CRAWFORD - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - RICHARD CARVEL - - - By WINSTON CHURCHILL - - AUTHOR OF “THE CELEBRITY,” ETC. ETC. - - _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY_ - - CARLTON T. CHAPMAN AND MALCOLM FRASER - - _Upwards of 130,000 Copies have been sold in America since - publication._ - - _BOOKMAN._—“A spirited tale of wandering and adventure, with a -wholesome love story to keep it fresh and sweet and provide for it a -happy ending.” - - _OBSERVER._—“A fine historical story of early American days; full of -incident and ‘go,’ and admirably written.” - - - Second Impression. Extra Crown 8vo. 6s. - - ONE OF THE GRENVILLES - - By SYDNEY ROYSE LYSAGHT - - AUTHOR OF “THE MARPLOT” - - _GUARDIAN._—“We shall tell no more of Mr. Lysaght’s clever and -original tale, contenting ourselves with heartily recommending it to any -on the look-out for a really good and absorbing story.” - - _SATURDAY REVIEW._—“Mr. Sydney Lysaght should have a future before him -among writers of fiction. _One of the Grenvilles_ is full of interest.” - - _BOOKMAN._—“Is so high above the average of novels that its readers -will want to urge on the writer a more frequent exercise of his powers.” - - _ACADEMY._—“There is freshness and distinction about _One of the -Grenvilles_.... Both for its characters and setting, and for its -author’s pleasant wit, this is a novel to read.” - - _DAILY TELEGRAPH._—“Since he wrote _The Marplot_, Mr. Lysaght has -degenerated neither in freshness, originality, nor sense of humour.” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Second Impression. Crown 8vo. 6s. - - - THE GAME AND THE CANDLE - - By RHODA BROUGHTON - - _OBSERVER._—“The story is an excellent one.... Miss Rhoda Broughton -well maintains her place among our novelists as one capable of telling a -quiet yet deeply interesting story of human passions.” - - _SPECTATOR._—“The book is extremely clever.” - - - Second Impression. Crown 8vo. 6s. - - THE - TREASURY OFFICER’S WOOING - -By CECIL LOWIS - - _GUARDIAN._—“An exceedingly well-written, pleasant volume.... Entirely -enjoyable.” - - _LITERATURE._—“A capital picture of official life in Burma.” - - _DAILY TELEGRAPH._—“Emphatically of a nature to make us ask for more -from the same source.... Those who appreciate a story without any -sensational incidents, and written with keen observation and great -distinction of style, will find it delightful reading.... Cannot fail to -please its readers.” - - _SPECTATOR._—“Mr. Lowis’s story is pleasant to read in more senses -than one. It is not only clever and wholesome, but printed in a type so -large and clear as to reconcile us to the thickness of the volume.” - - _ATHENÆUM._—“The author writes in a clear, attractive style, and -succeeds in maintaining the reader’s interest from the first page to the -last.” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - OFF THE HIGH ROAD - - By ELEANOR C. PRICE - - AUTHOR OF “YOUNG DENYS,” “IN THE LION’S MOUTH,“ ETC. - - _ATHENÆUM._—“A pleasant tale.” - - _SPEAKER._—“A charming bit of social comedy, tinged with just a -suspicion of melodrama.... The atmosphere of the story is so bright and -genial that we part from it with regret.” - - _DAILY TELEGRAPH._—“At once ingenious, symmetrical, and -entertaining.... Miss Price’s fascinating romance.” - - _LITERATURE._—“A simple, but very pleasant story.” - - _SPECTATOR._—“The notion of an orphan heiress, the daughter of an -Earl, and the cynosure of two London seasons, flying precipitately from -her guardians, who are endeavouring to force her into a match with a man -she detests, and hiding herself under an assumed name in a remote rural -district of the Midlands, is an excellent motive in itself, and gains -greatly from the charm and delicacy of Miss Price’s handling.” - - _ACADEMY._—“A quiet country book in the main, with more emotion than -action, and continuous interest.” - - - Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. - - THE PRIDE OF JENNICO - - _BEING A MEMOIR OF_ - - CAPTAIN BASIL JENNICO - - By EGERTON CASTLE - - _ACADEMY._—“A capital romance.” - - _COUNTRY LIFE._—“This story of the later years of the eighteenth -century will rank high in literature. It is a fine and spirited romance -set in a slight but elegant and accurate frame of history. The book -itself has a peculiar and individual charm by virtue of the stately -language in which it is written.... It is stately, polished, and full of -imaginative force.” - - _LIVERPOOL DAILY MERCURY._—“The book is written in a strong and terse -style of diction with a swift and vivid descriptive touch. In its grasp -of character and the dramatic nature of its plot it is one of the best -novels of its kind since Stevenson’s _Prince Otto_.” - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - STORIES FROM AMERICAN HISTORY - - BUCCANEERS AND PIRATES - OF OUR COASTS - - By FRANK R. STOCKTON - AUTHOR OF “RUDDER GRANGE” - - _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY_ - GEORGE VARIAN AND B. WEST CLINEDINST - - _PALL MALL GAZETTE._—“A fine book.... They are exciting reading.... -Eminently informing.” - - _ACADEMY._—“Mr. Frank R. Stockton is always interesting, whether he -writes for young or old.” - - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - HER MEMORY - - By MAARTEN MAARTENS - - AUTHOR OF “MY LADY NOBODY,” ETC. - - _DAILY TELEGRAPH._—“Full of the quiet grace and literary excellence -which we have now learnt to associate with the author.” - - _DAILY NEWS._—“An interesting and characteristic example of this -writer’s manner. It possesses his sobriety of tone and treatment, his -limpidity and minuteness of touch, his keenness of observation.... The -book abounds in clever character sketches.... It is very good.” - - _ST. JAMES’S GAZETTE._—“There is something peculiarly fascinating in -Mr. Maarten Maartens’s new story. It is one of those exquisitely told -tales, not unhappy, nor tragic, yet not exactly ‘happy,’ but full of the -pain—as a philosopher has put it—that one prefers, which are read, when -the reader is in the right mood, with, at least, a subdued sense of -tears, tears of pleasure.” - - _ATHENÆUM._—“Maarten Maartens has never written a brighter social -story, and it has higher qualities than brightness.” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - THE - - ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS - - _Foundling, Thief, Juggler, and Fencing Master - during the French Revolution_ - - By S. WEIR MITCHELL, M.D. - - AUTHOR OF “HUGH WYNNE,” ETC. - - _DAILY TELEGRAPH._—“It is delightfully entertaining throughout, and -throws much instructive light upon certain subordinate phases of the -great popular upheaval that convulsed France between 1788 and 1794.... -Recounted with unflagging vivacity and inexhaustible good humour.” - - _DAILY MAIL._—“This lively piece of imagination is animated throughout -by strong human interest and novel incident.” - - - Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. - - CHARACTERISTICS - - By S. WEIR MITCHELL, M.D. LL.D. (Harvard) - - AUTHOR OF “THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS” - - _SPECTATOR._—“Very well worth reading.” - - _ST. JAMES’S GAZETTE._—“This charming book.” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - “WAR TO THE KNIFE” - - OR TANGATA MAORI - - By ROLF BOLDREWOOD - - _SPEAKER._—“A stirring tale.... We are inclined to think that _War to -the Knife_ is the best story we have had from Mr. Boldrewood since he -gave us the inimitable _Robbery under Arms_.” - - _ACADEMY._—“A stirring romance.” - - _OUTLOOK._—“Anyone who likes a good story, combined with any amount of -information on strange lands, should get this book.” - - - - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - A - ROMANCE OF CANVAS TOWN - _AND OTHER STORIES_ - - By ROLF BOLDREWOOD - - CONTENTS - -A ROMANCE OF CANVAS TOWN—THE FENCING OF WANDAROONA: A RIVERINA - REMINISCENCE—THE GOVERNESS OF THE POETS—OUR NEW COOK: A TALE OF THE - TIMES—ANGELS UNAWARES - - _DAILY TELEGRAPH._—“Eminently readable, being written in the breezy, -happy-go-lucky style which characterizes the more recent fictional works -of the author of that singularly earnest and impressive romance, -_Robbery under Arms_.” - - _DAILY MAIL._—“As pleasant as ever.” - - _GLASGOW HERALD._—“They will repay perusal.” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - THE FOREST LOVERS - - A ROMANCE - - By MAURICE HEWLETT - - _SPECTATOR._—“_The Forest Lovers_ is no mere literary _tour de force_, -but an uncommonly attractive romance, the charm of which is greatly -enhanced by the author’s excellent style.” - - _DAILY TELEGRAPH._—“Mr. Maurice Hewlett’s _Forest Lovers_ stands out -with conspicuous success.... He has compassed a very remarkable -achievement.... For nearly four hundred pages he carries us along with -him with unfailing resource and artistic skill, while he unrolls for us -the course of thrilling adventures, ending, after many tribulations, in -that ideal happiness towards which every romancer ought to wend his -tortuous way.... There are few books of this season which achieve their -aim so simply and whole-heartedly as Mr. Hewlett’s ingenious and -enthralling romance.” - - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - THE - GOSPEL OF FREEDOM - - By ROBERT HERRICK - - AUTHOR OF “THE MAN WHO WINS,” “LITERARY LOVE LETTERS, AND - OTHER STORIES” - - _DAILY MAIL._—“Distinctly enjoyable and suggestive of much profitable -thought.” - - _SCOTSMAN._—“The book has a deal of literary merit, and is well -furnished with clever phrases.” - - _ATHENÆUM._—“Remarkably clever.... The writing throughout is clear, -and the story is well constructed.” - - W.D. HOWELLS in _LITERATURE_.—“A very clever new novel.” - - _GUARDIAN._—“The novel is well written, and full of complex interests -and personalities. It touches on many questions and problems clearly and -skilfully.” - - _DAILY CHRONICLE._—“A book which entirely interested us for the whole -of a blazing afternoon. He writes uncommonly well.” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - _100,000 copies of this work have been sold_ - - THE CHOIR INVISIBLE - - By JAMES LANE ALLEN - - AUTHOR OF “SUMMER IN ARCADY,” “A KENTUCKY CARDINAL,” ETC. - - _ACADEMY._—“A book to read, and a book to keep after reading. Mr. -Allen’s gifts are many—a style pellucid and picturesque, a vivid and -disciplined power of characterization, and an intimate knowledge of a -striking epoch and an alluring country.... So magical is the wilderness -environment, so fresh the characters, so buoyant the life they lead, so -companionable, so well balanced, and so touched with humanity, the -author’s personality, that I hereby send him greeting and thanks for a -brave book.... _The Choir Invisible_ is a fine achievement.” - -_PALL MALL GAZETTE._—“Mr. Allen’s power of character drawing invests the -old, old story with renewed and absorbing interest.... The fascination -of the story lies in great part in Mr. Allen’s graceful and vivid -style.” - - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - A DRAMA IN SUNSHINE - - By HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL - - CONTENTS - -THE PROLOGUE - -CHAPTER I. SAUSAGES AND PALAVER—II. ILLUMINATION—III. WILLIAM - CHILLINGWORTH—IV. CALAMITY CAÑON—V. SPECULATIONS—VI. WHICH CONTAINS - A MORAL—VII. OF BLOOD AND WATER—VIII. WHICH ENDS IN FLAMES—IX. “IS - WRIT IN MOODS AND FROWNS AND WRINKLES STRANGE”—X. THE DAUGHTERS OF - THEMIS - - _LITERATURE._—“It has the joy of life in it, sparkle, humour, - charm.... All the characters, in their contrasts and developments, - are drawn with fine delicacy; and the book is one of those few which - one reads again with increased pleasure.” - - _DAILY TELEGRAPH._—“A story of extraordinary interest.... Mr. - Vachell’s enthralling story, the dénouement of which worthily crowns - a literary achievement of no little merit.” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - HUGH GWYETH - - A ROUNDHEAD CAVALIER - - By BEULAH MARIE DIX - - _PALL MALL GAZETTE._—“A thoroughly interesting story.... We hope - it will not be the last of its kind from the author.” - - _SATURDAY REVIEW._—“We found it difficult to tear ourselves away - from the fascinating narrative.” - - _SPECTATOR._—“There is no gainsaying the spirit and fluency of the - narrative.” - - _LEEDS MERCURY._—“The boy hero is admirably drawn, and his - stirring adventures are told with uncommon vivacity.” - - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - BISMILLAH - - By A.J. DAWSON - - AUTHOR OF “MERE SENTIMENT,” “GOD’S FOUNDLING,” ETC. - - A romantic story of Moorish life in the Riff Country and in Tangier - by Mr. A.J. Dawson, whose last novel, _God’s Foundling_, was well - received in the beginning of the year, and whose West African and - Australian Bush stories will be familiar to most readers of fiction. - _Bismillah_ is the title chosen for Mr. Dawson’s new book, which may - be regarded as the outcome of his somewhat adventurous experiences - in Morocco last year. - - _ACADEMY._—“Romantic and dramatic, and full of colour.” - - _GUARDIAN._—“Decidedly clever and original.... Its excellent local - colouring, and its story, as a whole interesting and often dramatic, - make it a book more worth reading and enjoyable than is at all - common.” - - _SPEAKER._—“A stirring tale of love and adventure.... There is - enough of exciting incident, of fighting, intrigue, and love-making - in _Bismillah_ to satisfy the most exacting reader.” - - _MANCHESTER GUARDIAN._—“An interesting and pleasing tale.” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - RUPERT, BY THE GRACE OF GOD— - - By DORA GREENWELL McCHESNEY - - _DAILY TELEGRAPH._—“Miss McChesney shows that she possesses both - graphic powers and imagination in the course of her story, and those - parts of it which are historical are told with a due regard for - truth as well as picturesqueness.” - - _ATHENÆUM._—“A singular successful specimen of the ‘historical’ - fiction of the day.” - - _WORLD._—“The reader will rapidly find his attention absorbed by a - really stirring picture of stirring times.” - - _OBSERVER._—“Miss McChesney has mastered her period thoroughly, - and tells an attractive story in a very winning fashion.” - - _GUARDIAN._—“The description of the flight from Naseby is one of - real eloquence, and profoundly moving. There is brilliancy, insight, - and feeling in the story.” - - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - THE DAY’S WORK - - By RUDYARD KIPLING - - CONTENTS - - -THE BRIDGEBUILDERS—A WALKING DELEGATE—THE SHIP THAT FOUND HERSELF—THE - TOMB OF HIS ANCESTORS—THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP SEA—WILLIAM THE - CONQUEROR—·007—THE MALTESE CAT—BREAD UPON THE WATERS—AN ERROR OF THE - FOURTH DIMENSION—MY SUNDAY AT HOME—THE BRUSHWOOD BOY - - _ST. JAMES’S GAZETTE._—“This new batch of Mr. Kipling’s short stories -is splendid work. Among the thirteen there are included at least five of -his very finest.... Speaking for ourselves, we have read _The Day’s -Work_ with more pleasure than we have derived from anything of Mr. -Kipling’s since _The Jungle Book_.... It is in the Findlaysons, and the -Scotts, and the Cottars, and the ‘Williams,’ that Mr. Kipling’s true -greatness lies. These are creations that make one feel pleased and proud -that we are also English. What greater honour could there be to an -English writer?” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - MEN’S TRAGEDIES - - By R.V. RISLEY - -CONTAINING:—THE MAN WHO LOVED, THE MAN WHO HATED, THE MAN WHO BORE, THE - MAN WHO CARED, THE MAN WHO FELL, THE MAN WHO SNEERED, THE MAN WHO - KILLED, THE MAN WHO DIED, THE MAN WHO WAS HIMSELF. - - _OUTLOOK._—“Mr. R.V. Risley may be congratulated on having produced a -set of really moving studies.” - - _SCOTSMAN._—“The stories are powerful studies of human nature, which -show considerable art in presenting the stronger passions.” - - _GLASGOW HERALD._—“Clever, striking, and impressionist sort of -stories.” - - - Globe 8vo. Gilt top. 6s. - - THE SHORT-LINE WAR - - By MERWIN-WEBSTER - - _LITERATURE._—“The story is well written, and full of exciting -intrigue.” - - _SPECTATOR._—“The story is well put together, well told, and -exciting.” - - _SPEAKER._—“Short, exciting, well composed.” - - _ACADEMY._—“Told with much spirit.” - - _PALL MALL GAZETTE._—“The book is briskly written by a man who is -interested in his subject.” - - _SCOTSMAN._—“The story is told with capital spirit, and the reader is -not given time to feel dull.” - - _GLASGOW HERALD._—“Vivid and interesting.” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - THE - - TRAIL OF THE GOLDSEEKERS - - A RECORD OF TRAVEL IN PROSE - AND VERSE - - By HAMLIN GARLAND - - _SPEAKER._—“It consists of vivid prose pictures of adventure in the -wild North West, interspersed with unconventional and often extremely -beautiful snatches of verse. The book reflects better than anything else -we have seen the pitiless majesty of the scenery and the tragic -conditions of the quest.” - - _OBSERVER._—“Racy, invigorating, and informing.... Interspersed with -some admirable verses.” - - _BOOKMAN._—“To read the volume is to make the overland journey to the -Yukon River. We have enjoyed the book most thoroughly.” - - - Crown 8vo. 6s. - - THE LOVES - - OF THE - - LADY ARABELLA - - By M.E. SEAWELL - - _SPEAKER._—“A story told with so much spirit that the reader tingles -with suspense until the end is reached.... A very pleasant tale of more -than common merit.” - - _PALL MALL GAZETTE._—“It is short and excellent reading.... Old Peter -Hawkshaw, the Admiral, is a valuable creation, sometimes quite ‘My Uncle -Toby’.... The scene, when the narrator dines with him in the cabin for -the first time, is one of the most humorous in the language, and stamps -Lady Hawkshaw—albeit, she is not there—as one of the wives of fiction in -the category of Mrs. Proudie herself.... The interest is thoroughly -sustained to the end.... Thoroughly healthy and amusing.” - - _WORLD._—“Brisk and amusing throughout.” - - MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - -Transcriber’s note: - -Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. - -The following issues should be noted. There were a number of confusions -about nested quotation marks, which have been addressed to ease the -reading experience. Where the author’s intent is unclear, the text is -retained. - -Errors of punctuation in the advertisement section at the end of the -text were corrected, silently, in the interest of consistency. - - p. 5 intercour[es/se] Transposed. - - p. 41 [‘]Well, I don’t deny Added. - - p. 74 [‘]Quite right, Dick; Added. - - p. 94 and considerable[./,] Mick and his sons Corrected. - - p. 99 ‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ he shouted[.] Added. - - p. 109 the English thoroughbred.[’] Added. - - p. 116 labouring up and [and] glanced Removed. - - p. 118 Dick [road/rode] up straight Corrected. - - p. 147 about one another,[’] Added. - - p. 178 licks [’]im Added. - - p. 206 Fred Churbett out of [of] his bed Removed. - - p. 224 villians _sic._ - - p. 225 [“]if we meet any Added. - - back you go to the barracks[’/”] Corrected. - - [‘]They’d take me ... and free from Added. - trouble,”[’] - - p. 227 'What a tragedy!['] Added. - - p. 232 any other[ other] part Removed. - - p. 252 [‘]I like forest Added. - - p. 269 compressd _sic._ - - p. 275 I see it in your face[.] Added. - - p. 287 wild-f[l]owl Removed. - - p. 298 he became a finder of continents.[’] Added. - - p. 310 [‘]You will enjoy Added. - - Hu[r]bert Removed. - - p. 313 Gera[r/l]d Corrected. - - p. 315 my dear boy[,/.] Corrected. - - p. 318 but the old who die![’] Removed. - - p. 367 home at last——[”/’] Corrected. - - Hu[r]bert Removed. - - p. 373 well-featured, manly[.] Added. - - p. 419 But some[w]how Removed. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BABES IN THE BUSH*** - - -******* This file should be named 51209-0.txt or 51209-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/1/2/0/51209 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |