"And who will that be, Nic?"

"A sailor, I suppose."

"I do not say. Your father generally wore a straw hat. Can't you make out his face?"

"No," said Nic, taking his eye from the glass quickly, and gazing at the boat, which seemed to have suddenly gone back some distance.

"I want to look without the glass," he added, after a minute or so; and then, forgetful of the glorious panorama spread around beyond the blue lake-like harbour, he held on by the rail, gazing hard at the approaching boat, seeing neither of the others, only that one with the white jacketed men who made the water flash at each dip of the oars.

Then by degrees Nic began to make out the faces, which grew clearer and clearer, till the figure wearing the straw hat rose up and waved it, and the officer in uniform rose up then and took off his hat.

At that moment Nic was conscious of the fact that Lady O'Hara was close by him, waving a white handkerchief.

Then he seemed to see nothing but a blurred picture of boats drawing nearer, as the great Northumbrian, with her sails hanging almost motionless, glided slowly onward through the calm water.

He was conscious, though, of the gangway being manned, and of a guard of soldiers being drawn up to receive the governor, the officers and the captain and mates being ready too.

At last the boat came close in alongside; a sharp order was shouted, the guard presented arms, and a big burly grey officer stepped easily on board, raised his hat to the officers, and then took Lady O'Hara's hands in his, gazed at her for a moment, and then quietly drew her arm through his, while she drew a deep, long breath, and stood there proud and happy.

Nic just saw her, but only as it were out of the corner of his eye, for he was tremblingly watching the gangway for the next comer—a tall, spare, grey, aquiline-looking man with face of a warm sun tan, and eyes that seemed to pierce the boy through and through, as he held out his hand and cried "Father!"

"Yes, my boy. Then you knew me again? Why, Nic, lad, what a great fellow you have grown! Lady O'Hara, welcome back."

"And glad to be back," cried the lady, shaking hands, and after a glance at Nic, asking the question hovering on his lips, "And how are they at the Bluff?"

"All well, and send loving greetings."

"Which I'll answer for myself, and very soon," cried the lady.

"And all well?" said the governor, with a look round as if addressing every one.

Lady O'Hara answered.

"Yes, all well. An excellent voyage, and you'll thank the officers for their kindness to me and Dominic Braydon here. Gentlemen, I am going ashore in the boat, but I shall not say good-bye. My husband bids me say that he will be glad to see every one who can leave the ship this evening at dinner. What time, my dear?"

"Six, gentlemen," said the governor; and after a little official business the party descended into the boat, and, feeling as if it were all a dream and impossible, Nic sat there being rowed ashore toward Government House, holding his father's hand for the first few minutes till he fancied that he was noticed, and then listening to him as he pointed out the various buildings ashore, and the vessels afloat, two of them being men-of-war, whose rigging was gay with bunting in honour of the governor's lady's return.

"Well, Nic," said his father at last, as they gazed searchingly in each other's eyes, and with the most satisfactory result, "do you think you will like Australia?"

"Like it?" cried Nic. "Why, of course, father: isn't it home?"

"Yes, but rather a rough, unpolished place."

"What does that matter!" said Nic proudly. "Shan't I be with you all again?"



CHAPTER SEVEN.

PREPARING TO START.

In those days it did not take long to see the town. There were some shabby-looking stores and shops, a few settlers' houses, the hotel, taverns, and plenty of tents. The substantial parts were the buildings erected for the soldiery and convicts. But these latter were busy enough, gangs of them being marched out every morning under a strong guard to work at road making, quarrying, and other tasks; and as Nic, boy like, went round everywhere during the few days of his stay at the governor's house, he ran up eagerly, as soon as a convict gang appeared, to see if he could encounter his old shipboard friend the head warder, and whether he could recognise any of the convicts who came out in the Northumbrian.

But they and the soldiers seemed to have been absorbed in the large body of men in the convict lines and barracks, and he looked in vain for the fierce, swarthy ruffian, his comic, grimace-making friend Twenty-five, and the pitiful, pleading countenance of Thirty-three.

Still, there was a great deal to see, and the time went rapidly as he watched the convicts at work with their armed guard always on the qui vive to shoot down any man who attempted to resist their warders or make for the bush.

There were the blacks too, fairly plentiful in those days, hanging about the place ready to help drive sheep or cattle, or do any light work which did not entail much labour.

The hospitality at Government House was everything that could be desired, and here the lieutenant and ensign were welcomed again and again during their stay.

The last day came, when, after making all his preparations, the doctor announced that they would start at dawn the next morning.

"Why not stay another week?" said Lady O'Hara.

"You know," said the doctor: "those at home are eager to see us back; and Nic here is longing to find out what home is like. When shall we see the governor and you?"

"Before many months are over. That road is begun, you see, and we shall work up in your direction. Perhaps we may run over for a flying visit before."

That evening Nic accompanied his father to where the various goods purchased for him by Lady O'Hara had been stored at a kind of warehouse; and here Nic found a large, light waggon in the course of being loaded by a couple of fierce-looking, bearded men, whose bare arms were burned of a reddish tan.

The elder of the two, a man of about fifty, was standing up in the waggon pulling at a great packing-case, while his companion, a well-built fellow, who looked strong and active as could be, was hoisting up the case, helped by a shaggy-haired native, whose face shone as if it had been blackened and polished like a boot. The white, or rather the reddish-brown, man attracted Nic's attention at once, as he stood there with his muscles standing out, making him resemble an antique statue; but it was the embittered, proud, and resentful look in his face which struck the boy.

It was quite evident that he was attempting a task for which he was not equal, and that, instead of the case being deposited in the waggon, it would the next minute go down with a crash to the ground; and, as soon as this was seen, Nic involuntarily ran to help, and his father shouted as he, too, ran and seized one side of the case, with the result that the black grinned and made way, to stand looking on.

"Jump down, Brookes!" cried the doctor. "You ought to know better. Get the case up first, and then put it in its place."

"Know better?" growled the man. "I know how to load a waggon; but who's to do it with a fellow like that and a nigger? One's got no muscle, and t'other's like a black-pudd'n."

"Get down—quick!" cried the doctor.

"I'm a-comin'," growled the man; and he descended slowly, placed a shoulder under the end of the chest, and it was turned over on to its side.

"Jump in, Leather, and work it into its place."

"Oh, I can do that," grumbled the elder man; but his companion sprang up lightly, hoisted one end of the case, and walked it bit by bit to where it was to stand, before leaping down again.

"Is this our waggon, then?" asked Nic.

"Yes, boy. We take the load back with us. I think we shall just get all up in one load."

"Are the roads good?" asked Nic, as he gazed at the heavy packing-cases; and the elder man grinned, while the labourer addressed as Leather, (a name which accorded well with his tanned skin), glared at the speaker once with a frown, and then told the black to help him with the next case.

"Neither good nor bad," said the doctor, smiling.

"But I mean for the horses to draw the load?"

"There are no roads, my boy, and there will be no horses to draw the load. We have only a rough track through the bush, and our men use draught-oxen in yoke."

This was the first hint to Nic of the place being very wild. He said no more for some time, but readily set to work trying to help where he could, his father nodding approval as he noted his eagerness.

Under the master's eye and in accordance with his suggestions the loading went on better now, though from time to time little matters kept showing that the elder man lost no opportunity for finding fault with the younger, who was either weak, stupid, unwilling, or clumsy in the other's eyes. But the man worked steadily and well, and Nic began to feel annoyed and ready to tell the elder servant that if he would only work as well as his fellow the waggon would be laden much sooner.

"I dare say father will give it to him soon, though," said Nic to himself; "I've no right to interfere."

The intended short visit to the waggon lasted three hours before the doctor was satisfied to leave his men to rope everything on securely.

"And it will not be done, Nic," he said, as they walked away. "That's where I want you, my boy, to grow up into a sort of lieutenant—to act as my second pair of eyes, and see that the men do not shirk things. I'm sorry to say that they will do it if I am not looking on. Now then, I'm going to show you the horses that draw our waggon."

He led the way to a fenced-in pen, where a dozen fine, healthy-looking bullocks were grazing; and upon Nic looking up wonderingly, his father laughed.

"Yes," he said, "those are our draught animals. They are terribly slow, but very sure. By the way, though, Nic—I never thought of that—can you ride?"

"Not bullocks, father," said the lad proudly. "I'll walk."

"Rather a long walk, Nic," said the doctor quietly. "Well, I can walk part of the way, and ride on the waggon the rest. But will it take us more than a day?"

"Yes," said the doctor dilly; "it will take us more than a day. But come here."

He led the way to a rough, shed-like building, entered, and a couple of sleek, well-bred horses turned their heads from the posts to which they were haltered, and whinnied.

"Will one of these do for your lordship to ride?" said the doctor, smiling, as he went up to and patted the horses in turn.

"Yes!" cried Nic. "What beauties, father!"

"Glad you like them. I bought that sorrel nag for you. He isn't up to my weight."

"But—"

"Well, but what, boy?"

"I've never been on a horse, father," said Nic, with a shamefaced air.

"Never learned to ride? No, of course not," said the doctor. "Riding was not included in the range of studies at the Friary."

"But we boys used to catch the donkeys on the common of an evening, and mount them."

"Oh, come," cried the doctor; "then you can ride a donkey?"

"Sometimes, father," said Nic, laughing. "They often used to send us off."

"Kicking?"

"It was hardly kicking, father. One I used to try and ride would stand perfectly still till I was on and tried to make him go, and then he used to bring all his legs close together, put his head down, arch up his back, and somehow or other, when he began to dance about, we always got shot off, and came down on our backs. You never saw anything so queer."

"Oh! yes, I have," said the doctor drily, "often. Our horses here have that bad habit, and we call it buck jumping, for it is very much the action of a bounding deer. Have you been pitched off like that more than once?"

"Oh! yes, father; scores, perhaps hundreds of times," said Nic, laughing.

"Come then, you will not be afraid to mount this horse, and I dare say I can soon teach you to ride. It's too late now, or I'd give you a lesson."

He closed the door of the shed, went back to the waggon, where the younger man was on the top straining at a rope, and the elder giving orders, while the black was squatting down and looking on. Here a few words of instruction were given, and a question or two asked about the flour barrels and bacon.

These being answered satisfactorily, the doctor led the way back to the Government House, where they had just time to prepare for dinner and meet the two officers and the captain and ship's doctor, who had been asked to meet them by way of farewell.

Bed was sought early, the doctor laughingly telling his son to make much of it, for he would have to make shift for some time to come.

"It's good-bye to civilisation when we leave here in the morning," said the doctor, looking hard at his son.

"And he won't mind it a bit," said Lady O'Hara. "He's just the boy to take to a bit of rough work in the bush."

"I'm glad of it," said the doctor drily, "for we rough it in the bush, and no mistake."

Nic lay down that night in his comfortable bedroom after a long look out of his window at the beautiful moonlit harbour, with its shipping bathed in the soft, silvery light, and a feeling of melancholy came over him. He was sorry to leave frank-spoken, motherly Lady O'Hara, and the thought of going right away into the wilds, though fascinating, would inspire him with a shrinking feeling of awe.

For during the few days he had been ashore he had picked up some information, and not always of the pleasantest nature. People about had not been backward in telling him that the blacks were rather fond of spearing people who entered the bush. They had some ugly stories, too, about tiger-snakes, which lay waiting for unwary passers-by, and then struck them, the bite being so venomous that the sufferer would survive only a few hours at most, possibly only a few minutes.

There were other terrors and dangers, too, in the bush, they said; but when asked what, they shook their heads very strangely, as if the subject were not to be mentioned, for fear of ill befalling those who talked lightly. So one way and another Nic was pretty well primed, and consequently only slightly buoyed up by the knowledge that he was going to his real home, he fell asleep to dream of all kinds of mysterious horrors, among which was one that was terrible in the extreme. He was lost in the bush, and nothing was left for him to do but lie down and die; and the first part of this he had, he thought, just achieved, when a loud voice came out of the blackness and cried:

"Now, Nic, boy, it's time to get up. And I want you to see to the dogs. They know you."



CHAPTER EIGHT.

TO THE BUSH.

For some moments Nic acted involuntarily as he scrambled on his clothes, feeling, as he did, in a confused way that it was his duty to dress, but why and wherefore, he had not the most remote idea.

It was cold and raw, and everything went wrong; and as he could not get himself quite dry, his shirt stuck to him and refused to go on. Those things which ought to have been in one place had got into another; and even when the cold water had thoroughly wakened him he did not get on very well, and felt ill-humoured, stupid, and out of sorts.

"It's so vexatious starting so soon," thought Nic, as lie thrust brush, comb, and nightshirt into the bag he had nearly packed over night; and at last he opened the door, just as his father called up the stairs:

"Come, Nic, my boy: they didn't teach you at school to be quick."

"Hush! you'll wake Lady O'Hara," protested the boy.

"I should be puzzled to," replied his father shortly. "Come in here."

"In here" meant the dining-room, where the first person he saw, by the light of the candles standing on the white breakfast-cloth, was their hostess.

Nic was quite awake now, and the last trace of ill-temper passed away as he shook hands.

"I did not expect to see you this morning," he said.

"And did you think I was going to let old friends start without a comfortable breakfast? Why, it will be days, boy, before you get another."

"Days?" said Nic.

"To be sure, boy. There is no stage coach for you, and you'll have to keep with your waggon. These bullocks go about two miles an hour."

This was news to Nic, who had been imbued with some kind of notion that he was going to get home that same evening, and that was why his father had started so early.

Sir John entered the room directly after, and the meal was just as if it had been nine o'clock instead of four in the morning; so that the travellers were well prepared, when the doctor rose, to say good-bye, for the cracking of a stock whip and sundry ejaculations and apostrophes to the bullocks to "come on," and "get over," and "pull," were heard outside, where a couple of horses freshly brought round were stamping and pawing the dust, impatient to be off.

The dogs were hurried round from the stables—these being the two collies intended for the doctor—and after many frantic dashes at the horses, they were taken forward toward the waggon, where the bullocks were immediately driven into a state of commotion, and faced round to lower their horns and receive their enemies.

Finally, however, the two excited animals were safely chained to the back of the waggon, which started at once with a great deal of whip cracking and shouting on the part of Brookes, his fellow, Leather, being perfectly silent, and the black nowhere to be seen.

This start having been accomplished, the doctor returned with his son to say their final farewells to the governor and his lady.

"There, good-bye, Nic," cried the latter; "it's only a little way off you live. We think nothing of a few hundred miles here, and we shall be coming to see you, or you will us before very long. Are you a good horseman? That's a spirity-looking thing I see you're to ride."

Nic was nonplussed, and his father came to his help:

"Nic hasn't had time to practise much; he'll be a better rider next time he comes down to the front."

"That's right," cried Lady O'Hara. "There: goodbye, and bless you, my boy! Give my dear love to your mother, and tell her I shall want to steal you for a visit first time I come."

"I shall not be able to spare him," said the doctor, who had mounted, and now held the rein of the second horse. "Come, Nic, boy, up with you."

Nic nervously raised his foot to the stirrup, made a desperate spring as he clung to the pommel and cantle of the saddle, and somehow came down in his seat; but the horse started, and nearly threw him on to its neck.

"Steady!" cried the doctor sharply, as he held the rein firmly; and, nervous and startled, Nic shuffled back and nipped the saddle with all the force of which his knees were capable.

"Are you all right, boy?" cried the governor.

"Yes, sir," said Nic, as firmly as he could, though he was wondering how long it would be before he was all wrong.

"Good-bye, O'Hara," cried the doctor. "You will hear from me when I get home."

"Good-bye," cried the governor; and, leaning toward his old friend, he whispered:

"I'd take care: that boy can't ride a bit."

"I know," said the doctor. "Don't let him see that you do. Good-bye."

He touched his horse's sides, and the beautiful beast started to go off at a canter, but was checked instantly, to keep it in a walk, with the result that it began to fret and dance. Nic's lighter steed followed suit, and the boy's position grew moment by moment more desperate. Now he lost one stirrup, then the other; and it was only by getting a good grip of the pommel with one hand that he was able to stay on.

Finally, though, the horses were quieted down, and paced together in a walk, when the doctor said quietly:

"Why, Nic, it's a good thing that it is still dark. I'm afraid we should have had some remarks made if people had been about."

"I—I never said I could ride, father," said Nic, in a reproachful tone.

"I'm glad you did not, boy. It's a good thing that you have no spurs."

"Is it, father?"

"Of course," cried the doctor; "if you had, Sour Sorrel would have soon pitched you off."

"I'm very sorry, father," faltered Nic, who felt very miserable as well as uncomfortable. "Had I better get down and lead him?"

"If you feel so much afraid that you dare not stop on, my boy," said the doctor drily.

The dawn was coming, and Nic turned to glance at his father's thin, cleanly cut profile, to see that he was gazing straight before him towards where the waggon could be dimly seen in front.

"Well, are you?" continued the doctor, without turning his head.

Nic was silent, and the horse stumbled through putting a foot into a deep rut of the unkept road.

"Hold up, sir—steady, steady!" cried the doctor, drawing more heavily upon the rein he still held, as well as his own; and then, after Nic had shuffled back into the seat from which he had again been shaken, "I said, are you too much alarmed to stop on?"

These words sounded very stern, and stung and hurt the boy to the quick.

"I have never learned to ride, father," he said reproachfully; "and it is all fresh to me to be mounted upon a spirited horse like this."

"Of course it is: perfectly fresh. Then you feel afraid?"

"Yes, of falling off, father. I have nearly been down three times."

"Six, Nic. Well, get off and climb on to the waggon." Nic drew a deep breath as his father checked the horses; and, stung more than ever, the boy kicked his nag with his heels and sent it forward.

"Well, why don't you get down, sir?"

"Because I'd rather keep on and ride, father," said Nic huskily.

"Do you mean that, sir?"

"Yes, father."

"Thank you, Nic," said the doctor, turning to him with a smile. "I like the boy who is not afraid to own that he is alarmed; and better still to hear you say through your teeth that you will not be beaten— metaphorically, of course. Now, then, we understand our position. This is not boasting, mind—look at me. You see me here?"

"Yes, father," said Nic, feeling envious of the easy, upright position of his father in the saddle.

"Let me tell you, then, that I feel as easy and comfortable here as if I were seated upon a cushion in a carriage. More so, for this noble beast knows me as I know him, and after a fashion we are as one together in going over the ground. Do you understand what that means, Nic?"

"Yes, father; but you have learned to ride."

"Yes, and more, boy. It means the confidence which comes of knowledge. When I came out here, years ago, I had not been on horseback for twenty years; I was a miserable invalid, and when I mounted my horse—a necessity out in a wild country like this—I suffered a martyrdom of nervous dread. But I did what you have just done, made up my mind that I would master my fear and ride, and I won. It took me a whole year. As for you, it will not take you a month."

"So little time?" cried Nic excitedly.

"Or less. We have about a week's journey before us; and from what I have just learned, I shall be greatly surprised if you do not canter up to the station with me, a little stiff and sore about the knees, but good friends with Sour Sorrel there, and ready to think riding a delightful accomplishment."

Nic shook his head.

"You don't know me yet, father," said the boy sadly.

"Better than you know yourself," replied the doctor. "But don't let's waste time. You want to learn?"

"Horribly, father," cried Nic.

"Very well, then. I'll give you a lesson at once."

"Not faster, to begin with?" said Nic quickly.

"No," said the doctor, laughing. "I want to give you confidence, not destroy it. So now then, to begin with, you shall learn what danger you run. I am an experienced horseman, I have tight hold of your rein, so that your horse cannot bolt, and I have promised you not to go faster than a walk. You see, then, the utmost that could happen in that way would be that the nag might caper a little."

"Or kick and throw me off."

"He will not kick, boy. He is too well broken. Secondly, you might lose your seat and come off: If you did, how far would you have to fall?"

"About four feet, father."

"Say four. Suppose you were on a see-saw at school, would you be afraid of falling, off four or five or six feet?"

"No, father, of course not."

"Then why should you be afraid of falling that distance from the horse?"

"I don't know," said Nic. "It is because it is all so fresh, I suppose. Yes, I do: my foot might hang in the stirrup and the horse gallop away with me, kicking me every time he strode."

"When I am holding him? The stirrups, then: take your feet out."

"Out of the stirrups, father? Is it safe to do so?"

"You were alarmed lest your foot should hang in one. Quick! out with them. That's right: now draw them up, cross the leathers, and let the irons hang over on each side. Now how do you feel?"

"As if I must go off on one side or the other, father. The saddle is so dreadfully slippery."

"Take tight hold of it, then, with your knees, and keep your balance. That's not right: I said take hold with your knees, not the calves of your legs."

"That way, father?"

"Yes, that's better. Let your legs go well down, your heels too, and whatever you do don't touch the pommel with your hand."

That last order was hard, for it was very easy to make a catch at the pommel so as to hold on.

"Sit up, boy. Don't bend forward. It hurts you a little at first, but you get more and more used to it every hour. Now, then, we'll walk gently past the waggon. Don't let the men think you have never been on a horse before."

The horses' pace being so much faster than that of the bullocks, they were soon by, after the doctor had spoken in a friendly way to the dogs, given his men an order or two, and then cast a critical eye over the sleek, patient oxen, which trudged along with swinging tails and horns giving a smart rap now and then as they encountered their yoke-fellows.

The track was plainly marked, but it had no pretence of being a road as it went on and on, to be lost in the distance of the bright grey morning. Away to their left was the harbour, with its shipping, and beyond it the ocean; the town lay behind them, and on either side of the track with its lines of ruts there were plenty of green pasture and trees scattered here and there—monsters some seemed to be—and in the openings were great patches of short, scrubby growth.

All at once, as Nic was thinking how peculiar the trees looked in colour, there came a loud musical series of notes from a grove-like patch, in which the boy immediately concluded there must be a house.

"Hear that?" said the doctor.

"Yes, father, plainly."

"Well, what do you make of it?"

"Some one playing a kind of flute."

"No, Nic. That is our Australian magpie."

"Magpie?" cried Nic, forgetting his uncomfortable seat; "but magpies at home in Kent have a harsh kind of laugh."

"Like that?" said the doctor, as a loud, hoarse chuckle arose.

"No: harsher and noisier. Was that the magpie?"

"No, Nic; that was our laughing jackass."

"What! A donkey?"

"No; there he sits, on that bare limb," cried the doctor, pointing up to a big, heavy-headed, browny-grey bird, which seemed to be watching them, with its great strong beak on one side.

Nic examined the bird carefully.

"You would not think that was a kingfisher?" said the doctor.

"No," cried Nic; "though the shape is something like, all but the tail, which is so much bigger."

"But it is a kingfisher all the same, though he does not fish as his ancestors may have done. He lives on beetles, lizards, mice, and frogs, and that sort of game. There's your flute-player again."

For the sweet, melodious, whistling notes arose once more, sounding somewhat as if a person were running the notes of a chord up and down with different variations.

"It's very sweet," said Nic.

"Yes. The colonists call it the magpie, but it is the piping crow of Australia. It is one of the earliest singers, and if we'd been here at daybreak I dare say we should have heard quite a long solo."

Farther on Nic had a good look at one of the piping crows in the black-and-white jacket which had obtained for it the familiar name of magpie; but it was far from being like that handsome bird the British magpie, with its long tail glossed with metallic reflexions of golden green and purple, and with wing feathers to match.

Two or three times over, out in the open country, the horses startled Nic by their disposition to go off at a canter, but after being checked they calmly settled down to their walking pace, which was fast enough to leave the bullock team behind; consequently Dr Braydon drew rein from time to time at the summit of some hill or ridge, so that his son might have a good view of the new land which was henceforth to be his home. Here he pointed out the peculiar features of the landscape and its resemblance to an English park, save that, instead of the grassy land being dotted with oak, beech, elm, or fir, the trees were always what the doctor called "gum," with their smooth bark and knotted limbs, but gum trees of several varieties. Here and there a farmstead could be seen, but they were few and far between; still, where they did show, with the roughly built houses and their bark or shingle roofs, flocks of sheep and droves of cattle could be seen scattered widely over the plain.

"Did you say we should be about a week getting home?" said Nic, after one of these halts.

"Perhaps longer," said the doctor. "Everything depends on those crawling gentlemen behind. They have a heavy load: you see there is no road, and if rain comes, as it is sure to before long, the load will seem twice as heavy to the patient beasts, and I can't afford to hurry them and get them out of condition. Rain falls very seldom here, Nic; but when it does come there's no nonsense about it. There's a river on ahead which we shall have to cross."

"Then you have bridges," said Nic naively, "if you have no regular roads?"

"Bridges? No; we shall have to ford it if we were going across to-day, it would be a few inches deep; if one of our big rain storms comes, it might be forty or fifty feet. I have seen it sixty."

Nic glanced at his father.

"Simple truth, my boy," he said. "The river is in a deep trough between two ranges of hills; and if there have been rains we might be detained on the bank for days or weeks."

"And whereabouts does home lie?" asked Nic.

"Yonder," said his father, pointing toward the north-east. "The air is wonderfully clear now, and perhaps you can see what I do—that faint blue ridge that looks like a layer of cloud low down on the horizon."

"Yes, I can see it," said Nic eagerly; "but surely it won't take us a week to ride there. It looks quite close."

"Yes, in this clear atmosphere, Nic; but it is a long way off, as you will find before we get there. Of course if we could canter our thirty or forty miles a day we should soon be there, but we are an escort only. We want to take care of the waggon."

"But couldn't the men take care of that?"

"Perhaps; but a good master looks after his valuables himself. Brookes is a pretty trusty man, but the other is a new hand, whom I have lately had from my neighbour Mr Dillon, the magistrate, and I have not tried him yet sufficiently to trust. That load contains things that will be of great value to me, things Lady O'Hara bought me: seeds and implements, guns, ammunition, powder, and endless odds and ends wanted by your mother and sisters, who cannot send into the next street to buy what they want."

"But surely in this wild, open place no one would interfere with the waggon?"

"Think not? Why, Nic, we have bushrangers—escaped convicts—beside plenty of people less desperate but more dishonest, without counting the blacks."

"Are there any of them about here?" asked Nic, with a glance round.

"Perhaps. We hardly know where they may be. You see they belong to wandering tribes which roam about in search of food. They are here to-day and gone to-morrow. We never know when they may come."

"Are they dangerous?"

"Yes and no, my boy. We always have to be on our guard, especially in such a lonely place as ours."

"But why did you go and live in such a lonely spot, father?" said Nic.

"Because the place suited me, my boy. I rode over hundreds of miles of country before I pitched upon the Bluffs and took up the land. It was beautiful, the pasture was good, and there was that more than great necessary we look for in this droughty country—a good supply of water. I have known squatters out here lose hundreds of cattle and thousands of sheep in a dry summer, when everything is burnt up."

By this time the bullocks had dragged their load close by, and for the first time Nic stared at a black figure, dressed in a strip of cloth and a spear, walking behind the waggon.

"There's one of the blacks, father," whispered Nic, staring at the shock-headed fellow, who turned a little on one side, and displayed a short club with a large knob at one end.

"Only the fellow who helped to load," said the doctor.

Nic looked hard, for he had not recognised the man.

"He has got rid of his shirt and trousers, Nic, for the march home. These blacks are eager to get clothes, but it always seems a misery to them to wear anything but a bit of cloth."

"But is it never cold here?"

"Very, sometimes—frosty; but they make a bit of a shelter and a tiny fire, and linger over it till the hot sun comes out, and then forget the cold. The old people here never even built a hut, Nic—only a shelter— a rough bit of fence."

In the middle of the day, when the sun came down with tremendous power, a halt was called beneath the shade of a gigantic gum tree, and Nic for the first time realised why this name was applied to the one great family of trees peculiar to the land, for drops of gum which had oozed out were gleaming red like carbuncles in the hot sunshine.

The doctor sprang from his horse, but Nic sat quite still.

"Dawn with you, my boy," cried his father; but, instead of obeying, Nic screwed up his face into a peculiar shape.

"I don't feel as if I could, father."

"Oh! Stiff. Down with you, boy. You must work that off."

Nic set his teeth, and rolled off his horse in a most ungraceful way, to stand feeling as if the ground was unsafe and all on the move.

"Hurt?" said his father, smiling.

"Yes, father. It's as if my legs had been dragged wide apart and stretched."

"Getting in shape for your saddle, my boy. You'll soon get over this. Now look here."

Nic did look there, and was shown how to hobble his nag's fore legs to keep it from straying, and how to unbridle and take off the saddle.

"Always give your horse a good rub down where the saddle has been, Nic," said the doctor. "Horses are delicate animals. They deserve good treatment too. Your nag carries you well, and he looks to you for payment in food, rest, and good treatment. These make all the difference in the way a horse will last on a journey. Now, my lads, come along. Water."

The doctor led the way, and the horses followed like a couple of dogs. Nic was following too, with the sensation strongly upon him that he should like to go down on all-fours and follow like a dog, for walking seemed to be a mode of progress to which he was not accustomed.

"Wait a moment, Nic," said his father. "Unfasten the dogs and lead them here. They must want water too."

Nic went to where the dogs were chained to the tail of the waggon, trying to walk firmly and erect, but it was hard work, for his legs seemed to be independent of his body, and there were moments when he felt as if he had none at all.

But he tried not to show it, and while the men were unyoking the oxen, which immediately began to graze on the rich, succulent grass, Nic proceeded to unchain the dogs.

The task was not so easy as it looked, for the collies were frantic at the thought of being unfastened, and barked and leaped about wildly. To make matters worse, they had been hard at work trying to strangle one another on the way by leaping over their chains, and tying them up in an almost inseparable knot, one which refused to yield to his fingers; and after many tries Nic appealed to Brookes.

"I wish you'd come and unfasten this," he said. "I want to take the dogs to water."

"Take the dogs to water!" grumbled the man. "Why can't they take themselves? Hi! Leather! Come and untie these dogs."

The younger man left the oxen he was loosening, and approached Nic in a surly way, hardly glancing at him; but for a few moments the chain-knot baffled him, while the dogs bounded about wildly.

"Hold them by the collars for a minute," said Leather harshly.

Nic obeyed, feeling mentally lower now, for he seemed to be the servant instead of the other.

Then he felt better, for the man softened a little in his manner.

"Poor brutes!" he said: "prisoners and thirsty. Steady, my lads, steady!"

"Oh, they won't be prisoners long," said Nic. "Father's afraid that they'd run back and try and get on board the ship or to the governor's house."

"There you are," cried the man, placing the chains in his hand, when, as if scenting out the water, the two collies started off, with eyes starting and tongues hanging out of their mouths, tugging and striving to get on, and forcing Nic to follow at a trot, his legs hurting him for the first few moments horribly.

They were not long reaching the shady pool where the horses were now standing in a shallow, with the drops falling from their muzzle.

"Poor beasts! they are thirsty," cried the doctor, as Nic was literally dragged to the edge of the pool, the dogs striving to plunge right in. "Don't let them go, Nic."

"But they'll have me in, father."

"Don't let them, boy. Ah!"

Nic had not the least intention of letting them, but as the dogs had tugged at their chains the boy was forced from a hobble into a trot, and then, before the doctor could help, he caught one foot in the tough herbage, tripped, went down, and was dragged a yard or two, and then, with a rush and tremendous splash, he followed the dogs' plunge off the bank into deep water, to be towed here and there by the delighted animals, which swam about, barking, drinking, and threatening to tangle their chains in a worse knot than before—to wit, round Nic.

But after the first few moments' confusion the boy touched bottom, and began to wade back, finding it easier to master the dogs in the water than out.

"Well, that's a nice beginning, Nic!" said the doctor.

"Isn't it horrid?" cried the boy.

"Wet?" said his father laconically. "There, it might have been worse. Let them drink, and then bring them back to the waggon and tie them up. We must keep them on the chain till we get them home. Poor fellows, then!" he cried, reaching down to pat the dripping heads. "There! you've had as much as is good for you. Come along."

A tug or two at the chains brought the dogs out, to let themselves off, as it were, and scatter glistening water drops from their shaggy hides, after which they broke out into a duet of barks, and danced about on the bank, wagging their tails, evidently inviting Nic to cast sticks into the water for them to fetch, but they followed quietly enough, with the horses behind them, lowering their heads to bite playfully at the collies' waving tails.

"You can get at your portmanteau; it's on the top," said the doctor, as soon as the dogs were secured. "Get out some dry things. You can make a dressing-room behind the tree."

All this the boy proceeded to do, and by the time he had changed he felt none the worse for his involuntary bath, and hung his wrung-out garments on the scorching waggon-tilt to dry.

This done, he obeyed his father's summons, and found him seated in the shade, waiting with a basket of provisions, which Lady O'Hara had provided for their use, while the two men were seated beneath another tree eating, the black standing on one leg a short distance away, resting upon his spear and holding the sole of his right foot flat against his left knee so as to form a peculiar angle. And every now and then one of the men pitched him a piece of bread, which he caught deftly and proceeded to eat.

"Just as if he were a dog," thought Nic, as he sat down by his father and began his al fresco dinner.

And how good it was! He forgot all about the stiffness in his legs in the pure enjoyment of those moments. No school picnic had ever approached it, for everything was so gloriously new and fresh. The beautiful land stretched undulating right away to the blue-tinted mountains, the water-pool sparkled in the sunshine, the horses and cattle grazed in the thick rich grass, and the waggon helped to form a picture against a clump of shrubs, half-covered with yellow flowers, while a delicious scent of musk filled the air.

Never had repast tasted so delicious; and, with two exceptions, every living creature seemed to be partaking of this enjoyment in the midst of the peaceful repose in that lovely spot. The exceptions were the dogs, which kept on watching them and uttering an uneasy bark now and then, for the rich grass in which they stood was not to their taste.

Nic went on eating in silence for a few minutes, and then, breaking a loaf in two, rose and went off to the dogs, which readily attacked the bread, a long diet of biscuit on board ship having made them fairly vegetarian in their tastes.

The doctor nodded approval as Nic returned wondering whether he would receive a reproof, and the wayside meal went on till the doctor spoke.

"Well, Nic," he said, "how do you like the beginning of your rough life?"

"It's glorious, father," cried the boy eagerly.

"Humph! In spite of the first lesson in riding, the ducking, and this muddly way of eating—no table-cloth, no chairs or table?"

"Oh, I like it."

"Because it's new and the sun shines?"

"I know that the sun doesn't always shine, father," cried Nic. "I shall like it, I know."

"That's right. But look: here come some visitors that you have only seen in cages at home."

Nic had already sprung to his feet, and he walked out from beneath the tree to gaze excitedly at a flock of white birds that came sailing up, evidently to alight in the grove, but the sudden appearance of the boy made them turn off, shrieking harshly, to find a resting-place farther on, and Nic returned disappointed.

"Legs seem to be better, Nic?" said the doctor.

"Yes; I had forgotten them, father. But those birds!"

"Well, you scared them. You saw what they were?"

"Not white pigeons or gulls?" said Nic. "I could almost have fancied that they were cockatoos."

"No fancy about it, Nic. They were sulphur crests. You'll see thousands in the groves down by the river."

"Is there a river about here?"

"Your wet clothes seemed to suggest something of the kind," said the doctor, laughing.

"But that was a pond," said Nic.

"A water-hole—a deep place in the river. That depression is a river, Nic," continued the doctor, pointing; "there it runs yonder. You can trace it by the trees which cluster along its course. It is dried up now, all but a hole here and there; but after rains it is a rushing stream, and I dare say a little water is always trickling along its course from hole to hole a few feet under ground. Now then, pack up the basket. We shall want it for supper. Have a nap afterwards if you are tired. I shall not go on for an hour and a half yet."

But Nic wanted no nap—there was too much to see; and it did not seem to be long before the order was given to yoke the oxen and saddle up.



CHAPTER NINE.

NIC'S EXPERIENCES.

"Now, Nic," said the doctor, as they stood ready to make a fresh start, "we shall go on, so as to reach another water-hole and camp for the night."

As he spoke the doctor rammed down the last wad and examined the priming of the new gun Nic had brought out. Then, finding the pan full of powder, he tried whether the flint was well screwed up in the hammer.

"Put these on," he said, and he handed the boy his shot-belt and powder-flask.

"Are we going to shoot anybody, father?" asked Nic eagerly.

"I hope not, boy; but it is a custom out here to go armed when you are travelling, and we are getting some distance out now away from the town. Up with your and try and mount a little better. Take hold of your reins and the mane there tightly, up with your left foot into the stirrup, and lay your hand on the cantle of the saddle; don't pull it, only support yourself by it. Now draw your off rein a little, so that the horse cannot sidle away, spring up lightly, and throw your leg over. Mount."

Nic obeyed, as he thought, to the letter, and got into the saddle somehow, making his horse fidget and wag its tail uneasily.

"Bad—very bad," cried the doctor, laughing. "I said throw your leg over. You tried to throw yourself over. Never mind; you'll soon learn. Look at me. One moment: take your gun."

Nic took the gun handed to him, and was shown how to carry it across his rein arm, and then he enviously watched his father take hold of a wisp of the horse's mane, place a foot in the stirrup, and lightly swing himself into the saddle, while his horse hung toward him a little, otherwise remained perfectly still.

"You'll soon do it, Nic. Legs feel stiff?"

"A bit cramped," replied the boy.

"Forward, then, at a walk. I shall not hold your rein now. Your nag will not leave his companion."

"Hadn't you better, father, till I get more used to it?" asked Nic uneasily.

"No," said the doctor decisively. "It was quite right this morning over your first lesson. You have learned a little already, and I don't want you, as it were, to learn to swim with corks. Come along. Steady, lad, steady."

This was to Nic's steed, which began to amble, keeping up a nice gentle motion, which would have been very pleasant if the boy had not felt a bit nervous. But as it found its stable companion continued to pace, Sour Sorrel followed its example and dropped into a walk.

The waggon was already a quarter of a mile onward, and the dogs were hanging back watching them, barking furiously till they were overtaken, and having a few encouraging words delivered to them as father and son rode on.

"I should like to set them free," said the doctor, "but I dare not yet."

The afternoon ride was almost a repetition of that in the morning, and from time to time they passed water-holes, showing that they were keeping along the course of the river, though it was not until it was pointed out to him that Nic knew he was for some distance travelling along the dry bed and was crossing it, the depression seeming little different from the surrounding country.

Weariness had something to do with it, for to Nic the country did not seem so beautiful as in the morning. He had been many hours in the saddle, and though the pace had only been a walk, the unaccustomed position told upon his muscles, and, in spite of a hint or two from his father, the boy's attitude was far from upright. He had ceased, too, for some time to keep a keen look-out for birds and kangaroos. Earlier in the afternoon he had seen some reddish, dun-coloured animals in the distance; but these had, upon nearer approach, turned out to be cattle, and a feeling of disappointment began to make itself evident as they rode on and on, till toward sunset, when the waggon was quite half a mile ahead, Nic noticed that the bright greyish white tilt was glowing and turning ruddier against the dark lines of a clump of trees, and a minute later it still seemed to be in the same position.

Nic felt disposed to draw his father's attention to the fact that the waggon was not moving, but his feeling of disinclination even to speak was growing upon him, and he was riding bent forward in silence, noticing what appeared to be a bed of whitish mist spreading among the trees, when his father startled him out of his thoughtful musings by saying laconically:

"Camp."

Nic turned and looked at him inquiringly.

"Camp, Nic," he said. "Don't you see that they've lit a fire?"

"Oh!" cried the boy, raising himself up. "I thought it was mist."

"No, Nic, smoke. That's the first thing we do out here when we halt for the night: light a fire and put on the billy."

Nic gave another inquiring look, and his father smiled.

"You'll soon learn all our colonial terms, boy," he said. "A billy is a large cross-handled saucepan to boil water in and make our tea. I'll show you how that is done—when we get there."

"I know how to make tea," said Nic.

"Yes, but not our way."

Nic looked wonderingly at his father.

"You are on the other side of the world now," said the doctor. "Now then, what do you say to a trot for the rest of the way?"

The boy winced, but he mastered his shrinking sensation.

"Very well, father," he said.

"No," said the doctor. "I'll let you off till to-morrow. You've done enough for one day."

Ten minutes after they were dismounting in just such a spot as that chosen for their mid-day halt. The cattle were unyoked, and had gone of their own accord to a water-hole about fifty yards away; the fire was burning brightly, and the kettle giving forth a few preliminary snorts, suggestive of rising steam; and the waggon was drawn close up under a huge, wide-spreading tree, among whose branches the soft cooing of pigeons could be heard. The horses were hobbled, unsaddled, and rubbed down, and when they were led off to drink, the travellers went a few yards away for a refreshing wash.

"Now, Nic," said the doctor after their return and when the provisions had been taken from the waggon, "you shall see our colonial mode of making tea."

As he spoke he poured a goodly portion into the lid of the canister, waited till the water in the billy was well on the boil, when he tossed in the whole of the tea, gave it a rapid stir round to send all the dry leaf beneath the surface, and then lifted it off the fire, let it stand for a very short time, filled the big tin mugs with which they were provided, then those of the men, after which they sat down to their evening meal.

The cattle and horses were grazing all around, and in the calm silence the crop, crop as they bit off the grass sounded peculiarly loud, while from a distance came the loud wailing cry of the curlew, a strange trumpet-like tone, and a note from close at hand which made Nic turn inquiring eyes upon his father.

"Curlew, crane, and the mopoke," said the doctor. "More pork the settlers call it."

"Mopoke?"

"Yes. There goes one;" and he pointed to where a dark, swift-winged bird was hovering about a tree evidently in quest of moths.

"Why it flies like the goat-sucker does at home," said Nic, pausing to watch the bird.

"To be sure it does. It is a relative, only bigger. You'll find plenty of birds that bear a resemblance to our own."

"And animals?"

"No. Birds are most plentiful, and in great variety; quadrupeds are scarce, and very peculiar. This, you know, is the land of the kangaroo, and we have varieties of that curious beast, from tiny ones we call rats, right up to the giants which stand up taller than the biggest man."

The sun had set, the great stars were shining out through the clear air, and night was coming on fast, with the cries of the birds sounding strange and even awful in that loneliness.

"Tired out, Nic?" said his father; and the boy started and stared.

"Why, you were asleep, Nic. Don't you understand me?"

"Eh? Yes. What say, father? Was I asleep?"

"Soundly, my boy. Come along; you can creep in under the tilt and go to sleep on the boxes. There are two blankets rolled up ready for you."

"But what are you going to do?" asked Nic.

"Look round for a bit, and take my turn at watching."

"But I must too," said Nic, shaking off his drowsiness.

"When I tell you, my boy. Now go to sleep, and get rested for to-morrow's work. The dogs will give warning if any one comes near."

Nic obeyed, and as he went to say "good night" to the dogs—towards which he felt no animosity for the ducking they had given him—he saw that the two men were making their bed under the waggon, while the black was sidling slowly up to the fire. There the Australian curled himself up like a great dog, while the doctor stood about a dozen yards away, searching the dimly seen landscape with a little pocket-glass.

Then Nic climbed in under the tilt, opened one blanket and doubled it, made a pillow of the other, and then—

"Yes, father—directly."

For the dawn was beginning to break, and a bright light shone up among the branches of the trees, out of which came a series of piercing bird screams.

"Look sharp: kettle nearly boils."

Nic scrambled from under the tilt, feeling now that he must be called to help keep watch, for he was convinced that he had only just lain down.



CHAPTER TEN.

A MORNING DIP.

"Had a good night's rest, my boy?"

"Night's rest?" stammered Nic.

"Yes; you have been asleep eight hours, I should say."

Nic stared.

"Like a bath? Do you good. Get a towel, and have a plunge into the pool. Don't be more than a quarter of an hour gone. Can you swim?"

"Yes, father," said Nic, who felt stiff and shivery; and as he climbed up under the waggon-cover for the towel, he wished bathing had never been invented.

Getting down and making for the water-hole, he came upon Brookes, who was carrying an armful of wood for the fire, and he saluted the boy with:

"Going to have a dip?"

"Yes."

"Hope you'll like it. Don't ketch me at it."

His face was only dimly seen reflecting the light of the fire; but recalling what he had seen, Nic could not help feeling that the stock man did not use water much for outward application.

Half-way to the hole he met the black, who said something incomprehensible, to which Nic answered with "good morning," and hurried on to the bank, down in the hollow along which the river ran.

There was a thin, whitish mist just visible over the water, which looked horribly black and cold, making the boy feel as if he would have given anything to evade the morning duty.

"Why not shirk it?" he said to himself. "I might wash my face and hands, and go back."

Hurrying a dozen yards or so to where the bank was lower and the water not above eight or ten inches beneath, he prepared for a simple wash, and laid his towel on a bush; but his conscience attacked him, and, setting his teeth hard, he tore off jacket and vest in a way that was nothing less than vicious. These he placed on the bush which acted for a chair back, while the morning air struck chill to the bare skin.

"It's horrid," he thought,—"horrid. How can one go on like this?"

Ugh! how cold the black water looked in that grey dawn, for there was no sign of the sun, the stars being still faintly visible, and to keep his teeth from chattering Nic set them so hard that they began to ache.

"Pretty cowardly fool I should have looked if father had asked me at breakfast if—Bother it all. Why didn't I take off my shoes?"

Nic had got one leg half out of his trousers, but not being so clever as the black at that crane or stork-like way of standing he overbalanced, tried to save himself failed, and went down on his side, in which safer position he dragged out first one and then the other leg.

"Yes; pretty cowardly fellow I should have looked if father had asked me at breakfast if I enjoyed my swim."

He rose and hung up his trousers on the bush, thrust off shoes and stockings, and then stood on the bank white and ghostly-looking, gazing down into the deep, still water overhung by thick bushes, which made it look still more untempting. For it was big enough—there were two or three acres—to hold any number of terrible monsters. There might be water-serpents hidden under those overhanging trees, waiting amongst the roots ready to seize and pull him down; or huge alligators or crocodiles might be lurking in the deepest holes. Nic was not learned enough as to the way in which their teeth fitted between the others or into holes in the opposing jaws to know which was which. It was enough for him to remember that they were shaped like the fierce little efts which seized the worms in ponds at home when he had been out fishing.

The thoughts were horrible, and he stood shivering, and had it been broad daylight his skin would have been seen becoming covered with tiny pimples, like the cuticle of the goose plucked, and assuming a reddish, purply hue.

"Oh," he thought, "if I could only escape this bitter task!" But he was too determined to attempt that, though he could not help putting off the task as long as he could; for cold water which looks bad enough at dawn in a bath in a comfortable dressing-room seems far worse on the banks of a river; and a hundred times worse when an active brain suggests the possibility of its containing fierce, hungry reptiles in all their amphibious horror, watching and waiting, in a land of blacks, for a tender, well-fed breakfast off a delicate, well-bred white.

"It's of no use," thought Nic. "I must summon up courage and do it. He'll be waiting breakfast for me, and—Ugh! how cold!"

Nic involuntarily turned his head to gaze in the direction of the trees where the fire was blazing, uttered a faint cry of surprise and horror, and turned and dived off the bank into the hole, to feel quite an electric shock run through him, while the water thundered in his ears, and he formed a graceful arch in the depths.

Out popped his head directly, yards away from where he had taken his header, and he began to swim with a calm, vigorous stroke right away for the middle, gazing sideways the while and muttering to himself as he saw that the object which had startled him, shamefaced, into seeking the protection of the water, had walked close to the edge, taken up his favourite, crane-like attitude, and was watching him swim, with his lips drawn from his teeth and displaying them in a broad grin.

It was something after the fashion of a conjuring trick. One moment a white figure had stood there in the dawning day; the next there was a loud splash, the white figure had disappeared, and a black one stood in its place, not in the least ashamed, though almost as nude as Nic. For the black had followed, stood watching, and studied with great enjoyment the appearance of one of his white masters wearing the natural garb which he himself generally affected.

There were neither crocodiles, alligators, nor serpents in the water now, so far as Nic's fancy was concerned. After the first plunge his whole nature had awakened to a sense of vigorous vitality. The sharp touch of the electric water sent thrill after thrill of energy through him, and he swam half across the river-hole, and turned back feeling as active as an eel.

"Here, who's to get out and dress with that fellow staring at me?" thought Nic, as he neared the black. "I shall have to stop in till he goes. Hi! you, sir! Be off!"

The black's grin ceased, and he turned and fled, while Nic sprang out, had a vigorous rub, began to glow, and then dressed, to run back to the waggon as hard as he could go, finishing off his head the while.

Five minutes after his short hair had obeyed the comb, he made for the fire, where a pleasant odour saluted his nostrils, and he felt that he must have made a mistake or been deceived.

But no: it was a fact. Brookes and Leather had been busy. Hot bread was waiting, and crisp, brown slices of bacon were fizzling in the pan.

"Ready?" said the doctor; and then the boy started, for these words followed: "Have a good swim?"

"Yes, father—glorious."

"Water cold?"

"Yes; but I'm all of a glow now."

"Take your tea."

Nic took the big tin mug.

"Damper?"

"Oh no, father; I had a thorough good rub."

"I said damper."

"Yes, father, I know. Only my hair—just a little."

"He dunno what you mean, sir," said Brookes with a chuckle, as he waited to take the men's share of the breakfast away.

"Oh, I see," said the doctor, laughing. "Have some hot bread with your bacon, Nic? We call this cake damper."

Nic did not mind what they called it, and he took his portion and his rasher of hot bacon, and he repeated the action with the greatest of pleasure, sipping at intervals from the milkless contents of his big tin mug without once regretting the absence of milk or cream.

Memorandum. Ride for many hours over the luxuriant downs on a clear day, when the air is laden with the health-giving odours of the gum trees, lie down tired out, and sleep with your slumber appearing to last one minute, but enduring for eight hours; lastly, have a plunge in a clear water-hole, and after a brief swim a tremendous rub, and you will be ready to perform as satisfactorily over the al fresco breakfast and do it as much justice as Dominic Braydon.

"A little more, Nic?" said his father.

"Yes, please."

Nic said that twice; and a little while after, as a recollection came suddenly back:

"I say, father, are there any crocodiles or dangerous things in these rivers?"

"If there were, do you think I should have sent you to bathe?" was the reply.

"Oh no, of course."

"There are plenty, I believe, up north, where the rivers are always open right to the sea; but never here."

"But fish, father?"

"Oh yes, there are fish, principally what they call here the black-fish. You'll have to try for them by-and-by."

"Very big?" asked Nic, who was thinking of his bath.

"Oh no; small fish, but delicious eating. Now then, any more?"

"No, thanks, father."

"Then go and feed the dogs. We start in a quarter of an hour. One moment. Do you feel very stiff?"

"Stiff?—well, yes, a little, father."

"Not very bad, then. How do you feel about a trot to-day?"

"I'll—I'll try, father. Look—look!"

The boy jumped up in his excitement, for there was a whirring of wings, a burst of screaming, and a flock of birds flew over their heads, with the plumage looking in the morning light as white as snow.

"Cockatoos?" cried Nic wildly.

"Yes," said his father, smiling at the boy's enthusiasm over what was one of the commonest sights to him. "I have seen them before. Now then, breakfast for our prisoners. I shall be glad when we can let those dogs run free."



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

HOW TO RIDE.

"Poor old chaps!" cried Nic, as the dogs leaped and tore about when he left them, each straining at its collar with starting eyes, and uttering in unison a piteous howl which could only bear one interpretation:

"Oh, I say, it's too bad! Don't keep us tied up like this."

Nic was ready to pity them again a few minutes after, when, in obedience to a shout and the crack of a whip, the sleek oxen, which stood yoked, blinking and chewing their cuds, started for the day's march, tightening the dogs' chains. Then the collies sulkily allowed themselves to be dragged along by the neck for a few yards before, feeling that resistance was in vain, they gave up and began to start barking in protest, running forward as far as their chains would allow under the waggon, as if longing to get at the oxen's heels, and finally, after a loud yelp or two at one another, settling down to their prisoners' tramp.

The horses were bridled and saddled after Nic had taken his gun from where it had been stood against a tree. The two men were in front of the team, with Brookes talking loudly and unpleasantly to his fellow; and the black was following behind the dogs, with his spear over his shoulder, at times lowering it to stir the dogs up behind whenever they showed an inclination to hang back.

This happened a minute after the start had been made, and Nic burst out laughing.

"I say, father, look at that," he cried.

"I was looking, my boy," said the doctor. "That fellow seems to understand the dogs better than we do."

For, at the first touch of the spear, one of the collies turned round sharply, and barked; then the other received a prod—from the blunt end in both cases—and the bark uttered was exactly like a protesting "Don't!"

But the black, who was safe from attack as long as he kept beyond the reach of the chain, continued to administer pokes, with the result that the dogs trotted on as far as they could, looking back the while and uttering threatening barks and growls.

But the long spear followed them right under the waggon, and kept up the annoyance, till, as if moved by the same impulse, the dogs charged back together to the extent of their chains, and the black made a bound out of the animals' reach.

The result was that when, after a final look round to see that nothing had been left, the doctor gave the order to mount, the dogs were right under the waggon, with their tongues out, tugging away at their chains as sharply as if they had been born in Kamtschatka and belonged to Eskimo.

"That's better," said the doctor, as Nic landed in his saddle without making a show in imitation of vaulting ambition and seeming about to fall over on the other side. "Down again, and mount."

Nic obeyed.

"That's worse," said the doctor. "Dismount. Now again!"

Nic dismounted, and mounted once more.

"Not so good as the first time, Nic. There, take your gun. Mind: never do that! It's the worst of high treason to let your gun-muzzle point at anybody."

"I beg pardon, father."

"Granted, on condition that you are more careful for the future," said the doctor, springing into his seat in a way that excited his son's envy.

"Shall I try again, father?"

"No; it will only fidget your horse. Come along. What a glorious morning! We'll take a sweep round, and meet the waggon three or four miles on."

The sun was now up, and sending its brilliant rays horizontally beneath the great trees, making every branch and leaf glow; and, as Nic's nag paced gently along, the boy felt as if he were riding upon the glorious elastic air. He felt very little of the stiffness, only a bit sore inside the knees, where they were pressed against the saddle.

As they passed in among the trees the waggon was soon lost to sight, and Nic glanced again and again in its direction.

"Afraid we shan't find our way back to the waggon?" said his father.

"I was thinking something of the kind," avowed Nic.

"Ah, that is a great danger away in the bush, and you may as well know it; but we could not go very far now without finding a track or some station."

"A police station?"

"No, no," said the doctor, smiling. "We have police here—mounted police—to look after the convicts and mind they don't escape; but we call farmhouses-squatters' places—stations here. Our home—Blue Mountain Bluff; as we named it—is called a station by my neighbours."

"Then you have neighbours, father?"

"Oh yes, a few miles away. Mr Dillon, the magistrate, Leather's late employer, is the nearest—ten miles distant."

"Then home must be a very lonely place."

"We have never found it so, Nic," said his father drily. "Busy people are never lonely. Now then, I think I've behaved very well to you and spared your feelings. I promise that I will not laugh at you."

"What about, father?"

"Your first essay at trotting. It is of no use to keep a horse and ride at a walk. You can progress as fast as that on your own legs."

Nic drew a deep breath, and wished that he was bestriding a donkey on the common near the Friary, with his schoolmates looking on instead of his father.

"I'm ready, father," he said.

"Wait a few minutes. I want to accustom you to holding your gun on horseback. You will always have either a gun or a stock-whip, but I don't want you to begin your career as a squatter—"

"I say, father, what a horrible name that is for a sheep farmer!"

"'A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,' Nic. 'Squatter' does very well; and I say I don't want you to begin your career by shooting your father or his horse. So you shall have a shot at something. You will not be afraid to fire your gun?"

"Oh, I say, father!" said Nic reproachfully, "don't—please don't think me such a miserable coward."

"I don't, my lad—nothing of the kind. I only treat you as a raw lad who has to be trained to our ways."

"But you expect me to shoot you as soon as I begin to trot."

"I don't mean you to, Nic. But such a thing is quite possible when you fall."

"Then you think I shall fall," said Nic ruefully.

"Certainly, if you lose your balance and do not hold tight."

"But you told me not to hold!" cried Nic.

"With your hands. They are to hold your reins and gun. A horseman holds on with his knees; and I suppose yours are a bit sore?"

Nic nodded.

"Then make up your mind not to fall; but we'll have that gun empty first. You shall have a shot at something."

Nic drew rein sharply, and his horse stopped and shook its head, and champed the bit impatiently.

"Don't check your horse like that, boy!"

"I only pulled the reins, father."

"Yes, as if his mouth were made of wood. You would soon spoil him, and make him hard-mouthed, if you jerked the bit about in that fashion. A horse like this is extremely sensitive. You only need just feel his mouth with the rein, and he will stop at the slightest additional pressure, just sufficiently to make him understand what you want. Well, why are you making a face like that?"

"I shall never learn all this," cried Nic; "I'm too stupid."

"And you have ground away at algebra and Euclid! What nonsense! Come, be more ready to take a right view of things. Horses are extremely intelligent animals, and love their masters if properly treated. They are wilful at times, and then have to be punished; but I never strike or spur my horse without good reason. Now look here, Nic: this is not to show off, but to let you see what can be done with the animal, which is one of man's most valuable friends out in these wilds. Now watch!"

The doctor threw the reins on the horse's neck.

"I want to go to the left."

To Nic's astonishment the horse bore away to the left, and his own followed suit.

"Now I want to go to the right." The horse turned in that direction.

"Now I want to turn right round."

The horse turned right about.

"Now straight back."

The horses began to return upon their tracks, Nic's eyes following every motion.

"Now round again, and forward."

Once more the horse, turning right about, went straight forward, Sour Sorrel taking pace for pace.

"Why, it's wonderful, father!" cried Nic. "Australian horses must understand plain English."

"Well, they are English bred," said the doctor, laughing. "Twenty years ago there was not a horse in the country. But now, tell me, why did you check your horse?"

"To get down so as to shoot."

"Nonsense! Fire from his back when I tell you."

"But it will frighten him, and he'll gallop off, and I shall be sure to fall."

"It will not frighten him, for the horse will stand like a rock, knowing when you are going to fire. You can rest your gun between his ears if you like, only you could not get so steady an aim. It's quite true. That nag is beautifully broken. I reared him from a foal and trained him expressly for you."

"Thank you, father; but I think I would rather ride yours."

"Why?"

"He seems so much better trained."

"Not so well, boy."

"But tell me: how did you make him go any way you wished?"

"The simplest way in the world. Let your reins drop on his neck."

Nic obeyed.

"Now press the side with your right leg. That's right. Now with the left. Good. Now keep on with the pressure, and the nag will turn right round. Now press both legs together. Very well indeed. Now you see there is no magic in the matter."

Nic was astounded, for the horse had acted just in the same way as his father's.

"Let me tell you another thing. If you jump down—no, no, don't do it— but if you jump down, pass the rein over the nag's head and throw it on the ground: he will stand perfectly still."

"Without the rein being fastened to a peg or tree?"

"Yes. Try it when you get down. Now you see you are learning to ride. But I want this trot, so be ready for your shot. Cock your gun."

Nic made the lock click, and felt a thrill of anticipation run through his nerves.

"Whit shall I shoot at, father?"

"Well, you may as well practise at something running or flying."

"A bird?"

"Yes, if you see a good specimen. You may as well collect some of our beautiful birds. Wait a bit: I dare say we shall see something before long."

They paced on for about a quarter of a mile, and then a large animal was startled from out of some bushes, made a flying leap, and then went off in a series of tremendous bounds, and all the faster for the shot Nic fired and which whistled through the air over its head.

"A good miss, Nic," said his father.

"Didn't I hit it, father?"

"No, my boy—not with a single shot, even. But you see your horse did not move."

"I forgot all about that," said Nic. "I suppose that was a kangaroo, father?"

"No doubt about that, Nic. They can go pretty well, eh?"

"Tremendously. But what an enormous tail!"

"Yes, it seems to act like a balance and a support when they land, for they go almost entirely upon their hind legs. But I meant you to have tried for a shot farther on, where there is a bit of river and some low damp ground. You might perhaps have secured a goose for our supper, or had a shot at one of the snakes, which like the moisture. But come: here's a good open stretch of land. Let's have our trot. Keep your heels down, sit fairly well up, and don't think about falling. If you do come off, it is a very little way to go, and the horse's pace will take him clear of you. Now then, turn those stirrups over his back."

"Oh, father! let me keep my stirrups."

"Certainly not; they would not help you a bit, only prove a danger to a novice; and remember this: once you can ride without stirrups you can ride with. Ready?"

Nic reluctantly turned the stirrup leathers across.

"Yes, father," he said, rather hesitatingly.

"Then off!"

The horses started at the pressure given by the doctor's heels, and the next moment Nic was bumping about in the saddle, slipping first a little to one side, then to the other, making attempts to get over on to the horse's neck, and having hard work to keep his gun well across his knees.

It was hot, breathless work; and moment by moment Nic told himself that he must come off; but he did not, and went on bump, bump, bump, bump, conscious that his father was watching him from the corners of his eyes.

"I do wish he'd stop," thought Nic, as the nag trotted steadily on; and then the boy thought of the Kentish common and the games they had had with the donkeys—when, almost as soon as a boy was mounted, another came to tickle the donkey's tail with a piece of furze, with the result that the animal's head went down, its heels up, and the rider off on to his back, perhaps into a furze or bramble patch.

"But there's no one behind with a furze or bramble," thought Nic, who began to find the trot not so very bad, when, to his horror, his father cried out "Canter!" and, with the horses snorting and enjoying the motion, away they went in and out among the trees, the docile animals keeping pace together, and avoiding the dense parts by instinct.

"Now I am off," said Nic to himself; but to his surprise he kept on, finding the canter a delightfully easy pace, and that it was far less difficult to keep his seat in the saddle, the swing was so pleasant, elastic, and rhythmical.

This went on for a good quarter of a mile, until the trees grew more open and patches of scrubby bushes appeared in their way, when, before he knew it, Nic's steed, instead of avoiding a clump about three feet high, rose at it, bounded over as lightly as a kangaroo, and came to a dead stop on the other side, for it had lost its rider.

"I didn't mean that," said the doctor, pulling up and turning back.

"Here, Nic, where are you?"

"Here, father," said the boy dolefully, as he rose from where he lay— down among the thick brush.

"Hurt?"

"I—I don't know yet. No; I don't think so, father. Here, my gun's gone."

"There it is, sticking up among the bushes. I'll get it," said the doctor; and pulling his horse sidewise, he reached over and drew out the gun.

"Now then, where are you hurt?"

"Nowhere," said Nic, forcing his way out to where the nag stood, taking the reins, and after pulling down the near side stirrup, climbing into the saddle.

At that moment there was a clapping of hands, and he turned to find his father applauding him.

"Bravo! Good!" cried the doctor, with his eyes flashing. "I like that pluck, Nic. Why, boy, you did wonderfully well. You are as rough as can be in the saddle. But really, you only want confidence: you can ride."

"Can I, father?" said Nic dubiously.

"Can you? yes. You must have had some practice."

"Only playing tricks on the donkeys, father, down in Kent."

"Of course. That's it! Why, Nic, I have only got to polish you. Ready?"

"Yes, father."

"Then let's canter on."

Oddly enough—paradoxically as it may seem—that tumble on to the elastic bush took away all Nic's nervousness, and now he began to enjoy the delightful motion of the easy-paced nag, with the wind fanning his cheeks, the sun seeming to flash by him, and the soreness about the knees forgotten.

Everything about looked bright and glorious; and when, about eleven o'clock, they cantered up to the midday halting-place in a clump of gums, where the oxen had just been unyoked, Brookes and Leather stopped from their tasks to stare, and the black was so surprised that he forgot to stand on one leg, but watched the horsemen with wide-open eyes, standing upon two.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

A BLACK PERIL.

At the end of six days, though a long way from being a horseman, Nic had reached a pitch when he could mount without fear, and enjoy thoroughly a trot, canter, or gallop; and his father used laughingly to say that now he would not be ashamed to show him to his mother and sisters.

"It's a long, slow, monotonous journey, Nic," said the doctor, at the end of that sixth day; "but I don't think we've been idle."

"Idle? oh no, father," said Nic; "and I've enjoyed it thoroughly."

"In spite of the rough way of living?"

"I haven't thought of that," replied Nic. "It has all been so fresh and interesting, and there has been so much to see."

"Well, you have been well introduced to the country, my boy, and you have mastered riding—a strong part of a settler's education, for you will have to help me hunt up the sheep and cattle, and save me many a long round. Feel ready to see your mother and sisters?"

"Ready? I'm longing to see them, father. Are we getting near?"

"Yes; all being well, we shall sleep under our own roof to-morrow night, and have the waggon-load of stores and treasures under cover."

That last night in the waggon was the most uncomfortable Nic had passed. It was hot; there was a chest beneath him which had suddenly developed a hard edge and an awkward corner; the dogs, too, were uneasy, and barked a good deal at the moon. Then some kind of animal in the plural number seemed to be holding a meeting up among the branches of the huge tree under which they encamped, for there were endless squealings and skirmishes about, which woke the boy again and again, to lie and listen, and think about his new home in the great Australian wilderness, of his mother and sisters, whether they were much changed, and ending, just before dozing off again, by wondering what they would think of him.

It was, then, with a feeling of no little satisfaction that he woke again to hear the magpie piping, and hurriedly scrambled out, fully convinced that he was up first that morning, but found, as usual, that the fire was already burning brightly, and that some one had been on the watch, not one of which had he been allowed to keep.

This time it was the man Leather whom Nic joined, towel in hand, on his way for his regular morning swim.

"Morning! You're first, then?"

The man gave him a nod, and by the light of the fire his face looked surly.

"Has my father been out yet?"

"Sleep in the front of the waggon."

Nic felt disposed to go on, but he was in such high spirits that he was obliged to say a few words more.

"We shall be at the Bluff to-night."

"Oh?" said the man indifferently.

"Well, ain't you glad to get home?"

"No: I'm only a servant."

"But it's your home for the present."

The man threw a few more sticks on the fire, and said nothing.

"I say, Leather, what sort of a place is it?"

"Station's like other stations."

"Yes, but is it pretty—beautiful?"

"No."

"What? My father said it was a grand place with a glorious view."

"It's built of wood and thatched with bark, and you can see a long way."

"But the mountains?"

"There are mountains; so there are for miles."

"But the river?"

"There is a creek, but this time of the year it is mostly water-holes."

"But it's a beautiful place to live in?"

"Is it?" said the man coldly.

"Oh, I say, you want your breakfast!" said Nic laughingly.

"No; I am not hungry."

"Then what's the matter with you, Leather?"

"Nothing."

"Ah, well, I must go and have my dip."

The man gave him a sour look, and Nic ran on, passing the horses grazing together, which were ready to look up and whinny a welcome.

"There," cried, the boy, as he gave each a friendly patting and stroked their cold wet noses; "you're ever so much better companions than old Leather. Now then, finish your breakfast: to-night you will sleep in your warm stable."

The announcement made, of course, no impression upon the horses, which lowered their heads again directly, and went on cropping the succulent coarse grass, while Nic went on to the side of the pool, and began to undress, when his attention was taken by a sudden splash; and as he stood wondering he could dimly see something swimming about toward the other side.

"Must be a big water rat," muttered Nic, commencing to undress; and, confident that there was nothing likely to injure him, he plunged in, had his swim, crept out, rubbed, and was going on with his dressing again behind a clump of wattle scrub, when the splash excited his curiosity again, and turning his head cautiously, he peered down at the pool over which the pale grey light was now growing brighter.

For the first few moments he could see nothing; then a sinuous line of disturbed water showed him where something was swimming.

"'Tis a rat," he said to himself, "and those are ducks just on beyond it. No, it isn't a rat: it's one of those things with the duck's bill that father was talking about. I'll dress quickly and fetch the gun. I might get two or three ducks for supper."

The next moment he thought he would run as hard as he could to the waggon, and avoid being speared, but he did not stir, only stood in a stooping position staring wildly at' a black figure stealing along among the trees on the other side of the pool; and hardly had he realised this fact before another black appeared walking in the track of the first, and then' another and another.

Nic felt paralysed. They might be dangerous, for they were all carrying spears, and were stealing up to the water in the most cautious way.

The next minute he could see at least a dozen, and lowering his head cautiously he dropped upon his knees well out of sight, and finished dressing before softly turning his head again to watch.

The blacks were gone; and, though relieved, the boy was puzzled, for he could not make out how they could have left, as there was the open country just beyond the water-hole, and hardly a bush that could form a hiding-place.

He could not have been deceived. Those must have been blacks, a strong party of them; and it was evident that they had not been seen up at the camp by Leather, or he would have warned him of their presence.

"Would he?" thought Nic. "He's a disagreeable, surly fellow, and I don't wonder, at Brookes bullying him so much. What shall I do? Perhaps after all they're gone. Oh!"

That last was a low, deep expiration of the breath, for Nic was having his first lesson in the clever cunning of the blackfellows. They were not gone, but clustered together just on the other side of the water-hole, some sixty yards away, right in sight as he peered between the thick branches of the wattle.

Nic felt fascinated for the moment, and was ready to ask himself whether it was real or a trick of his imagination. For there across the water lay about and stuck up in all kinds of gnarled and grotesque shapes what seemed to be a large clump of burned-down and blackened tree stumps; broken branches sent off awkward snag-like pieces, others presented bosses and excrescences; and but for the fact that he had seen the party of blacks creeping up, Nic never could have imagined that they were really there, thrown into these strange imitations of what was likely to be found upon the bank of a water-hole.

But there they were, either acting their part to deceive the wild fowl into coming near enough to be speared or knocked down, or trying to hide themselves from the encamping party.

Yes, dim as the light was, there could be no deception, for Nic at last made out the glint of an eye. It certainly was not a piece of gum gleaming in the dewy morning, but the eye of one of the blacks. Then it was gone.

What should he do? They were so clever that Nic knew it would be the hardest of hard work for a white to beat them with their own weapons; but the boy knew that he must act, and at once.

Dropping silently down, he lay on his breast thinking for a few moments, making his plans.

It was quite three hundred yards to the tree where the fire had been made—a long way for him to go if he were seen, for the naked blacks would be swifter of foot than he. His only course was to crawl from bush to bush; and feeling that for the present he was out of sight, sheltered by the patch of wattle, he began to crawl slowly and as silently as he could toward the waggon.

Nic had never before realised how difficult it was to proceed over wet herbage after the fashion of a caterpillar. But this was the only way for him to get along, and he did his best, moving slowly forward where a savage would have gone on at a little run.

As he crept along it was with a strange quivering of the muscles of his back and loins, a curious kind of shrinking, in expectation moment by moment of the blacks having crept round the end of the water-pool through the dry bed of the river up the side to send a spear flying into him.

But it did not come; and at last, perspiring profusely, he passed a detached bush, curved round so as to place it between him and the blacks, and then paused to glance back.

He could not see them; but, to his horror, he found that the bush was not in a line between him and the water-hole, and he had to creep back.

Worse still, he realised now how the ground sloped upward, so that at any moment he might be in full view, and he paused, hesitating about going any farther, when only a few yards beyond he saw that there was a hollow into which he could roll, and in it creep along to the first big trees.

Nic felt that he was risking being seen by his impetuosity, but excitement urged him on, and the next moment he was in the little depression, most probably a dry rivulet bed, which ran down toward the water-hole. But whatever it was it gave him shelter till he could reach the big trees, in and out of whose trunks he threaded his way, well out of sight now, and ran panting up to the fire as his father was angrily saying to Leather:

"Surely you must have seen the black last night."

"Not him, sir," said Brookes; "he won't see nothing that he don't want. I left 'em together, and he ought to know where he is."

"Well, he has gone," said the doctor sternly; "and hullo, Nic, have you seen a snake?"

"Quick! father, the guns!" panted the boy. "Blacks! the blacks!"

"You mean our blackfellow?"

"No, father, twenty of them, just on the other side of the water-hole, hiding."

"All of you," said the doctor, in a low, firm voice, "into the waggon." Then the boy heard him mutter, as he held him tightly by the arm: "Good heavens! can they have been to the Bluff?"



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

NIC'S MISSION.

"Father! do you think they have?" said Nic, breathlessly.

The doctor turned upon his son sharply. "Did I speak aloud?" he said. Nic nodded.

"I don't know. I cannot tell, my boy. I pray not."

By this time they were all armed, and the doctor whistled sharply, when there was a whinnying answer, and the two horses came up as fast as their hobbled fore feet would allow.

"Call in the bullocks," said the doctor to Brookes, who uttered a loud yell somewhat like the yodel of the Swiss peasants to their cattle on the mountain side.

The great sleek beasts responded directly, and came from where they were grazing, bellowing loudly, right up to the waggon, as if expecting to be yoked.

"To keep them from being speared," said the doctor to Nic. Then to the men: "Yoke up, and drive the waggon right out into the open. They could reach the poor beasts from behind those trees."

The men set to work leisurely enough, while at a word from his father Nic, whose hands trembled from excitement, bridled and saddled Sour Sorrel.

"Take off the hobbles, boy," said the doctor; and this was done. A few minutes later the bullocks, which had from long habit taken their places readily, were yoked, and drew out the waggon right into a clear spot away from trees, which would shelter the enemy if they made an attack.

"Hah!" ejaculated the doctor, "now we can breathe freely. Brookes, you are all right with a gun. Have you ever used a piece, Leather?"

"Not much," said the man sourly; "but I know how to load, and can keep you going."

"My son will load," said the doctor sternly. "You must do your best."

"Yes," said the man shortly; and Nic thought to himself, "Father does not want me to shoot any one."

"Now then, keep a sharp look-out," said the doctor. "If the blacks show, up at once into the front of the waggon, and we will take the back. No firing unless they try to spear the cattle. Then the blacks must accept their fate."

Incongruous ideas occur to us all, even in times of the greatest peril; and a waft of something in the air drew Nic's attention to the fire under the big gum tree, where the tea, hot cake, and bacon were ready for breakfast, and for a moment the boy felt hungry.

All was perfectly still. Then a magpie began to pipe his arpeggios, which sounded sweet and clear in the morning air; and this seemed to be the signal to start a chorus of whistling and shrieking up in the thick boughs, where a flock of paroquets were hidden; and a glow in the east made the morning grey look so opalescently beautiful that it was hard to believe there could be any danger.

"Are you sure you saw blacks, Nic?" said the doctor.

"Oh yes, father—certain."

"We ought to do some scouting, to see if they have moved and mean mischief."

"I'll go, father."

"No, boy: you are not used to the ways of these people; and I don't like to leave the waggon for fear of a rush. Brookes!"

"Yes," came from the front.

"You must go and reconnoitre. I'll cover you as well as I can. Just see if they are coming on."

"Don't see why you should send me," grumbled the man. "My wage ain't so very, high, and I've only got one life. Send Leather: he is not so much consequence as me."

The doctor uttered an angry ejaculation, and frowned fiercely; but it was no time for angry words.

"Leather, take your gun, and try if you can make out where the blacks are. Don't fire unless they see and attack you."

The man came with a heavy scowl upon his brow, shouldered his gun, and walked back in among the trees, while the doctor stood patting the butt of his gun impatiently, as his eyes searched the place in the direction of the water-hole.

"Our black must have known these fellows were in the neighbourhood," he said; "and he has either joined them or they have scared him away. Joined them, I think, or he would have warned me. They are all alike, these men: they come and work for a time, and then tire of it and go back to the bush."

"Here comes Leather," whispered Nic; and the next moment the man came back at a swift run, carrying his gun at the trail.

"Well? seen them?" said the doctor.

"Yes, over a score of them," said the man, who looked more animated now, in the excitement of the danger. "They're jabbering together this side of the water."

"Then they mean to attack. Be ready."

The man nodded, and moved toward where Brookes stood cutting himself some tobacco to chew. Then he turned back, and there was something approaching a smile upon his face, which, in spite of sun tan and the deep marks on his forehead, looked almost handsome to Nic.

"Yes: what is it?" said the doctor.

"Isn't it a pity to leave the breakfast for those blacks?"

"Never mind the food, man," began the doctor; but he checked himself. "Yes: try and get it," he said; "people must eat."

"Hold my gun, sir," said Leather, who was now, full of animation; and, handing the piece to Nic, he dashed back to the fire, while the doctor followed him slowly, scanning the trees in all directions as he kept his cocked piece ready for instant use.

Leather lost no time when he reached the fire, but, catching up the freshly made damper, he dabbed it down into the cross-handled frying-pan on the top of the bacon, placed the tin mugs in the kettle of boiling tea, carried the tea and sugar canisters under his arm, and taking pan-handle in one hand, kettle-handle in the other, he trotted back in safety, the blacks having made no sign.

"Bravo! Well done!" cried the doctor; and Nic noted that the bright, animated look passed away, to give place to a sullen scowl, which came over the man's face like a cloud.

"Help yourselves, men," continued the doctor; and Brookes came to them once again.

"Nic," said the doctor, "I am in agony. It may be all imagination, and if it is I should bitterly regret leaving the waggon. Do you see?"

"No, father; I don't quite understand. Do you mean you want to ride on to the Bluff, and yet don't want to because it may only be a scare?"

"Exactly. And if I did decide for us to ride on together, these men would take fright and leave the waggon to be plundered."

The doctor paused to search the trees again, but all was still.

"Send one of the men, father."

"I don't want to weaken my defensive force, boy."

"I'd go, father, but I don't know the way," said Nic.

"Yes: you shall go, my boy. The horse will take you straight to the station as soon as he is well away from his companion; and, look here! the track may prove faint, but do you see that notch in the mountains?"

"Where it looks as if a square piece had been cut out, and a cat's head with its ears standing up?"

"Yes: that notch is the pass through the mountains, and is just about two miles behind our house, which stands on a slope. You could not miss it."

"A wooden house: I know," said the boy; "but are the others at all like it?"

"What others? There is no other station for miles, boy. Well, will you risk it?"

"I don't see any risk, father."

"No; but blacks may be there. Well mounted, though, you could easily give them a wide berth."

"I'm not afraid," said Nic.

"That's right. You will ride straight there, then, and—"

The doctor stopped short, with his face drawn and wrinkled.

"Yes, father: and what?"

"If the station is a smoking ruin, ride back to us as hard as you can."

"Oh, don't say that."

"I have said it, boy. There—prove yourself worthy of my mission."

"Yes, father; but if all is right?"

"Stay there, and tell your mother to keep any black-fellows at a distance till I get home. You can help her defend the place for a few hours. Now: no words. Take a piece of the damper, and put a couple of rashers between, have a good deep drink of the tea—as much as you can, for you will have a thirsty ride—eat your breakfast as you go. Mind, straight as the crow flies for that notch: never mind the track. No words. Shake hands. Mount, and be off."

Nic saw that it was no time for words, and hurriedly breaking the bread-cake, he placed the bacon between the thin pieces, saw that his shot belt and powder flask were right, took a deep draught of tea, and then, gun in hand, turned to find Leather holding his horse, and looking him fixedly in the eyes.