At last the strain began to be greater than the boy could bear. He had developed an intense friendship all at once for Leather, and looked vainly again for his presence there; he would have shouted for him, but he felt that in the immense space around his feeble cry would not be heard, and that out there in that savage land he was, early as it seemed, to have his first lesson in the settler's duty—namely, to fend for himself.

For Nic could bear the horrible state of suspense no longer. He felt that he must fight for his life, and that after all the odds were fair. His enemy was a full-grown, sturdy savage, doubtless well armed, while he was only a boy, but he had the help of one of civilised man's most deadly weapons to balance matters.

Then he felt that there was no balance in the matters for the black had his weapons ready, while he had left his gun out of his reach.

"Only let me escape this time," thought Nic, in a despairing way, "and I'll never do such a foolish thing again."

The sun beat down upon him, the air around quivered in the heat, and the locusts kept up a loud chirruping, jarring note which grew maddening. Then from far away there came faintly the melancholy baa of a sheep calling plaintively to its missing companions, and directly after what Nic took to be the call of some wild bird in the distance—coo-way—coo-way—and this was answered faintly from farther off.

The next moment Nic had grasped the fact that it was no bird-call; for the black's face was puckered up, his eyes nearly closed as his mouth opened, and he repeated the cry in a wild, shrill, ringing tone twice more, and then his mouth shut with an audible snap, and he remained perfectly still again, watching the boy.

But Nic could bear no more. This brought matters to a crisis. It was the savage's cooey, and it meant that others were coming to join this man. So the boy felt that he must either attack or retreat.

To retreat meant to invite attack, and in his desperation Nic determined that the braver plan and the one more likely to prove successful was to take the initiative, and to do this he began slowly and cautiously to stretch out one hand towards his gun.

In an instant the black's eyes twinkled, and there was a movement in the grass as of some animal gliding through it.

"Getting his spear," thought Nic, with his heart beating frantically, as he drew himself sidewise toward the piece.

As he expected, the black moved too, but only as shown by the motion of the herbage. In fact, there were moments before the boy began to exert himself when it seemed to him that there was that fierce black head before him and nothing more, and that the whole scene was nightmare-like and unreal.

But with the action all became terribly substantial. He was reaching for his deadly weapon, so was the black, or to get himself into a better position for assault. And as Nic with throbbing breast drew slowly nearer, never once taking his eyes from those of his foe, the knitted brows and shining black face seemed to approach.

But he knew it was only an optical illusion caused by the intense strain upon his eyes; and feeling that quick action was necessary, he made a sudden spring to his right and grasped the gun, with which he leaped to his feet, just as the black also bounded up with a long, quivering spear in his hand, while there, plainly seen in the narrow band about his waist, were the boomerang and club.

Click went Nic's gun trigger, as a thrill of confidence ran through him, and, holding the piece at the ready, he presented it at the black's breast.

At this the man made a bound backward, and throwing himself into an attitude, he levelled his spear, as if about to hurl it and pierce Nic through.

"I wish I knew nigger," thought Nic, getting more confident; "I'd tell him if he'd go away I would not fire."

But no word was spoken on either side, white and black standing motionless in their attitudes of menace, eye fixed on eye, as if each were ready to shoot or hurl spear at the slightest movement made by the other.

The situation at last became so irksome that Nic could bear it no longer, and in a hoarse voice he cried:

"Now then, be off, and I won't shoot."

To his surprise the black shouldered his spear, and then obeyed a sign Nic made with the barrel of his gun, turning round and beginning to march away, slowly followed by the boy, who felt that if driven to extremities he could easily hit the broad, shiny back before him, with the muscles playing elastically at every step the man took.

"He understood the sign I made," thought Nic, who determined to keep near the black for fear of treachery, as the man strode on in and out among the trees, while a fresh idea now struck Nic. Suppose the man was going on to join his companions who had cooeyed to him. It was like walking into additional danger. Still the boy did not flinch, for fear of receiving a spear in the back if he turned away.

But he was master for the moment; and growing more and more confident, he strode on behind the black, heedless of the direction in which they went, and leaving the end of the case to fate. All he hoped was that, sooner or later, the savage would suddenly make a dash for his liberty, when the boy fully determined to scare him by firing over his head, to make him run the harder.

Nic had some idea that they were bearing toward his home, but he could see nothing but park-like trees and low wattle bushes; and after this strange procession had continued for some time he began to grow uneasy, and to think of taking out his pocket compass to try and make out his bearings, before stopping short in the first open place to let the black go on out of sight, covered meanwhile by the gun, when, just as the sufficiently open place was reached, there came a hoarse cooey from somewhere close at hand.

Nic stopped short, feeling that he had walked right into the lion's mouth; and standing ready, with his eyes wandering round, waiting for the enemy, he listened to the black's reply.

The next minute the black faced round, and the rustling of bushes was followed by the appearance of a second figure thirty yards away.

Nic threw up his gun, not to his shoulder, but over it; for the figure was that of the stock man, Brookes, who shouted:

"Oh, there you are, young gentleman. Your mar's getting in a orful way. She sent Bungarolo to look after you, and then, as he didn't come back, she sent me."

"Oh!" groaned Nic, in a tone of disgust; for all his bravery, as he thought it, had been thrown away, and a peculiar sensation of self-humiliation and shame came ever him.

"Yes, here I am, Brookes," he said. "Then this is a tame black?"

"Tame un?" said the man, with a chuckle. "Oh no, he's wild enough; I never see one on 'em yet as you could tame. No tame man would go about without trousers when he's had two pair give him to my sartain knowledge. He's one as hangs about sometimes."

"But I mean he is not one of the more dangerous blacks?"

"Oh no, I think not, sir—so long as you treat him well, and he gets treated right enough with soft tack and mutton. He comes to see our other two as you know."

"But does his tribe live about here?"

"I dunno, sir. Nobody does know. These chaps is like the cockatoos: they swarm about the place one day, and next day there isn't one, and you might go for a hundred miles and never see one of their blessed heads. He's wild enough. Hangs about the place, and does a bit of work if he likes it. If he don't, he goes. These blacks is, to my mind, the only real gents as there is. Look at him now. He don't want no clothes nor no house, only a hut, as he makes out of a few bits o' bark and calls a gunyah, perhaps only a mia-mia."

"What's a mia-mia?" said Nic.

"Sort of a hurdle thing as he puts up for shelter, and to keep the wind from blowing his fire away. Then as to clothes—look at him now."

Nic turned to look, but the black had disappeared, and ten minutes later he passed out of the thick growth to come in sight of the house, outside which Mrs Braydon was standing, watching anxiously for the return of her son.

"I wish he had been a real savage though, after all," thought Nic. "It would have been far better fun."

Perhaps!



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

NIC SHOWS HIS TEETH.

Nic did not say anything about his adventure with Leather, and was perfectly silent about his fright with Bungarolo, who showed his teeth next time they met, pointed to the lad's gun, and shook his head, the fact being that he was as much startled as Nic.

During the days which followed the boy had long rides with his father to see cattle on distant ranges, to visit flocks grazing nearer home, and gradually grew acquainted with the pleasant, patriarchal life the doctor lived.

The weather was glorious, for there had been rain in abundance a month earlier, and the consequence was shown in the rich pasture and abundance of flowers flourishing in the bright sunshine. The air, too, was deliciously invigorating, and Nic never knew that he was tired, even when he had been a whole day in the saddle, until suddenly about bedtime he discovered that he could not keep his eyes open. Then he would sleep soundly till the piping crows and the poultry awoke him at daybreak for another busy, happy day.

Nic determined that he would have no mare to do with Leather, who went stolidly about his work. He was a convict, and the boy felt that the man was a sullen, ill-tempered fellow, who, instead of trying to make up for the past, now that the opportunity had been given him to amend and begin a new life, evidently looked upon himself as ill-used, and avoided everybody.

There were a certain number of slips printed from copperplate and pasted upon cardboard at Dr Dunham's, all consisting of good, sterling advice to the young, which the boys had had to copy over and over again, so as to get in the habit of writing a good, clear, round hand, with fine upstrokes and good, firm downstrokes; and one of them which Nic had well in mind was, "Judge not rashly." But Nic did judge rashly all the same.

One day he took his gun with the intention of shooting a specimen of the lovely Blue Mountain parrot or lory, and this he meant to skin and preserve. He had seen the birds in flocks when out without his gun, and stood entranced at the beauty of the little creatures, with their breasts gleaming with scarlet, crimson, orange, and purple mingled in the most wonderful way, while their heads were of a peachy blue, and wings and backs, right to the end of their long tails, of a lovely green.

He had taken some of the smallest shot, so as not to damage the plumage; and after a warning from Mrs Braydon to be careful, he was crossing the enclosure beyond the garden toward a field where he could hear Brookes's voice raised in a loud, bullying tone.

Directly after he came upon old Samson, who was wheeling manure in a barrow made of half a barrel cut lengthwise, and furnished with a couple of good sound poles, nailed on so that two ends formed the widely apart handles the other two being fitted with iron, which drew them together and secured the wheel, which was a round cut with a saw from a tree trunk, bound with iron hooping, and looking like a single Gloucester cheese.

"Heavy," said the old man, stopping to rest.

"What's that for?" asked Nic, who liked the old, keen, but thoroughly amiable factotum.

"Garden, sir. Good, strong, fat stuff as'll grow anything. I'm making a cowcumber bed."

"Not much of a barrow, Sam," said Nic.

"Well, it ain't, Master Nic, and I'd ha' made another afore now, on'y I can't get a wheel. The master's going to get me one first chance, for the wheel bothers me. I could make the box, but wheels want practice. I did try to make one, and I forged a pretty good tire down yonder but the wood part! My word, it was a rickety, wobbly one, and broke down second day. Didn't teach you to make barrow wheels at school, I suppose?"

"No," said Nic, laughing. "Wheel-making's an accomplishment."

"Then they ought to ha' taught you. Been strange and useful to you as a squatter, sir. Didn't teach you to shoe horses nayther, I'll be bound."

"No, nor blacksmithing either."

"Then it's a shame, sir, for I know the master paid a lot o' money for you to be well taught. I wish they'd teached you to make wheels, for you see these here soon warps in the hot sun and cracks. But there," cried the old man, grinning, "there's hard, sound trees enough to cut down and saw into thousands and thousands of barrow wheels; and as to horseshoeing, I can teach you that, my lad. I shoe all ours, and the master likes my shoes better than those he makes."

"Does father make horseshoes?"

"Does he make horseshoes?" cried Sam. "Why, I should think he does, and trims a hoof, and nails splendid. He beats me hollow. There he goes— at it again," muttered the old man, as Brookes's voice rose. "I wish he'd leave the poor chap alone."

"Is he bullying Leather again?"

"Ay, my lad; and he'd like to tan Leather too, on'y he daren't do that. I 'most wish the poor chap'd give him one for his not, and then p'r'aps he'd be quiet with his tongue. Brooky's never satisfied. He's like lots of 'em: he thinks, because a chap's a 'signed servant, he's to be bullied and kicked. They forgets as a convict is a man arter all."

"Of course," said Nic, frowning.

"The free men settlers is jealous of the government chaps, and hates 'em. I don't doubt Leather's a reg'lar crab, but set him to do a job and he does it. I never know'd him skulk or flinch anything. The master'll ketch old Brooky at it some day, and then there'll be a row. I do wonder, though, as Leatherhead don't give him one between the eyes."

"Perhaps he will some day, if Brookes goes too far."

"Nay, nay, my lad, he won't do that. That wouldn't do. 'Signed servant's got to take what he gets, and be thankful. Why, do you know what'd happen if Leather turned on Brooky?"

"Brooky would complain to the master, and Leather would be fetched over to Mr Dillon's—magistrate, you know. He'd have the cat, and a warning that if he didn't behave he'd go back to the chain gang, and it would be a bad mark agin him."

"Then it would be very unfair," said Nic sharply.

"Yes, sir, it would; but the world don't allus play quite fair, and, you see, government has to be very strict with 'signed servants, for some on 'em's been shocking bad uns, and if they weren't kep' down with what they calls a hiron han', honest people wouldn't come to live out here. 'Bliged to be very strict; if they weren't, the convicts might get the better of us all. Well, this ain't making cowcumber beds, is it? Going shooting?"

"Yes; I want to get some specimens to stuff."

"That's right, sir. You do? There's some very pretty birds about these parts; but if I was you, my lad, I'd get one o' the blackfellows to go with you. He'd carry what you shot—when you happened to hit anything."

"All right. You needn't grin, Sam. I can hold the gun straight sometimes."

"'Course you can, my lad. Why not? You'll shoot and ride and do everything soon, and I'll teach you all I know 'bout shoeing and forging and gardening. But as I was a-saying, you get Bungarolo or Rigar or Damper. No, I can't spare Damper 'cause of the cows, and Rigar's handy with the bullocks. You have Bung; he'll take you to places where the birds are. These blacks know all that sort o' thing; and as to getting bushed, you'll never get bushed so long as he's with you."

"What's bushed?"

"What's bushed, sir? My word, they did take your poor father in over your education. Don't know what being bushed is? Why, being lost, my lad. There, you're a-romancing me, Master Nic. You're a-making me a reg'lar old ruck-a-tongue. I've got to do my work, and my work to-day's cowcumbers."

Samson lifted the handles of his rough barrow, and went off without looking back, while Nic made off with his gun on his shoulder, bearing a little to his left, so as to pass round a shed, beyond which Brookes's voice could be heard.

As Nic reached the fence he saw that about fifty sheep were shut behind hurdles, and Leather was catching them by the wool, turning them on their sides, and then carrying them to where Brookes knelt, with a brush and a tub and a sheep before him, dividing the wool and applying some tarry mixture to sore places caused by the attacks of virulent flies—a cruel-looking process, but one which saved the poor animals' lives.

Brookes's back was towards Nic, and Leather's eyes on his work, over which he bent frowning, and using his great strength to master the struggling animals, and carry them to his companion, who went on loudly, as Leather slaved away, dripping with perspiration, in the hot sun.

"Government's mad, that's what government is, to let loose such a set o' scum to mix with honest men. I dunno what things is coming to. If I had my way, I'd soon have yer again in the chain gang, and scratch yer back every day with the warder's cat—that's what I'd do with you. There,"—to the sheep—"off you go. Now, then, how much longer am I to wait for that next sheep? Of all the lazy, idle, skulking hands that ever came about a place you're the worst. Now, then, don't kill the poor beast, and don't keep me waiting all day for the next."

The sheep had made a sudden bound and nearly escaped; but Leather, bending low the while, flung his arm round it, hugged it to his breast, and bore it to Brookes.

"Yah! you clumsy, lazy brute; you're not fit to handle a sheep. Don't kill it, thick-head. Hang yer, you're not worth your salt."

This was too much for Nic.

"Then why don't you go and fetch the sheep, and let him have a turn with the tar?" roared the boy, with his face scarlet.

"What?" cried Brookes, swinging himself round, and dropping the brush.

"Say 'sir' when you speak to me," cried Nic. "You heard what I said. You're always bullying and insulting people. It's abominable. The man's working like a slave, and you're kneeling there and doing hardly anything."

"I'm blest!" panted out Brookes, with rings of white round the irises of his eyes.

Leather was panting too. His face looked corrugated, and he stood there bent down, frowning hard at the ground.

"It's shameful!" cried Nic. "I'm sure my father does not know you speak to your fellow-servants like that."

"My what?" roared Brookes furiously. "Do you know he's only a convict?"

"Yes, I do. But what's that got to do with it, sir? As long as he works and does his duty to my father, he's to be properly treated. You're always bullying him. I've heard you ever since I've been home."

"Here! Where's your father?" cried Brookes, rising to his feet, and advancing toward the fence with a threatening look, while Leather bent lower.

"Gone on one of his rounds," said Nic, springing over the fence, and facing him. "I wish he were here."

"And so do I," roared Brookes. "Look here, young gentleman; don't you think because you've come home that you're to lord it over me. I'll have you to know that you've got to beg my pardon, insulting me before that lazy, lying, idle convict, you miserable young whippersnapper!"

"What!" said Nic, beside himself now with passion. "How dare you! How dare you speak to me like that! Insult you—you common, foul-mouthed bully. Go on with your work, sir. I'm your master's son, and if I'd a horsewhip here instead of this gun, I'd lay it across your back."

Brookes stooped, picked up the brush viciously, and rolled up his sleeves.

"Oh," he cried; "that's it, is it? Horsewhip me, eh? We'll soon see about that. Here, you convict."

"Do you want me to strike you?" cried Nic.

"Yes; you'd better," growled the man, dropping on his knees. "We'll soon see about that. Here, you, bring me another sheep."

"No. Stop!" cried Nic, turning to Leather, who was bringing on the sheep; "let him fetch them for himself. While my father's away I'm master here. Go away. You shall not be bullied like that, whatever you have done. Go and find some other work amongst the sheep."

Leather looked at him strangely.

"You heard what I said," cried Nic.

"Yes, sir," said the man, in a husky voice.

"Then go at once. Nic was treating you worse than he would dare to treat a dog."

Brookes banged down the brush and rose to go.

"You stop," cried Nic. "My father said those sheep must be dressed to-day, and you know it. Finish them, every one."

Brookes dropped upon his knees again.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Leather quietly. "It is very hard work for one man. I'm used to this sort of thing. Hadn't I better stay?"

"No," said Nic firmly. "You heard my orders. Go." He pointed across the enclosure, and Leather went without a word.

"Now," said Nic, "finish those sheep."

Brookes muttered low threat after threat of what he would do, but he went on dressing the sheep; and Nic turned, walked back to the house, altered his mind, and went right away toward the bush, but his nerves were all of a quiver, as he thought over the meeting to come with his father, and he did not fire his gun that day.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

LEATHER'S OTHER SIDE.

"Well, Nic, what does all this mean?" said the doctor on the following day. "Brookes has been complaining to me that he was busy yesterday dressing those sheep, when he found Leather, as they call him, my assigned servant, lazy, careless, and insolent. He was speaking to him rather sharply, when you suddenly appeared from behind the fence, flew in a passion, abused him, defended the other man, talked in a way that would make Leather disobedient in the future, and finally ordered the man to go away and leave Brookes to do all the work himself. Now then, my boy, is this true?"

"Well, about half of it, father."

"I'm sorry to hear it, Nic, though I'm glad you are so frank," said the doctor, rather sternly. "You own to half. Now how much of the other half would be true if judged by an impartial observer?"

"I don't think any of it, father."

"Humph!" ejaculated the doctor. "This is a great pity, my boy. I cannot have dissension here at the station. Brookes is a valuable servant to me, where men with a character are very scarce. He is, I know, firm and severe to the blacks and to the convict labourers I have had from time to time, and I must warn you these assigned servants are not men of good character. Has this Leather been making advances toward you, and telling you some pitiful tale of his innocency to excite your compassion?"

"Oh no, father," cried Nic. "He has been as distant and surly to me as could be."

"Ah! There you see! The man is not well behaved."

"He works well, father, and was doing his best; but Brookes does nothing but bully and find fault, and he went on so yesterday at the poor fellow that at last I felt as if I couldn't bear it, and—and I'm afraid I got in a terrible passion and talked as if I were the master."

"I repeat what I said, Nic. I am very sorry, and I must ask you to be more careful. You say you played the master?"

"Yes, father."

"Very badly, my lad. He is a poor master who cannot govern his temper. Men under you always respect quiet firmness, and it will do more in ruling or governing than any amount of noisy bullying. There, I am not going to say any more."

"But you don't know, father, how cruelly he uses Leather."

"Neither do you, Nic, I'm afraid. You are young and chivalrous, and naturally, from your age, ready to magnify and resist what you look upon as oppression. There, be careful, my lad. I shall keep an eye on Leather and take notice for myself. As to Brookes, I shall leave matters to you. I do not ask you to apologise to him, but I should like you to run over yesterday's business in your own mind, and where you feel conscientiously that you were in the wrong I should like you to show Brookes that you regret that portion of what you said. One moment, and I've done. I want you to recollect that he is a man of fifty, while you are only about sixteen. Do we understand each other?"

"Oh yes, father," cried the boy, earnestly.

"Then that unpleasant business is at an end. Did you get your specimens yesterday?"

"No," cried Nic; "the quarrel yesterday upset me, and I could only go and wander about in the bush thinking about it. I did not shoot a bird."

"Then go and make up for it to-day," said the doctors smiling.

"But," said Nic, hesitating, "don't you want me, father—to begin work?"

"Yes, by-and-by; not yet. I should like you to have your run about the place for a week or two more—or a month, say. It will not be waste time. You cannot see what is going on about a station like this without learning a great deal that will be invaluable by-and-by. Of course I shall take you with me for a few runs or rides. By the way, did they finish emptying the waggon?"

"Oh yes, father; I saw that done, and kept account of the packages that came over in the Northumbrian. I didn't know the rest."

"That was businesslike, and the more so for its being done unasked."

"But Brookes didn't like my being there, father."

"Indeed!" said the doctor slowly. "And the other man—Samson?"

"He liked it, father. We're capital friends. I like him: he's such a rum old fellow."

"Well, you must get to like Brookes too. Now have your run."

Nic felt better, for the previous day's trouble had sat upon him like a nightmare. Hurrying to his room he took his gun, and leaving it at the door was guided by the voices to the big store-room, where Mrs Braydon and the girls were busy unpacking and arranging some of the stores brought by the waggon.

Here he was soon dismissed by his sisters, and after promising to be back in good time, he went off across the home part of the station, catching sight of Samson, Brookes, and a couple of the blacks busy over some task in an open shed, which task looked like the stacking up of bundles of wool rolled neatly together.

"I can't go and tell Brookes I'm sorry before them," thought Nic; "and I'm afraid I don't feel sorry. I suppose, though, I was a bit in the wrong. Father knows best; but he wouldn't have let Brookes speak like that. Brookes wouldn't have dared to do it."

The boy had got about a mile away from the station and into a part of the doctor's land which looked as if it had been carefully planted with trees, but his common sense told him that it must be in precisely the same condition as when he took up that part of the country; and after stopping to look round and admire the beauty of the place in every direction, he began to wish that he had brought the two dogs for a run.

"Father says that they are better at home, though, for a bit," he muttered, as he trudged on again, looking for birds or other game, but seeing nothing whatever, not so much as a snake.

His direction this time was parallel with the tremendous gorge whose edge he had stood upon to gaze down; and as in comparison the present part of the huge estate was, though beautiful, somewhat monotonous in its constant succession of large ornamental trees and grassy glades, he was beginning to wish that he had gone in the other direction, to explore the gully down into which Samson had guided him on the way to meet the waggon.

"I want to see that tree bridge, too, that we crossed. Never mind: that will do for another time."

Nic kept on in and out among the trees, glancing at his pocket compass from time to time, but satisfied of his ability to retrace his steps, for he was convinced that the huge gorge must be away to his left, so that if he kept it upon his right in returning he would be certain to come out correctly.

Every now and then he obtained a grand view of the mountains, with their prevailing tint of blue in the distance gradually becoming grey, yellowish brown, red, and of many delicious greens, as the great spurs, bluffs, and chasms came nearer and nearer till they plunged down into the gorge.

It looked to be a very fairyland of tempting mystery, waiting to be explored; and till the trees hid the towering eminences from his sight, he went on planning endless excursions for the future.

"But it does seem so strange," he said to himself at last, as he wiped his streaming forehead and stood in the shade of a great green tree, gazing up in its forest of boughs. "One would think that such an out-of-the-way place would swarm with birds and wild creatures; while except flies and beetles nothing seems to live here. Ah!" he cried at last.

For he had caught sight of something moving among the low scrubby bushes beyond the next tree, and softly cocking his gun he began to stalk it. But the next minute he had made up his mind not to fire at what would in all probability be a kangaroo.

"And I don't want kangaroos," he said; "I want birds." But he wanted to get as close as he could to the animal, and he stole on and on slowly for about fifty yards, till, as nearly as he could judge, whatever it was must be just beyond the next bushes.

Toward these he was creeping, when he started round with a quick jump, for some one had spoken.

"Are you looking for me, sir?"

There stood Leather bending over a sheep, whose fleece he was relieving of a strange growth of burrs and prickly, brambly strands with which the creature was tangled.

"No," said Nic, as soon as he had recovered from his surprise. "I did not know you were this way. What are you doing?"

"Shepherding, sir," said the man, with a sad, weary-looking smile, which half fascinated Nic, and he stared at one who seemed to be quite a different man. "The poor brutes get terribly tangled by these wild growths, and sheep are not very wise, sir. They're poor, helpless sort of creatures. As soon as they are helped out of one difficulty they get into another."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Nic, speaking as if he thoroughly understood sheep; though his knowledge of the popular old useful animal consisted in the facts that when they were young they were lambs, that they grew wool, and that when they were killed they became mutton.

They have so many diseases, too, sir, and so many enemies.

"What, the dingoes?" said Nic.

"Yes, they play the part of the wolf in Europe. It's astonishing how they have overrun the country."

Nic stared again, but averted his eyes for fear the man should notice it. This did not seem the Leather he had seen so much of on his way home and since.

"Are there no wolves, then, here?" he asked.

"No, sir, fortunately for the squatters; and it's a pity they introduced these dogs."

"They? Who did?"

"Impossible to say, sir. The captain of some ship, I suppose—perhaps of more than one ship; and they increased and multiplied till they run wild all over the land."

"Oh no; surely they must always have been here?" said Nic.

Leather shook his head.

"This is a land of surprises, sir," he said quietly. "There were hardly any, if any, animals here but the kangaroos and the like, when the place was first settled. Haven't you read all this?"

"No," said Nic; "I have only just left school. But there doesn't seem to be many even of them."

"Millions," said Leather, smiling, "if you know where to look for them."

"But I haven't seen one since I left home this morning."

"And perhaps passed dozens, sir, from large ones, bigger than I am, down to the kangaroo rats and mice, not much bigger than those at—in England."

Nic noticed the man's hesitation, but appeared not to heed it.

"But could you show me any of them?"

"Oh yes, sir, if you wish. They want looking for, but I spend so much time alone here in the bush that I get to know their habits. Some of the small ones are pretty little long-legged creatures. Wonderful jumpers too."

"And you call them all kangaroos?"

"Some people do, sir."

"Kangaroo! Why, that must be a native name."

"Haven't you heard about that, sir?"

"Heard what?"

"About their name, sir?"

"No—nothing."

"They say that when the first people met the blackfellows they asked them what they called the leaping creatures they saw hopping along so far on two legs, like animal grasshoppers; and the blacks said 'Kangaroo.'"

"Yes, I thought it would be a native name."

Leather smiled.

"No, sir; 'kangaroo' is the blackfellows' way of saying 'I don't know what you mean.'"

"Could you show me where I could shoot one of those Blue Mountain parrots, Leather?" said Nic, after a pause, during which the boy stood thoughtful and wondering at his companion's change of manner.

"Oh yes, I think so, sir. There are plenty about."

"I haven't seen one for days; when I did I had no gun; and besides, I was not ready to stuff it."

"This is not a good time of day to look after them, sir; but I dare say you have passed plenty."

"No—not one."

Leather smiled faintly.

"They are very quiet, like most birds in the heat of the day, and are sitting up among the leaves, huddled up and with their feathers all loose, so that you don't see the bright underpart, and their backs and sides are all green like the leaves. It wants practice to see them."

"When is the best time, then?"

"Early in the morning, when it is cool and fresh, and they are just off to feed. You hear them whistling and shrieking to each other then."

"But do you think you could show me one now?"

"I'll try if you like, sir," said Leather quietly. "One of the blacks would soon show you, but my eyes are not so well trained as theirs."

The man led on, and Nic followed on tiptoe, thinking of how different he was, and wondering why so strong a feeling of dislike to him had sprung up: why, too, a man of bad character and a convict should be able to speak so well and take so much interest in the things about him.

"You need not walk so carefully, sir," he said; "and you can talk. The birds will not fly off. They trust to their colours keeping them hidden. These sheep look well, sir."

"Yes," replied Nic, without glancing at the white-fleeced creatures feeding about, for he was thinking of the scene of the day before and felt afraid that Leather would allude to it.

But he did not, for he seemed disposed to talk quietly and respectfully of the different things about them as they went on through the openly wooded region for about a mile.

"Like honey, sir?" he said.

"Oh yes. Do people keep bees out here?"

"Well, sir," said Leather, smiling pleasantly, "Dame Nature does. There are plenty of wild bees. There's a nest up just above that fork."

He pointed to a spot about forty feet from the ground, where what appeared to be some flies were darting about a hole.

"Those are not bees," said Nic, gazing up at the place where the bark appeared to be split and a portion of the tree decayed.

"Yes, sir—Australian wild bees. They make plenty of delicious honey."

"Where you can't get at it!"

"Oh yes; a man who can climb would get it. The bark of these trees is soft and easily cut through."

"But the bees would sting him to death while he was doing it."

"If they could, sir; but these bees out here are harmless. I've seen the naked blacks climb up, with a piece of smouldering, smoking wood to drive the insects away, and then rob a nest. They would not have much protection from the insects if they were attacked."

"Well, no, not much," said Nic, laughing. "But the nests must be hard to find. You won't know that place again."

"Oh yes, sir," said Leather quietly, as he stood glancing up in the tree. "You see I brought you straight here. Besides, after seeing one of the blacks track the bees home it is very easy, for the country is so open. It is not like being in the dense scrub."

"How do they track them?" asked Nic.

"Catch a bee when it is busy in a flower, touch its back with a tiny speck of gum from one of the trees, and touch the gum with a tuft of that white silky wool—"; and he picked a scrap from the seed-vessel of one of the trees.

"And what good does that do?" asked Nic.

"Good, sir? The white cotton is easily seen when the bee flies homeward, the black chasing it till perhaps he loses it. But he has got nearer to the nest, and he will do this again with other bees, till he comes at last to the place where the nest is."

"And did you find that nest so?"

"Yes," said Leather quietly. "I lost sight of the first bee about forty yards away; the next bee I missed too, but the last showed me the way at once. Now, then: look straight up there."

"Oh, I can see them flying in and out plainly enough," replied Nic.

"I was not talking about the bees then, sir. I mean away to the right a little, and a good fifty feet higher."

"Don't see anything, only the sun coming through like silver rain."

"To the right of that, sir, where the leaves are thickest. Now can you see?"

"I can see where the leaves are thickest, that's all. What am I to look at?"

"The paroquets."

"What?" cried Nic excitedly, as he gave himself an aching sensation in the back of the neck from the awkward position he assumed: "I can't see anything."

"Look again, sir. They are hard to see. I can count six together, and one which seems to be a handsome cock bird, quite by itself."

"That's the one I want," said Nic in a whisper, as he cocked his gun and stood peering up in the part indicated, but only to have his eyes dazzled by the rays which shot down from above.

"You see it now, sir?" said Leather quietly.

"Nor; nothing but leaves and twigs—nothing else. Are you sure you can see the birds?"

"Yes, sir, quite. My eyes are more used to this sort of thing than yours. I have been so much alone in the bush, often with no companions but the sheep or the blacks."

"And are they friendly to you?"

"Oh yes; in their way, sir."

"But look here: are you really sure that you can see some of those parrots now?"

"Certain, sir," said Leather, smiling. "Try and follow my finger. There: now you can see them."

Nic had a long look, and then shook his head in despair.

"I'm sorry you cannot see them, sir. Would you like me to shoot that bird for you?"

"Yes," cried Nic, holding out his gun. "No!" he said, drawing it sharply back.

"Because you think, sir, it is a ruse on my part to get possession of your gun and then go off as a bushranger," said Leather bitterly.

Nic coloured deeply as a girl, but he tossed up his head.

"Well," he said sharply, "that's true; I could not help thinking it."

"I suppose not," said the man sadly. And he turned away.

"You know you got hold of me out there by the precipice and talked about dropping me over."

"Yes," said Leather, starting. "It was the act of a fool; but I felt very bitter that day, sir."

"And how do I know that you don't feel bitter to-day?"

"Hah! How indeed!" cried the man.

Nic hesitated a moment, and then, ashamed of his suspicions, he held out the gun.

"Shoot the bird for me," he said.

Leather looked at him keenly.

"I don't think so now," said Nic, as the man drew back frowning. "I want the bird. I can't see it. I know you wouldn't trick me."

The man snatched the gun almost fiercely, examining the priming; and it was hard work for Nic to stand fast and force himself not to believe that he had done a foolish thing. But he did stand firm and met Leather's flashing eyes.

He was not long kept in suspense, for, without a moment's hesitation, Leather took aim. There was a flash, a puff of smoke and loud report, and a bird came rustling down through the twigs and boughs.

"A fact—not a ruse, sir," said Leather bitterly, as he handed back the gun.

"I beg your pardon," said the boy excitedly; and the man looked at him in wonder.

"People do not beg pardon of convicts," he said very shortly; and, bending down over the spot where the bird had fallen, he carefully parted the low growth into which the specimen had dived head first, and then, taking the beautifully coloured little creature by the hooked beak, he tenderly drew it out with the feathers falling back into their places, and hardly showing a mark.

"That is about as perfect as one can be, I think, sir," said Leather quietly.

"Lovely!" cried Nic enthusiastically. "How am I to get it home safely?"

"Take hold of it by the beak, sir, a moment," replied Leather; and, being relieved of the bird, he looked round till his eyes lit upon a peculiar-looking grass, one of the waving strands of which he picked, drew through his hand, and then passed it through the bird's nostrils, twisted the ends together lightly, and handed the loop to Nic.

"That grass is nearly as tough as wire, sir," he said. "Carry it by that, letting it swing. Are you going to collect bird-skins, sir?"

"I'm going to try, Leather. I shall want to get a good white cockatoo," said Nic, eagerly plunging into the subject, so as to try and make up for the suspicion he had displayed.

"Oh yes, sir," said the man, who now showed not the slightest resentment. "There will be plenty of work for you in that way. You can get the sulphur crests, and those with orange crests, and the rose-coloured, and the pretty grey creamy-yellowish-cheeked birds which have the cockatoo's crest and the long tail of the paroquet."

"I don't know of these," said Nic eagerly.

"The country swarms with beautiful birds, sir, especially with those of the parrot tribe. There is the black cockatoo, for instance—not that you'll care for it."

"Why?" said Nic.

"Because it is ugly," said Leather, smiling, as if he enjoyed the boy's enthusiasm. "It is wanting in bright feathers, but it is a curious bird, with a tremendously strong beak."

"I must have a specimen, though," said Nic. "What others are there?"

"I can hardly tell you, sir. The parrots are in great variety. Stop: there are two grass parrots that I know of. One is a green bird striped all over across with a darker green, like the breast of a cuckoo or a hawk, and it has fairly long legs, which enable it to go about actively on the ground. Other parrots have, as you know, very short legs, only suitable for clinging and climbing in the trees."

"And the other—grass parrot you called it?"

"A lovely little creature, cross-barred like the ground parrot; but its colours are brilliant, and it is one of the most graceful-looking little birds of the kind."

"Why, Leather," cried Nic, "you are quite a naturalist! How do you know all this?"

"How could I help knowing, sir—spending days and weeks and months alone, out here in this great wild country, watching sheep or helping to hunt our stray cattle? What should I have done in a solitary bit of a hut without speaking to a fellow-creature perhaps for a month?"

"But you have not been like this?"

"Not since I have been at the Bluff, sir. When I came up the country to be Mr Dillon's servant I was almost constantly alone. They used to send me my rations now and then. It was a very solitary life."

"How lonely!"

"Yes, sir—lonely," said the man, with a tinge of bitterness in his tones; "but it had its advantages. There was no Brookes."

Nic started and looked keenly in the man's face; but he frowned and turned hastily away, as if angry at what he had said.

"I must be getting back to the sheep, sir," he said hurriedly. "They are terribly weak, foolish things, always catching some disease. I hope you will get your bird home safely, sir. I should skin it directly. Things so soon go bad out in this hot place."

He turned away in among the trees; and Nic walked off with his gun over his shoulder, very thoughtful as he picked his way in and out among the bushes, till, feeling hot, he rested his gun against a bough, and sat down in the shade of one of the thick-foliaged, huge-trunked trees which seemed an exception to the rest—so many being thin-leaved and casting very little shade.

He had laid his specimen carefully down upon the grass, and was gazing at it without seeing any of its beauties, when a sudden thought struck him, and he sprang up to carefully reload his gun and place it before him.

"Mustn't forget that," he muttered. "Never know what may happen."

He sat down again in the pleasant shade to inspect his trophy; but once more he did not see it, for the convict's face filled his mind's eye, that lowering, sun-browned, fierce countenance which lit up at times with a smile that was sad and full of pain, and at others was so bright that the deep lines in the man's face faded, and he became attractive.

"It's queer," said Nic to himself. "One minute you regularly hate the fellow, and feel half afraid of him; the next you quite like and feel as if it would be nice to know more about him. No, it wouldn't: he's a convict, and they warned me about him."

Nic became very thoughtful, and though his lovely Blue Mountain parrot, the object of his morning's walk, was close to his side, he did not glance at it, and the beautiful birds the convict had mentioned were for the time forgotten. For he found himself wondering what Leather had done, and why he had done it; whether he was a very bad man; and gradually found his head getting into quite a muddle of conflicting surmises.

"I wish I hadn't let him think I was suspicious," he said to himself. "He jumped at it directly. I suppose I showed it pretty plainly. But no wonder! Any one would have felt as I did. To hand over one's gun to a convict, and give him a chance to point it at you and say, 'Now then, hand over that powder flask and that belt and all your wads.' Of course, so that he could go off—bush-ranging, don't they call it? Why, it seemed a mad thing to do.

"And yet I did it," said Nic to himself, after a thoughtful pause; "and he didn't run off. Why, he acted just as a gentleman would under the circumstances. I did feel sorry for him. There, I don't care: he can't be such a bad fellow as old Brookes wants to make out. Brookes is an old beast! I'd tell him so for two pins."

Nic's thoughts were flowing very freely, and feeling quite excited he went on:

"He must have done something very bad, and he has been severely punished; then they let him come out from the gang to be an assigned servant, and he's trying hard to make up for the past, and when he gets bullied and ill-used it makes him look savage and fierce, of course.

"Well," said Nic, after a thoughtful pause, "I can keep him in his place and yet be civil to him. I'm not going to jump on a man because he has done wrong; and I don't see why he shouldn't be forgiven—if he deserves it, of course, and—somehow, though I don't like him, I seem to like him a good deal, and that's about as big a puzzle as some of the things in mathematics, and—" This next was aloud:

"Oh, murder! Needles and pins! Wasps and hornets! Oh!"

Nic had jumped up, to begin dancing about, slapping his legs, shaking his trousers, pulling off his shoes, and trying hard to get rid of something that was giving him intense pain.

"It's those bees!" he cried. "They've got up the legs of my trousers; and he said they had no stings. No! ants!—You nasty, miserable, abominable little wretches—no, big wretches," he muttered, as he picked off and crushed one by one the virulent creatures, which had made a lodgment upon his legs and evidently come to the conclusion that they were good to eat.

He soon freed himself; but the tingling, poisonous nature of their bites was still very evident, and excited an intense desire to rub and scratch.

"Why, there's quite a regiment of the little vicious wretches!" cried the boy as he was going back to where his gun stood by the tree. "I suppose they smelt me."

It seemed so for the moment, for a long line of the ants could be traced through the grass on and on; and then Nic uttered an exclamation, sprang forward and caught up his specimen, to hold it at arm's length and begin shaking it.

"Why, it's covered with them," he cried, as he swept them off, got them on his hands, saw them racing up his arms, and found them so quick and so tight-clinging that the task grew painful in the extreme before he could get rid of them, and when he did he tossed the rumpled, disfigured bird back amongst his enemies.

"There!" he cried: "eat it then. It's completely spoiled. What a pity I did not let it live!"

"Never mind, Nic," said his father that evening, as he sat at home, giving himself from time to time a vicious rub. "Take it as a lesson. We all have to go through that sort of thing, and you'll know better next time. But it was a fine specimen, you say?"

"Lovely," replied Nic eagerly; but he did not say a word about who shot the bird, for he felt that if he did his father would be annoyed.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

A DAY'S FISHING.

Nic felt uncomfortable. There was something fascinating about being in company with a man who knew so much of the wild nature of his country; but then the man was a convict—he had been warned against him—and a companion that the doctor would not approve. But still, somehow or other, the boy was constantly finding himself in Leather's company, for the man was as much drawn to Nic as he was to the convict.

The consequence was that they were often together out in the wilder parts of the doctor's great estate.

One day, after a hint from his father, consequent upon his saying that he was going to explore the gully by the waterfall, he had taken the old fishing-rod and line from where it hung upon two hooks in the kitchen—a rod the doctor had used in old trout and salmon-fishing days, and had brought over on the chance of wanting, but had never found time to use.

"That gully is very beautiful higher up, Nic, and I have seen plenty of fish in the deep parts, gliding about among the tree roots and old trunks that have been washed down in the floods and got wedged in. I should certainly take the rod. The men tell me they are capital eating, but I have never tried."

"We had a dish one day, father, when you were out," said Janet.

"How did you get them?" asked the doctor.

"Samson brought them in—a basketful," cried Hilda.

"Then you had better ask old Sam what he baited with, and take your bait accordingly."

"Yes, father," said the boy.

"Take the biggest basket, Nic," said Hilda mischievously.

"Ah, you think I shan't catch any," said her brother, nodding his head; "but you'll see."

The rod was dusty, but good and strong, and in the bag the doctor pointed out there were plenty of good new hooks and lines; so leaving them ready, Nic went down the garden to where he expected to find old Sam.

Sure enough there he was hoeing away, and he stopped and wiped his perspiring face upon his arm as the boy came up.

"That's right, sir," he cried. "Glad to see you here. I want you to take a bit more hinterest in my garden. See they taters: ain't they getting on? Look at my peas and beans too. I calls they a sight, I do. Make some o' they gardeners in Old England skretch their wigs and wish they could grow things like 'em."

"Beautiful, Sam; but—"

"There's cauliflowers too, sir: ain't they splendid?"

"Couldn't be better, Sam; but—"

"Try my peas, sir." Pop! "There's a pod. Dozen fine uns, just as if they was a row o' green teeth laughing at you."

"Deliciously tender, Sam; but—"

"It's the sun, Master Nic; it's the sun," said the old man, who was too much wrapped up in his subject to heed the boy's remarks. "Sun's a scarce article at home, but here you gets it all day long, and it's the clouds is scarce. Why, you know summer at home, where the skies seem all like so much sopping wet flannel being squeezed; and not a sign o' sunshine for six weeks. What's to grow then?"

"Nothing, I suppose, Sam; but—"

"Of course you wants the water, sir. More sun you gets more water you wants, and that's why I tiddles it all along through the garden from up above yonder, just ketching it above where it comes over the waterfall."

"Yes, waterfall, Sam," cried Nic heartily. "I say, didn't you catch a lot of fish up there somewhere and bring home one day when my father was out?"

"To be sure I did," said the old man, now beginning to lend an ear.

"That's right. I want to catch some too."

"You'd ketch 'em then, my lad. There's lots on 'em."

"Tell me how you caught them. What did you use for bait?"

"Shovel," said the old man, grinning.

"What?"

"And peckaxe."

"I don't understand you."

"Why, it's plain enough, sir. It was when I was turning a hole into a sort o' ressywar to supply the garden—irrigglygate it, the master said, but I calls it watering."

"But I was talking about the fish, Sam."

"I know, sir; so was I. 'How did you ketch 'em?' says you. 'Shovel,' says I. I was making a place beyond the waterfall, and they swimmed in a hole there, where they'd got and couldn't get out again. So I makes a dyke with the peck and turns the water off and then ladles the fish out with the shovel. Two basketsful there was. One I took indoors for the ladies, and t'other we ate; and Brooky put away so many they made him queer for some days. But they didn't hurt me."

"But I wanted to fish for them with a rod and line."

"Oh-h-oh!" cried the old man. "You won't get many that-a-way. P'r'aps it would be best for you though. It's nation hard work pecking and digging, making dams and gullies among the rocks when the sun's hot."

"But I want some bait."

"Ay, you'll want some bait. We used to ketch eels at home with a big wum. There's lots here—whackers, some on 'em. Shall I get you a few?"

"Yes, do, please."

"So I will, Master Nic—barrowload if you like. You get me an old canister. There'll be some nice fat uns down aside where I grows my cowcumbers. Ah! I never thought, when I got digging 'em out o' the side of the cowcumber beds at home, I should ever get making on 'em out here, t'other side o' the world."

Nic fetched a bag instead of a canister, and soon after stood ready to start.

"You go same way as I took yer that night, Master Nic, and then work your way up for a hour or so, and all under they tree-ferns you'll find pools and pools with lots o' fish in 'em; but I don't know how you're going to get on with that long thin clothes-prop of a thing. But, there, you're a gen'leman, and I s'pose you knows best."

"Well, I shall try with it, Sam," said Nic, laughing.

"Ay, sir, do, and good luck to you. Now I'll get back to my hoeing."

Nic shouldered his rod, and with his basket in his hand he left the garden, went round by the wooden building set apart for the men, and then struck across the open ground for the gully, where he soon came upon the tree-bridge he had crossed that moonlight night in company with old Sam; and he could not help hesitating for a few moments as he looked down into the narrow, dark rift, along which the water was rushing far below, while the noise of the waterfall was hollow, reverberating, and strange.

Nic took a long breath, and looked at the tree, which had been felled so that it tumbled right across the rift, and then worked with an adze so as to make a level surface about as wide as an ordinary plank, the lower branches being left on at the sides of the trunk and beneath.

He drew another deep breath, and noted that if he fell, unless he caught at one of these hanging branches, checked himself and managed to climb back, he must drop all that tremendous depth into the black-looking pool of water below.

He drew a third deep breath, and thought that if he had known what the place was like, old Sam would never have got him across, that first night of his coming.

Then he took another long, deeper breath than ever, and said to himself:

"If that were a plank laid flat upon the ground I could hop along it upon one leg, so it is only cowardice to hesitate."

The next minute he was across, and walking along the other side of the ferny gully, to stop by the waterfall and admire the beauty of the glassy water as it glided over the rocks and fell down into the thick mist, which rose like a cloud toward the overhanging mosses and ferns.

But though the place was attractive enough to have kept him there for hours, and he wondered why he had not come to have a good look at it sooner, he felt that if he meant to catch any fish that day he must be stirring.

There was a well-trodden path along by the river, which beyond the waterfall ran on in a continuation of the gully but here the walls opened out rapidly, till a few hundred yards above it became a lovely little sunny valley, with rocky masses piled near the bed of the little river, made beautiful by the abundant growth. The ferns were much bigger than any he had yet seen, and the path wound in and out in many a zigzag, now toward the sloping sides of the ravine, now toward the sparkling, torrent-like stream, over which drooped many a bough, as if for the sunshine to rain through in a silver shower upon the water beneath, which flashed gloriously where the bright rays fell.

"I don't wonder at father choosing this place," thought Nic. "It grows more beautiful every way one goes."

He must have wandered and climbed in and out for a couple of miles before he grasped why it was that the path was so well beaten. A moist spot in a shady part, where the river was just upon his right, showed this, for the narrow track was printed all over by the hoofs of sheep, and he knew now that the footpath was their work, made when in hot weather they had selected the moist shades for grazing; while at a turn a few hundred yards farther on he had an indorsement of his surmise, for the slopes of the valley had grown less abrupt, and as far as he could see one side was dotted with creamy-white fleeces.

And now in the more level ground the torrent had become a swift, bright stream, bubbling and rippling here, swirling round in eddies there, and again becoming dark and deep-looking.

He gazed down into the transparent water, but his research was not rewarded by the sight of dark, gliding forms with sinuous, waving tails. Still, though no scaly prizes offered themselves for capture, there were plenty of other objects to attract him. Every now and then some beautiful butterfly flitted across the water, and twice had he paused to gaze with pleasant vexation at a lovely streak of wavy blue, as a kingfisher darted from its perch to fly up the stream.

"Well, I do call this tiresome," he cried, taking his fishing-rod from one shoulder to change it to the other. "If this had been my gun, you wouldn't have shown yourselves."

This was addressed to a little flock of small green birds which flew whistling and chattering more than chirping up the slope toward the level land above.

"I dare say those are the little green parrots Leather talked about."

Twice more he had capital chances to obtain specimens,—one being at some half-dozen birds, which seemed to be all pink except their snowy heads; the next time at a couple more in a tree. These did not fly till he was close enough to see that they were bright with bronze and green and red.

"Why, they must be pigeons," he said, as they darted off. "Well, I suppose one may see birds of any colour now."

At last!

He had reached an ideal spot, where one side of the river was dammed by a tangled mass of tree trunks which must have been brought down by some flood, to get jammed, and then gradually be stripped by the action of the water, till only the stems and larger branches were left; while on his side there was a dark, tempting-looking pool of water, which he approached cautiously, after laying down his rod, and then crawling toward it, gradually looked over the sharp, rocky edge of the river into the sunlit depths, to see dark bodies in slow motion some feet below sailing here and there to capture the tit-bits brought down by the stream.

Nic's eyes glistened as he drew back as cautiously as he had approached.

"This looks like real fishing," he said to himself, as he thought of the unsatisfactory sport he had had at home at the various ponds in the neighbourhood of the Friary, when a farmer gave them leave to go. "Wouldn't some of the boys like to be here. I shouldn't be surprised if this place has never been fished before. My word! they ought to bite."

Such uneducated fish certainly ought to have bitten; but though Nic approached the side again cautiously, keeping well back out of sight, and after carefully covering his hook with a worm, dropped it without a splash in a likely place, and then in a more likely one, and again and again into other spots which seemed each of them more likely than the last, not a bite did he get!

He was patient, too. He put on fresh baits, tried all over the pool, dropped in his worm so that it might be washed from the stream into the still, dark water, and sink among the fish.

Still there was not the sign of a bite.

"They must all have gone away," thought Nic, just as there was a burst of sharp screams from a flock of cockatoos, which, like the other birds, seemed wilder here in the moist shades than he had found them high up on the park-like downs near the great mountain gorge.

He crept upon his chest cautiously once more to get his eyes just over the sharp rock edge of the pool, to look down into the depths, fully convinced that he would not see a fish; but to his surprise there was quite a shoal of a goodly size slowly sailing about, and after a few moments he was able to make out that they were close by the bait, which lay at the bottom, moving slowly, while one of the largest fish was certainly looking at it.

"Bother!" muttered Nic, as he looked round about and thought of old Sam's style of fishing. "Well, one can't catch these with a shovel and a pickaxe. No one could bale out this pool."

"Having bad luck, sir?" said a deep voice; and Nic started up to find Leather standing close behind.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

A WOOLLY PATIENT AND A SCARE.

The man had approached over the soft moss unheard, though Nic had had warning of his coming from the cockatoos, which had shrieked out their alarm notes as he came down from among the sheep.

"Why, Leather, I did not hear you coming," said Nic, half annoyed by the interruption.

"I suppose not, sir. You were too intent. Don't they bite?"

"No, not a bit," said Nic gruffly; and to himself, "I wish he'd go."

"What are you fishing with, sir?"

"Worms."

"They will only take worms after a flood, when the water's thick."

Then without a word the man walked away, and Nic drew his line sharply from the water.

"Might have told me what bait they would take," muttered the boy. "Perhaps he doesn't know. Wish I had brought some paste. I don't care; that's good enough bait for anything. Now, here, some of you—bite."

But they did not, and Nic sat upon a great stone, feeling rather ill-used. He was glad the convict had gone, and at the same time sorry.

"I suppose I answered him very gruffly, and that sent him off," thought Nic.

"Now, sir. I've caught a few of these."

Nic jumped again, for once more the man had approached in silence.

"Eh! what have you got?"

"Locusts, or grasshoppers, sir. Have you a nice-sized new hook?"

"Oh yes, plenty," cried Nic eagerly, opening a flat box from which the man took one he thought suitable.

The next minute the hook bearing the great worm had been removed and one good-sized shot only left on the line.

"Now,—sir," said Leather, "these grasshoppers are tender, so drop the bait gently on the surface, right over yonder where the stream comes round that end of the tree root.—Well done. Couldn't be better. Now be on the look-out, sir."

The running water carried the great insect several feet into the still water before the weight of the shot began to act. Then very slowly it was drawn down beneath the surface, and they saw it descend and disappear in the obscurity, the line being slowly drawn after it.

"They won't take that ugly, crooked-legged thing," said Nic. "Why, it would choke any fish that ever breathed."

"Watch," said Leather quietly. "It takes some time to sink, for you have only one shot on; but it looks more natural, and it has not yet reached the fish. I think I'd draw in my slack line now, sir, and be ready to strike gently."

"No good," said Nic, who, however, took the advice.

"If you do hook one, don't let it run in among the old tree trunks, sir. If you do, the fish is lost. Directly you feel one, strike and lead it to the other end of the pool, and get it out in the shallows, where I can land it for you."

"Handle it carefully, Leather," said Nic, with a grim smile. "You see your grasshoppers are no better than my worms. These fish don't understand biting."

"No, sir, or they wouldn't have taken that locust. Steady, sir, steady. That's a heavy one. Well done; you'll master it. Your tackle's strong, and you must get it away from those roots and branches. That's the way. I'll go on and wait."

For, quivering with excitement, his pliable rod bent into a bow, and the line running sharply here and there through the water, Nic was following a fish which had taken the bait with a rush deep down in the pool.

A minute later he had it near the surface, and had drawn it into the stream which ran out of the deep hole, into the shallowest part of which the convict had waded, and as soon as line and current had brought it near enough, he gave one deft scoop with his joined hands and threw it out on to the bank.

"I say! is it true?" cried Nic. "I can't hardly believe it."

"It looks true enough, sir," replied the man. "Shall I take it off the hook?"

"Oh yes, please," cried Nic excitedly. "You've got some more of those grasshoppers?"

"Three, sir," said Leather, as he laid the fish at the boy's feet, "and I can soon get some more. You'll find these fish very good eating, but you must catch a dishful."

"Why, Leather, you seem to know everything about the country."

"I have had a long training, sir. You will know more than I do when you have been here two or three years. Now, then, throw in again."

"Here, hi! Do you know one of them sheep's falled down into a hole? I'm sure master don't mean you to be wasting all your time out there, and idling about like a schoolboy."

This was yelled hoarsely from some fifty yards away, and Nic saw that his companion started as if he had been stung.

An angry speech was on Nic's lips at this interruption, but he checked it, for he knew that he had no right to keep the man from his work.

"Coming directly," he said in loud tones. Then to. Leather: "Stop a minute while I catch another, and then you shall go. You must land it for me."

Brookes was not kept long waiting, for another fish was hooked and landed in the same way; but before Leather had scooped it out Brookes was shouting again furiously.

"Must go, sir," said the convict.

"Stop and I'll come with you," cried Nic, laying down his rod as soon as the fish was unhooked, and he hurried with the man to where Brookes stood talking, though half he said was inaudible.

"Here, Master Nic," he said, as they approached; "I dunno what your father'll say. Here's one of his best sheep o' that new breed down in a hole. You've no business to let that fellow leave his work."

"Where is it?" said Leather anxiously.

"Where is it? Where d'yer s'pose it is?" said Brookes fiercely. "Down in the narrer."

"The sheep were all safe a few minutes ago," said Leather; and he ran off.

"Oh, yes," said Brookes, in a sneering tone; "'course they were."

"Is it badly hurt?"

"Badly hurt? I s'pose so. It'll have to be killed."

He trudged on, muttering surlily, and Nic followed up on to the level ground, where they could see the convict lowering himself down, only his head and shoulders being visible.

The next minute they were standing at the edge of a narrow rift some six feet wide and as many deep—a rift that ran on down into the valley they had just quitted, and at the bottom of which lay a sheep bleating piteously as Leather bestrode its woolly carcass.

"Why didn't you pull it out instead of coming sneaking after us?" cried Nic.

"Eh? What?" cried Brookes, staring. "'Tain't my place to look after they sheep. Leatherhead was set to do it, and he goes on neglecting his work. Ah! here comes the master. Now we shall see."

For the doctor was coming cantering toward them over the level ground from about a quarter of a mile away, and Nic felt vexed and in dread of what was to follow.

"Is it hurt, Leather?" he said.

"Yes, sir, badly—its leg's broken," replied the man; and bending down, he placed his arms round the poor animal, raised it up on to his shoulder, and began to climb with difficulty out of the rift. As he reached the edge he nearly slipped back.

"Why don't you help?" cried Nic angrily; but Brookes did not stir; and if the boy had not darted forward and got a good pull of the wool, man and sheep would have toppled backward to the bottom.

"Thank you, sir," said the convict. "There's no foothold, and I lost my balance. One moment. That's it;" and the sheep was rolled off his shoulder on to the grass.

"What's the matter?" cried the doctor, cantering up, leaping down, and throwing the reins over his horse's head on to the grass, when the beautiful animal stood still.

"One o' the best ewes down in that grip. I come and found it just now."

"Yes, but you didn't try to get it out," said Nic.

"It warn't in my charge," growled Brookes.

"How was this, my man?" said the doctor. "You were set to look after them."

"Yes, sir," said the convict respectfully. "The sheep were all right a quarter of an hour ago."

"Yes, and they'd ha' been all right now if you'd looked arter them 'stead o' wasting your time fishing," growled Brookes. "I'm glad master's here to know."

"Were you fishing, sir?" said the doctor sternly; but before Leather could answer Nic cried quickly:

"No, father, he wasn't. He came down to the river to get me a few baits. I wanted him there. Why didn't Brookes help the sheep out?"

"Because it was the other man's duty, sir," said the doctor quickly; and Leather gave the boy a sharp look, as much as to say, "Don't speak, sir; you'll make things worse."

"Ah, you needn't signal the young master to take yer part," cried Brookes. "It's true enough; you ain't worth your salt on the station."

"That will do, Brookes," said the doctor.

"Oh, I don't want to say nothing, sir. I was only looking arter your property."

"Tut, tut, tut!" cried the doctor, as he felt the sheep's leg. "One of my choicest ewes. The leg's broken. That active sheep couldn't have broken its leg through falling down there. It would have jumped it like a goat. Why, Leather, the poor brute has been savagely kicked."

"It looks like it, sir," said the convict quietly.

"Why, so it do," chimed in Brookes, as he bent over the helpless sheep.

"Do you know anything of it, sir?" cried the doctor, eyeing the convict keenly.

The man shook his head.

"It's very strange," said the doctor, looking at Brookes, who took off his hat, scratched his head, and looked round at the convict, while Nic glanced at Brookes's boots and then at the poor sandal-like shoes the convict wore, which were evidently a piece of his own work.

"Like me to kill the poor thing out of its misery, sir," said Brookes, "and take off its skin?"

"No," said the doctor shortly.

"Won't be nothin' the matter with the meat, sir."

"Nic," said his father, "jump on the horse and ride home. Ask your mother to give you a roll of bandage, and bring it back here."

"Yes, father."

"Why, you ain't going to bind that 'ere leg up, are ver?" said Brookes.

"Will you be good enough not to interrupt?" said the doctor. "Here, hi, Nic, my boy. Tell Samson to give you a sack and an axe. You can throw the sack across the horse."

"Yes, father," cried the boy; and he cantered off, obtained the bandage and sack, and was back in less than an hour, to find that Leather had, under the doctor's directions, cut some pieces of wood from a tree, and with these for splints the doctor cleverly bandaged the broken leg.

"There, Nic," he said, "I should not do that in a regular way, but this is a very valuable sheep, brought out to me by one of the last ships. Now one of you cut a good stout pole, say twelve feet long."

Brookes looked at Leather, who caught up the axe and ran off.

While he was gone the doctor opened a part of the bottom of the sack, and cut four slits in the side; and this being done, Nic looked on in surprise while the sack was drawn over the struggling sheep's head, its head pulled out of the bottom, and the legs put through the four slits.

"Now gather the sack together so that the poor brute cannot struggle out, Brookes," said the doctor; and this was easily effected, as the animal was upon its side.

Then the doctor made holes and laced up the mouth of the sack securely, all but a few inches; and by this time Leather was back with a stout, neatly trimmed pole.

"Do you see what I mean?" said the doctor.

"Yes, sir," replied the convict, and he slipped the pole through the sack above the sheep's back, leaving about four feet out at each end.

"Now, Brookes, take the other end," said the doctor; "lift together, and get the pole on your shoulders, both of you."

"What, and carry that lame sheep home?" said Brookes.

"Yes; and its legs must not touch the ground."

"But hadn't you better let us chuck it across the back of the horse?"

"No. Now, together. Lift," cried the doctor; and as this was done the sheep gave a dismal bleat, and hung from the pole, with its head and legs out,—a ridiculous-looking object, which made Nic smile, but Brookes's face made the smile expand, so soured and puckered did it become, for the sheep was heavy, the farm buildings were some distance away, and the sun was coming down hot as the two men strode away, Leather looking heavy and stern, but apparently ready to undertake any amount of work.

"You can ride, Nic," said the doctor, as the boy fetched up the horse.

"But my fishing-rod and line, father?"

"Where are they?"

"Down yonder, by one of the pools."

"Oh, then you must go that way home."

"Yes, father, and I have two fish."

"Well done."

"I say, father, I feel sure that Leather did not kick that sheep."

"Who did then?" said the doctor.

"I don't like to say, father."

"That is suggesting your belief that it was Brookes, a man whom I have always found to work well in my interests, Nic. He has no spite against me."

"Do you think the other man has?"

"I don't know, boy. There, go on your way, and I'll go home. One word, Nic. I want you to enjoy yourself, but I cannot have my men taken away from their work, mind that."

The doctor cantered after the men bearing the sheep, and as Nic stood for a few minutes watching them, he heard the sheep give a piteous baa, as if protesting against its treatment, after which the men halted and changed shoulders.

Nic was too far off to see the expression of the men's faces, but he felt pretty certain that Brookes's was anything but pleasant, and he felt glad.

"I believe he did that out of spite against Leather," thought Nic, "so as to make it seem as if it was through neglect. I don't know, though, a man could hardly be such a brute."

Nic descended into the little valley once more, and made his way along by the stream to the pool where he had left his rod.

"There's one more locust," he said to himself; "and I'll try and catch another fish. Three will make a much better show. I dare say one would bite directly;" and determined to spend a few minutes in adding to his brace, he hurried on, thinking how beautiful the great, dense clump of trees on the other side of the stream appeared, many of them drooping gracefully over the water.

"The beauty of a place like this is," he thought, "that you can leave things about and there is no one to take them."

He smiled as he picked up his rod, drew the line through his fingers, and baited the hook with the great insect ready to cast right over into the stream so that the locust might be washed naturally into the sunlit pool.

"Now, if I can catch another as big as the—Hullo! where are those fish?"

Nic did not cast the locust, but stared hard at the spot where the fish had been laid down upon some fern leaves; but though the latter were still glistening with slime, the prizes were gone.

"They must have flopped their way back into the water," said Nic to himself; "they went that way because it was all on a slope. Well, of all the tiresome nuisances I ever knew, this is about the worst. I wouldn't have lost those fish for anything. They must have flopped to and fro down here and over that soft place."

Nic's thoughts stood still. The soft place he alluded to was close down to the shallow where Leather had waded in, and the water which had dripped from his legs lay upon the herbage and soft, dank, moist earth; but there was something else—footprints! Not Leather's, made by broad shoe-soles, but newly impressed marks with wide-spreading toes, the big toe in each case being rather thumb-like in its separation from the others.

For some two or three minutes Nic did not stir, but bent down staring at those footprints. Then he glanced sharply over the shallows at the thick foliage, fully expecting to see a spear come flying at him.

"That's the way my fish went," he muttered as he turned and fled, feeling a sudden check the next minute, as if some one had seized the rod which hung over his shoulder, and a thrill of fear ran through him as he turned sharply round, when snap went the line, and he saw that the hook and locust were sticking in an overhanging bough, and about a yard of the line was hanging down.

That was enough to drive away some of his fear, but not all.

"One can't fight blacks with fishing-rods," muttered the boy as he again began to run, and he made his way homeward more quickly than he had come, and did not pause once to look back, though if he had it was doubtful whether he would have seen the cunning black face peering from out of the wattle scrub, watching him as he ran in and out through the trees, and then disappearing as soon as Nic was out of sight.

The fugitive did not pause till he reached home bathed in perspiration, just as his father rode slowly in side by side with the laden men, they having taken a shorter cut while he had followed the wanderings of the stream.

"Ah, Nic," cried his father, "you shouldn't run and overheat yourself like that, boy. Now, men, carry the poor beast into the stable and rest the pole on the rails; its hoofs will then be about five inches from the ground.—What?"

"Blackfellows, father," said Nic, as soon as he could get his breath; "I saw their footmarks, and they have carried off my fish."



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

A SQUATTER'S LIFE.

Nic's announcement caused a little panic. The three blacks who came and went about the place were summoned and sent out searching, the house was placed in a state of defence, and Samson, Brookes, and Leather all furnished with guns and ammunition to stand ready for any emergency, taking it in turns though to keep watch, while horses and cattle were driven into the south enclosures by the house, and everything possible done to secure their safety.

Knowing his mother's nervousness, Nic could not help staring in wonder at the calm way in which she and her daughters behaved at what might, for aught they could tell, be a dangerous time, for neither showed the slightest trace of fear.

In a couple of hours, though, the black known as Bungarolo came back to announce that, "Blackfellow all agone," and he pointed away toward the dense bush, miles from where they were standing.

The explanation of the other two blacks when they returned cleared away the rest of the alarm, the doctor concluding that a few of the many wanderers had been near and gone away again, blacks probably belonging to a friendly tribe.

Consequently the next day matters went on as usual, save that Nic had to mount with his father, and, accompanied by two of their blacks, made a wide circuit about the station, touching the edge of the great gorge at one point and then riding round for miles.

Twice over the men, who trotted along easily enough step for step with the horses, pointed out tracks going and coming; and as the party was made out to be three only it was felt that there was no cause for alarm, and toward evening they rode back to the station with the glad news.

"But wouldn't it have been very awkward for them if the blacks had come while we were away, father?" Nic ventured to ask on their way back.

"Yes, but they would have shut themselves in at once," said the doctor; "two of the men would have been with them, and the other would have followed us, firing signals as he came. If the danger had been imminent, he would have seized the first horse and galloped over to Mr Dillon's station."

"I see," said Nic.

"It's mutual help out here, Nic. If one station is in danger, those nearest are always ready to gallop to its help."

Then came days and weeks of busy life, with Nic finding little time for amusement, but enjoying the novelty of his new career. There were long rides to drive in cattle; visits to be paid to flocks miles away from the station; messages to be taken to Samson, Brookes, or Leather, who in turn were far away with the roaming sheep or oxen; and the boy was joked at home by mother and sisters for the way he ate, slept, and seemed to expand.

During this period he saw little of Leather, and the incident of the injured sheep and Brookes's apparent enmity toward the convict was for the time forgotten, these two rarely being together.

Still, at different times Nic could not help noticing what a rooted dislike there was in the regular men against their convict fellow-servant, even old Samson shaking his head and expressing his belief that the station would be far better without "such as he."

"I don't want to be hard on anything 'cept blight, Master Nic," said the old man one day; "but it comes nat'ral to a man to feel shy of a gaol bird who may rise agen you at any time and take to the bush."

"Oh, but Leather is not that sort of man, Sam," said Nic.

"Ah, that's very nice, young gentleman; but you don't know, and I don't know. All I say is if there's a bull about on that side o' the fence it's best to walk on this."

"But the bull may not mean to do you harm, Sam."

"P'r'aps not, sir; but bulls have mad fits now and then, so does convicts. I've know'd two stations 'tacked and every one killed, and they said it was the blacks; but they very soon found that it warn't, for in each case a lot had escaped from the chain gang, took to the bush, and every 'signed servant as they come across jyned 'em."

"That's very horrible," said Nic. "And what became of them?"

"Ah, you may well say that, sir: some was shot down by the soldiers, some was killed by the natives, some was lost in the bush and died o' hunger and thirst, while the blacks speared the rest all but one, and he gave himself up. They do a lot o' mischief, these chaps, when they take to the bush, sir; but, fortunately for honest folk, they all come to a bad end."

Then came a more leisure time, when old Samson took a holiday, as he called it—that is to say, he worked from daylight to darkness over his rather neglected garden; while Nic had leisure to think again of his natural history specimens, and went out with his gun; but he did not feel at all keen about sitting down in a woody place near the river to fish and offer himself as a mark for any black who meant to practise hurling his spear. It was so much more satisfactory to mount Sour Sorrel and ride off, gun in hand, through the open woodland with the soft breeze sweeping by his cheek, and pick up a beautifully feathered bird from time to time.

The injured sheep had grown quite well, and, save that it limped as it grazed, its leg was as strong as ever; "and that lameness does not interfere with its promising to be a good mother," said the doctor, smiling, as he pointed to the pair of white lambs gambolling by the lame sheep's side.

"Did you ever satisfy yourself as to how its leg was broken?" said Nic.

"No, my boy; and I did not want to. I have my suspicions, but I let them rest. It is the same at most of the stations—the free men dislike the bond. It is natural. And now that things are going on peaceably, we will let them rest."

One day, quite by accident, the boy found himself thrown in contact again with Leather, whose brown, deeply lined countenance always brightened when Nic came across him somewhere with his sheep.

"I say, Leather," he said, as he sat on his nag watching the man busily carving a stick he had cut: "you remember telling me about how the blacks followed the bees?"