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 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013247493 
 
nPacmtUan'g Colonial Xtbrarip^ 
 
 THE 
 
 SQ^UATTER'S DREAM 
 
 H Storig of Huetralian %itc 
 
 ROLF BOLDEEWOOD 
 
 AUTHOR OF "ROBBERY UNDER ARMS," "THE MINElt's RIGHT," ETC, 
 
 Hontion 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited 
 
 NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 1899 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
Richard Clay and Sons, Limited, 
 london and bungay. 
 
THE SQUATTER'S DEEAM 
 
 A STOBT OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Here in the sultriest season let him rest. 
 
 Fresh is the green beneath those aged trees ; 
 Here winds of gentlest wing will fan his breast, 
 
 From heaven itself he may inhale the breeze. " — Byron. 
 
 Sa.ce. Redgrave was a jolly, well-to-do young squatter, 
 who, in the year 185-, had a very fair cattle station in one 
 of the Australian colonies, upon which he lived in much 
 comfort and reasonable possession of the minor luxuries of 
 life. He had, in bush parlance, " taken it up " himself, 
 when hardly more than a lad, had faced bad seasons, blacks, 
 bush-fires, bushrangers, and bankers (these last he always 
 said terrified him far more than the others), and had finally 
 settled down into a somewhat too easy possession of a 
 couple of thousand good cattle, a well-bred, rather fortunate 
 stud, and a roomy, cool cottage with a broad verandah all 
 covered with creepers. 
 
 The climate in which his abode was situated was tem- 
 perate, from latitude and proximity to the coast. It was 
 cold in the winter, but many a ton of she-oak and box had 
 burned away in the great stone chimney, before which Jack 
 used to toast himself in the cold nights, after a long day's 
 riding after cattle. He had plenty of books, for he did not 
 altogether neglect what he called his mind, and he had time 
 
 a B 
 
■2 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 to read them, as of course he was not always out on the run, 
 or away mustering, or doing a small — sometimes very small 
 — bit of business at the country town, just forty miles off, 
 or drafting or branding his cattle. He would work away 
 manfully at all these avocations for a time, and then, the 
 cattle being branded up, the business in the country town 
 settled, the musters completed, and the stockmen gone 
 home, he used to settle down for a week or two at home, 
 and take it easy. Then he read whole forenoons, rather 
 indiscriminately perhaps, but still to the general advantage 
 of his intelligence. History, novels, voyages and travels, 
 classics, science, natural history, political economy, languages 
 — they all had their turn. He had an uncommonly good 
 memory, so that no really well-educated prig could be cer- 
 tain that he would be found ignorant upon any given 
 subject then before the company, as he was found to possess 
 a fund of information when hard pressed. 
 
 He was a great gardener, and had the best fruit trees and 
 some of the best flowers in that part of the country. At all 
 odd times, that is, early in the morning before it was time 
 to dress for breakfast, in afternoons when he had been 
 out all day, and generally when he had nothing particular 
 to do, he was accustomed to dig patiently, and to plant and 
 prune, and drain and trench, in this garden of his. He 
 was a strong fellow, who had always lived a steady kind of 
 life, so that he had a constitution utterly unimpaired, and 
 spirits to match. These last were so good that he generally 
 rose in the morning with the kind of feeling which every 
 boy experiences during the holidays — that the day was not 
 long enough for all the enjoyable occupations which were 
 before him, and that it was incumbent on him to rise up 
 and enter into possession of these delights with as little 
 loss of time as might be. 
 
 For there were so many pleasant things daily occurring, 
 and, wonderful to relate, they were real, absolute duties. 
 There were those cattle to be drafted that had been brought 
 from the Lost Waterhole, most of which he had not seen 
 for six months. There were those nice steers to ride 
 through, now so grown and fattened — indeed almost ready 
 for market. There were ever so many pretty little calves, 
 white and roan and red, which he had never seen at all, fol- 
 
I.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 3 
 
 lowing their mothers, and which were of course to be branded. 
 It was not an unpleasant office placing the brand carefully 
 upon their tender skins, an office he seldom delegated — seeing 
 the J R indelibly imprinted thereon, with the consciousness 
 that each animal so treated might be considered to be a five- 
 pound note added to his property and possessions. 
 
 There was the wild-fowl shooting in the lagoons and 
 marshes which lay amid his territory ; the kangaroo hunt- 
 ing with favourite greyhounds ; the jolly musters at his 
 neighbours' stations — all cattle-men Uke himself ; and the 
 occasional races, picnics, balls, and parties at the country 
 town, where resided many families, including divers young 
 ladies, whose fresh charms often caused Jack's heart to 
 bound like a cricket-ball. He was in great force at the 
 annual race meetings. Then all the good fellows — and there 
 were many squatters in those days that deserved the 
 appellation — who lived within a hundred miles would come 
 down to Hampden, the country town referred to; and 
 great would be the joy and jollity of that week. Every- 
 body, in a general way, bred, trained, and rode his own 
 horses ; and as everybody, in a general way, was young and 
 active, the arrangement was productive of excellent racing 
 and unlimited fun. 
 
 Then the race ball, at which everybody made it a point of 
 honour to dance all night. Then the smaller dances, picnics, 
 and riding parties — for nearly all the Hampden young ladies 
 could ride well. While the "schooling" indulged in by 
 Jack and his contemporaries, under the stimulus of ladies' 
 eyes, over the stiff fences which surrounded Hampden, was 
 " delightfully dangerous," as one of the girls observed, 
 regretting that such amusements were to her prohibited. 
 A.t the end of the week everybody went peaceably home 
 again, fortified against such dullness as occasionally invades 
 that freest of all free Uves, that pleasantest of all pleasant 
 professions — the calling of a squatter. 
 
 Several times in each year, generally in the winter time, 
 our hero would hold a great general gathering at Marsh- 
 mead, and would " muster for fat cattle," as the important 
 operation was termed. Then all the neighbours within 
 fifty miles would come over, or send their stockmen, 
 as the case might be, and there would be great 
 
 B 2 
 
THE SQUATTER'S DREAM t [cha1>. 
 
 fun for a few days — galloping about and around, and 
 "cutting out," in the camp every day; feasting, and smok- 
 ing, and singing, and story-telling, both in the cottage and 
 the huts, with a modest allowance of drinking (in the dis- 
 trict around Hampden there was very little of that), by 
 night. After a few days of this kind of work, Jack would 
 go forth proudly on the war-path with his stockman, Geordie 
 Stirling, and a black boy, and in front of them a good draft 
 of unusually well-bred fat cattle, in full route for the 
 metropolis — a not very lengthened drive — during which no 
 possible care by day or by night was omitted by Jack or his 
 subordinates — indeed, they seldom slept, except by snatches, 
 for the last ten days of the journey, never put the cattle in 
 the yard for any consideration whatever, but saw them 
 safely landed at their market, and ready for the flattering 
 description with which they were always submitted to the 
 bidding of the butchers. 
 
 This truly important operation concluded, Geordie and 
 the boy were generally sent back the next day, and Jack 
 proceeded to enjoy himself for a fortnight, as became a 
 dweller in the wilderness who had conducted his enterprise 
 to that point of success which comprehends the cheque in 
 your pocket. How he used to enjoy those lovely genuine holi- 
 days, after his hard work ! for the work, while it lasted, was 
 pretty hard. And, though Jack with his back to the fire 
 in the club smoking-room, laying down the law about the 
 " Orders in Council " or the prospects of the next Assembly 
 Ball, did not give one the idea of a life of severe self-denial, 
 yet neither does a sailor on shore. And as Jack Tar, rolling 
 down the street, " with courses free," is still the same man 
 who, a month since, was holding on to a spar (and life) at 
 midnight, reefing the ice-hard sail, with death and darkness 
 around for many a league ; so our Jack, leading his horse 
 across a cold plain, and tramping up to his ankles in frosted 
 mud, the long night through, immediately behind his half- 
 seen drove, was the same man, only in the stage of toil and 
 endurance, preceding and giving keener zest to that of en- 
 joyment. Our young squatter was a very sociable fellow, 
 and had plenty of friends. He wished iU to no man, and 
 would rather do a kindness to any one than not. He liked 
 all kinds of people for all kinds of opposite qualities. He 
 
1.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 5 
 
 liked the " fast " men, because they were often clever 
 and generally had good manners. There was no danger 
 of his following their lead, because he was unusually 
 steady ; and besides, if he had any obstinacy it was in the 
 direction of choosing his own path. He liked the savants, and 
 the musical celebrities, and the "good" people, because he 
 sympathized with all their different aims or attainments. 
 He liked the old ladies because of their experience and 
 improving talk ; and he liked, or rather loved, aU the young 
 ladies, tall or short, dark or fair, slow, serious, languishing, 
 literary — there was something very nice about all of them. 
 In fact. Jack Redgrave liked everybody, and everybody 
 liked him. He had that degree of amiability which pro- 
 ceeds from a rooted dislike to steady thinking, combined 
 with strong sympathies. He hated being bored in any 
 way himself, and tried to protect others from what annoyed 
 him so especially. No wonder that he was popular. 
 
 After two or three weeks of town life, into which he 
 managed to compress as many dinners, dances, talks, flirta- 
 tions, rides, drives, new books, and new friends, as would 
 have lasted any moderate man a year, he would virtuously 
 resolve to go home to Marshmead. After beginning to 
 sternly resolve and prepare on Monday morning, he gene- 
 rally went on resolving and preparing till Saturday, at 
 some hour of which fatal day he would depart, telling 
 himself that he had had enough town for six months. 
 
 In a few days he would be back at Marshmead. Then a 
 new period of enjoyment commenced, as he woke in the 
 pure fresh bush air — his window I need not state was 
 always open at night — and heard the fluty carols of the 
 black and white birds which " proclaim the dawn," and the 
 lowing of the dairy herd being fetched up by Geordie, who 
 was a preternaturally early riser. 
 
 A stage or two on the town side of his station lived 
 Bertram Tunstall, a great friend of his, whose homestead 
 he always made the day before reaching home. They were 
 . great cronies. 
 
 Tunstall was an extremely well-educated man, and had 
 a far better head than Jack, whom he would occasionally 
 lecture for want of method, punctuality, and general heed- 
 lessness of the morrow. Jack had more life and energy 
 
6 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 than his friend, to whom, however, he generally deferred 
 in important matters. They had a sincere liking and 
 respect for one another, and never had any shadow of cold- 
 ness fallen upon their friendship. When either man went 
 to town it would have been accounted most unfriendly if 
 he had not within the week, or on his way home, visited 
 the other, and given him the benefit of his new ideas and 
 experiences. 
 
 Jack accordingly rode up to the " Lightwoods " half an 
 hour before sunset, and seeing his friend sitting in the 
 verandah reading, raised a wild shout and galloped up to 
 the garden gate. 
 
 " Well, Bertie, old boy, how serene and peaceful we look. 
 No wonder those ruffianly agricultural agitators think we 
 squatters never do any work, and ought to have our runs 
 taken away and given to the poor. Why, all looks as quiet 
 as if everything was done and thought about till next 
 Christmas, and as if you had been reading steadily in that 
 chair since I saw you last." 
 
 " Even a demagogue. Jack, would hesitate to believe that 
 because a man read occasionally he didn't work at all. I 
 wish theywoxsld. read more, by the way ; then they wouldn't 
 be so illogical. But I really haven't much to do just now, 
 except in the garden, I'm a store-cattle man, you know, 
 and my lot being well broken in " 
 
 " You've ' only to sit in the verandah and read till they 
 get fat. That's the worst of our life. There isn't enough 
 for a man of energy to do — and upon my word, old feUow, 
 I'm getting tired of it." 
 
 " Tired of what 1 " asked. his friend, rather wonderingly ; 
 " tired of your life, or tired of your bread and butter, 
 because the butter is too abundant t Oh, I see, we are 
 just returned from town, where we met a young lady 
 who " 
 
 " Not at all ; not that I didn't meet a very nice girl- 
 
 ' You always do. If you went to Patagonia, you'd say, 
 ' 'Pon my word I met a very nice girl there, considering — 
 her hair wasn't very greasy, she had good eyes and teeth, 
 and her skin — her skins, I mean — had not such a bad 
 odour when you got used to it.' You're such a very 
 tolerant feUow." 
 
I.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 7 
 
 " You be hanged ; but this Ellen Middleton really was 
 a nice girl, capital figure, nice face, good expression you 
 know, and reads — so few girls read at all nowadays." 
 
 " I believe they read just as much as or more than ever ; 
 only when a fellow takes a gixl for good and all, to last him 
 for forty or fifty years, if he live so long, she'd need to be a 
 very nice girl indeed, as you say." 
 
 " Don't talk in that utilitarian way ; one would think you 
 had no heart ; but it does seem an awful risk, doesn't it 1 
 Suppose one got taken in, as you do sometimes about horses 
 • incurably lame,' or ' no heart,' like that brute Bolivar I gave 
 such a price for. What a splendid thing it would be if one 
 were only a Turk, and could marry every year and believe 
 one was acting most religiously and devoutly." 
 
 " Come, Jack, who is talking unprofitably now i Some- 
 thing's gone wrong with you evidently. Here comes 
 dinner." 
 
 After dinner the friends sat and smoked in the broad 
 verandah, and looked out over the undulating grassy downs, 
 timbered like a park, and at the blue starry night. 
 
 " I really was in earnest," said Jack, " when I talked 
 about being tired of the sort of life you and I, and all the 
 fellows in this district, are leading just now." 
 
 " Were you though ? " asked his friend ; " what's amiss 
 with it]" 
 
 " Well, we are wasting our time, I consider, with these 
 small cattle stations. No one has room for more than two 
 or three thousand head of cattle. And what are they?" 
 
 " Only a pleasant livelihood," answered his friend, "in- 
 cluding books, quiet, fresh air, exercise, variety, a dignified 
 occupation, and perfect independence, plus one or two 
 thousand a year income. It's not much, I grant you ; but 
 I'm a moderate man, and I feel almost contented." 
 
 " What's a couple of thousand a year in a country like 
 this?" broke in Jack, impetuously, "while those sheep- 
 holding fellows in Riverina are making their five or ten 
 upon country only half or a quarter stocked. They have 
 only to breed up, and there they are, with fifty or a hundred 
 thousand sheep. Sheep, with the run given in, will always 
 be worth a pound ahead, whatever way the country 
 goes." 
 
8 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM: [chap, 
 
 "I'm not so sure of that," said Tunstall ; "though I 
 have never been across the Murray, and don't intend to go, 
 lis far as I know. As for sheep, I hate them, and I hate 
 shepherds, lazy crawling wretches I they and the sheep are 
 just fit to torment one another. Besides, how do you know 
 these great profits <vre made? You're not much of an 
 accountant, Jack, excuse me." 
 
 "I didn't think you were so prejudiced," quoth Jack, 
 with dignity. " I can cipher fast enough when it's worth 
 whUe. Besides, better heads than mine are in the spec. You 
 know Foreland, Marsalay, the Milmans, and Hugh Brass, all 
 longheaded men ! They are buying up unstocked country 
 or cattle runs, and putting on ewes by the ten thousand." 
 
 " Better heads than yours may lie as low, my dear Jack ; 
 though I don't mean to say you have a bad head by any 
 means. And as to the account-keeping you can do that 
 very reasonably, like most other things — wli&n you try, 
 when you try, old man. But you don't often try, you 
 careless, easygoing beggar that you are, except when you 
 are excited — as you are now — by something in the way of 
 natural history — a mare's nest, so to speak." 
 
 " This mare's nest will have golden eggs in it then. Theo- 
 doras Sharpe told me that he made as much in one year 
 from the station he bought out there as he had done in 
 half-a-dozen while he was wasting his life (that was his 
 expression) down here." 
 
 " Has the benevolent Theodorus any unstocked back 
 country to dispose of i " asked Tunstall, quietly. 
 
 " Well, he has one place to sell — a regular bargain," said 
 Jack, rather hesitatingly, " but we didn't make any special 
 agreement about it. I am to go out and see the country 
 for myself." 
 
 " And suppose you do like it, and believe a good deal 
 more of what Theodorus Sharpe tells you than I should like 
 to do, what then ? " 
 
 " Why then I shall sell Marshmead, buy a large block of 
 country, and put on breeding sheep." 
 
 " I suppose it wouldn't be considered perfectly Eastern 
 hospitality to call a man a perfect fool in one's own house. 
 But, Jack, if you do this thing I shall think so. You may 
 quarrel with me if you like." 
 
I.] A STOKY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 9 
 
 " I should never quarrel with you, dear old boy, whatever 
 you said or thought. Be sure of that," said Jack, feelingly. 
 " We have been too long friends and brothers for that. 
 But I reserve my right to think you an unambitious, un- 
 progressive what's-your-name. You will be eaten out by 
 cockatoos in another five years, when I am selling out and 
 starting for my European tour." 
 
 " I will take the chance of that," said Tunstall ; " but, 
 joking apart, I would do anything to persuade you not to 
 go. Besides, you have a duty to perform to this district, 
 where you have lived so long, and, on the whole, done so 
 well. I thought you were rather strong on the point, though 
 I confess I am not, of duty to one's country socially, politi- 
 cally, and what not." 
 
 "Well, I grant you I had notions of that kind once," 
 admitted Jack, " but then you see all these small towns have 
 become so confoundedly democratic lately, that I think we 
 squatters owe them nothing, and must look after our own 
 interests.'' 
 
 " Which means making as much money as ever we can, 
 and by whatever means. Jack ! Jack ! the demon of vulgar 
 ambition, mere material advancement, has seized upon you, 
 and I can see it is of no use talking. My good old warm- 
 hearted Jack has vanished, and in his place I see a mere 
 money-making speculator, gambling with land and stock 
 instead of cards and dice. If you make the money you 
 dream of, it will do you no good, and if not " 
 
 " Well, if not ? Suppose I don't win ? " 
 
 " Then you will lose your life, or all that makes life worth 
 having. I have never seen a ruined man who had not lost 
 much beside his years and his money. I can't say another 
 word. Good-night ! " 
 
 Kext morning the subject was not resumed. The friends 
 wrung each other's hands silently at parting, and Jack rode 
 home to Marshmead. 
 
 When he got to the outer gate of the paddock he opened 
 it meditatively, and as he swung it to without dismounting 
 his heart smote him for the deed he was about to commit, 
 as a species of treason against all bis foregone life and 
 associations. 
 
CHAPTEE, II, 
 
 " Who calleth thee, heart 1 World's strife, 
 With a golden heft to his knife." — E. B. Brovmrng, 
 
 The sun was setting over the broad, open creek flat, 
 whicli was dotted with groups gf cattle, the prevailing 
 white and roan colouring of which testified to their short- 
 horn extraction. It was the autumnal season, but the early 
 rains, which never failed in that favoured district, had pro- 
 moted the growth of a thick and green if rather short 
 sward, grateful to the eye after the somewhat hot day. A 
 couple of favourite mares and half -a dozen blood yearlings 
 came galloping up, neighing, and causing Hassan, his 
 favourite old hack, to put up his head and sidle about. 
 Everything looked prosperous and peaceful, and, withal, 
 wore that indescribable air of half solitude which charac- 
 terizes the Australian bush. 
 
 Jack's heart swelled as he saw the place which he had first 
 chosen out of the waste, which he had made and built up, 
 stick by stick, hut by hut, into its present comfortable com- 
 pleteness, and he said to himself — " I have half a mind to 
 stick to old Hampden after all ! " Here was the place where, 
 a mere boy, he had ridden a tired horse one night, neither of 
 them having eaten since early morn, into the thick of a 
 camp of hostile blacks ! How he had called upon the old 
 horse with sudden spur, and how gallantly the good nag, so 
 dead beat but a moment before, had answered, and carried 
 him safely away from the half -childish, half -ferocious beings 
 who would have knocked him on the head with as little 
 remorse then as an opossum ! Yonder was where the old 
 sod hut stood, put up by him and the faithful Geordie, and 
 in which he had considered himself luxuriously lodged, as a 
 contrast to living under a dray. 
 
CHAP. II.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 11 
 
 Over there was where he had sowed his first vegetable 
 seeds, cutting down and carrying the saplings with which it 
 was fenced. It was, certainly, so small that the blacks 
 believed he had buried some one there, whom he had done 
 to death secretly, ajid would never be convinced to the 
 contrary, disbelieving both his vows and his vegetables. 
 There was the stockyard which he and Geordie had put up, 
 carrying much of the material on their shoulders, when the 
 bullocks, as was their ■ custom, " quite frequent," were lost 
 for a week. 
 
 He gazed at the old slab hut, the first real expensive 
 regular station-buUding which the property had boasted. 
 How proud he had been of it too ! Slabs averaging over 
 a foot wide ! Upper and lower wall-plates all complete. 
 Loop holes, necessities of the period, on either side of the 
 chimney. Never was there such a hut. It was the first 
 one he had helped to build, and it was shrined as a palace 
 in his imagination for years after. 
 
 And now that the rude old days were gone, and the 
 pretty cottage stood, amid the fruitful orchard and trim 
 flower-beds, that the brown face of Harry the groom appears, 
 from a well-ordered stable, with half-a-dozen colts and hacks 
 duly done by at rack and manger, that the stackyard showed 
 imposingly with its trimly-thatched ricks, and that the 
 table was already laid by Mrs. Stirling, the housekeeper, in 
 the cool dining-room, and "decored with napery" very 
 creditable to a bachelor establishment ; — was he to leave 
 all this realized order, this capitalized comfort, and 
 go forth into the arid wilderness of the interior, suffer- 
 ing the passed-away privations of the " bark hut and tin 
 pot era" — all for the sake of— what? Making more 
 money 1 He felt ashamed of himself, as Geordie came 
 forward with a smile of welcome upon his rugged face, 
 and said — 
 
 " Well, master, I was afraid you was never coming back. 
 Here's that fellow FakeweU been and mustered on the sly 
 again, and it's the greatest mercy as I heard only the day 
 before." 
 
 " You were there, I'll be bound, Geordie." 
 " Ye'll ken that, sir, though I had to ride half the night. 
 Jt was wejl worth a ride, though. I got ten good calves ^n(^ 
 
12 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM ; [chap; 
 
 a gra-and two-year-old, unbranded heifer, old Poll's, you'll 
 mind her, that got away at weaning." 
 
 " I don't remember — but how did you persuade Fakewell 
 to take your word 1 I should have thought he'd have forged 
 half-a-dozen mothers for a beast of that age." 
 
 "Well, we had a sair barney, well nigh a fight, you 
 might be sure. At last I said, ' I'll leave it to the black 
 boy to say whose calf she is, and if he says the wrong cow 
 you shall have her.' 
 
 " ' But how am I to know,' says he, ' that you haven't 
 told him what to say 1 ' 
 
 " 'You saw him come up. Hoo could I know she was here 'i ' 
 
 " ' Well, that's true,' says he. ' Well, now you tell me the 
 old cow's name as you say she belongs to, so as he can't 
 hear, and then I'll ask him the question.' 
 
 " ' All right,' I said, ' you hear the paction (to all the 
 stockmen, and they gathered round) ; Mr. Fakewell says 
 he'll give me that heifer, the red beast with the white tail, 
 if Sandfly there can tell the auld coo's name right. You 
 see the callant didna come with me ; he just brought up the 
 fresh horses.' 
 
 " ' All right,' they said. 
 
 " So Fakewell says — * Now, Sandfly, who does that heifer 
 belong to 1 ' 
 
 " The small black imp looks serious at her for a minute, 
 and then his face broke out into a grin all over. ' That one 
 belong to Mr. Redgrave — why that old ' cranky Poll's ' 
 calf, we lose him out of weaner mob last year.' 
 
 " All right, that's so," says Fakewell, uncommon sulky, 
 while all the men just roared; 'but don't you brand 
 yer calves when you wean 'em ? ' 
 
 " ' That one get through gate, and Mr. Redgrave says no 
 use turn back all the mob, then tree fall down on fence 
 and let out her and two more. But that young cranky 
 Poll safe enough, I take Bible oath.' 
 
 " ' You'll do ; take your heifer,' says he ; ' I'll be even 
 with some one for this.'" 
 
 " I dare say he didn't get the best of you, Master Geordie," 
 said Jack, kindly ; " he'd be a sharp fellow if he did. You 
 were going to muster the ' Lost Waterhole Camp ' soon, 
 weren't you i" 
 
II,] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 13 
 
 " There's a mob there that wants bringing in and regu- 
 lating down there just uncommon bad. I was biding a bit, 
 till you came home." 
 
 " Well, Geordie, you can call me at daylight to-morrow. 
 I'll have an early breakfast and go out with you. You know 
 I haven't been getting up quite so early lately." 
 
 " You can just wake as early as any one, when you like, 
 sir ; but I'll call you. What horse shall I tell Harry i " 
 
 « Well, I'll take ' the Don,' I think. No, tell him to get 
 ' Mustang,' he's the best cutting-out horse." 
 
 " No man ever had a better servant," thought Jack as he 
 sat down in half an hour to his well-appointed table and 
 well-served, well-cooked repast. 
 
 Geordie Stirling was as shrewd, staunch a Borderer as ever 
 was reared in that somewhat bleak locality, a worthy de- 
 scendant of the men who gathered fast with spear and brand, 
 when the bale-fires gave notice that the moss-troopers were 
 among their herds. He was sober, economical, and self- 
 denying. He and his good wife had retained the stern 
 doctrines in which their youth had been reared, but little 
 acted upon by the circumstances and customs of colonial life. 
 
 Jack applied himself to his dinner with reasonable ear- 
 nestness, having had a longish ride, and being one of those 
 persons whose natural appetite is rarely interfered with by 
 circumstances. He could always eat, drink, and sleep with 
 a zest which present joy or sorrow to come had no power to 
 disturb. He therefore appreciated the roast fowl and other 
 home-grown delicacies which Mrs. Stirling placed before him, 
 and settled down to a good comfortable read afterwards, 
 leaving the momentous question of migration temporarily in 
 abeyance. After all this was over, however, he returned to 
 the consideration of the subject. He went over Fred 
 Tunstall's arguments, which he thought were well enough in 
 their way, but savoured of a nature unprogressive and too 
 easily contented. " It's all very well to be contented," he 
 said to himself ; " and we are very fairly placed now, but a 
 man'must look ahead. Suppose these runs are cut up and 
 sold by a democratic ministry, or allowed to be taken up, 
 before survey, by cockatoos, where shall we be in ten years 1 
 Almost cockatoos ourselves, with run for four or five hundred 
 head of cattle ; a lot of fellows pestering our lives out ; and 
 
14 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [cBXTf. 
 
 a couple of thousand acres of purchased land. There's no 
 living to be made out of tliat. Not what I call a living ; 
 unless one were to milk his own cows, and so on. I hardly 
 think I should do that. No I I'll go in for something that 
 will be growing and increasing year by year, not the other 
 way. This district is getting worn out. The land is too good. 
 The runs are too small and too close to one another, and will 
 be smaller yet. No 1 my idea of a run is twenty miles 
 frontage to a river — the Oxley or the Lachlan, with thirty 
 miles back ; then with twenty thousand ewes, or even ten to 
 start with, you may expect something like an increase, and 
 lots of ground to put them on. Then sell out and have a 
 little Continental travel ; come back, marry, and settle down. 
 By Jove ! here goes — Victory or Westminster Abbey ! " 
 
 Inspired by these glorious visions, and conceiving quite a 
 contempt for poor little Marshmead, with only 2,000 cattle 
 and a hundred horses upon its 20,000 acres, Jack took 
 out his writing materials and scribbled off the following 
 advertisement : — 
 
 " Messrs. Drawe and Backwell have much pleasure in an- 
 nouncing the sale by auction, at an early period, of which due 
 notice will be gives, of the station known as Marshmead, in 
 the Hampden district, with two thousand unusually well-bred 
 cattle of the J R brand. The run, in point of quality, is 
 one of the best, in a celebrated fattening district. The cattle 
 are highly bred, carefully culled, and have always brought 
 first-class prices at the metropolitan sale-yards. The im- 
 provements are extensive, modern, and complete. The only 
 reason for selling this valuable property is that the pro- 
 prietor contemplates leaving the colony." 
 
 " There," said Jack, laying down his pen, " that's quite 
 enough — puffing won't sell a place, and everybody's heard 
 of Marshmead, and of the J R cattle, most Hkely. If they 
 haven't, they can ask. There's no great difficulty in selling 
 a first-class run. And now I'll seal it up ready for the post, 
 and turn in." 
 
 Next morning, considerably to Geordie's disappointment. 
 Jack declined to go out to the " Lost Waterhole Camp," 
 telling him rather shortly (to conceal his real feelings) that 
 
II.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 15 
 
 he thought of selling the place, and that it would be time to 
 muster when they were delivering. 
 
 " Going to sell the run ! " gasped Geordie, perfectly 
 aghast. " Why, master, what ever put such a thing into 
 your head i Where will ye find a bonnier place than this '! 
 and there's no such a herd of cattle in all the country round. 
 Sell Marshmead 1 Why, you must have picked up that when 
 in town." 
 
 "Never mind where I picked it up," said Jack, rather 
 crossly ; " I have thought the matter over well, you may 
 believe, and as I have made up my mind there is no use 
 in talking about it. You don't suppose Hampden is all 
 Australia 1 " 
 
 " No, but it's one of the best bits upon the whole surface 
 of it — and that I'U live and die on," said Geordie. " Look 
 at the soil and the climate. Didn't I go across the Murray 
 to meet they store cattle, and wasna it nearly the death of 
 me t Six weeks' hard sun, and never a drop of rain. And 
 blight, and flies, and bush mosquiteys ; why, I'd rather live 
 here on a potmd a week than have a good station there. 
 Think o' the garden, too." 
 
 "Well, Geordie," said Jack, "all that's very well, but 
 look at the size of the runs 1 Why, I saw 1,000 head of fat 
 cattle coming past one station I stayed at, in one mob, 
 splendid cattle too ; bigger and better than any of our little 
 ^afts we think such a lot of. Besides, I don't mind heat, 
 you know, and I'm bent on being a large stockholder, or 
 none at all." 
 
 "Weel, weel!" said Geordie, "you will never be con- 
 vinced. I know you'll just have your own way, but take 
 care ye dinna gang the road to lose all the bonny place ye 
 have worked hard for. The Lord keep ye from making 
 haste to be rich." 
 
 "I know, I know," said Jack, testily; "but the Bible 
 says nothing about changing your district. Abraham did 
 that, you know, and evidently was getting crowded up where 
 he was." 
 
 " Master John, you're not jestin' about God's Word ! ye 
 would never do the like o' that, I know, but Elsie and I 
 will pray ye'U be properly directed — and Elspeth Stirling 
 will be a sorrowful woman I know to stay behind, as she 
 
16 THE SQUATTEE'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 must, when all's sold and ye go away to that desolate, wae- 
 some hot desert, where there's neither Sahbaths, nor Christian 
 men, nor the Word once in a year." 
 
 The fateful advertisement duly appeared, and divers " in- 
 tending purchasers," introduced by Messrs. Drawe and 
 Backwell, arrived at Marshmead, where they were met with 
 that tempered civility which such visitors generally receive. 
 
 The usual objections were made. The run was not large 
 enough ; the boundaries were inconvenient or not properly 
 defined ; the stock were not as good as had been represented ; 
 the improvements were not sufficiently extensive. This 
 statement was made by a young and aristocratic investor, 
 who was about to be married. He was very critical about 
 the height of the cottage walls, and the size of the sitting- 
 room. The buildings were too numerous and expensive, and 
 would take more money than they were worth to keep in 
 repair. This was the report and opinion of an elderly 
 purchaser (Scotch), who did not see the necessity of anything 
 bigger than a two-roomed slab hut. Such an edifice had 
 been quite enough for him (he was pleased to remark) to 
 make twenty thousand pounds in, on the Lower Murray, 
 and to drink many a gallon of whisky in. As such results 
 and recreations comprised, in his estimation, "the whole 
 duty of man," he considered Jack's neat outbuildings, and 
 even the garden — horresco referens / — to be totally super- 
 fluous and unprofitable. He expressed his intention, if he 
 were to do such an unlikely thing as to buy the wee bit kail- 
 yard o' a place, to pull two-thirds of the huts down. 
 
 All these criticisms, mingled with sordid chaffering, were 
 extremely distasteful to Jack's taste, and his temper suffered 
 to such an extent that he had thought of writing to the 
 agents to give no further orders for inspection. However, 
 shortly after the departure of the objectionable old savage, 
 as he profanely termed the veteran pastoralist, he received 
 a telegram to say that the sale was concluded. Mr. Donald 
 M'Donald, late of Binjee-Mungee, had paid half cash, 
 and the rest at short-dated bills, and would send his nephew, 
 Mr. Angus M'Tavish, to take delivery in a few days. 
 
 Long before these irrevocable matters had come to pass, 
 our hero had bitterly repented of his determination. Those 
 of his neighbours who were not on such terms of intimacy 
 
11.] A STOBY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 17 
 
 as to expostulate roundly, Kke Tunstall, could not conceal 
 their distrust or disapproval of his course. Some were 
 sincerely sorry to lose him as a neighbour, and this expres- 
 sion of feeling touched him more deeply than the opposition 
 of the others, 
 
 Mr. M'Tavish arrived, and, after delivery of his credentials, 
 the last solemnities of mustering and delivery were duly 
 concluded. 
 
 The " nephew of his uncle " was an inexperienced but 
 deeply suspicious youth, who declined to take the most 
 obvious things for granted, and consistently disbelieved every 
 word that was said to him. Geordie Stirling with diificulty 
 refrained from laying hands upon him ; and Jack was so dis- 
 gusted with his " manners and customs " that, on the evening 
 when the delivery was concluded, he declined to spend 
 another night at old Marshmead, but betook himself, with 
 his two favourite hacks, specially reserved at time of sale, to 
 the nearest inn, from which he made the best of his way to 
 the metropolis. 
 
 The disruption of old ties and habitudes was much more 
 painful than he had anticipated. His two faithful retainers 
 located themselves upon an adjoining farm, which their 
 savings had enabled them to purchase. To this they removed 
 their stock, which was choice though not numerous. Geordie, 
 after his first warning, said no more, knowing by experience 
 that his master, when he had set his mind upon a thing, was 
 more obstinate than many a man of sterner mould. Too 
 sincere to acquiesce, his rugged, weather-beaten lineaments 
 retained their look of solemn disapproval, mingled at times 
 with a curiously pathetic gaze, to the last. 
 
 "With his wife Elspeth, a woman of much originality and 
 force of character, combined with deep religious feeling of the 
 old-fashioned Puritan type, the case was different. 
 
 She had a strong and sincere affection for John Redgrave, 
 whom she had known from his early boyhood, and in many 
 ways had she demonstrated this. She had unobtrusively and 
 efficiently ministered to his comfort for years. She had not 
 scrupled to take him to task in a homely and earnest way for 
 minor faults and backslidings, all of which rebukes and 
 remonstrances he had taken in good part, as springing from 
 an over-zealous but conscientious desire for bis welfare. His 
 
 c 
 
18 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chXp. 
 
 friends smiled at the good old woman's ■warnings and testify- 
 ings, occasionally delivered, when performing her household 
 duties, in the presence of any company then and there 
 assembled, by whom she was not in the slightest degree 
 abashed, or to be turned from any righteous purpose. 
 
 " Eh, Maister John, ye'll no be wantin' to ride anither of 
 thae weary steeplechasers ? " she had been pleased to inquire 
 upon a certain occasion ; " ye'll just be fa'in doon and hurtin' 
 yersel', or lamin' and woundin' the puir beastie that's been 
 granted to man for a' useful purposes ! " 
 
 She had been in the habit of "being faithful to him," as 
 she termed divers very plain spoken and home-thrusting 
 exhortations in respect to his general habits and walk in life, 
 whenever she had reason to think such allocution to be 
 necessary. She had taken him to task repeatedly for unpro- 
 fitable reading upon, and lax observance of, the Sabbath ; for 
 a too devoted adherence to racing, and the unpardonable sin 
 of betting ; for too protracted absences in the metropolis, and 
 consequent neglect of his interests at Marshmead ; and, 
 generally, for any departure from the strict line of Christian 
 life and manners which she rigidly observed herself, and 
 compelled Geordie to practice. Though sometimes testy at 
 such infringements upon the liberty of the subject, Jack had 
 sufficient sense and good feeling to recognize the true and 
 deep anxiety for his welfare from which this excess of care- 
 fulness sprang. In every other respect old Elsie's rule was 
 without flaw or blemish. For all the years of their stay at 
 Marshmead, no bachelor in all the West had enjoyed such 
 perfect immunity from the troubles and minor miseries to 
 which Australian employers are subjected. Spotless cleanli- 
 ness, perfect comfort, and proverbial cookery, had been the 
 unbroken experience of the Marshmead household. It was 
 a place at which all guests, brought there for pleasure or 
 duty, hastened to arrive, and lingered with flattering un- 
 willingness to leave. 
 
 And now this pleasant home was to be broken up, the 
 peaceful repose and organized comfort to be abandoned, and 
 the farewell words to be said to the faithful retainer. 
 
 Jack felt parting with the old woman more than he cared 
 to own ; he felt almost ashamed and slightly irritated at the 
 depth of his emotion. " Confound it," he faid to himself. 
 
II.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 19 
 
 " it's very hard that one can't sell one's run and move off to 
 a thinly-stocked country without feeling as if one had com- 
 mitted a species of wrong and treachery, and having to make 
 as many affecting farewells as I have no doubt my governor 
 did when he left England for the terra incognita Australia." 
 
 "Well, Elsie," he said, with an attempt at ease and 
 jocularity he was far from feeling, " I must say good-bye. 
 I hope you and Geordie wUl be snug and comfortable at your 
 farm. I'U write to you when I'm settled in Riveriaa ; and, if 
 I do as well as some others, I shall make a pot of money, and 
 be off to the old country in a few years." 
 
 He put out his hand, but the old woman heeded it not, 
 but gazed in his face with a wistful, pleading look, and the 
 tears fQled her eyes, not often seen in melting mood, as she 
 said — 
 
 " Oh, Maister John, oh, my bairn, that I should live to see 
 you ride away from the bonny home where ye've lived so 
 long, and been aye respeckit and useful in your generation. 
 Do ye think ye have the Lord's blessing for giving up the 
 lot where He has placed ye and blessed ye, for to gang amang 
 strangers and scorners — all for the desire of gain ? I misdoot 
 the flitting, and the craving for the riches that perish in the 
 using, sairly — sairly. Dinna forget your Bible ; and pray, oh, 
 pray to Hun, my bairn, that ye may be direckit in the right 
 way. I canna speak mair for greetin' and mistrustin' that my 
 auld een have looked their last on your bonny face. May 
 the Lord have ye in His keeping." 
 
 Her tears flowed unrestrainedly, as she clasped his hand in 
 both of hers, and then turned away in silence. 
 
 " Geordie," said our hero, strongly inclined to follow suit, 
 " you mustn't let Elsie fret like this, you know. I am not 
 going away for ever. You'll see me back most likely in the 
 summer, for a little change and a mouthful of sea air. 1 
 shall find you taking all the prizes at the Hampden show 
 with that bull calf of old Cherry's." 
 
 " It's little pleesure we'll have in him, or the rest of the 
 stock, for a while," answered Geordie. " The place will no 
 be natural like, wantin' ye. The Lord's will be done," added 
 he, reverently. " We're a' in His keepin'. I'd come with 
 ye, for as far and as hot as yon sa-andy desert o' a place is, if 
 it werena for the wife. God bless ye, Maister John ! " 
 
 3 
 
CHAPTER m. 
 
 " So forward to fresh fields and pastures new." — Milton. 
 
 Jack's spirits had recovered their usual high average 
 when he found himself once more at the cluh in a very free 
 and unfettered condition, and clothed with the prestige of 
 a man who had sold his station well, and was likely to rise 
 in (pastoral) life. 
 
 He was bold, energetic, moderately experienced, and had 
 all that sanguine trust in the splendid probabilities of life 
 common to those youthful knights who have come scatheless 
 through the tourney, and have never, as yet, been 
 
 " Dragged from amid the horses' feet, 
 With dinted shield and helmet beat." 
 
 He derived a little amusement (for he possessed a keen 
 faculty of observation, though, as with other gifts, he did 
 not always make the best use of that endowment) from the 
 evident brevet rank which was accorded to him by the 
 moneyed and other magnates. His advice was asked as to 
 stock investments. He was consulted upon social and politi- 
 cal questions. Invitations, of which he had always received 
 a fair allowance, came in showers. Report magnified con- 
 siderably the price he had received for Marshmead. Many 
 chaperons and haughty matrons of the most exacting class 
 bid eagerly for his society. In short. Jack Redgrave had 
 become the fashion, and for a time revelled in all the privi- 
 leged luxury of that somewhat intoxicating position. Not- 
 withstanding a fine natural tendency desipere in loco, our 
 hero was much too shrewd and practical a personage not to 
 be fully aware that this kind of thing could not last. He 
 had a far higher amtitipii tlian -would have permitted him tq 
 
CHAP. III.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 21 
 
 subside into a club swell, or a social butterfly, permanently. 
 He had, besides, that craving for bodily exercise, even 
 labour, common to men of vigorous organization, which, 
 however lulled and deadened for a time, could not be con- 
 trolled for any protracted period. 
 
 He had, therefore, kept up a reasonably diligent search 
 among the station agents and others for any likely invest- 
 ment which might form the nucleus of the large establishment, 
 capable of indefinite expansion, of which he had vowed to 
 become the proprietor. 
 
 Such a one, at length (for, as usual when a man has his 
 pockets full of money, and is hungering and thirsting to buy, 
 one would think that there was not a purchaseable run on the 
 whole continent of Australia), was " submitted to his notice ' ' 
 by a leading agent ; the proprietor, like himself in the adver- 
 tisement of Marshmead, was " about to leave the colony," 
 so that aU doubt of purely philanthropical intention in sell- 
 ing this " potentiality of fabulous wealth " was set at rest. 
 Jack took the mail that night, with the offer in his pocket, 
 and in a few days found himself deposited at "a lodge in 
 the wilderness " of Riverina, face to face with the magnifi- 
 cent enterprize. 
 
 Gondaree had been a cattle-station from the ancient days, 
 when old Morgan had taken it up with five hundred head of 
 cattle and two or three convict servants, in the interests 
 and by the order of the well-known Captain Kidd, of Double 
 Bay. A couple of huts had been built, with stock-yard and 
 gallows. The usual acclimatization and pioneer civilization 
 had followed. One of the stockmen had been speared : a 
 score or two of the blacks, to speak well within bounds, had 
 been shot. By intervals of labour, sometimes toilsome and 
 incessant, oftener monotonous and mechanical, the sole re- 
 creation being a mad debauch on the part of master and man, 
 the place slowly but surely and profitably progressed — pro- 
 gressed with the tenacious persistence and sullen obstinacy of 
 the race, which, notwithstanding toils, dangers, broils, blood- 
 shed, and reckless revelries, rarely abandons the object 
 originally specified. Pioneer or privateer, merchant or mis- 
 sionary, the root qualities of the great colonizing breed are 
 identical. They perish in the breach, they drink and gamble, 
 but they rarely raise the siege. The standard is planted. 
 
22 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 though by reckless or unworthy hands ; still goes on the 
 grand march of civilization, with splendour of peace and 
 pomp of war. "With the fair fanes and foul alleys of cities — 
 with peaceful village and waving cornfield — so has it ever 
 been ; so till the dawn of a purer day, a higher faith, must 
 it ever be, the ceaseless " martyrdom of man." 
 
 " And the individual withers, 
 And the race is more and more.'' 
 
 Gondaree had advanced. The drafts of fat cattle had im- 
 proved in number and quality — at first, in the old, old days, 
 when supply bore hard upon demand, selling for little more 
 than provided an adequate quantity of flour, tea, sugar, and 
 tobacco for the year's consumption. But the herd had spread 
 by degrees over the wide plains of " the back," as well as over 
 the broad river flats and green reed-beds of " the frontage," 
 and began to be numbered by thousands rather than by the 
 original hundreds. 
 
 Changes slowly took place. Old Morgan had retired to 
 a small station of his own with a herd of cattle and horses 
 doubtfully accumulated, as was the fashion of the day, 
 by permission of his master, who had never once visited 
 Gondaree. 
 
 The old stockmen were dead, or gone none knew whither ; 
 but another overseer, of comparatively modern notions, occu- 
 pied his place, and while enduring the monotonous, un- 
 relieved existence, cursed the unprogressive policy which 
 debarred him from the sole bush recreation — in that desert 
 region — of planning and putting up " improvements." 
 
 About the period of which we speak, it had occurred to 
 the trustees of the late Captain Kidd that, as cattle-stationa 
 had risen much in value in that part of the country, from 
 the rage which then obtained to dispose of those despised 
 animals and replace them with sheep, it was an appropriate 
 time to sell. The station had paid fairly for years past. 
 Xot a penny had been spent upon its development in any 
 way ; and now, " as those Victorian fellows and others, who 
 ought to know better, were going wild about salt-bush 
 cattle-stations to put sheep on — why, this was clearly the 
 time to put Gondaree in the market." 
 
 As Jack drove up in the unpretending vehicle which bore 
 
in.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 23 
 
 Her Majesty's mails and adventurous travellers to the scarce- 
 known township of " far Bochara," the day was near its 
 close. The homestead was scarcely calculated to prepossess 
 people. They had passed the river a couple of miles back, 
 and now halted at a sandy hillock, beneath which lay a 
 sullen lagoon. There were two ruinous slab huts, with bark 
 roofs, at no great distance from each other. There was a 
 stock-yard immediately at the back of the huts, where piles 
 of bones, with the skulls and horns of long-slain beasts, told 
 the tale of the earliest occupation of the place. 
 
 There was no garden, no horse-paddock, nothing of any 
 kind, sort, or description but the two huts, which might 
 have originally cost ten pounds each. Jack, taking his 
 valise and rug, walked towards the largest hut, from which 
 a brown-faced young fellow, in a Crimean shirt and moleskin 
 trousers, had emerged. 
 
 " You are Mr. — Mr. — Redgrave," said he, consulting a 
 well-thumbed letter which he took out of his pocket. " I 
 have orders to show you the place and the cattle. "Won't 
 you come in?" 
 
 Jack stepped over two or three impediments which barred 
 the path, and narrowly escaped breaking his shins over a 
 bullock's head, which a grand-looking kangaroo dog was 
 gnawing. He glanced at the door, which was let into the 
 wall-plate of the hut above and below, after the oldest known 
 form of hinge, and sat down somewhat ruefully upon a 
 wooden stool. 
 
 " You're from town, I suppose ? " said the young man, 
 mechanically filling his pipe, and looking with calm interest 
 at Jack's general get-up. 
 
 " Yes," answered Jack, " I am. You are aware that 
 I have come to look at the run. When can we make a 
 beginning ? " 
 
 " To-morrow morning," was the answer. " I'll send for 
 the horses at daylight." 
 
 " How do you get on without a horse-paddock ? " asked 
 Jack, balancing himself upon the insecure stool, and looking 
 enviously at his companion, who was seated upon the only 
 bed in the apartment. " Don't you sometimes lose time at 
 musters ? " 
 
 " Time ain't of much account on the Warroo," answered 
 
24 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 the overseer, spitting carelessly upon the earthen floor. 
 " We have a cursed sight more of it than we know what to 
 do with. And Captain Kidd didn't believe in improve- 
 ments. Many a time I've written and written for this and 
 that, but the answer was that old Morgan did very well 
 without them for so many years, and so might I. I got 
 sick of it, and just rubbed on like the rest. If I had had 
 my way, I'd have burned down the thundering old place 
 long ago, and put up everything new at Steamboat Poiut. 
 But you might as well talk to an old working bullock as to 
 our trustees." 
 
 " "What are the cattle like ? " inquired Mr. Redgrave. 
 
 " Well, not so bad, considering there hasn't been a buU 
 bought these ten years. It's first-class fattening country ; 
 I dare say you saw that if you noticed any mobs as you 
 came along." Jack nodded. " When the country is real 
 good cattle will hold their own, no matter how they're 
 bred. There ain't much the matter with the cattle — a few 
 stags and rough ones, of course, but pretty fair on the 
 whole. I expect you're hungry after your journey. The 
 hut-keeper will bring in tea directly." 
 
 In a few moments that functionary appeared, with a pair 
 of trousers so extremely dirty as to suggest the idea that 
 he had been permanently located upon a back block, where 
 economy in the use of water was a virtue of necessity. 
 Rubbing down the collection of slabs which did duty for a 
 table with a damp cloth, he placed thereon a tin dish, con- 
 taining a large joint of salt beef, a damper like the segment 
 of a cart-wheel, and a couple of plates, one of which was of 
 the same useful metal as the dish. He then departed, and 
 presently appeared with a very black camp-kettle, or billy, 
 of hot tea, which he placed upon the floor ; scattering several ' 
 pannikins upon the board, one of which contained sugar, he 
 lounged out again, after having taken a good comprehensive 
 stare at the new comer. 
 
 " We smashed our teapot last muster," said the manager, 
 apologetically, "and we can't get another till the drays 
 come up. This is a pretty rough shop, as you see, but I 
 suppose you ain't just out from England ? " 
 
 "I have been in the bush before," said Jack, senten- 
 tiously, " Are the flies always as bad here ? " 
 
111.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 25 
 
 " "Well, they're enough to eat your eyes out, and the mos- 
 quitoes too — worse after the rains ; but they say it's worse 
 lower down the river." 
 
 " Worse than this ! I should hardly have thought it 
 possible," mused Jack, as the swarming insects disputed the 
 beef with him, and caused him to be cautious of shutting 
 his mouth after enclosing a few accidentally. The bread 
 was black with them, the sugar, the table generally, and 
 every now and then one of a small black variety would dart 
 straight into the corner of his eye. 
 
 When the uninviting meal was over. Jack walked outside, 
 and, lighting his pipe, commenced to consider the question 
 of the purchase of the place. With the sedative influences 
 of the great narcotic a more calmly judicial view of the 
 question presented itself. 
 
 He was sufficiently experienced to know that, whereas 
 you may make a homestead and adjuncts sufficiently good 
 to satisfy the most exacting Squatter-Sybarite, if such be 
 wanting, you can by no means build a good run if the 
 country, that is, extent and quality of pasture, be wanting. 
 A prudent buyer, therefore, does not attach much value to 
 improvements, scrutinizing carefully the run itself as the 
 only source of future profits. 
 
 " It is a beastly hole ! " quoth Jack, as he finished his 
 pipe, " only fit for a black feUow, or a Scotchman on his 
 promotion ; but from what I saw of the cattle as I came 
 along (and they tell no lies) there is no mistake about the 
 country. They were all as fat as pigs, the yearlings and 
 calves, as well as the aged cattle. I never saw them look 
 like that at Marshmead, or even at Glen na Voirlich, which 
 used to be thought the richest spot in our district. There 
 is nothing to hinder me clearing out the whole of the herd 
 and having ten or fifteen thousand ewes on the place before 
 lambing time. There is no scab and no foot-rot within a 
 colony of us. With fair luck, I could have up a woolshed 
 in time to shear ; and a decent lambing, say 70 per cent., 
 would give me — let me see, how many altogether after 
 shearing 1 " 
 
 Here Jack went into abstruse arithmetical calculations as 
 to the numbers, sexes, ages, and value of his possible pro- 
 perty, and, after a very rapid subtraction of cattle and 
 
26 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM: [ohaP. 
 
 multiplication of sheep, saw himself the owner of fifty 
 thousand of the last-named fashionable animals, which, 
 when sold at twenty-five shillings per head, or even twenty- 
 seven and sixpence (everything given in), would do very 
 well until he should have visited Europe, and returned to 
 commence operations upon a scale even more grand and 
 comprehensive. 
 
 "I think I see my way," he said to himself, finally, 
 knocking the ashes out of his pipe. " Of course one must, 
 rough it at first ; the great thing in these large stock, 
 operations is decisiveness." 
 
 He accordingly decided to go to bed at once, and informed 
 Mr. Hawkesbury, the overseer, that he should be ready as 
 soon as they could see in the morning, and so betook himself 
 to a couch, of which the supporting portion was ingeniously 
 constructed of strips of hide, and the mattress, bed-clothing, 
 curtains, &c., represented by a pair of blankets evidently 
 akin in antiquity, as in hue, to Bob the cook's trousers. 
 
 Accepting his host's brief apologies. Jack turned in, and 
 Mr. Hawkesbury, having disembarrassed himself of his 
 boots, pulled a ragged opossum-rug over him, and lay down 
 before the fire-place, with his pipe in his mouth. 
 
 The coach and mail travelling, continued during two 
 preceding days and nights, had banged and shaken Jack's 
 hardy frame sufficiently to induce a healthy fatigue. In 
 two minutes he was sound asleep, and for three or four 
 hours never turned in his bed. Then he woke suddenly, and 
 with the moment of consciousness was enabled to realize 
 Mr. Gulliver's experiences after the first flight of the 
 arrows of the Liliputians. 
 
 He arose swiftly, and muttering direful maledictions upon 
 the Warroo, and all inhabitants of its borders from source 
 to mouth, frontage and back, myall, salt-bush, and cotton- 
 bush, pulled on his garments and looked around. 
 
 It yet wanted three hours to daylight. Mr. Hawkesbury 
 was sleeping like an infant. He could see the moon through 
 a crack in the bark roof, and hear the far hoarse note of 
 the night-bird. Taking his railway rug, he opened the, 
 door, which creaked upon its Egyptian hinge, and walked 
 forth. 
 
 " Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall of the forest." 
 
III.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 27 
 
 And so on, as Longfellow has it in mournful Evamgeline. 
 The forest was not exactly black, being partly of the 
 moderately-foliaged eucalyptus, and having a strip of the 
 swaying, streaming myall, of a colour more resembling blue 
 than black. Still there were shadows sufficiently darksome 
 and weird in conjunction with the glittering moonbeams to 
 appeal to the stranger's poetic sympathies. The deep, still 
 waters of the lagoon lay like dulled silver, ever and anon 
 stirred into ripples of wondrous brilliancy by the leaping 
 of a fish, or the sinuous trail of a reptile or water rodent. 
 All was stUl as in the untroubled seons ere discovery. In 
 spite of the squalid surroundings and the sordid human 
 traces, Nature had resumed her grand solitude and the 
 majestic hush of the desert. 
 
 " All this is very fine," quoth Jack to himself. " What 
 a glorious night ; but I must try and have a little more 
 sleep somehow." He picked out a tolerably convenient spot 
 between the buttressed roots of a vast casuarina, which from 
 laziness rather than from taste had been spared by the 
 ruthless axes of the pioneers, and wrapping himself in his 
 rug lay down in the sand. The gentle murmur of the ever- 
 sounding, mournful-sighing tree soon hushed his tired senses, 
 and the sun was rising as he raised himself on his elbow 
 and looked round. 
 
 It was a slightly different sleeping arrangement from 
 those to which he had been long accustomed. Nor were the 
 concomitants less strange. A large pig had approached 
 nearer than was altogether pleasant. She was evidently 
 speculating as to the weak, defenceless, possibly, edible 
 condition of the traveller. Jack had not been conversant 
 with the comprehensively carnivorous habits of Warroo 
 pigs. He was, therefore, less alarmed than amused. He 
 also made the discovery that he was no great distance from 
 a populous ant-hill, of which, however, the free and en- 
 lightened citizens had not as yet "gone for him." Alto- 
 gether he fully realized the necessity for changing front, and, 
 rising somewhat suddenly to his feet, was about to walk 
 over to the hut when the rolHng thunder of horses at speed, 
 rapidly approaching, decided him to await the new sensation. 
 
 Round a jutting point of timber a small drove of twenty 
 or thirty horses came at a headlong gallop in a cloud of 
 
28 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [cfiAR 
 
 dust, and made straight for the stockyard in the direct 
 track for which Jack's bedroom was situated. Standing 
 close up to the old tree, which was sufficiently strong and 
 broad to shield him, he awaited the cavalry charge. They 
 passed close on either side, to the unaffected astonishment 
 of an old mare, who turned her eyes upon him with a wild 
 glare as she brushed his shoulder with her sweeping mane. 
 Dashing into the large receiving-yard of the old stockyard, 
 they stopped suddenly and began to walk gently about, as 
 if fully satisfied with themselves. Following fast came 
 two wild riders, one of whom was a slight half-caste lad, 
 and the other, to Jack's great surprise, a black girl of 
 eighteen or twenty. This last child of the desert rode en 
 cavalier on an ordinary saddle with extremely rusty stirrup- 
 irons. Her long wavy hair fell in masses over her 
 shoulders. Her eyes were soft and large, her features by 
 no means unpleasing, and her unsophisticated teeth white 
 and regular. Dashing up to the slip-rails, this young 
 person jumped off her horse with panther-like agility, and 
 putting up the heavy saplings, thus addressed Mr. Hawkes- 
 bury, who, with Jack, had approached : — 
 
 " By gum, Misser Hoxbry, you give me that horrid old 
 mare to-day I ride her inside out, the ole brute." 
 
 " What for, Wildduck 3 " inquired the overseer j " what's 
 she been doing now ? " 
 
 " Why, run away all over the country and break half-a- 
 dozen times, and make me and Spitfire close up dead. Look 
 at him." Here she pointed to her steed, a small violent 
 weed, whose wide nostril and heaving flank showed that he 
 had been going best pace for a considerable period. " That 
 boy, BUly Mortimer, not worth a cuss." 
 
 Having volunteered this last piece of information. Wild- 
 duck pulled off the saddle, which she placed, cantle down- 
 ward, against the fence, so as to permit the moistened 
 padding to receive all drying influences of sun and air ; 
 then, dragging off the bridle to the apparent danger of 
 Spitfire's front teeth, she permitted that excitable courser 
 to wander at will. 
 
 " That one puU my arm off close up," she remarked, " all 
 along that ole devil of a mare. I'll take it out of her to- 
 day, my word ! Who's this cove ? " 
 
III.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 29 
 
 " Gentleman come up to buy station," answered Hawkes- 
 bury ; " by and by, master belong to you ; and if you're 
 a good girl he'll give you a new gown and a pound of 
 tobacco. Now you get breakfast, and ride over to Jook- 
 jook — tell'm all to meet us at the Long Camp to-morrow." 
 
 " Kai-i ! " said the savage damsel, in a long-drawn plain- 
 tive cry of surprise, as she put her fingers, with assumed 
 shyness, up to her face, and peered roguishly through 
 them ; then, hitching up her scanty and tattered dress, she 
 ran off without more conversation to the hut. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " said Jack to himself, " I wonder what 
 old Elsie and Geordie Stirling would think of all this ; 
 Moabitish women and all the rest of it, I suppose. How- 
 ever, I am not here for the present to regulate the social 
 code of the Lower Warroo. Have you got the tribe here ? " 
 he said, aloud. 
 
 " No, Wildduck ran away from a travelling mob of cattle," 
 answered Hawkesbury. "She's a smart gin when she's 
 away from grog, and a stunner at cutting out on a camp." 
 
 That day passed in an exhaustive general tour round the 
 run. Mounted upon an elderly stock-horse of unimpeach- 
 able figure, with legs considerably the worse for wear, and 
 provided with a saddle which caused him to vow that never 
 again would he permit himself to be dissociated from his 
 favourite Wilkinson, Jack was piloted by Mr. Hawkesbury 
 through the " frontage " and a considerable portion of the 
 " back " regions of Gondaree. It was the same story: 
 oceans of feed, water everywhere, all the cattle rolling fat. 
 Nothing that the most hard-hearted buyer could object to, 
 if troubled with but a grain of conscience. Billowy waves 
 of oat grass, wild clover (medicago sativa), and half-a-dozen 
 strange fodder plants, of which Redgrave knew not the 
 names, adorned the great meadows or river flats ; while out 
 of the immense reed-beds, the feathery tassels of which stirred 
 in the breeze far above their heads, came ever and anon, 
 at the crack of the stock --whip, large droves of cattle in 
 Indian file, in such gorgeous condition that, as our hero 
 could not refrain from saying, a dealer in fat stock might 
 have taken the whole lot to market, cows, calves, bullocks 
 and steers, without rejecting a beast. 
 
 Leaving tb^se grsmd g^ya»nahs, when they proceeded to 
 
30 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 the more arid back country there was still no deterioration 
 in the character of the pasturage. Myall and boree belts 
 of timber, never known to grow upon " poor " or " sour " 
 land, alternated with far-stretching plains, where the salt- 
 bush, the cotton-bush, and many another salsiferous herb 
 and shrub, betokened that Elysium of the squatter, " sound 
 fattening country." John Redgrave was charmed. He 
 forgot the dog-hole he had left in the morning, the fleas, 
 the pigs, the evil habiliments of Bob the cook, the un- 
 inviting meal, all the shocks and outrages upon his tastes 
 and habits ; his mind dwelt only upon the great extent and 
 apparently half-stocked condition of Gondaree. And as 
 they rode home by starlight the somewhat perilous stumbles 
 of the old stock-horse only partially disturbed a reverie in 
 which a new wool-shed, a crack wash-pen, every kind of 
 modern "improvement," embellished a model run, carrying 
 fifty thousand high-caste merino sheep. 
 
 He demolished his well-earned supper of corned beef and 
 damper that night with quite another species of appetite ; 
 and as he deposited himself in an extemporized hammock, 
 above the reach of midnight marauders, he told himself 
 that Gondaree was not such a bad place after all, and only 
 wanted an owner possessed of sufficient brains to develop 
 its great capabilities to become a pleasant, profitable, and 
 childishly safe investment. 
 
 Wildduck's mission had apparently been successful. The 
 old mare was making off from the men's hut in a compara- 
 tively exhausted state, whUe a chorus of voices, accented 
 with the pervading British oath, told of the arrival of a 
 number of friends and allies. High among the noisiest of 
 the talkers, and, it must be confessed, by no means reticent 
 of strong language, rose the clear tones and child-like 
 laughter of the savage damsel. In the delicate badinage 
 likely to obtain in such a gathering it was apparent that 
 she could well hold her own. 
 
 " My word, Johnny Dickson," she was saying to a tall, 
 lathy stripling, whose long hair protected the upper portion 
 of his spine from all danger of sunstroke, " you get one 
 big buster off that roan mare to-day ; spread all over the 
 ground, too. Thought you was goin' to peg out a free- 
 selection." 
 
III.] A STORY OF AUSTEALIAN LIFE. 31 
 
 " You shut up, and go back to old man Jack, you black 
 varmint," retorted the vinhorsed man-at-arms amid roars of 
 laughter. " You ain't no great chop on a horse, except to 
 ride him to death. I can back anything you'll tackle, or 
 ere a black fellow between this and Adelaide. I'm half a 
 mind to box your ears, you saucy slut." 
 
 "Ha, ha," yeUed the girl, "you ride? that's a good un ! 
 You not game to get on the Doctor here to-morrow, not for 
 twenty pound. You touch me ! Why, ole Nanny fight you 
 any day, with a yam-stick. / fight you myself, blessed if 
 I don't." 
 
 " What's all this ?" demanded Mr. Hawkesbury, suddenly 
 appearing on the scene. " Have any of you fellows been 
 bringing grog on the place ? Because it's a rascally shame, 
 and I won't have it." 
 
 " Well, sir," said one of the stockmen, " one of the chaps 
 had a bottle, quite accidental like, and the gin got a suck or 
 two. That's what set her tongue goin'. But it's all gone 
 now, and nothing broke. Which way do we go to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Well, I want to muster those Bimbalong Creek cattle, 
 and then put as many as we can get on the main camp, 
 just to give this gentleman here (indicating Jack) a sort of 
 idea of the numbers. Daylight start, remember, so don't 
 be losing your horses.'' 
 
 "All right," said the self-constituted spokesman, the 
 others merely nodding acquiescence ; " we'll short-hobble 
 them to-night — they can't get away very far." 
 
 Considerably before daylight beefsteaks were frying, 
 horses were being gathered up, and a variety of sounds 
 proclaimed that when bent upon doing a day's work the 
 dwellers around Gondaree could set about it in an energetic 
 and busiaess-Uke fashion. There was not a streak of crim- 
 son in the pearly dawn-light, as the whole party, comprising 
 more than a dozen men and the redoubtable Wildduck, 
 rode silently along the indistinct trail which led " out 
 back." There was a good deal of smoking and but little 
 talk for the first hour. After that time converse became 
 more general, and the pace was improved at a suggestion 
 from Mr. Hawkesbury that the sooner they all got to the 
 scene of their work the better, as it was a pretty good 
 day's ride there and back. 
 
82 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM -. [cHAp. 
 
 " So it is," answered a hard, weather-beaten-looking, 
 grizzled stockman. " I never see such a part of the country 
 as this. If it was in other colonies I've been to they'd have 
 had a good hut, and yards, and a horse-paddock at Bimba- 
 long this years back. But they wouldn't spend a ten pound 
 note or two, those Sydney merchants, not for to save the 
 lives of every stockman on the Warroo." 
 
 " That wouldn't be much of a loss, Jingaree," said the 
 overseer, laughing, while a sort of sardonic smile went the 
 round of the company, as if they appreciated the satire ; 
 " and I shouldn't blame 'em if that was the worst of it. 
 But it's a loss to themselves, if they only knew it. All 
 they can say is, plenty of money has been made on old 
 Gondaree, as bad as it is. I hope the next owner will do 
 as well — and better." 
 
 " Me think 'um you better git it back to me and ole man 
 Jack," suggested Wildduck, now restored to her usual state 
 of coolness and self7possession. " Ole man Jack own Gon- 
 daree water-hole by rights. Everybody say Gondaree people 
 live like black fellows. "What for you not give it us back 
 again ? " 
 
 " Well, I'm blowed," answered the overseer, aghast at 
 the audacious proposition ; "what next ? No, no, Wildduck, 
 We've improved the country." Here the stockmen grinned, 
 "Besides, you and old man Jack would go and knock it 
 down. You ain't particular to a few glasses of grog, you 
 know, Wildduck." 
 
 "White fellow learn us that," answered the girl, sul- 
 lenly, and the "chase rode on." 
 
 In rather less than three hours the party of horsemen 
 had reached a narrow reed-fringed watercourse, the line of 
 which was marked by dwarf eucalypti, no specimens of 
 which had been encountered since they left the homestead. 
 
 Here they halted for a while upon a sand-ridge pic- 
 turesquely wooded with the bright green arrowy pine {calr 
 litris), and, after a short smoke, Mr. Hawkesbury proceeded 
 to make a disposition of forces. 
 
 " Three of you go up the creek till you get to the other 
 side of Long Plain, there's mostly a mob somewhere about 
 there. You'll see a big brindle bullock ; if you get him 
 you've got the leading mob. Jingaree, you can start ; take 
 
III.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 33 
 
 Johnson and Billy Mortimer with you. Charley Jones, 
 you beat up the myall across the creek ; take Jackson and 
 Long Bill. Four of you go out back till you come to the 
 old Durgah boundary ; you'll know it by the sheep-tracks, 
 confound them. "Waterton, you come with me, and Mr. 
 Redgrave will take the Fishery mob. Wildduck, you too, 
 it will keep you out of mischief, and you can have a gallop 
 after the buffalo cows' mob, and show ofE a bit." 
 
 "All right," answered the sable scout, showing her brilliant 
 teeth, and winding the stock-whip round her head with 
 practised hand she made Spitfire jump all fours off the 
 ground, and proceed sideways, and even tail foremost (as is 
 the manner of excitable steeds), for the next quarter of a mile. 
 
 Every section of the party having " split and squandered " 
 according to orders, which were, like those of a captain at 
 cricket or football, unhesitatingly obeyed. Jack found him- 
 self proceeding parallel with the creek, with Mr. Hawkes- 
 bury as companion, followed by a wiry, sun-tanned Aus- 
 tralian lad and Miss Wildduck aforesaid. 
 
 It was still early. They had ridden twenty miles, and 
 the day's work was only commencing. Always fond of this 
 particular description of station-work, John Redgrave looked 
 with the keen eye of a bushman, and something of the poet's 
 fancy, upon the scene. Eastward the sun-rays were lighting 
 up a limitless ocean of grey plain, tinged with a delicate tone 
 of green, while the hazy distance, precious in that land of 
 hard outlines and too brilliant colouring, was passing from a 
 stage of tremulous gold to the fierce splendour of the desert 
 noon. 
 
 There was not a hill within a hundred miles. The level 
 sky-line was unbroken as on the deep, or where the Arab 
 camel kneels by the far-seen plumy palms. The horses 
 stepped along briskly. The air was dry and fresh. The 
 element of grandeur and unimpeded territorial magnificence 
 told powerfully upon John's sanguine nature. 
 
 " I don't care what they say," he thought. " This is a 
 magnificent country, and I believe would carry no end of 
 sheep, if properly fenced and managed. I flatter myself I 
 shall make such a change as will astonish the oldest and 
 many other inhabitants. 
 
 Following the water, they rode quietly onward until, near 
 
34 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM. [cH. in 
 
 a bend of the humble but enormously important streamlet 
 they descried the " Fishery," of which Hawkesbury hai 
 spoken. This was a ruinous and long deserted " weir,' 
 formed of old by the compatriots of Wildduck, for th 
 ensnaring of eels and such fish as might be left disportinj 
 themselves in the Bimbalong after a flood of tuiusual height 
 At such periods the outer meres and back creeks received i 
 portion of the larger species of fish which habitually reposet 
 in the stiU, deep waters of the Warroo. Traces could still bi 
 seen of a labyrinth of artificial channels, dams, and reservoirs 
 showing considerable ingenuity, and distinct evidence a 
 more continuous labour than the aboriginal Australian ii 
 generally credited with. 
 
CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 " Ye seeken loud and see for your winninges." — Chaucer. 
 
 " My word," exclaimed Wildduck, jumping from her horse 
 and gazing at the rare rtdn of her fading race, " this big 
 one fishery one time. Me come here like it picaninny. 
 All about black fellow that time. Bullo — bullo." 
 
 Here she spread out her hands, as if to denote an 
 altogether immeasurable muster-roll of warriors. 
 
 " Big one corrobaree — shake 'em ground all about ; and 
 old man Coradjee too." 
 
 Here she sank her voice into an awe-stricken whisper. 
 
 " Where are they all gone, Wildduck ? " inquired B,ed- 
 grave ; " along a Warroo ? " 
 
 " Along a Warroo ? " cried the girl, mockingly. " Worse 
 than that. White fellow shoot 'em like possum. That ole 
 dufEer, Morgan, shoot fader belonging to me." 
 
 " Come, come, Wildduck," said Hawkesbury, " we're after 
 cattle just now — never mind about old Mindai. It wasn't 
 one, nor yet two, white fellows only that he picked the bones 
 of, if all the yarns are true." 
 
 " You think I no care, because I'm black," said the girl, 
 reproachfully, as the tears rolled down her dusky cheeks. " I 
 very fond of my poor ole fader. — Hallo ! there's cattle — 
 come along, Waterton." 
 
 " Changing the subject with a vengeance," thought Red- 
 grave, as the mercurial mourner, with all the fickleness of her 
 race, superadded to that of her sex, looked back a laughing 
 challenge to the stockman, and closing her heels upon the 
 eager pony, was at top speed in about three strides. Looking 
 in the direction of Spitfire's outstretched neck, Redgrave and 
 
 D 2 
 
36 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 his companion could descry a long dark line of moving 
 objects at a considerable distance on the plain, but whether 
 horses, cattle, or even a troop of emu, they were unable to 
 make out with certainty. 
 
 " Let's back her up quietly,'' said Hawkesbiu-y. ' She-and 
 Charley wiU head them ; it's no use bustin' our horses. This 
 is rather a flash mob, but they'll be aU right when they're 
 wheeled once or twice." 
 
 Keeping on at a steady hand-gallop, they soon came up 
 with a large lot of cattle going best pace in the wrong 
 direction. The accomplished Wildduck, however, flew 
 round them like a falcon. Spitfire doing his mile in re- 
 markably fair time. Being ably supported by Waterton, 
 the absconders were rounded up, and were ready to return 
 and be forgiven, when Hawkesbury and Mr. Redgrade joined 
 them. 
 
 " By Jove ! " cried our hero, with unconcealed approval, 
 " what grand condition all the herd seem to be in ! Look at 
 those leaders." Here he pointed to a string of great raking 
 five and six year old bullocks, whose immense frames, a little 
 coarse, but well grown and symmetrical, were filled up to the 
 uttermost point of development. " You don't seem to have 
 drafted them very closely." 
 
 " No," said Hawkesbury, carelessly. " We never send 
 anything away that isn't real prime, and we missed this mob 
 last year. They get their time at Gondaree ; and the last two 
 seasons have been stunning good ones." 
 
 " Don't you always have good seasons, then ? " asked Jack, 
 innocently. 
 
 The overseer looked sharply at him for a moment, without 
 answering, and then said — 
 
 " Well, not always, it depends upon the rain a good deal ; 
 not but what there's always plenty of back-water on this 
 run." 
 
 " Oh ! I dare say it makes a diSerence in this dry country," 
 returned Jack, carelessly, thinking of Marshmead, where it 
 used to rain sometimes from March to November, almost 
 without cessation, and where a month's fine weather was 
 hailed as a distinct advantage to the sodden pasturage. " But 
 the raia never does anything but good here, I suppose." 
 
 " Nothing but good, you may say that, when it does come. 
 
IV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 37 
 
 This lot won't be long getting to camp. Ha ! I can hear 
 Jingaree's and the other fellows' whips going." 
 
 By this time they had nearly reached the camp at which 
 the various scouting parties had separated. They had nothing 
 to do but to follow the drove, which, after the manner of 
 well-broken station herds of the olden time, never relaxed 
 speed until they reached the camp, when they stopped of 
 their own accord, and while recovering their wind moved 
 gently to and fro, greeting friends or strangers with appro- 
 priately modulated bellowings. 
 
 Much about the same time the other parties of stockmen 
 could be seen coming towards the common centre, each 
 following a lesser or a greater drove. Jingaree had been 
 fortunate in " dropping across " his lot earlier in the day, 
 and was in peaceful possession of the camp and an undis- 
 turbed smoke long before they arrived. 
 
 Mr. Redgrave rode through the fifteen or sixteen hundred 
 there assembled by himself, the stockmen meanwhile sitting 
 sideways on their horses, or otherwise at ease, while he made 
 inspection. 
 
 " I should like to have had a lot like this at the Lost 
 Water-hole Camp, at poor old Marshmead," thought Jack to 
 himself, " for old Rooney, the dealer, to pick from, when I 
 used to sell to him. How he and Geordie would have gone 
 cutting out by the hour. They would have almost forgot- 
 ten to quarrel. Why, there isn't a poor beast on the camp 
 except that cancered bullock." 
 
 When he had completed a leisurely progress through the 
 panting, staring, but non-aggressive multitude, he rejoined 
 Mr. Hawkesbury, with the conviction strongly established in 
 his mind that he had never seen so many really fat cattle in 
 one camp before, and that the country that would do that 
 with a coarse, neglected herd would do anything. 
 
 Mr. Hawkesbury having asked him whether he wanted to 
 see anything more on that camp, and receiving no answer in 
 the negative, gave orders to " let the cattle go," and the party, 
 proceeding to the bank of the creek, permitted their steeds to 
 graze at will with the reins trailing under their feet, after the 
 manner of stock-horses, and addressed themselves to such 
 moderate refreshment, in the form of junks of corned beef 
 and wedges of damper, as they had brought with them. Mr. 
 
38 THE SQUATTER'S DEEAM : [chap. 
 
 Hawkesbury produced a sufficient quantity for himself and 
 his guest, who found that the riding, the admiration, and the 
 novel experience had whetted his appetite. 
 
 Fairly well earned was the hour's rest by the reeds of the 
 creek. Hawkesbury had at first thought of putting together 
 the greater part of the herd, but on reflection concluded that 
 the day was rather far advanced. 
 
 They were twenty miles from home. It would be as well 
 to defer the collection of the cattle belonging to the main 
 camp until the following day. In a general way it might be 
 thought that a ride of forty miles, exclusive of two or three 
 hours' galloping at camp, was a fair day's work. So it 
 would have appeared, doubtless, to the author of Guy 
 Livingstone, who in one of his novels describes the hero and 
 his good steed as being in a condition of extreme exhaustion 
 after a ride of thirty miles. Why te Melville, too, who handles 
 equally well pen, brand, and bridle, finds the horses of 
 Gilbert and his friend in Good for Nothing, or All Down 
 Sill, reduced to such an " enfeebled condition " by sore backs, 
 consequent upon one day's kangaroo-hunting, that they 
 are compelled to send a messenger for fresh horses a hundred 
 miles or more to /Sydney, and to await his return in camp. . 
 
 With all deference to, and sympathy with, the humanity 
 which probably prompted so mercifully moderate a chronicle, 
 We must assert that to these gifted writers little is known of 
 the astonishing feats of speed and endurance performed by 
 the ordinary Australian horse. 
 
 Hawkesbury, indeed, rather grumbled when the party 
 arrived at Gondaree at what he considered an indifferent . 
 day's work. He, his men, and their horses would have 
 thought it nothing " making a song aboot," as Rob Roy says, 
 to have ridden to Bimbalong, camped the cattle, "cut out" 
 or drafted, on horseback, a couple of hundred head of fat 
 bullocks, and to have brought the lot safe to Gondaree stock- 
 yard by moonlight. This would have involved about twenty 
 hours' riding, a large proportion of the work being done at 
 full gallop, and during the hottest part of the day. But they 
 had done it many a time and often. And neither the grass- 
 fed horses, the cattle, nor the careless horsemen were a whit 
 the Worse for it. 
 
 However, as Mr. Hawkesbury had truly stated in their first 
 
IV.] A STORY OP AUSTKALIAN LIFE. 39 
 
 interview, the economy of time was by no means a leading 
 consideration on the Warroo. So the next day was devoted 
 to the arousing and parading of the stock within reach of the 
 main camp. Mr. Redgrave's opinion, as to the number 
 and general value of the herd after this operation, was so 
 satisfactory that on the morrow he once more committed 
 himself to the tender mercies of the Warroo mail, and 
 proceeded incontinently to the metropolis, where he without 
 further demur concluded the bargain, and became the first 
 proud purchaser of Gondaree, and five thousand head of 
 mixed cattle, to be taken " by the books." 
 
 Jack found the club a paradise after his sojourn in the 
 wilderness. At that time comparatively few men had 
 explored the terra incognita of Riveriaa with a view to 
 personal settlement. Therefore Jack's fame as a man of 
 daring enterprise and commercial sagacity rose steadily until 
 it reached a most respectable altitude in the social barometer. 
 He alluded but sparingly to the privations and perils of his 
 journey, making up for this reticence by glowing descriptions 
 of the fattening qualities and vast extent of his newly- 
 acquired territory. He aroused the envy of his old com- 
 panions of the settled districts, and was besieged with appli- 
 cations from the relatives of wholly inexperienced youths 
 from Britaia, and other youngsters of Australian rearing, 
 who had had more experience than was profitable, to take 
 them back with him as assistants. These offers he was 
 prudent enough to decline. 
 
 His cash had been duly paid down, and the name of 
 John Redgrave attached to sundry bills at one and two years 
 — bearing interest at eight per cent. — the whole purchase- 
 money being about twenty thousand pounds, with right of 
 brand, stock-horses, station-stores, implements, and furniture 
 given in. What was given in, though it cost some hard 
 bargaining and several telegrams, was not of great value. 
 Among the twenty stock-horses there were about two sound 
 ones. The stores consisted of three bags of flour, half a bag 
 of sugar, and a quarter of a chest of tea. There was an old 
 cart and some harness, of which only the green hide portion 
 was " reliable." Several iron buckets, which served indifEer- 
 ently for boiling meat and carrying the moderate supplies of 
 water needed or, more correctly used on the establishment. 
 
40 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [oHAr. 
 
 Of the three saddles, but one was station property. The 
 others belonged to Mr. Hawkesbury and the stockman. 
 
 Jack had decided to take the cattle at five thousand head 
 without muster, being of opinion, from the " look of the herd," 
 and from a careful inspection of the station-books, wherein 
 the brandings had been carefully registered, and a liberal 
 percentage allowed for deaths and losses, that the number 
 was on the run. He knew from experience that a counting 
 muster was a troublesome and injurious operation, and that it 
 was better to lose a few head than to knock the whole herd 
 about. He therefore made all necessary arrangements for 
 going up and taking immediate possession of Gondaree. 
 
 His plan of operations, well considered and carefully calcu- 
 lated, was this : He had sternly determined upon " clearing 
 off " the whole of the cattle. Sheep were the only stock fit 
 for the consideration of a large operator. For cattle there 
 could be only the limited and surely decreasing local demand. 
 For sheep, that is, for wool, you had the world for a market. 
 Wool might fall ; but, like gold, its fashion was universal. 
 Every man who wore a Crimean shirt, every woman who wore 
 a magenta petticoat, was a constituent and a contributor ; 
 the die was cast. He was impatient of the very idea of 
 cattle as an investment for a man of ordinary foresight. He 
 was not sure whether he would even be bothered with a 
 score or two for milkers. 
 
 To this end he now directed all his energies ; and being 
 able to work, as Bertie TunstaU had truly observed, when he 
 liked, now that he was excited by the pressure of a great 
 undertaking — an advance along the whole line of his forces, 
 so to speak — he displayed certain qualities of generalship. 
 
 He first made a very good sale of all the fat cattle on the 
 run (binding the buyer to take a number which would give 
 the herd "a scraping") to his old acquaintance Eooney, the 
 cattle-dealer. These were to be removed within two months 
 from date of sale. He left instructions with his agents, 
 Messrs. Drawe and Backwell, to sell the whole of the 
 remaining portion of the herd (reserving only twenty 
 milkers) as store cattle, to any one who was slow and old- 
 fashioned enough to desire them. He bought and despatched 
 stores, of a quality and variety rather different from what he 
 received, sufficient to last for twelve months ; all the fittings 
 
IT.] A STORY OF AUSTEALIAN LIFE. 41 
 
 and accessories for a cottage and for a wool-shed, 
 including nails, iron roofing, doors, sashes — everything, in 
 fact, except the outer timber, which could be procured on 
 the spot. He had no idea of trusting himself to the war- 
 prices of the inland store-keepers. A few tons of wire for 
 preliminary fencing, wool-bales, tools, a dray, carts, an earth- 
 scoop for dam-making, well-gearing and sixty-gallon buckets, 
 a few tents, plough and harrow (must have some hay), a 
 few decent horses, an American waggon with four-horse 
 harness, and- other articles "too numerous to mention," 
 about this time found themselves on the road to Gondaree. 
 All these trifling matters " footed up " to a sum which 
 gave a temporarily reflective expression to Jack's open 
 countenance. Necessaries for a sheep-station, especially 
 in the process of conversion from cattle ditto, have a way 
 of coming out strong in the addition department. 
 
 " What of that 1 " demanded Jack of his conscience, or 
 that quiet cousin-german, prudence ; " a sheep-station 
 must be properly worked, or not at all. The flrst year's 
 wool will pay for it all. And then the lambs ! " 
 
 In order to manage a decent-sized sheep property (and 
 nothing is so expensive as a small one), you must have an 
 overseer. Jack was not going to be penny-lunatic enough 
 to be his own manager. And the right sort of man 
 must be thoroughly up to all the latest lights and discoveries 
 — not a working overseer, a rough, upper-shepherd sort of 
 individual who counted sheep and helped to make bush-yards, 
 but a fairly-educated modern species of centurion, whose in- 
 telligence and knowledge of stock (meaning sheep) were com- 
 bined with commercial shrewdness and military power of 
 combination. A man who could tell you in a few minutes how 
 much a dam displacing several thousand cubic yards of earth 
 ought to cost ; how many men, in what number of days, 
 should complete it ; what provisions they ought to consimie ; 
 and what wages, working reasonably, they ought to earn. 
 A man full of the latest information as to spouts and soda, 
 hot water and cold, with a natural turn heightened by 
 experience, for determining the proportionate shades of 
 fineness, density, freeness, and length of staple which, in 
 combination, could with safety be taken as a model for the 
 ideal merino. A man capable of sketching, with accuracy 
 
42 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 and forethought, the multifarious buildings, enclosures, 
 and " improvements " necessary for a sheep-station in the 
 first year of its existence, or of conducting the shearing 
 to a successful issue without them at need. 
 
 For subalterns so variously gifted a demand had of late 
 years grown up, owing to the large profits and wonderful 
 development of the wool-producing interest. Of one of these 
 highly-certificated " competition-wallahs " John Eedgrave 
 had determined to possess himself. 
 
 In Mr. Alexander M'!N'ab,late of Strathallan, and formerly 
 of Mount Gresham, he deemed that he had secured one 
 of the most promising and highly-trained specimens of the 
 type. 
 
 Sandy M'Nab, as he was generally called, was about 
 eight-and-twenty years of age, the son of a small but 
 respectable farmer in the north of Ireland, in which 
 condition of life he had acquired an early knowledge of 
 stock, and an exceedingly sound rudimentary education. 
 Far too ambitious to content himself with the limited 
 programme of his forefathers, he had emigrated at sixteen, 
 and worked his way up through the various stages of 
 Australian bush apprenticeship, until he had reached his 
 present grade, from which he trusted to pass into the 
 ranks of the Squatocracy. 
 
 Having secured this valuable functionary, and covenanted 
 to pay him at the rate of three hundred per annum, his 
 first act was to despatch him, after a somewhat lengthy 
 consultation, to inspect a small lot of ten thousand ewes, 
 and on approval to hire men and bring them to Gondaree. 
 It was necessary to lose no time ; lambing would be on 
 in June, in August shearing would be imminent. And the 
 cattle would require to be off, and the sheep to be on, 
 somewhere about April, if the first year's operations were to 
 have any chance of being financially successful. 
 
 The stores having been purchased, and Mr. M'Nab with 
 his letter of credit having been shipped, that alert 
 lieutenant, with characteristic promptitude, reporting himself 
 in readiness to embark at six hours' notice, nothing remained 
 but for Mr. Redgrave to " render himself " again at 
 Gondaree in the capacity of purchaser. 
 
 He accordingly cleared out from the club with 
 
IT.] A STORY OP AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 43 
 
 alarmingly stern self-denial, and, declining to risk his 
 important existence in the Warroo mail, took the road 
 in the light American waggon, with his spare horses and a 
 couple of active lads accustomed to bush work. 
 
 After a journey of ordinary duration and absence of 
 adventure, he once more sighted the unromantic but 
 priceless waters of the Warroo, and beheld, with the eye 
 of a proprietor, the "waste lands of the Crown" — most 
 literally deserving that appellation — with the full right 
 and title to which, as lessee, he stood invested. 
 
 Mr. Hawkesbury, in apparently the same Crimean shirt, 
 with black and scarlet in alternate bars, stood smoking 
 the small myall pipe in much the same attitude at the 
 hut door as when Jack was borne off by two jibs and a 
 bolter in the "Warroo mail. Bob the cook, the dark hues 
 of his apparel unrelieved by any shade of scarlet, appeared 
 in his doorway with his hands in his pockets, but betraying 
 unwonted interest as the cortege ascended the sandhill. 
 
 Ordering the boys to let go the horses, and to pitch the 
 tent, which he had used on the journey, at a safe distance 
 from the huts. Jack descended with a sHght increase of 
 dignity, as of one in authority, and greeted his predecessor. 
 
 " So you've bought us out," he said, after inspecting 
 carefully the letter which Jack handed to him, " and 
 I'm ordered to deliver over the cattle, and the stores, — 
 there ain't much of them, — and the horses, and in fact 
 the whole boiling. Well, I wish you luck, sir ; the run's 
 a good 'un and no mistake, and the cattle are pretty fair, 
 considering what's been done for 'em. I suppose you 
 won't want me after you've taken delivery." 
 
 " I shall be very glad if you will stay on," quoth Jack, 
 whose honest heart felt averse to ousting any man from a 
 home, " until the cattle are cleared off ; after that I shall 
 have another gentleman in charge of the sheep and place 
 generally. By staying two or three months you will oblige 
 me, if it suits your arrangements." 
 
 " AH right," answered Mr. Hawkesbury : " I know the 
 cattle pretty well, and I dare say I can save as many as 
 will cover my wages. I think you'll find them muster up 
 pretty close to their book-number." 
 
 The signal shot of the campaign was fired, so to speak, 
 
44 THE SQUATTEK'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 upon the arrival of Mr. John Eooney, who came in a few 
 days by appointment to take the first draft of the Gondaree 
 fat cattle. 
 
 Jack was sitting outside of his tent, like an Arab sheik, 
 and thinking regretfully of the flower-laden evening breeze 
 which he had so often inhaled at the same hour at Marsh- 
 mead, when a tall, soldierly-looking man rode up on a tired 
 horse and jumped off with an unreserved exclamation of 
 relief. 
 
 " Hallo ! Rooney, is that you, in this uncivilized part 
 of the world ? Rather different from the old place, isn't it ! 
 Come in, and I'll have your horse hobbled out. You mustn't 
 expect stables or paddock or any other luxuries on the 
 Warroo." 
 
 " Sure, I know it well — my heavy curse on the same 
 river ; there never was any dacency next or anigh it 
 Didn't they lend me a buck-jumper at MorahgU to-day, and 
 the first place I found myself was on the broad of my back." 
 
 " What a shame ! Did they give you another horse ? " 
 
 " They did not. I rode the same devU right through. 
 It's little bucking he feels inclined for now." 
 
 " So I should think, after an eighty-mile ride. When 
 did you leave ? " 
 
 " About twelve o'clock. I was riding all night, and got 
 there to breakfast. The last time I took cattle from 
 MorahgU. I happened to knock down the superintendent 
 with a roping pole, maybe that's why he treated me so 
 — the mane blayguard." 
 
 " Well, he ought not to have let such a trifle dwell on 
 his mind, perhaps. But take a glass of grog, Rooney, while 
 the fellow gets your tea." 
 
 " Faith, and I will, Masther John ; and it's sound I'll sleep 
 to-night, fleas or no fleas. A man can't do without it for 
 more than three nights at a time." 
 
 In a few days the muster was duly concluded, and three 
 hundred prime bullocks secured in the ancient but massive 
 stockyard. One of Rooney's drovers and a couple of road 
 hands had arrived the evening before, to whom they were 
 intrusted. Rooney was too great a man to be able to 
 afford the time to travel with his own cattle, and had, 
 indeed, a score of other mobs to meet, despatch, buy, or 
 
IV.] A STOBY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 45 
 
 sell, to arrive in as many different and distant parts of 
 the colony. 
 
 " Well, Masther Jolin," said he, " I won't deny that I 
 haven't lifted a finer mob this season. Isn't it a murther- 
 ing fine run, when it puts the beef on them big-boned divUs 
 like that ? If ye had some of those roan steers we used 
 to get at the Lost Waterhole Camp, sure they wouldn't be 
 able to see out of their eyes with fat. I'll be able to get 
 the eight hundred out of these aisy enough. I'll send Joe 
 Best for the cows and the rest of the bullocks the 
 moment he's shut of those circle-dot cattle. I must be off 
 down the river. I've a long ride before me. But, Masther 
 John, see here now, don't be building too much on the saysons 
 in these parts. It's not like Marshmead ; I've seen it all 
 as bare as a brickfield, from the "Warroo to the Oxley ; 
 and these very cattle with their ribs up to their back- 
 bones, and dyin' by hundreds. D'ye hear me now ? Don't 
 be spending all your money before ye see how prices are 
 going. I'm thinking we'll see a dale of changes in the next 
 three or four yearS' — all this racin' and jostlin' for breeding 
 sheep can't hould out. Good-bye, sir." 
 
 And so the kindly, stalwart, shrewd cattle dealer went 
 on his way, and Jack saw him no more for a season. 
 But his warning words left an impression of doubt and 
 distrust upon the mind of his hearer that no caution had 
 previously had power to do. Was it possible that he had 
 made a mistake, and an irrevocable one ? Was such a 
 change in the seasons credible, and could all his stretch 
 of luxuriant prairie turn into dust and ashes 1 It was im- 
 possible. He had known bad seasons, or thought he had, 
 in the old west country ; he had seen grass and water 
 pretty scarce, and had a lower average of fat cattle in some 
 seasons than others; but as to any total disappearance 
 of pasture, any ruinous loss of stock, such he had never 
 witnessed and was quite unable to realize. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 " So many days my ewes have been with young ; 
 So many weeks ere the poor fools will eau ; 
 So many years ere 1 shall shear the fleece." — King Henry VI. 
 
 Jack had soon quite enough upon his hands to occupy him 
 for every waking hour and moment, to fatigue his body, 
 and, consequently, to lay to rest any obtrusive doubts 
 or fears as to the ultimate success of his undertaking. 
 The stores began to arrive, and he had to fix a site for 
 the new cottage and the indispensable wool-shed. The former 
 locality he selected at Steamboat Point, before alluded to 
 by Mr. Hawkesbury, which was a bluff near a deep reach 
 of the river, shaded by couba trees and river-oaks of great 
 age, and at an elevation far above the periodical floods which 
 from time to time swept the lowlands of the Warroo, and 
 converted its sluggish tide into a furious devastating torrent. 
 
 Sawyers were engaged, carpenters, splitters, and labourers 
 generally. "With these, as, indeed, with all the station 
 employes, much conflict had to be gone through as to 
 prices of contract and labour. A new proprietor was 
 looked upon as a person of limited intelligence, but altogether 
 of boundless wealth, which, in greater or less degree, each 
 " old hand " believed it his privilege to share. It was held 
 to be an act of meanness and unjustifiable parsimony for 
 one in his position to expect to have work done at the 
 same rate as other people. Jack had much trouble in dis- 
 abusing them of this superstition. Eventually it came to 
 be admitted that " the cove knew his way about," and " had 
 seen a thing or two before ; " after which matters went 
 more smoothly. 
 
 Then letters came from Drawe and BackweU stating that 
 a large operator, with a million of acres or so of new country, 
 where " the blacks were too bad for sheep," had bought 
 
OH. v.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 47 
 
 the whole of the herd, after Eooney had done drafting, 
 and was ready to take delivery without delay. 
 
 In due time all this hard and anxious work was accom- 
 plished. Mr. Joe Best returned and possessed himself of 
 every fat bullock and every decent cow " without incum- 
 brance " on the place. And then the long-resident 
 Gondaree herd — much lowing, and fully of opinion, 
 judged by its demeanour, that the end of the world was 
 come — was violently evicted and driven off from its birth- 
 place in three great droves by a small army of stockmen 
 and all the dogs within a hundred miles. , 
 
 So the cattle were " cleared off," at low prices too, as 
 in after days Jack had occasion to remember. But 
 nobody bought store cattle in that year except as a sort of 
 personal favour. Nothing better could be expected. 
 
 "Well — so they're mustered and gone at last," said 
 Hawkesbury, the day after the last engagement. " Blest 
 if I didn't think some of us would lose the number of our 
 mess. Those old cows would eat a man — let alone skiver 
 him. The herd came up well to their number in the books, 
 didn't they ? There was more of those Bimbalong cattle 
 than I took 'em to be. Well, there's been a deal of money 
 took off this run since I came — next to nothing spent 
 either ; that's what I look at. I hope the sheep-racket 
 win do as well, sir." 
 
 " I hope so, too, Hawkesbury," answered Jack. " One good 
 season with sheep is generally said to be worth three with 
 cattle. I had a letter to-day from M'Nab to say that he was on 
 the road with the ewes, and would be here early next month." 
 
 " WeU, then, I'll cut my stick ; you won't want the pair 
 of us, and I'm not much to do with sheep, except putting 
 the dogs on old Boxall's whenever I've caught 'em over their 
 boundary. You'U have to watch him, if you get mixed, or 
 you'll come short." 
 
 " Every sheep of mine will be legibly fire-branded," 
 said Jack, with a certain pride ; " there's no getting over 
 that, you know" 
 
 " He'll fire-brand too," said Hawkesbury, " in the same 
 place, quick. And as his ear-mark's a close crop, and he's 
 not particular what ear, his shepherds might easy make 
 any stray lots uncommon like their own." 
 
48 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 " By Jove ! " said Jack, rather startled at the new light 
 thrown on sheep management on the "Warroo. " However 
 M'Nab will see to that ; he's not an easy man to get round, 
 they say. Then, would you really prefer to leave ? If so, 
 I'll make out your account." 
 
 " If you please, Mr. Redgrave. I've been up here five 
 years now ; so I think I'll go down the country, and see my 
 people for a bit of change. It don't do to stay in these 
 parts too long at a time, unless a man wants to turn into 
 a black fellow or a lushington." 
 
 On the very day mentioned in his latest despatch, Mr. 
 M'Nab arrived with his ten thousand ewes ; and a very good 
 lot they were — in excellent condition too. He had nosed 
 out an unfrequented back track, where the feed was unspoiled 
 by those marauding bands of " condottieri," travelling sheep. 
 Water had been plentiful, so that the bold stroke was suc- 
 cessful. Pitching his tent in a sheltered spot, he sat up half 
 the night busy with pen and pencil, and by breakfast time 
 had every account made out, and all his supernumeraries 
 ready to be paid off. The expenses of the journey, with a 
 tabulated statement showing the exact cost per sheep of 
 the expedition, were also upon a separate sheet of paper 
 handed up to his employer. 
 
 From this time forth all went on with unslackening and 
 successful progress. M'Nab was in his glory, and went 
 forth rejoicing each day, planning, calculating, ordering, 
 and arranging to his heart's content. The out-stations 
 were chosen, the flocks drafted and apportioned, a ration- 
 carrier selected, bush-yards made, whUe, simultaneously, 
 the cottage walls began to arise on Steamboat Point, and the 
 site of the wool-shed, on a plain bordering an anarbranch 
 sufficient for water, but too inconsiderable for flood, was, 
 after careful consideration, finally decided upon. The season 
 was very favourable ; rain fell seasonably and plentifully ; 
 grass was abundant, and the sheep fattened up " hand over 
 hand " without a suspicion of foot-rot, or any of the long 
 train of ailments which the fascinating, profitable, but too 
 susceptible merino so often, affects. 
 
 The more Jack saw of his new manager the more he liked 
 and respected him. He felt almost humiliated as he noted 
 his perfect mastery of every detail connected with station 
 
v.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 49 
 
 (i.e. sheep) management, his energy, his forecast, his rapid 
 and easy arrangement of a hundred jarring details, and re- 
 flected that he had purchased the invaluable services of this 
 gifted personage for so moderate a consideration. 
 
 " We shall not have time to get up a decent wool-shed this 
 year, Mr. Redgrave," he said, at one of their first councils. 
 " We must have a good, substantial store, as it won't do to 
 have things of value lying about. A small room alongside 
 will do for me till we get near shearing. We must knock up 
 a temporary shed with hurdles and calico, and wash the best 
 way we can in the creek. Next year we can go in for spouts, 
 and all the rest of it, and I hope we'll be able to shear in 
 such a shed as the Warroo has never seen yet." 
 
 " It's a good while to Christmas," said Jack. " How about 
 the shed if we put more men on ] I don't like make-shifts." 
 
 " Couldn't possibly be done in the time," answered Mr. 
 M'Nab, with prompt decision. " Lambing will keep us 
 pretty busy for two months. We must have shearing over by 
 October, or all this clover-burr that I see about will be in the 
 wool, and out of your pocket to the tune of about threepence 
 a pound. Besides, these sawyers and bush-carpenters can't 
 be depended upon. They might leave us in the lurch, and 
 then we should neither have one thing nor the other." 
 
 " Very well," said Jack, " I leave that part of it to 
 you." 
 
 All Mr. M'Nab's plans and prophecies had a fashion of 
 succeeding, and verifying themselves to the letter. Appar- 
 ently he forgot nothing, superintended everything, trusted 
 nobody, and coerced, persuaded, and placed everybody like 
 pawns on a chess-board. His temper was wonderfully under 
 command ; he never buUied his underHngs, but had a way of 
 assuring them that he was afraid they wouldn't get on to- 
 gether, supplemented on continued disapproval by a calm 
 order to come in and get their cheque. This system was 
 found to be efficacious. He always kept a spare hand or two, 
 and was thereby enabled to fill up the place of a deserter at 
 a moment's notice. 
 
 Thus, with the aid of M'Nab and of a good season, John 
 Redgrave, during the first year, prospered exceedingly. His 
 sheep had a capital increase, and nearly eight thousand game- 
 some, vigorous lambs followed their mothers to the wash- 
 
 E 
 
50 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 pool. The wool was got off clean, and wonderfully clear of 
 dirt and seed ; and just before shearing Mr. M'Nab exhibited 
 a specimen of his peculiar talents which also brought grist 
 to the mil l. 
 
 It happened in this wise : — Looking over the papers one 
 evening he descried mention of a lot of store sheep then on 
 their way to town, and on a line of road which would bring 
 them near to Gondaree. 
 
 " This lot would suit us very well, Mr. Hedgrave," said he, 
 looking up from his paper, and then taking a careful tran- 
 script in his pocket-book of their ages, numbers, and sexes. 
 " Seven thousand altogether — five thousand four and six 
 tooth wethers, with a couple of thousand ewes ; if they are 
 good-framed sheep, with decent fleeces, and the ewes not too 
 old, they would pay well to buy on a six months' bill. We 
 could take the wool off and have them fat on these Bimbalong 
 plains by the time the bill comes due." 
 
 " How about seeing them 1 " quoth Jack ; " they may be 
 Queensland sheep, with wool about half an inch long. They 
 often shear them late on purpose when they are going to start 
 them on the road. ' They're a simple people,' as Sam Shck 
 says, those Queenslanders." 
 
 "Of course I must see them," answered M'Nab. "I 
 never buy a pig in a poke ; but they wUl be within a hun- 
 dred miles of us in a week, and I can ride across and see 
 them, and find out their idea of price. Shearing is always an 
 expensive business, and the same plant and hands will do 
 for double our number of sheep, if we can get them at a 
 price." 
 
 M'Nab carried out his intention, and, falling across the 
 caravan in an accidental kind of way, extracted fuU particulars 
 from the owner, a somewhat irascible old fellow, who was 
 convoying in person. He returned with a favourable report. 
 The sheep were good sheep ; they had well-grown fieeces, 
 rather coarse ; but that did not matter with fattening sheep ; 
 they were large and would make good wethers when topped 
 up. The ewes were pretty fair, and not broken^mouthed. 
 They wanted eleven shillings all round, and they were in the 
 hands of Day and Burton, the stock agents. 
 
 " Now, I've been thinking," said Mr. M'Nab, meditatively, 
 " whether it wouldn't pay for me to run down to Melbourne 
 
v.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIM SI 
 
 by the mail — it passes to-morrow morning — and arrange the 
 whole thing with Day and Burton. "Writing takes an awful 
 long time. Besides, I might knock sixpence a head off, and 
 that would pay for my coach-fare and time, and a good deal 
 over. Seven thousand sixpences are one hundred and seventy- 
 five pounds. Thirty pounds would take me there and back, 
 inside of three weeks." 
 
 " That win only allow you two days in town," said Jack, 
 " and you'll be shaken to death in that beastly niail-cart." 
 
 "Never mind that," said the biu-ly son of the "black 
 north," stretching his sinewy frame. " I can stand a deal of 
 killing. ShaUIgo?" 
 
 " Oh, go by all means, if you think you can do any good, 
 I don't envy you the journey." 
 
 M'Nab accordingly departed by the mail next morning, 
 leaving Jack to carry on the establishment in his absence, a 
 responsibiUty which absorbed the whole of his waking hours 
 so completely that he had no time to think of anything but 
 sheep and shepherds, with an occasional dash of dingo. One 
 forenoon, as he was waiting for his midday meal, having 
 ridden many a mile since daylight, he descried a small party 
 approaching on foot which he was puzzled at first to classify. 
 He soon discovered them to be aboriginals. First walked a 
 tall, white-haired old man, carrying a long fish-spear, and but 
 little encumbered with wearing apparel. After him a gin, 
 not by any means of a " suitable age " (as people say in the 
 case of presumably marriageable widowers), then two lean, 
 toothless old beldames of gins staggering under loads of 
 blankets, camp furniture, spare weapons, an iron pot or two, 
 and a few puppies ; several half-starved, mangy dogs followed 
 in a string. Finally, the whole party advanced to within 
 a few paces of the hut and sat solemnly down, the old 
 savage sticking his spear into the earth previously with great 
 deliberation. 
 
 As the little group sat silently in their places bolt upright, 
 like so many North American Indians, Jack walked down to 
 open proceedings. The principal personage was not without 
 an air of simple dignity, and was very different of aspect from 
 the dissipated and debased beggars which the younger blacks 
 of a tribe but too often become. He was evidently of great 
 age, but Jack could see no means of divining whether seventy 
 
 E 2 
 
52 THE SQUATTER'S DEEAM : [chap. 
 
 years or a hundred and twenty would be the more correct 
 approximation. His dark and furrowed countenance, seamed 
 with innumerable wrinkles, resembled that of a graven image. 
 His hair and beard, curling and abundant, were white as snow. 
 His eye was bright, and as he smiled with childish good 
 humour it was apparent that the climate so fatal to the 
 incisors and bicuspids of the white invader, had spared the 
 larger proportion of his grinders. On Jack's desiring to know 
 his pleasure, he smiled cheerfully again, and muttering "baal 
 dalain," motioned to the younger female, as if desiring her to 
 act as interpreter. She was muflSed up in a large opossum- 
 rug which concealed the greater part of her face ; but as she 
 said a few words in a plaintive tone, and with a great affecta- 
 tion of shyness, Jack looking at her for the first time recog- 
 nized the brilliant eyes and mischievous countenance of his 
 old acquaintance Wildduck. 
 
 "So it's you?" he exclaimed, much amused, upon which 
 the whole party grinned responsively, the two old women 
 particularly. " And is this your grandfather, and all your 
 grandmothers ; and what do you want at Gondaree ? " 
 
 " This my husband, cooley belonging to me— ole man 
 Jack," explained Wildduck, with an air of matronly propriety. 
 " Ole man Jack, he wantim you let him stay long a wash-pen 
 shearing time. He look out sheep no drown. Swim fust- 
 rate, that ole man." 
 
 " "Well, I'll see," replied Jack, who had heard M'Nab say 
 a black fellow or two would be handy at the wash-pen — the 
 sheep having rather a long swim. " You can go and camp 
 down there by the water. How did you come to marry such 
 an old feUow, eh, Wildduck ? " 
 
 " My fader give me to him when I picaninny. Ippai 
 and Kapothra, I s'pos. Black fellow always marry likit that. 
 White girl baal marry ole man, eh, Mr. Redgrave ? " 
 
 " Never ; that is, not unless he's very rich, Wildduck. 
 Here's a fig of tobacco. Go to the store and get some tea 
 and sugar, and flour." 
 
 Old man Jack and his lawful but by no means mono- 
 gamous household, were permitted to camp at the Wash-pen 
 Creek, in readiness for the somewhat heavy list of casualties 
 which " throwing in " always involves. A sheep encumbered 
 with a heavy fleece, and exhausted by a protracted immersion, 
 
v.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 53 
 
 often contrives to drown as suddenly and perversely as a 
 Lascar. Nothing short of the superior aquatic resources of a 
 savage prevents heavy loss occasionally. So Mr. Redgrave, 
 averse in a general way, for reasons of state, to having native 
 camps on the station, yet made a compromise in this instance. 
 A few sheets of bark were stripped, a few bundles of grass 
 cut, a few pieces of dry wood dragged up by old Nanny and 
 Maramie, and the establishment was complete. A short half- 
 hour after, and there was a cake baked on the coals, hot tea 
 in a couple of very black quart pots, while the odours of a 
 roasted opossum, and the haunch of wallaby, were by no 
 means without temptation to fasting wayfarers with unso- 
 phisticated palates. As old man Jack sat near the cheerful 
 fire, with his eyes still keen and roving, wandering medita- 
 tively over the still water and the far-stretching plain, as the 
 fading eve closed in magical splendour before his unresponsive 
 gaze, how much was this poor, untaught savage to be pitied, 
 in comparison with a happy English labourer, adscriptus 
 glebcB of his parish — lord of eleven babes, and twelve shillings 
 per week, and, though scarce past his prime, dreading in- 
 creased rheumatism and decreasing wages with every coming 
 winter ! 
 
 For this octogenarian of one of earth's most ancient famiHes 
 had retained most of his accomplishments, a few simple 
 virtues, and much of his strength and suppleness ; still could 
 he stand erect in. his frail canoe, fashioned out of a single 
 sheet of bark, and drive her swift and safely through the 
 turbulent tide of a flooded river. Still could he dive hke an 
 otter, and Mke that " fell beastie " bring up the impaled fish 
 or the amphibious turtle. Still could he snare the wild fowl, 
 track the honey-bee, and rifle the nest of the pheasant of 
 the thicket. Upon him, as, indeed, is the case with many of 
 the older aboriginals, the fatal gifts of the white man had no 
 power. He refused the fire-water; he touched not the strange 
 weed, by reason of the magical properties of which the souls 
 of men are exhaled in acrid vapour — oh, subtle and prema- 
 ture cremation ! — or sublimated in infinite sneezings. He 
 drank of the lake and of the river, as did his forefathers ; he 
 ate of the fowls of the air and of their eggs (I grieve to add, 
 occasionally stale), of the forest creatures, and of the fish of 
 the rivers. In spite of this unauthorized and unrelieved diet, 
 
64 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM, [oh. v. 
 
 lightly had the burning siunmers passed over his venerable 
 pate. The square shoulders had not bowed, the upright form 
 still retained its natural elasticity, while the knotted muscles 
 of the limbs, moving like steel rings under his sable skin, 
 showed undiminished power find volupie, 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " Law was designed to keep a state in peace." — Crdble. 
 
 The mail-trap arrived this time with unwonted punc- 
 tuality, and out of it stepped Mr. M'Nab, "to time" as 
 usual, and with his accustomed cool air of satisfaction and 
 success. 
 
 " Made rather a better deal of it than I expected, sir," was 
 his assertion, after the usual greetings. " There were several 
 heavy lots of store sheep to arrive, so I stood off, and went to 
 look at some others, and finally got these for ten and three- 
 pence. We had a hard fight for the odd threepence ; but 
 they gave in, and I have the agreement in my pocket." 
 
 " You have done famously," said Jack, " and I am ever so 
 glad to see you back. I have been worked to death. Every 
 shepherd seems to have tried how the dingoes rated the 
 flavour of his flock, or arranged for a ' box ' at the least, since 
 you went. I have put on WUdduck's family for retrievers 
 at the wash-pen." 
 
 " "WeU, we wanted a black fellow or two there," said 
 M'Nab. " Throwing in is always a risky thing, but we can't 
 help it this year. There's nothing like a black fellow where 
 sheep have anything like a long swim." 
 
 Jack re-congratulated himself that night upon the for- 
 tunate possession of the astute and efficient M'Nab, who 
 seemed, like the dweller at the Central Chinese " Inn of the 
 Three Perfections," to " conduct all kinds of operations with 
 unfailing success." In this instance he had made a sum 
 equalling two-thirds of his salary entirely by his own fore- 
 thought and promptitude of action. This was something like 
 a subaltern, and Jack, looking proud — 
 
 Far as human eye conld see — 
 Saw the promise of the future 
 And the prices sheep would bp. 
 
56 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 The season, with insensible and subtle gradation, stole 
 slowly, yet surely, forward. The oat-grass waved its tassels 
 strangely like the familiar hay-field over many a league of 
 plain and meadow. The callow broods of wild fowl sailed 
 joyously amid the broad flags of the lagoons, or in the deep 
 pools of the creeks and river. The hawk screamed exultant 
 as she floated adown the long azure of the bright blue, change- 
 less summer sky. Bird, and tree, and flower told truly and 
 gleefully, after their fashion, of the coming of fair spring ; 
 brief might be her stay, it is true, but all nature had time to 
 gaze on her richly- tinted robes and form, potently enthralling 
 in their sudden splendour, as are the fierce and glowing 
 charms of the south. 
 
 Unbroken success ! The new sheep arrived and were de- 
 livered reluctantly by their owner, who swore by all his gods 
 that the agents had betrayed him, and that for two pins he 
 would not deliver at all, but finally consented to hear reason, 
 and sold his cart and horses, tent and traps — yet another 
 bargain — ^to the invincible M'Nab, departing with his under- 
 lings by mail. 
 
 Shearing was nearly over, the last flock being washed, 
 when one afternoon M'lfab came home in a high state of 
 dissatisfaction with everything. The men were shearing 
 badly ; there had been two or three rows ; the washers had 
 struck for more wages ; everything was out of gear. 
 
 " I've been trying to find out the reason all day," said he, 
 as he threw himself down on the camp-bed in his tent, with 
 clouded brow, " and I can think of nothing unless there is 
 some villainous hawker about with grog ; and I haven't seen 
 any cart either." 
 
 "It's awfully vexatious," said Jack, "just as we were 
 getting through so well. What the pest is that ? " By this 
 time, the day having been expended in mishaps and conjec- 
 tures, evening was drawing on. A dark figure came bounding 
 through the twilight at a high rate of speed, and, casting itself 
 on the tent floor, remained in a crouching, pleading position. 
 
 " Why, Wildduck," said Jack, in amazement, " what is the 
 matter now ? You are the most dramatic young woman. Has 
 a hostile brave been attempting to carry you off i or old man 
 Jack had a fit of unfounded jealousy ? Tell us all about it." 
 
 •' That ole black gin, Nanny," sobbed the girl, lifting up 
 
VI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 57 
 
 her face, across which, the blood from a gash on the brow 
 mixed freely with her tears ; " that one try to kill me, she 
 close up choke me only for Maramie." Here she showed her 
 throat, on which were marks of severe compression. 
 
 " Poor WUdduck I " said Jack, trying to soothe the excited 
 creatvire. " What made her do that ? I thought yours was 
 a model happy family ] " 
 
 " She quiet enough, only for that cursed drink. She 
 regular debbil-debbil when she get a glass." 
 
 " Ay ! " said M'Nab, " just as I expected ; and where did 
 you all get it i You've had a nip, too, I can see." 
 
 " Only one glass, Mr. M'Nab ; won't tell a lie," deprecated 
 the fugitive. " That bumboat man sell shearers and washers 
 some. You no see him 1 " 
 
 " How should I see 1 " quoth M'Nab ; " where is he now t " 
 
 " Just inside timber by the wash-pen,'' answered the girl ; 
 " he sneak out, but leave 'em cart there." 
 
 " I think I see my way to cutting out this pirate, or ' bum- 
 boat,' as "Wildduck calls him," said Jack. " The forest laws 
 were sharp and stern — ^that is, I believe, that on suspicion of 
 illegal grog you can capture a hawker with the strong hand 
 in New South Wales. So, Wildduck, you go and camp with 
 the carrier's wife, she'll take you in ; and, M'Nab, you get a 
 couple of horses and the ration-carrier — he's a stout fellow — 
 and we'll go forth and board this craft. We'll do a bit of 
 privateering ; ha, ha I ' whate'er they sees upon the seas they 
 seize upon it.'" 
 
 With short preparation the little party set out in the cool 
 starlight. Jack put a revolver into his belt for fear of acci- 
 dents. Mr. M'Nab had fished out the section of the Licensed 
 Hawkers' Act which referred to the illegal carrying of spirits, 
 and, being duly satisfied that he had the law on his side, was 
 ready for anything. The ration-carrier was strictly impartial. 
 He was ready to assist in the triumph of capture, or to return 
 unsuccessful with an equal mind, caring not a straw which 
 way the enterprise went. He lit his pipe, and followed 
 silently. As they approached the wash-pen they became 
 sensible of an extraordinary noise, as of crying, talking, and 
 screaming — aU mingled. From time to time a wild shriek 
 rent the air, while the rapid articulation in an unknown 
 tongue seemed to go on uninterruptedly. 
 
68 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [oHir. 
 
 " Must be another set of blacks," said Jack, as he halted 
 to listen. " I hope not ; one camp is , quite enough on the 
 place at a time." 
 
 "It's that old sweep, Nanny, I'm thinking," said the ration' 
 carrier. " "When she has a drop of grog on board she can 
 make row enough for a whole tribe. I've heard her at them 
 games before." 
 
 As the miami of the sable patriarch came into view, dimly 
 lighted by a small fire, an altogether unique scene presented 
 itself. The old gin, called Nanny, very Eghtly attired, was 
 marching backward and forward in front of the fire, appar-" 
 ently in a state of demoniac possession. She was crying 
 aloud in her own tongue, with the voice at its highest pitch 
 of shrillness, and with inconceivable rapidity and frenzy. In 
 her hand she carried a long and tolerably stout wand, being, 
 in fact, no other than the identical yam-stick to which Wild- 
 duck had referred as a weapon of offence, when proposing her 
 as a fitting antagonist for the contumacious young stockman. 
 With this she occasionally punctuated her rhetoric by waving 
 it over her head, or bringing it down with terrific violence 
 upon the earth. The meagre frame of the old heathen seemed 
 galvanised into magical power and strength as she paced 
 swiftly on her self-appointed course, whirling her shrivelled 
 arms on high, or bounding from the earth with surprising 
 agility. Such may have been the form, such the accents, of 
 the inspired prophetess in the dawn of a religion of mystery 
 and fear among the rude tribes of earth's earliest peoples — a 
 Cassandra shrieking forth her country's woes — a Sibyl pour- 
 ing out the dread oracles of a demon worship. The old 
 warrior sat unmoved, with stony eyes fixed on vacancy, as 
 the weird apparition passed and repassed like the phantas- 
 magoria of a dream ; while his aged companion, who seemed 
 of softer mould, cowered fearfully and helplessly by his side. 
 
 " By Jove ! " said Jack, " this is a grand and inspiriting 
 sight. I don't wonder that Wildduck fled away from this 
 style of thing. This old beldame would frighten the very 
 witches on a respectable Walpurgis night. Great is the fire- 
 water of the white man ! " 
 
 "She'll wear herself out soon," said the ration-carrier. 
 " Old man Jack wouldn't stand nice about downing her with 
 the waddy, if she came near enough to him. He aijd the 
 
VI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE, 59 
 
 tother old maimny, they never touches no grog. They're 
 about the only two people in this part of the country as I 
 know of as doesn't. But the gins is awful." 
 
 " Polygamy has its weak side, apparently," moralized Jack, 
 as still the frenzied form sped frantically past, and raved, and 
 yelled, and chattered, and threatened ; " not but what the 
 uncultured white female occasionally goes on ' the rampage ' 
 to some purpose. Hallo ! she's shortening stride ; we shall 
 see the finale." 
 
 Suddenly, as if an unseen hand had arrested the force 
 which had so miraculously sustained her feeble form, she 
 stopped. The fire of her protruding eyes was quenched ; her 
 nerveless limbs tottered and dragged ; uttering a horrible, 
 hoarse, unnatural cry, and throwing out her arms as in 
 supplication and fear, she fell forward, without an effort to 
 save herself, almost upon the embers of the dying fire. Old 
 man Jack sat stern and immovable ; but the woman ran for- 
 ward with a gesture of pity, and, dragging the corpse-like 
 form a few paces from the fire, covered it with a large 
 opossum-skin cloak or rug. 
 
 " We may as well be getting on towards this scoundrel of 
 a hawker," proposed M'Nab. " He ought to get it a little 
 hotter if it were only for this bit of mischief." 
 
 " There's a deal of tobacky in the grog these fellows sell," 
 observed the ration-carrier, with steady conviction, " that's 
 the worst of 'em ; if they'd only keep good stuff, it wouldn't 
 be so much matter in this black country, as one might say. 
 But I remember getting two glasses, only two as I'm alive, 
 from a hawker once ; I'm blest if they didn't send me clean 
 mad and stupid for a whole week." 
 
 On the side furthest from the creek upon which the tem- 
 porary wash-pen had been constructed, and midway between 
 it and the plains, which stretched far to the eastward, lay a 
 sand-ridge or dune, covered with thick growing pines. In 
 this natural covert the reconnoitring party doubted not that 
 the disturber of their peace had concealed himself. Biding 
 into it, they separated until they struck the weU-worn trail 
 which, in the pre-merino days, had formed the path by which 
 divers outlying cattle came in to water ; following this, they 
 came up to a clear space where a furtive-looking fire betrayed 
 the camp of the unlicensed victvi£(,ller, A store-cart, with th? 
 
eo THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 ordinary canvas tilt, and the heterogeneous packages common 
 to the profession, were partly masked by the timber. As they 
 rode up rapidly a man emerged from the shadow of a large 
 pine and confronted them. 
 
 " Hallo ! mates," he said, in a grufE but jocular tone ; 
 " what's the row 1 You ain't in the bushranging line, are 
 you ? because I've just sent away my cheques, worse luck." 
 
 " You'll see who we are directly," said Jack, jumping 
 down, and giving his horse to the ration-carrier. " I wish to 
 search your cart, that's all. I believe you've been selling 
 spirits to my men. I'm a magistrate." 
 
 " What d'yer mean, then, by coming here on the bounce? " 
 said the man, placing himself doggedly between Jack and the 
 cart. " You ain't got a warrant, and I'll see you far enough 
 before you touches a thing in that there cart. Why, my 
 wife's asleep there." 
 
 " No she ain't," said a shrill voice, as a woman disengaged 
 herself from the canvas, " but you don't touch anything for 
 all that. We've our licence, ain't we, Bill, and what's the 
 use of paying money to Government if pore people can't be 
 purtected?" 
 
 "Perhaps you're not aware," said M'Nab, with cool ac- 
 curacy, "that by the 19th and 20th sections of the 13th 
 Victoria, No. 36, any magistrate or constable, on suspicion 
 of spirits in unlawful quantities being carried for the purpose 
 of sale, can search such hawker's cart and take possession of 
 the spirits." 
 
 "That's the law," said Jack, "and we are going to search 
 your cart ; so stand aside, you cowardly scoundrel, making 
 your ill-gotten profits out of the wages of a lot of poor 
 fellows who have worked hard for them. Do you see this ? " 
 Here Jack suddenly produced his revolver, and giving the 
 fellow a shove, which sent him staggering against a fallen 
 tree, took possession of the vehicle, aU unheeding the 
 shrill tones and anything but choice language of the female 
 delinquent. 
 
 "Ay ! " said M'Nab, as he leaped actively into the cart, 
 and turned over packages of moleskin and bundles of boots, 
 bars of soap, and strings of dried apples, " this is all right 
 and square ; if you had only kept to a fair trade nobody could 
 take ye. What's under these blankets ? " 
 
VI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 61 
 
 Lifting a pile of loosely-spread blankets, he suddenly raised 
 a shout of triumph. 
 
 " So this was where the lady was sleeping, is it 1 Pity for 
 you, my man, she didn't stay there ; we should have been too 
 polite to raise her. The murder is out." Here he drummed 
 with his hand upon a new kind of instrument — a ten-gallon 
 keg, half empty too. " What a lot the ruflSan must have 
 sold." 
 
 " What is your name ? " asked Jack, blandly. 
 
 " William Smith," answered the feUow, gruflfly. 
 
 " Alias Jones, alias Dawkins, I suppose ; never mind, we 
 shall have time to find out your early history, I dare say. 
 Now, William, it becomes my duty to arrest you in the 
 Queen's name, and, for fear of your giving us the slip, I 
 must take the precaution of tying your hands behind your 
 back." 
 
 Suiting the action to the word, he " muzzled " Mr. William 
 so suddenly and effectually that, aided by M'Nab, there was 
 no great difficulty in securing him by means of a stout cord 
 which formed part of his own belongings. 
 
 " Keep off, Mrs. Smith, or we shall be under the necessity 
 of tying you up too." 
 
 This was no superfluous warning, as with a considerable 
 flow of Billingsgate, and with uplifted arms, the " bumboat 
 woman" showed the strongest desire to injure Jack's 
 complexion. 
 
 " You call yourselves men," she screamed, " coming here 
 in the dead of night, three to one, and rummaging pore 
 people's property like a lot of bushrangers. I'U have the law 
 of ye, if you was fifty squatters — robbing the country, and 
 won't let a pore man live. I've got money, and friends too, 
 as'U see us righted. Don't ye lay a finger on me, ye hungry, 
 grinding,Port Phillip Yankee slave driver" — (this to M'Nab) 
 — " or I'll claw your ugly face tUl your mother wouldn't 
 know ye." 
 
 " It's my opinion and belief," said M'Nab, " that she 
 wouldn't be far behind old Nanny, if she had that yam-stick 
 and another tot or two of her own grog. Here, Wilson, you 
 catch this fellow's horse ; there he is, hobbled under the big 
 tree, and put him. in the shafts. Mr. Redgrave and I will 
 bring yours on." 
 
62 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 The ration-carrier, much entertained, did as he was told, 
 and Mr. William being ordered to enter his own vehicle, on 
 pain of being attached to the tail-board, and compelled to 
 walk behind, like a bullock- driver's hackney, the procession 
 moved off, the ration-carrier driving, and the others riding 
 behind. Mrs. Smith followed for some distance, disparaging 
 everybody concerned, and invoking curses upon the innocent 
 heads of all the squatters in Riverina, but finally consented 
 to avail herself of the carriage. 
 
 In this order they reached Gondaree at an advanced hour 
 of the night ; and the next day Mr. William was safely 
 lodged in the lock-up at the rising township of Burrabri, 
 thirty miles down the river. Here he languished, until a 
 couple of neighbouring Justices of the Peace could spare 
 time from their shearing to try the case, when, the needful 
 evidence being forthcoming, he was fined thirty pounds, 
 with the alternative of three months' imprisonment in 
 Bochara gaol. 
 
 Hereupon his faithful companion appeared in a new light, 
 and made a highly practical suggestion — " You take it out, 
 BUI," said the artful fair one ; " don't you go for to pay 'em 
 a red far den. You'll be a deal cooler in gaol than anywhere 
 else in this blessed sandy country. I'll look arter the cart 
 and boss, and have all ready for a good spree at Christmas. 
 You'll be out by then." 
 
 Mr. William looked at the blue sky through the open door 
 of the public-house — the improvised court-house on such 
 occasions — but finally decided to earn an honest penny — ten 
 pounds per mensem, by voluntary incarceration. 
 
 When he did come forth, just before the Christmas week 
 — alas that the chronicler should have to record one more in- 
 stance of Woman'sperfidy ! — the frail partner of his guilt had 
 Bold the horse and cart, retained the price thereof, and bolted 
 with " another ' BUI,' whose Christian name was John." 
 
 The little episode ended, nothing occurred to mar the 
 onward progress of events untU the last bale of wool was 
 duly shorn, packed, and safely deposited on a waggon en route 
 for the steamer and a colonial market. 
 
 Then, with a clear conscience and a feeling of intense and 
 cumulative satisfaction, Mr. John Eedgrave betook himself 
 once more to the busy haunts of men. Had he been Sir 
 
n.} A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 63 
 
 John Franklin, returning from a three-years' voyage to the 
 North Pole, he could hardly have been more jubilant and 
 grateful to a kind Providence, when he again ensconced 
 himself in the up-train for the metropoUs. He revelled and 
 rioted in the unwonted luxuries of town life, like a midship- 
 man at the Blue Posts. Bread and butter, decent cookery, 
 and cool claret, the half-forgotten ceremonial of dinner, 
 billiards, books, balls, lawn parties, ladies, luxuries of all 
 sorts and kinds ; how delicious, how intoxicating they were 1 
 Material advantages went hand in hand with this re-entrance 
 to Eden. He had very properly agreed with M'JSTab that it 
 was well to sell this year's cHp in the colony, as the washing 
 and getting up were only so-so, and wool was high. Next 
 year they might show the English and French buyers what 
 the J E. brand over Grondaree was like, and reasonably hope 
 that every year would add to the selling price of that valuable, 
 extensive, and scientifically got-up clip. 
 
 Jack looked bronzed, and thinner than of old, but all his 
 friends, especially the ladies, voted it an improvement ; he 
 had the air of an explorer, a dweller in the wilderness, and 
 what not. His wool, which followed him, sold extremely 
 well. Assumed to be successful, he was more popular than 
 ever. His bankers were urbane ; he was consulted by some 
 of the oldest and most astute speculators ; men prophesied 
 great things as to his ultimate financial triumphs. And Jack 
 already looked upon himself as forming one of the congress 
 of Australian B.othschilds, and began to think of all the 
 munificent and ingeniously helpful things that he would do in 
 such case ; for he was of a kindly and sentimentally generous 
 tendency, this speculative Jack of ours, and his day-dreams 
 of wealth were never unmingled with-the names of those who 
 immediately after such reaHzation would hear something to 
 their advantage. Jack Hngered in Paradise for a couple of 
 months, during which time he received his wool money, and 
 made arrangements with his bankers for the purchase of as 
 much wire as would suffice to fence a large proportion of his 
 run. His stores were commensurate with the future prestige 
 of the establishment. He explained to Mr. Mildmay Shrood, 
 his banker, that he might possibly put on a few thousand 
 more sheep if he saw a good opportunity. Of course he could 
 buy more cheaply for cash ; and if they paid as well as the 
 
64 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM. [ch. vi. 
 
 lot he had picked up this year, they would be very cheap 
 after the wool was ofE their backs. 
 
 "My dear sir," said Mr. Shrood, with an air of friendly 
 interest, " the bank wiU be most happy to honour your drafts 
 up to ten thousand pounds. If you need more you will be 
 kind enough to advise. I hear the most favourable accounts 
 of the district in which you have invested, and of your 
 property in particular. What is your own opinion — which I 
 should value — upon the present prices of stock and stations 1 
 will they keep up ? " 
 
 " I have the fullest belief," quoth Jack, with judicial 
 certainty, " in the present rates being maintained for the next 
 ten years ; for five years at least it is impossible by my 
 calculations, if correct, that any serious fall should take place. 
 The stock, I believe, are not in the country in sufficient 
 numbers to meet the rapidly enlarging demand for meat. 
 Wool is daily finding new markets and manufacturers. I 
 never expect to see bullocks above five pounds again ; but 
 sheep — sheep, you may depend, will go on rising in price 
 until I should not be surprised to see first-class stations 
 fetching thirty shillings, or even two pounds, all round." 
 
 " Quite of your opinion, my dear Mr. Redgrave," quoth 
 the affable coin-compeller. "Happy to have my ideas 
 confirmed by a gentleman of so much experience. Depend 
 upon it, sheep-farming is in its infancy. Good morning. 
 Good morning, my dear sir." 
 
 Jack saw no particular reason for hurrying himself, 
 being represented at Gondaree by a far better man than 
 himself, as he told everybody. So he spent his Christmastide 
 joyously, and permitted January to glide over, as a month 
 suitable for gradually tnaking up his mind to return to the 
 wilderness. Early in February he began to feel bored with 
 the " too-muchness " of nothing to do, and wisely departed. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " But he still governed with resistless hand. 
 And where he could not guide he would command." — Orabbe. 
 
 When Jack got back he was rather shocked at the 
 altered aspect of the run. There had been no rain, except 
 in inconsiderable quantity, during his absence, and the 
 herbage generally showed signs of a deficiency of moisture. 
 The river flats, which were so lush and heavily cropped with 
 green herbage that your horse's feet made a " swish-swash- 
 ing " noise as you rode through it, now were very parched 
 up, dry, and bare, or else burned off altogether. 
 
 On mentioning this to Mr. M'Nab, he said— 
 
 " Well, the fact is that the grass got very dry, and some 
 feUow put a fire-stick into it. Then we have had a great 
 number of travelling sheep through lately, and they have fed 
 their mile pretty bare. The season has been very dry so far. 
 I sincerely trust we shall get rain soon." 
 
 " We may," said Jack. " But when once these dry years 
 set in, they say you never know when it may rain again. 
 But how do the sheep look 1" 
 
 " Couldn't possibly look better," answered M'Nab, de- 
 cisively. " There is any quantity of feed and water at the 
 back, and I have not troubled the frontage much. I am 
 glad ye sent the wire up. We were nearly stopped, as it 
 came just as the posts were in. I have got one line of the 
 lambing paddock nearly finished, and we shall have that 
 part of the play over before long. No more shepherds and 
 ' motherers ' to pay in that humbugging way next year." 
 
 " And how are the other things getting on ? " inquired 
 Jack. 
 
 " Well, the cottage is nearly fit to go into. Your bedroom 
 
66 THE SQUATTER'S DEEAM : [chap. 
 
 is finished and ready for you. I had a garden fenced in, and 
 put on a Chinaman with a pump to grow some vegetables — 
 for we were all half-way to a little scurvy. The wool-shed is 
 getting along, though the carpenters went on the spree at 
 Bochara for a fortnight. In fact, all is doing well generally, 
 and I think you'll say the sheep are improved." 
 
 Jack lost no time in establishing himself in his bedroom in 
 the new cottage, which he had judiciously caused to be built 
 of " pise," or rammed earth, by this means saving the cartage 
 of material, for the soil was dug out immediately in front of 
 the building, and securing coolness, solidity, and thickness 
 of wall, none of which conditions are to be found in weather- 
 board or slab buildings. Brick or stone was not, of course, 
 to be thought of, owing to the absence of lime, and the 
 tremendous expense of such materials. The heat was terrific. 
 But when Jack found himself the tenant of a cool, spacious 
 apartment, with his books, a writing-table, and a little decent 
 furniture, the rest of the cottage including a fair-sized sitting- 
 room, with walls of reasonable altitude, he did not despair of 
 being able to support life for the few years required for the 
 process of making a fortune. The river, fringed by the 
 graceful though dark-hued casuarinas, was pleasant enough 
 to look on, as it rippled on over pools and sandy shallows, 
 immediately below his verandah. And beyond all expres- 
 sion was it glorious to bathe in by early morn or sultry 
 eve. 
 
 The garden, though far, far different from the lost Eden 
 of Marshmead, with its crowding crops, glossy shrubs, and 
 heavily-laden fruit trees, was still a source of interest and , 
 pleasure. Under the unwearied labour and water-carrying, 
 of Ah Sing, rows of vegetables appeared, grateful to the eye, 
 and were ravenously devoured by the employes of the station, 
 whom a constant course of mutton, damper, and tea — tea, 
 damper, and mutton — had led to, as M'Nab said truly, the 
 border-land of one of the most awful diseases that scourge 
 humanity. Never before had a cabbage been grown at 
 Gondaree, and the older residents looked with a kind of awe 
 at Ah Sing as he watered his rows of succulent vegetables, 
 toilsomely and regularly, in the long hot mornings and 
 breezeless afternoons. 
 
 "My word, John," said Jingaree, who had ridden over 
 
Yii.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAK LIFE. 67 
 
 from Jook-jook one day on no particular business, but to 
 look at the wonderful improvements which afforded the 
 staple subject of conversation that summer on the Warroo, 
 " you're working this garden-racket fust chop. I've been 
 here eight year, and never see a green thing except marsh- 
 maUers and Warrigal cabbage. How ever do you make 
 'em come Kke that ? " 
 
 " Plenty water, plenty dung, plenty work, welly good 
 cabbagee," said Ah Sing, sententiously. " Why you not grow 
 melon, tater, ladishee ? " 
 
 " I don't say we mightn't," said Jingaree, half soliloquiz- 
 ing, " but it's too hot in these parts to be carrying water 
 all day long like a Chow. Give us one of them cabbages, 
 John." 
 
 " You takee two," quoth the liberal celestial. " Mr. 
 Mackinab, he say, give um shepherdy all about. You 
 shepherdy?" 
 
 " You be hanged ! " growled the insulted stockman. " Do 
 I look Uke a slouchin', 'possum-eating, billy-carrying craw- 
 ler of a shepherd 1 I've had a horse under me ever since I 
 was big enough to know Jingaree mountain from a hay- 
 stack, and a horse I'U have as long as I can carry a stock- 
 whip. However, I don't suppose you meant any offence, 
 John. Hand over the cabbages. Blest if I couldn't eat 
 'em raw without a mossel of salt." 
 
 " Here tomala — weUy good tomala," said the pacific 
 Chinaman, appalled at the unexpected wrath of the stranger. 
 " Welly good cabbagee, good-bye." 
 
 Jack being comfortably placed in his cottage, took a 
 leisurely look through his accounts. He was rather aston- 
 ished, and a little shocked, to find what a sum he had got 
 through for all the various necessaries of his position. — ■ 
 Stores, wages, contract payments, wire, blacksmith, car- 
 penters, sawyers, bricklayers (for the wash-pen and the 
 cottage chimneys). — Cheque, cheque, there seemed no end to 
 the outflow of cash — and a good deal more was to come, or 
 rather to go, before next lambing, washing, and shearing 
 were concluded. He mentioned his ideas on the subject to 
 Mr. M'Nab. 
 
 That financier frankly admitted that the outlay was large, 
 ppsitively but not relatively. " You understand, sir," he 
 
 F 2 
 
68 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 said, " that much of this money will not have to be spent 
 twice. Once have your fences up, and breed up, or buy, tUl 
 you have stocked your run, and you are at the point where 
 the largest amount of profit, the wool and the surplus sheep, 
 is met by the minimum, of expenditure. No labour will be 
 wanted but three or four boundary riders. The wool, I think, 
 wiU be well got up, and ought to sell well." 
 
 " I dare say," said Jack, " I dare say. It's no use stopping 
 half way, but really, the money does seem to run out as 
 from a sieve. However, it wiU be as cheap to shear 40,000 
 sheep as twenty. So I shall decide to stock up as soon as 
 the fences are finished." 
 
 This point being settled, Mr. M'Nab pushed on his projects 
 and operations with unflagging energy. He worked all day 
 and half the night, and seemed to know neither weariness nor 
 fatigue of mind or body. He had all the calculations of aU 
 the different contracts at his fingers' ends, and never per- 
 mitted to cool any of the multifarious irons which he had in 
 the fire. 
 
 He kept the different parties of teamsters, fencers, splitters, 
 carpenters, sawyers, dam-makers, well-sinkers, all in hand, 
 going smoothly and without delay, hitch, or dissatisfaction. 
 He provided for their rations being taken to them, kept all 
 the accounts accurately, and if there was so much as a sheep- 
 skin not returned, as per agreement, the defaulter was 
 regularly charged with it. Incidentally, and besides all this 
 work, sufficient for two ordinary men, he administered the 
 shepherds and their charge — now amounting to nearly 30,000 
 sheep. Jack's admiration of his manager did not slacken or 
 change. " By Jove ! " he said to himself, occasionally, " that 
 fellow M'Nab is fit to be a general of division. He never 
 leaves anything to chance, and he seems to foresee everything 
 and to arrange the cure before the ailment is announced." 
 
 The cottage being now finished, Jack began to find life 
 not only endurable, but almost enjoyable. He had got up a 
 remnant of his library, and with some English papers, and 
 the excellent weeklies of the colonies, he found that he had 
 quite as much mental pabulum, as he had leisure to consiune. 
 The sheep were looking famously well. The lambs were nearly 
 as big in appearance as their mothers. The store sheep had 
 fattened, and would be fit for the butcher as soon ^.s their 
 
TIL] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 69 
 
 fleeces were ofE. The shepherds, for a wonder, gave no 
 trouble, the ground being open, and their flocks strong ; all 
 was going well. The wool-shed was progressing towards 
 completion ; the wash-pen would follow suit, and be ready for 
 the spouts, with all the latest improvements, which were even 
 now on the road. Unto Jack, as he smoked in the verandah 
 at night, gazing on the bright blue starry sky, listening to the 
 rippling river, came freshly once more the beatific vision of 
 a completely-fenced and fully-stocked run, paying splendidly, 
 and ultimately taken ofE his hands at a profit, which should 
 satisfy pride and compensate privation. 
 
 He and Mr. M'Nab had also become accustomed to the 
 ways of the population. " I thought at turst," said Jack, 
 " that I never set eyes on such a set of dufiers and loafers 
 as the men at the Warroo generally. But I have had to 
 change my opinion. They only want management, and I 
 have seen some of the best working men among them I ever 
 saw anywhere. One requires a good deal of patience in a 
 new country." 
 
 "They want a dash of ill temper now and then," rejoined 
 M'Nab. " It's very hard, when work is waiting for want 
 of men, to see a gang of stout, lazy fellows going on, 
 refusing a pound and five-and-twenty shillings a week, 
 because the work is not to their taste." 
 
 "But do they] " inquired Jack. 
 
 " There were five men refused work from one of the fence 
 contractors at that price yesterday," said M'Nab, wrath- 
 fully. "They wouldn't do the buUocking and only get 
 shepherds' wages, was the answer. I had the travellers' 
 hut locked up, and not a bit of meat or flour will any 
 traveller get till we get men." 
 
 " That doesn't seem unjust," said Jack. " I don't see 
 that we are called upon to maintain a strike against our 
 own rate of wages, which we do in effect by feeding aU the 
 idle fellows who elect to march on. But don't be hard on 
 them. They can do us harm enough if they try." 
 
 " I don't see that, sir. The salt-bush won't biurn, and 
 they would never think of anything else. They must be 
 taught in this part of the world that they will not be 
 encouraged to refuse fair wages. Now we are talking about 
 rates — seventeen and sixpence is quite enough to give a 
 
70 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 hundred for shearing. "We must have an understanding 
 with the other sheep-owners, and try and fix it this year." 
 
 Whether intimidated by the determined attitude of Mr. 
 M'Nab, or because men differ in their aspirations, on the 
 Warroo as in other places, the next party of travellers 
 thankfully accepted the contractors' work and wages, and 
 buckled to at once. They were, in fact, a party of navvies 
 just set free from a long piece of contract, and this putting 
 up posts, pretty hard work, was just what they wanted. 
 
 M'Nab fully beUeved it was owing to him', and mentally 
 vowed to act with similar decision in the next case erf 
 mutiny. A steady enforcement of your own rules is what 
 the people here look for, thought he. 
 
 The seasons glided on. Month after month of Jack's life, 
 and of all our lives, fleeted past, and once again shearing 
 became imminent. The time did not hang heavily on his 
 hands ; he rose at daylight, and after a plunge in the river 
 the various work of each day asserted its claims, and our 
 merino-multiplier found himself wending his way home at 
 eve as weary as Gray's ploughman, only fit for the consump- 
 tion of dinner and an early retreat to his bedroom. A more 
 pretentious and certainly more neatly-arrayed artist — 
 indeed, a cordon bleu, unable to withstand the tempta- 
 tions of town hfe — had succeeded Bob the cook. Now thait 
 the cottage was completed, and reasonable comfort and 
 coolness were attainable. Jack told himself that it was not 
 such a bad life after all. A decent neighbour or two had 
 turned up within visiting distance — that is under fifty 
 miles. The constant labour sweetened his mental health, 
 while the " great expectations " of the flawless perfection of 
 the new wool-shed, the highly improved wash-pen, and the 
 generally triumphant success of the coming clip, lent ardour 
 to his soul and exultation to his general bearing. M'Nab, 
 as usual, worked, and planned, and calculated, and organized 
 with the tireless regularity of an engine. Chiefly by his 
 exertions and a large emission of circulars, the Warroo 
 sheep-holders had been roused to a determination to reduce 
 the price of shearing per himdred from twenty shillings 
 to seventeen and sixpence. This reduced rate, in spite of 
 some grumbling, they were enabled to carry out, chiefly 
 owing to an unusual abundance of the particular class of 
 
VII.] A STORY 07 AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 71 
 
 workmen concerned. The men, after a few partial strikes, 
 capitulated. But they knew from whence the movement 
 had emanated, and were not inclined altogether to forget 
 the fact. Indeed, of late M'Nab, from overwork and con- 
 centration of thought, had lost his originally imperturbable 
 manner. He had got into a habit of " driving " his men, 
 and bore himself more nearly akin to the demeanour of 
 the second mate on board a Yankee merchantman than 
 the superintendent of the somewhat free and independent 
 workmen of an Australian colony. 
 
 " He's going too fast, that new boss," said one of the 
 wash-pen hands one day, as Mr. M'Nab, imusually chafed at 
 the laziness of one of the men who were helping to fit a 
 boiler, had, in requital of some insolent rejoinder, knocked 
 Tiim down, and discharged him on the spot. " He'U get a 
 rough turn yet, if he don't look out — there's some very 
 queer characters on the Warroo." 
 
 And now the last week of July had arrived. The season 
 promised to be early. The grasses were unusually forward, 
 while the burr-clover, matted and luxiuriant, made it evident 
 that rather less than the ordinary term of sunshine would 
 suffice to harden its myriads of aggressively injurious seed- 
 cylinders. The warning was not unnoticed by the ever- 
 watchful eye of M'Nab. 
 
 " There will be a bad time with any sheds that are imlucky 
 enough to be late this year," he said, as Jack and he were 
 inspecting the dam and lately-placed spouts of the wash-pen; 
 " that's why I've been carrying a full head of steam lately, 
 to get all in order this month. Thank goodness, the shed 
 will be finished on Saturday, and I'm ready for a start on 
 the fixst of August." 
 
 Of a certainty, every one capable of being acted upon by 
 the contagion of a very uncommon degree of energy had been 
 working at high pressure for the last two months. Paddocks 
 had been completed ; huts were ready for the washers and 
 shearers. The great plant, including a steam-engine, had 
 been strongly and efficiently fitted at the wash-pen, where a 
 dam sent back the water for a mile, to the great astonish- 
 ment of Jingaree and his friends, who occasionally rode 
 over, as a species of holiday, to inspect the work. 
 
 "My word," said this representative of the Arcadian, or 
 
72 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : toHAP. 
 
 perhaps Saturnian, period. " I wonder what old Morgan 
 would say to all this here tiddley-winkin', with steam-engine, 
 and wire-fences, and knock-about men at a pound a week, 
 as plenty as the black fellows when he first came on the 
 ground. They'll have a Christy pallis yet, and minstrels 
 too, rU be bound. They've fenced us off from our Long 
 Camp, too, with that cussed wire. Said our cattle went 
 over our boundary. Boundaries be blowed ! I've seen 
 every herd mixed from here to Bochara, after a dry season. 
 Took men as knew their work to draft 'em again, I can tell 
 you. If these here fences is to be run up aU along the 
 river, any Jackaroo can go stock-keeping. The country's 
 going to mischief." 
 
 "Winding up with this decided statement of disapproval, 
 Mr. Jingaree thus delivered himself at a cattle muster at 
 one of the old-fashioned stations, where the ancient manners 
 and customs of the land were stUl preserved in an uncor- 
 rupted state. The other gentlemen, Mr. BiUy the Bay, 
 from Durgah, Mr. Long Jem, from Deep Creek, Mr. Flash 
 Jack, from Banda Murranul, and a dozen other representa- 
 tives of the spur and stock-whip, listened with evident 
 approbation to Jingaree's peroration. " The blessed country's 
 a blessed sight too full," said Mr. Long Jem. " I mind the 
 time when, if a cove wanted a fresh hand, he had to ride to 
 Bochara and stay there a couple of days, till some feller had 
 finished knockin' down his cheque. Now they can stay at 
 home, and pick and choose among the travellers at their 
 ease. It's these blessed immigrants and diggers as spoils 
 our market. "What right have they got to the country, I'd 
 like to know?" 
 
 This natural but highly protective view of the labour 
 question found general acquiescence, and nothing but the 
 absurd latter-day theories of the necessity of population, and 
 the freedom of the individual, prevented, in their opinion, a 
 return of the good old times, when each man fixed the rate 
 of his own remuneration. 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. M'Nab's daring innovations progressed 
 and prospered at the much-changed and highly-improved 
 Gondaree. On Saturday afternoon Redgrave and his 
 manager surveyed, with no Httle pride, the completed and 
 indeed admirable wool-shed. Nothing on the "Warroo had 
 
VII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 73 
 
 ever been seen like it. Jack felt honestly proud of his new 
 possession, as he walked up and down the long building. 
 The shearing floor was neatly, even ornamentally, laid with 
 the boards of the delicately-tinted Australian pine. The 
 long pens which delivered the sheep to the operator were 
 battened on a new principle, applied by the ever-inventive 
 genius of M'Nab. There were separate back yards and 
 accurately divided portions of the floor for twenty shearers. 
 The roof was neatly shingled. All the appliances for saving 
 labour were of the most modern description, and as different 
 from the old-world contrivances in vogue among the wool- 
 ^eds of the Warroo as a threshing-machine from a pair of 
 flails. The wool-press alone had cost more as it stood ready 
 for work than many a shed, wash-pen, huts, and yards of the 
 old days. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " The crackling embers glow, 
 And flakes of hideous smoke the skies defile." — Grabhe. 
 
 "There is accommodation for more shearers than we 
 shall need this year," said M'Nab, apologetically, " but it is 
 as well to do the thing thoroughly. Next year I hope we 
 shall have fifty thousand to shear, and if you go in for some 
 back country I don't see why there shouldn't be a hundred 
 thousand sheep on the board before you sell out. That 
 will be a sale worth talking about. MeanwhUe, there's 
 nothirig like plenty of room in a shed. The wool will be 
 all the better this year even for it." 
 
 " I know it has cost a frightful lot of money," said Jack, 
 pensively, practising a gentle gaUop on the smooth, pale- 
 yellow, aromatic-scented floor. " I dare say it will be a 
 pleasure to shear in it, and all that — but it's spoiled a 
 thousand pounds one way or the other." 
 
 " What's a thousand pounds ? " said M'Nab, with a sort 
 of gaze that seemed as though he were piercing the mists of 
 futurity, and seeing an unbroken procession of tens of thou- 
 sands of improved merinos marching slowly and impressively 
 on to the battens, ready to deliver three pounds and a-half 
 of spout-washed wool at half-a-crown a pound. " When you 
 come to add a penny or twopence a pound to a large clip, 
 all the money you can spend in a wash-pen, or a shed, is re- 
 paid in a couple of years. Of course I mean when things 
 are on a large scale." 
 
 " Well, we're spending money on a large scale," said 
 Jack. " I only hope the returns and profits will be in the 
 same proportion." 
 
 " Not a doubt of it,'' said M'Nab. " I must be off home 
 to meet the fencers." 
 
OH. Till.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 75 
 
 The shed was locked up, and they drove home. As they 
 alighted, three men were standing at the door of the store, 
 apparently waiting for the " dole " — a pound of meat and a 
 pannikin of flour, which is now found to be the reasonable 
 minimum, given to every wayfarer by the dwellers in River- 
 ina, whoUy irrespective of caste, colour, indisposition to 
 ■work, or otherwise, " as the case may be." 
 
 Jack went into the house to prepare for dinner, while 
 M'Nab, looking absently at the men, took out a key and 
 made towards the entrance to the store. 
 
 " Stop," cried M'Nab, "didn't I see you three men on 
 the road to-day, about four nules off 1 'WTiich way have you 
 come?" 
 
 " We're from down the river," said one of the fellows, 
 a voluble, good-for-nothing, loafing impostor, a regular 
 "coaster" and "up one side of the river and down the 
 other" traveller, as the men say, asking for work, and 
 praying, so long as food and shelter are afforded, that he 
 may not get it. " We've been looking for work this weeks, 
 and I'm sure, sliding into an impressive low-tragedy growl, 
 the 'ardships men 'as to put up with in this country— a- 
 travellin' for work — no one can't imagine." 
 
 " I dare say not," said M'Nab ; " it's precious little you 
 fellows know of hardships, fed at every station you come to, 
 taking an easy day's walk, and not obliged to work imless 
 the employment thoroughly suits you. How far have you 
 come to-day 1 " 
 
 There was a slight appearance of hesitation and reference 
 to each other as the spokesman answered — " From Dickson's, 
 a station about fifteen miles distant." 
 
 " You are telling me a lie," said M'Nab, wrathfully. " I 
 saw you sitting down on your swags this morning at the 
 crossing-place, five miles from here, and the hut-keeper on 
 the other side of the river told me you had been there all 
 night and had only just left." 
 
 " Well, suppose we did," said another one, who had not 
 yet spoken, "there's no law to make a man walk so many 
 miles a day, like travelling sheep. I dare say the squatters 
 would have that done if they could. Are you going to give 
 us shelter here to-night, or no ? " 
 
 " I'll see you hanged first ! " broke forth M'Nab, indig- 
 
76 THE SQTTATTEE'S DEEAM : [chap. 
 
 nantly ; " what, do you talk about shelter in weather like 
 this I A rotten tree is too good a lodging for a set of lazy, 
 useless scoundrels, who go begging from station to station 
 at the rate of five miles a day." 
 
 " "We did not come far to-day, it is true," said the third 
 traveller, evidently a foreigner ; " but we have a far pas- 
 age to-morrow. Is it not so, mes ca/ma/rades i " 
 
 " Far enough, and precious short rations too, sometimes," 
 growled the man who had spoken last. " I wish some coves 
 had a taste on it themselves." 
 
 " See here, my man," said M'Nab, going close up to the last 
 speaker, and looking him full in the eye, " if you don't start 
 at once I'll kick you off the place, and pretty quickly too." 
 
 The man glared savagely for a moment, but, seeing but 
 little chance of coming off best in an encounter with a man 
 in the prime of youth and vigoiu:, gave in, and sullenly 
 picked up his bundle. 
 
 The Frenchman, for such he was, turned for a moment, 
 and fixing a small glittering eye — cold and serpentine — 
 upon M'Nab, said — 
 
 " It is then that you refuse us a morsel of food, the liberty 
 to lie on the hut floor ? " 
 
 "There is the road," repeated M'Nab ; "I wiU harbour 
 no impostors or loafers." 
 
 "I have the honour to wish you good-evening," said the 
 Frenchman, bowing with exaggerated politeness; " a pleasant 
 evening, and dreams of the best." 
 
 The men went slowly on their way. M'Nab went into 
 the cottage, by no means too well satisfied with himself. A 
 feeling of remorse sprang up within his breast. " Hang the 
 fellows ! " said he to himself, "^it serves them right. Still I 
 am going in to a comfortable meal and my bed, while these 
 poor devUs will most probably have neither. That French- 
 man didn't seem a crawler either, though I didn't like the 
 expression of his eye as he moved away. They'll make up 
 for it at Jook-jook to-morrow. "Why need they have told 
 me that confounded lie ? then they would have been treated 
 well. However, it can't be helped. If we don't give them 
 a lesson now and then the country wUl get full of fellows 
 who do nothing but consume rations, and fair station work 
 wUl become impossible." 
 
VIII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 77 
 
 Early next morning — it was Sunday, by the way — Jack 
 was turning round for another hour's snooze, an indul- 
 gence to which he deemed himself fairly entitled after a hard 
 week's work, when Mr. M'Nab's voice (he was always up 
 and about early, whatever might be the day of the week) 
 struck strangely upon his ear. He was replying to one of 
 the station hands ; he caught the words — " The shed ! God 
 in heaven — you can't mean it ! " Jack was out of bed with 
 one bound, and, half clad, rushed out. M'Nab was sad- 
 dling a horse with nervous hands that could scarcely draw 
 a buckle. 
 
 " What is it, man ? " demanded Redgrave, with a sinking 
 at the heart, and a strange presentiment of evil. 
 
 "The wool-shed's a-fire, sir ! " answered the man, falter- 
 ingly, " and I came in directly I seen it to let you know." 
 
 " On fire ! and why didn't you try and put it out 1 " in- 
 quired he, hoarsely, " there were plenty of you about there." 
 He was hoping against hope, and was scarcely surprised 
 when the man said, in a tone as nearly modulated to sym- 
 pathy as his rough utterance could be subdued to — 
 
 " The men are hard at it, sir, but I'm afraid " 
 
 Jack did not wait for the conclusion of the sentence, 
 but made at once for the loose-box where his hack had 
 been lately bestowed at night, and in a couple of minutes 
 was galloping along the lately-worn " wool-shed track " at 
 some distance behind M'Nab, who was racing desperately 
 ahead. 
 
 Before he reached the creek upon which the precious and 
 indispensable building had been, after much careful plan- 
 ning erected, he saw the great column of smoke rising 
 through the still morning air, and knew that all was 
 lost. He knew that the pine timber, of which it was chiefly 
 composed, would burn " like a match," and that if not 
 stifled at its earliest commencement all the men upon the 
 Warroo could not have arrested its progress. As he gal- 
 loped up a sufficiently sorrowful sight met his eye. The 
 shearers, washers, and some other provisional hands, put on 
 in anticipation of the unusual needs of shearing time, were 
 standing near the fiercely-blazing structure, with fallen roof 
 and charred uprights, which but yesterday had been the best 
 wool-shed on the Warroo. The deed was done. There was 
 
78 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 absolutely no hope, no opportunity of saving a remnant of 
 the value of five pounds of the whole eostly building. 
 
 " How, in the name of all that's — " said he to M'Nab, who 
 was gazing fixedly beyond the red smouldering mass, as 
 if his ever-working mind was already busied beyond the 
 immediate disaster, " did the fire originate 1 It was never 
 accidental. Then who could have had the smallest motive 
 to do us such an injury ? " 
 
 "I am afraid I have too good a guess," answered M'Nab. 
 " But of that by and by. Did you see any strange men 
 camp here last night ? " he asked of the crowd generally. 
 
 " Travellers ? " said one of the expectant shearers. " Yes, 
 there was three of 'em came up late and begged some rations. 
 I was away after my horse as made off. When I found him 
 and got back it was ten o'clock at night, and these coves 
 was just making their camp by the receiving-yard." 
 
 " What like were they 1 " 
 
 " Two biggish chaps — one with a beard, and a little man, 
 spoke like a 'Talian or a Frenchman." 
 
 " Did they say anything ? " 
 
 " Well, one of them — the long chap — began to run you 
 down ; but the Frenchman stopped him, and said you was 
 too good to 'em altogether." 
 
 " Who saw the shed first ? " 
 
 " I did, sir," said one of the fencers. " I turned out at 
 daylight to get some wood, when the fust thing I saw was 
 the roof all blazin' and part of it fell in. I raised a shout 
 and started all the men. We tried buckets, but, lor' bless 
 you, when we come to look, the floor was all burned through 
 and through." 
 
 "Then you think it had been burning a good while?" 
 asked Jack, now beginning to understand the drift of the 
 examination. 
 
 " Hours and hours, sir," answered the man ; " from what 
 we see, the fire started under where the floor joins the 
 battens ; there was a lot of shavings under the battens, and 
 some of them hadn't caught when we came. It was there 
 the fire began sure enough." 
 
 " Did any one see the strange men leave ? " asked M'Nab, 
 with assumed coolness, though his lip worked nervously, and 
 his forehead was drawn into deep wrinkles. 
 
Till.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 79 
 
 " Not a soul," said another of the hands. " I looked over 
 at their camp as we rushed out, and it was all cleared out, 
 and no signs of 'em." 
 
 John Redgrave and his manager rode back very sadly to 
 Steamboat Point that quiet Sxmday morn. The day was fair 
 and still, with the added silence and hush which long train- 
 ing communicates to the mere idea of the Sabbath day. 
 
 The birds called strangely, but not unmusically, from the 
 pale-hued trees but lately touched with a softer green. The 
 blue sky was cloudless. Nature was kindly and serene. No- 
 thing was incongruous with her tranquil and tender aspect 
 but the stern, tameless heart of man. 
 
 They maintained for some time a dogged silence. The loss 
 was bitter. Not only had rather more money been spent 
 upon the building than was quite advisable or convenient, 
 but the whole comfort, pride, and perhaps profit, of the 
 shearing would be lost. 
 
 " Those infernal scoundrels," groaned M'Nab ; " that 
 snake of a Frenchman, with his beady black eyes. I 
 thought the little brute meant mischief, though I never 
 dreamed of this, or I'd have gone and slept in the shed till 
 shearing was over. I'll have them in gaol before a week's 
 over their heads, but what satisfaction is there in that? 
 It's my own fault in great part. I ought to have known, 
 better, and not have been so hard on them." 
 
 "I was afraid," said Jack, "that you were a little too 
 sharp with these fellows of late. I know, too, what they 
 are capable of. But no one could have foreseen such an 
 outrage as this. The next thing to consider is how to 
 knock up a rough makeshift that we can shear in." 
 
 " That doesn't give me any trouble," answered the spirit- 
 stricken M'Nab ; " we could do as we did last year ; but the 
 season is a month forwarder, and we shall have the burrs 
 and grass-seed in the wool as sure as fate. But for that, I 
 shouldn't so much care." 
 
 M'Nab departed gloomily to his own room, refusing con- 
 solation, and spent the rest of the day writing circulars 
 containing an accurate description of the suspected ones to 
 every police-station within two hundred miles. 
 
 Then it came to pass that the three outlaws were soon 
 snapped up by a zealous sergeant, " on suspicion of having 
 
80 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 committed a felony," and safely lodged in Bochara gaol. 
 There did they abide for several weary months, until the 
 Judge of the Circuit Court was graciously pleased to come 
 and try them. 
 
 The loss in the first instance was sufficiently great. The 
 labour of many men for nearly a year ; every nail, every 
 ounce of iron contained in the large building had been 
 brought from Melbourne ; the sawyers' bill was consider- 
 able. Twice had the men employed to put on the shingles 
 deserted, and the finishing of the roof was regarded by the 
 anxious M'Nab as a kind of miracle. The sliding doors, the 
 portcullises, the hundreds of square feet of battening, the 
 circular drafting-yard ; all the very latest appliances and 
 improvements, united to very solid and perfect construc- 
 tion, made an unusual though costly success. And now, to 
 see it wasted, and worse than wasted. " It is enough to 
 make one believe in bad luck, Mr. Redgrave ! " said Mr. 
 M'Nab, who had just quitted his bedroom. 
 
 " I am afraid it means bad luck for this season," pursued 
 he ; " our wool wiU be got up only middling, and if prices 
 take a turn downward it wUl be very puzzling to say what 
 the damage done by this diabolical act of arson will amount 
 to." 
 
 . "We must hope for the best,'' said Jack, who, feeling 
 things very keenly at the time, had a great dislike to the 
 protracted torture which dwelling upon misfortunes always 
 inflicts upon men of his organization. " The deed is done. 
 To-morrow we must rig up a second edition of last year's 
 proud edifice." 
 
 The sheep were shorn, certainly. Mr. Redgrave did not 
 exactly permit the crop of delicate, creamy, serrated, elastic, 
 myriad-threaded material to be torn ofE by the salt-bushes, 
 or to become ragged and patchy on the sheeps' backs. But 
 the pleasure and pride of the toilsome undertaking, the light 
 and life of the pastoral harvest, were absent. There was a 
 total absence of raia ; so there was a good deal of unavoid- 
 able dust. The men could not be got to take the ordinary 
 amount of pains ; so the work was thoroughly unsatisfactory. 
 Then, in spite of all the haste and indifferent workmanship 
 purposely overlooked by M'Nab, the grass-seed and clover- 
 burr ripened only too rapidly, and the ewes and lambs, 
 
viii.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 81 
 
 coming last, were choke-full of it. The lower part of every 
 fleece was like a nutmeg-grater with the hard, unyielding, 
 hooked and barbed tentacles. M'Nab groaned in spirit as 
 he saw all this unnecessary damage, which he was power- 
 less to prevent, and again and again cursed the hasty word 
 and lack of self-control which, as he fully believed, had 
 indirectly caused this never-ending mischief. 
 
 " A thousand for the shed, and another thousand for 
 damage to wool," said he one day, as he flung one of these 
 last porcupine-looking fleeces with a disgusted air into a 
 rude wool-bin made of hurdles placed on end. " It's enough 
 to make a man commit suicide. I feel as if I ought to walk 
 to Melbourne with peas in my boots." 
 
 "Never mind, M'Nab," said Jack, consolingly; "as I 
 said before, the thing is done and over, and we may make 
 ourselves miserable, and so injure our thought and labour 
 fund. But that won't build the shed again. Luckily the 
 sheep are all right — they couldn't burn them. I never saw 
 a better lot of lambs, and the numbers are getting up to 
 the fifty thousand I once proposed as a limit. What's the 
 total count we have passed through 1 " 
 
 " Forty-one thousand seven hundred and eighty," answered 
 M'Nab, who always had anything connected with numerals 
 at his fingers' ends. " We have bought several small lots 
 since last year, and the lambing average was very high. Of 
 course the lambs don't actually count till weaning time." 
 
 "Well, we must only hope for a good season," said Jack, 
 " and for wool and prices to keep up. Then, perhaps, the 
 loss of the shed won't be so telling. We ought to have a 
 good many fat sheep to seU in the winter." 
 
 " So we shaU," said M'Nab, " nearly ten thousand — count- 
 ing the full-mouthed and cuU ewes. Then we shall have 
 lambs from nearly sixteen thousand ewes next year. I hope 
 the season will not fail us, now the paddocks are all finished." 
 
 " Well, it does look rather dry," admitted Jack ; " so 
 early in the year too. But then it always looks dry here 
 when it doesn't rain. I shall have to run away to Mel- 
 bourne now, and arrange whether to sell or sliip this only 
 moderately well-got-up wool of ours. I must have another 
 interview with Mr. Shrood. It has been all spending and 
 no returns of late." 
 
 G 
 
82 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 Shearing being over — how difEerently concluded to what 
 he had fondly anticipated ! Jack hied himself to town for 
 his annual holiday. It did not wear so much the air of a 
 festival this year. There seemed to be a flavour of stern 
 business about it ; much more than Jack liked. 
 
 The wool-market was by no means in so buoyant a condi- 
 tion as that of last year. The faces of his brother squatters, 
 especially those of the more enterprizing among them, wore 
 a serious and elongated expression. Ugly reports went 
 about as to a probable fall in wool and stock. Jack found 
 his indifEerently got-up clip quite unsaleable in the colonial 
 market. He therefore shipped it at once, taking a fair 
 advance thereon. Freight, too, was unreasonably high that 
 year. Everything seemed against a fellow. 
 
 He went in for the little interview with Mr. Mildmay 
 Shrood, and thought that affable money-changer less agree- 
 able than of yore. " He wanted to know, you know." He 
 asked a series of questions, testifying a desire to have the 
 clearest idea of Jack's stock, value of property, liabilities, 
 and probable expenditure during the coming year. He 
 dwelt much upon the unfortunate destruction of the wool- 
 shed ; asked for an estimate of the cost of another ; looked 
 rather grave at the account of the get-up of the clip, and 
 the necessity for shipping the same. However, the con- 
 cluding portion of the interview was more reassuring. 
 
 " Of coiu'se you will continue to draw as usual, my dear 
 sir ; but I may say, in confidence, that in commercial circles 
 a fall in prices is very generally anticipated." 
 
 "There may be a temporary decline," rejoined Jack, 
 candidly, " but it is impossible that it should be lasting. As 
 for sheep, the stock are not at present in the country to 
 enable us to keep up with the demand, especially since these 
 meat-preserving establishments have commenced operations." 
 
 " Quite so, my dear sir, quite so," assented Mr. Shrood, 
 looking paternally at him arid rubbing his hands. " / am 
 quite of your opinion ; but some of our directors have doubts 
 — have doubts. Would you mind looking in before you go 
 ■ — say in a week or two ? Thanks. Grood-day — good-day." 
 
 Jack attended the wool-sales pretty regularly, and saw the 
 clips which were undeniably well got up sell at good prices, 
 in spite of the general dullness of the market. The clip was 
 
VIII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 83 
 
 an unusually heavy one, and every day's train brought down 
 trucks upon trucks of bales, as if the interior of Australia 
 was one colossal wool-store, just being emptied at the com- 
 mand of an enchanter. But the " heavy and moity " parcels 
 were not touched by the cautious operators at any price. 
 So Jack groaned in spirit, doubting that he might come in 
 for a low market at home, and knowing that he would have 
 saved himself but for the woful work of the incendiaries. 
 He did not derive much comfort from the daring spirits 
 whose early and successful ventures had inspired him with 
 the first ideas of changing his district. They walked about 
 like people who owned a private bank, but upon which bank 
 there happened to be, at present, a run. They were, as a 
 rule, men far too resolute to give in during adversity, or the 
 threatening of any, how wild soever, commercial tempest. 
 Still they looked sternly defiant, as who should say — " to 
 bear is to conquer our fate." Jack did not enjoy the pro- 
 babilities. These were brass pots of approved strength for 
 floating in the eddying financial torrents. Might not he, 
 an earthen vessel, meet with deadly damage, fatal cracks, 
 irrevocable immersion, in their company t " Que didble 
 (dlait-iljmre dans cette gcdhre ? " 
 
 He sent up his stores, making a close calculation as to 
 quantity. There would not be so many men required after 
 this shearing. The paddocks were all finished, and few 
 hands would be needed. Then he had doors and windows, 
 and hinges and nails, and tons of galvanized iron for roofing 
 for the shed — all over again. Confound it ! Just as a fel- 
 low was hoping to get a little straight. Jack did feel very 
 unchristian. However, it was as necessary as tea and 
 sugar — that is, if he ever intended to get a decent price for 
 his wool again. Somewhat earUer in the season than usual, 
 Jack commenced to revolve the question of a start. Then 
 he bethought himself of Mr. Mildmay Shrood. 
 
 " I wonder what he wanted to see me for ? " asked Jack 
 of his inner consciousness ; " very civil, friendly Uttle fellow 
 he is. I suspect my over-draft is pretty heavy just now. 
 But the fencing is all done, that's a blessing. And forty 
 thousand sheep and a first-class run are good security for 
 more money than I'm ever likely to owe." 
 
 So Mr. Kedgrave hied away to the grand freestone portals 
 
 Q 2 
 
84 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 which guarded the palace of gold and silver, and the magic 
 paper which gladdeneth the heart of man, who reflecteth not 
 that it is but a fiction — a " baseless fabric " — an unsubstan- 
 tial presentment of the potentiality of boundless wealth. 
 
 Mr. Shrood was examining papers when he was ushered 
 into the sacred parlour, and looked rather more like the 
 dragon in charge of the treasure than the careless, open- 
 handed financier of Jack's previous experience, whose sole 
 business in life seemed to be to provide cheque-books ad 
 infinitum with graceful indifference. As he ran his eye 
 down column after column of figures, his brow became cor- 
 rugated, his jaw became set, and his face gradually assumed 
 an expression of hardness and obstinacy. 
 
 Throwing down the last of the papers, and clearing his 
 brow with sudden completeness, he shook hands affection- 
 ately with Jack, and gently anathematized the papers for 
 their tediousness and stupidity. 
 
 "Awfully wearing work, Mr. Eedgrave, this looking over 
 the accounts of a large estate. I feel as fatigued as if I 
 had been at it all night. How are you, and when do you 
 leave?" 
 
 "I think the day after to-morrow," said Jack. "I'm 
 really tired of town, and wish to get home again." 
 
 " Tired of the town, and of all its various pleasiu-es," 
 asked Mr. Shrood, " at your age 1 Well, of course you are 
 anxious to be at work again — very creditable feeling. By 
 the way, hy the way, now I think of it — you haven't en- 
 cumbered your place by mortgage or in any other way dur- 
 ing the last year, have you ? " 
 
 " Sir," replied Jack, with dignity, "I regard my property 
 as pledged in honour to your bank, by which I have been 
 treated hitherto with liberality and confidence. I trust 
 that our relations may continue iraaltered." 
 
 " Certainly, my dear sir, certainly," repHed Mr. Mildmay 
 Shrood, with an air of touching generosity. " Precisely my 
 own view. I trust you will have no cause to regret your 
 connection with our establishment. But I have not con- 
 cealed from you my opinion that, financially, there exists a 
 certain anxiety — premature in my view of events — but 
 stiU distinct, as to the relations between stock and capital. 
 I have been requested by my directors, to whose advice 
 
VIII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 85 
 
 I am constrained to defer, to raise the point of security in 
 those instances where advances, I may say considerable ad- 
 vances, have been made by ns. You see my position, I feel 
 sure." 
 
 " Oh, certainly," said Jack ; "of course," not seeing 
 exactly what he was driving at. 
 
 " You will not, therefore, feel that it amounts to any want 
 of confidence on the part of the bank," continued Mr. Shrood, 
 with reassuring explanation in every tone, "if I name to 
 you the formal execution of a mortgage over your station, as 
 a mere matter in the ordinary routine of business, for the 
 support of our advances to you past and future ? " 
 
 "Oh, no," replied Jack, with a slight gulp, misliking the 
 sound of the strictly legal and closely comprehensive instru- 
 ment, which he had always associated with ruined men and 
 falling fortunes hitherto. " I suppose it's a necessary 
 precaution when the mercantile barometer is low. I shall 
 be able to draw for necessary expenses as usual, and all 
 that?" 
 
 Mr. Shrood smiled, as if anything to the contrary was 
 altogether too chimerical and beyond human imagination to 
 be considered seriously for one moment. 
 
 " My dear sir," he proceeded, " I hope you have never had 
 reason to doubt our readiness to follow your suggestions 
 hitherto. "We have unbounded confidence in your manage- 
 ment and discretion. As we have reached this point, how- 
 ever, would you mind executing the deed which has been 
 prepared in anticipation of your consent, and concluding this, 
 I confess, slightly unpleasing section of our arrangements 
 while we are agreed on the subject, to which I hope not to be 
 compelled again to recur." 
 
 " Not at all," replied Jack, " not at all," feeling like the 
 man at the dentist's, as if the tooth might as well be pulled 
 out now as hereafter. 
 
 " Thank you ; these things are best carried through at one 
 sitting. Pray excuse me for one moment. Mr. Smith ! " 
 Here a junior appeared. " Will you- bring in that — a — 
 legal document, for Mr. Redgrave's signature, and a — attend 
 to witness his signature? Your present liability to the 
 bank, Mr. Redgrave," he explained, as the young gentleman 
 disappeared, " amounts to, I think, fifteen thousand pounds 
 
86 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 in round numbers — that is, fourteen thousand nine hundred 
 and eighty-seven pounds fourteen and ninepence. I think 
 you mentioned forty thousand sheep as the stock, was it not, 
 at present depasturing on the station ? " 
 
 " Forty-two — some odd hundreds," answered Jack, " but 
 that is near enough." 
 
 Here Mr. Smith reappeared, with an imposing-looking 
 piece of parchment, commencing " Know all men by these 
 presents," which was handed to Jack for his entertainment 
 and perusal. Jack glanced at it. Nobody, save a North 
 Briton or a very misanthropical person, ever does read a deed 
 through, that I know of. But Jack knew enough of such 
 matters to pick out heedfully the principal clauses which 
 concerned him. It was like most other compilations of a 
 like nature, and contained, apart from unmeaning repetitions 
 and exasperating surplusage, certain lucid sentences, which 
 Jack understood to mean that he was to pay up the said 
 few thousands at his convenience, or in defavM to yield up. 
 Gondaree, with stock thereto attached, to the paternal but 
 irresponsible " money-mill," under the wildly improbable 
 circumstance of his being unable to clear off such advances 
 in years to come — with principal and interest. 
 
 " Forty-two thousand sheep, and station, at a pound," 
 said Jack to himself, " leave a considerable margin ; so I 
 needn't bother myself. Here goes. It will never be acted 
 upon — ^that is one comfort." 
 
 So the name of John Redgrave was duly appended, and 
 Mr. Smith wrote his name as witness without the least 
 embarrassment. He regarded squatters who required accom- 
 modation as patients subject to mild attacks of epidemic 
 disease, which usually gave way to proper medical, that is to 
 say financial, treatment. Occasionally the patient succumbed. 
 That however was not his affair. Let them all find it out 
 for themselves. 
 
 He had many a time and oft envied the bronzed squatter 
 lounging in on a bright morning, throwing down a cheque 
 and stuffing the five-pound notes carelessly into his waistcoat- 
 pocket. But, young as he was, he had more than once seen 
 a careworn, grizzled man waiting outside the bank parlour, 
 with ill-concealed anxiety for the interview which was to tell 
 him whether or not he went forth a ruined and hopelessly 
 
VIII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 87 
 
 broken man. Nothing could have been more soothing than 
 the manner in which the whole operation of the mortgage 
 had been performed. Still it was an operation, and Jack 
 felt a sensation diflScult to describe, but tending towards the 
 conviction that he was not qiiite the same man as he had 
 been previously. He was not in his usual spirits at dinner 
 that evening, though of his two sharers of that well-cooked, 
 yet not extravagant repast, Hautley had ordered it, and 
 Jerningham was by odds the neatest talker then in town. 
 The wine somehow wasn't like last week's. Must have 
 opened a new batch. He had no luck at billiards. He sat 
 moodily in an arm-chair in the smoking-room, and heard not 
 some of the best (and least charitable) things going. He 
 mooned off to bed, out of harmony with existing society. 
 
 " What the dickens is up with Eedgrave ? " asked little 
 Prowler of old Snubham, of the Indian Irregular Force. " He 
 looks as black as thunder, and hasn't a word to say for 
 himself." 
 
 " A very fine trait in a man's character," growled 
 Snubham ; " half the people one meets jabber everlastingly. 
 Heaven knows. What would be the matter with him ? 
 Proposed to some girl, and is afraid she'll accept him. A 
 touch of liver, perhaps. Nothing else can happen to a man 
 at the present day, sir." 
 
 " Must be a woman, I think ; he was awful spoony on 
 Dolly Drosera. He's too rich to want money," said 
 Prowler, with a reverential awe of the squatter proper. 
 
 " Humph ! don't know — wool's down, I believe. He pays 
 up at loo. Beyond that I have no curiosity. Yery ungentle- 
 manlike thing, curiosity. Mornin', Prowler." 
 
CHAPTER IX, 
 
 " A perfect woman, nobly planned, 
 To warn, to comfort and command." — Wordsworth. 
 
 Jack's doubts and misgivings, were written upon his 
 open brow for twenty-four hours, but after that period 
 they disappeared like morning mists. He awoke to a 
 healthier tone of feeling, and determined to combat diffi- 
 culty with renewed vigour and unshaken firmness. 
 
 " After all, I have not borrowed more than one good clip, 
 and a little cutting down of the stock will set aU right," said 
 he to himself. " Wtere would Brass, Marsailly, and all 
 these other great guns have been if they had boggled at a 
 few thousands at the beginning ? Next year's clip will be 
 something Hke ; and I never heard of any one but old 
 Exmore that had two wool-sheds burned running. He put 
 up a stone and iron edifice then, and told them to see what 
 they could make of that. There was no grass-seed in his 
 country though. Well, there is nothing like a start from 
 town for clearing out the blues. I wonder how fellows ever 
 manage to live there aU the year round." 
 
 These encouraging reflections occurred to the ingenuous 
 mind of Mr. Redgrave a;s he was speeding over the first 
 hundred miles of rail which expedite the traveller pleasantly 
 on the road to the Great Desert. Facilis descensus Avertd 
 ■ — which means that it is very easy to " settle one's self " in 
 Hf e — the " down train " being furnished with " palace-cars " 
 of Pullman's patent, and gradients on the most seductive 
 system of sliding scale. 
 
 Again the long gray plains. Again the night — one 
 disjointed nightmare, where excessive jolts dislocated the 
 jnost evil witch-wanderings, multiplying them, like the Ipwer 
 
CHAP. IX.] A STORY OP AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 89 
 
 forms of life, by the severance. Then the long, scorching 
 day, the intolerable flies, and lo ! Steamboat Point. Gondaree, 
 in all its arid, unrelieved glare and grandeur once more — Mr. 
 M'Nab weighing sheepskins to a carrier, with as much 
 earnestness as if he expected half-a-crown a pound for them. 
 Everything much as usual. Ah Sing in the garden, watering 
 cauliflowers. When Redgrave caught the last glimpse of him 
 as he left for town he was watering cabbages. Everything 
 very dry. No relief, no shade. The cottage looked very 
 smaU : the surroundings stiff and bare. " My eyes are out of 
 focus just now," said Jack to himself. " I must keep quiet 
 till the vision accommodates itself to the landscape; other- 
 wise I shall hurt M'N^ab's feeHngs." 
 
 " WeU, how are you ? " said Jack, heartily, as that person, 
 having despatched his carrier, walked towards him. " You 
 look very thriving, only dry ; rather dry, don't you think 1 " 
 
 " WeU, we have hardly had a drop of rain since you started. 
 Might be just a shower. But everything is doing capitally. 
 We are rather short-handed ; I sent away every soul but the 
 cook, the Chinaman, and four boundary-riders directly you 
 left, and we are now, thanks to the fencing, quite independent 
 of labour till shearing-time." 
 
 " How in the world do you get on 1 " inquired Jack, quite 
 charmed, yet half afraid of M'Nab's sudden eviction. 
 
 " Nothing can be simpler. The dogs were weU poisoned 
 before the fences were finished. There's no road through the 
 back of the run, thank goodness. We haven't any bother 
 about wells because of Bimbalong. I count every paddock 
 once a month, and that's about all there is to do." 
 
 " And who looks after the store ? " inquired Jack. 
 
 " I do, of course," said M'Nab ; " there is very little to give 
 out, you'll mind. Two of the boundary-riders live at home 
 here, and the other two at a hut at Bimbalong. Now you've 
 come there will be hardly enough work to keep us going." 
 
 "Four men to forty thousand sheep," moralized Jack. 
 " What would some of the old hands think of that ? Oh ! 
 the weaners," cried he ; "I had forgotten them. How 
 did you manage them, M'Nab ? " 
 
 " WeU, we had a great day's drafting, and put them back 
 in the river paddock. They are all as contented as possible, 
 and as steady as old ewes — thirteen thousand of them." 
 
90 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 •' There's a trifle of bother saved by that arrangement. 
 What a burden life used to be for the first three months after 
 the weaning flocks were portioned out ! " 
 
 Jack's spirits were many degrees lighter after this conver- 
 sation. Certainly there was a heavyish debt — and this 
 millstone of a mortgage hung round " his neck alway " like the 
 albatross in the Ancient Mariner ; but the compensating 
 economy of the fencing was beginning to work a cure. If 
 one could only tide over the shearing with the present reduced 
 Civil List, what a hole would the clip and the fat sheep make 
 in the confounded "balance debtor ! " There is the wool-shed 
 over again, to be sure. What a murder that one should 
 have all those hundredweights of nails, and tons of battens, 
 and acres of flooring, and forests of posts and wall-plates to 
 get all over again ! It was very bitter work in Jack's newly-' 
 born tendency to economy to have all this outlay added on to 
 the inevitable expenditure of the season. 
 
 " As I said before," concluded Jack, rounding off his 
 soliloquy, " I never knew any fellow but Exmoor undergo 
 the ordeal by fire two seasons running, so it's a kind of 
 insurance against the chapter of accidents this year." 
 
 Jack insensibly returned to his ordinary provincial repose 
 of mind and body. He rode about in the early mornings and 
 cooler evenings, and took his turn to convoy travelling sheep, 
 to ofliciate at the store, and to relieve the ever-toUing M'Nab 
 in any way that presented itself. He kept up this kind of 
 thing for a couple of months, and then — the unbroken 
 monotony of the whole round of existence striking him 
 rather suddenly one day — he made up his mind to a slight 
 change. There was a station about fifty miles away, down 
 the river, with the owner of which he had a casual acquaint- 
 ance ; so, foMte d' autre, he thought he would go and see 
 him. 
 
 " You can get on quite as well without me, M'Nab," he 
 said. " I think a small cruise woidd do me good. I'll go 
 and see Mr. Stangrove. One often gets an idea by going 
 away from home." 
 
 " That's true enough," assented M'Nab, " but I doubt yen's 
 the wrong shop for new ones. Mr. Stangrove is a good sort 
 of man, I hear every one say ; but he hails from the old red-, 
 sandstone period (M'Nab knew Hugh Miller by heart), 
 
IX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 91 
 
 and has no more idea of a swing-gate than a shearing- 
 machine." 
 
 "Well, one will get a notion of how the Australian 
 Pilgrim Fathers managed to get a livelihood, and subdue 
 the salt-bus^i for their descendants. There must be a flavour 
 of antiquity about it. I will start to-morrow." 
 
 After a daylight breakfast, Mr. Redgrave departed, rid- 
 ing old Hassan, and, like a wise man, leading another 
 hackney, with a second saddle, upon which was strapped his 
 valise. " If you want to go anywhere," he was wont to 
 assert, " you want a, few spare articles of raiment." Sitting 
 in boots and breeches all the evening is unpleasant to the 
 visitor and disrespectful to his entertainers, whether he be 
 what the old-fashioned writers called " travel-stained " in 
 wet weather, or uncomfortably warm in the dry season. If 
 you carry the articles alluded to you need a valise. A 
 valise is much pleasanter on a spare horse than in front of 
 your own person ; and all horses go more cheerily in com- 
 pany, particularly as you can divide the day's journey by 
 alternate patronage of either steed. I think life in a general 
 way passes as pleasantly dm-ing a journey d, cheval as over 
 any other " road of Hfe." Then why make toil of a plea- 
 sure ? Always take a brace of hacks, O reader, and then — 
 
 ' ' Over the downs mayst thou scour, nor mind 
 Whether Horace's mistress be cruel or kind." 
 
 The sun was no great distance above the far unbroken 
 sky-line ; the air was pleasantly cool as Jack rode quietly 
 along the level track which led to his outer gate, and down 
 the river. The horses played with their bits, stepping along 
 lightly with elastic footfall. " What a different life," 
 thought he, " from my old one at Marshmead ! How full 
 of interest and occupation was every day as it rose ! Neigh- 
 bours at easy distances ; poor old TunstaU to go and poke 
 up whenever John Redgrave failed to suffice for his own 
 entertainment and instruction. Jolly little Hampden, with 
 its picnics and parties, and bench-work, and boat-sailing, 
 and racLag, and public meetings, and ' all sorts o' games,' as 
 Mr. Weller said. The bracing cHmate, the wholesome moral 
 and physical atmosphere, the utter absence of any imp or 
 demon distantly related to the traitor Ennui ; and here, such 
 
92 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [ohap. 
 
 is the melancholy monotony of my daily life that I find 
 myself setting forth with a distinctly pleasurable feeling to 
 visit a man whom I do not know, and very probably shall 
 not like when our acquaintance expands. Av/ri sacri 
 fames, — shall I quote that hackneyed tag ? I may as well 
 — the day is long- — there is plenty of time and to spare on 
 the Warroo, as Hawkesbury said. Fancy a fellow living 
 this life for a dozen years and making no money after all, 
 The picture is too painful. I shall weep over it myself 
 directly — like that arch-humbug Sterne." 
 
 About half way to his destination was an inn — hostelry 
 of the period ; an ugly slab building covered, as to its roof 
 and verandah, with corrugated iron. There was no trace 
 or hint of garden. It stood as if dropped on the edge of 
 the bare, desolate, sandy plain. It faced the dusty track 
 which did duty as high road ; at the back of the slovenly 
 yard was the river — chiefly used as a convenient receptacle 
 for rubbish and broken bottles. A half-score of gaunt, 
 savage-looking pigs lay in the verandah, or stirred the dust 
 and bones in the immediate vicinity of the front entrance. 
 A stout man, in Crimean shirt and tweed trousers, stood in 
 the verandah, smoking, and, far from betraying any " pro- 
 vincial eagerness " at the sight of a stranger, went on 
 smoking coolly until Jack spoke. 
 
 " How far is Mr. Stangrove's place ? " inquired he. 
 
 " What, Juandah ? " said the host, in a tone conveying 
 the idea that in ordinary social circles it was on a par, for 
 notoriety, with London or Liverpool. " Well, say thirty 
 mile." 
 
 " Do you take the back road, or the one nearest to the 
 river ? " further inquired Jack. 
 
 "Oh, stick to the river bank," answered the man j "at 
 this time of year it is nearest." 
 
 " What in the name of wonder," inquired Jack of himself, 
 as he rode away, " can a man do who lives at such a frag- 
 ment of Hades but drink ? He must be a Christian hero, or 
 a philosopher, if he refrain under the utterly maddening 
 conditions of life. Were he one or the other, he probably 
 would not keep the grog-shop which he dignifies with the 
 title of the Mailman's Arms." Of course he drinks — it 
 is written in his dull eye and sodden face — his wife drinks, 
 
IX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 6S 
 
 the barman drinks — the loafer who plays at being groom in 
 the hayless, strawless, cornless stable drinks. The shep- 
 herd hands his cheque across the bar — and till every shil- 
 ling, purchased by a year's work, abstinence, and solitude, 
 disappears, drinks — madly drinks. The miserable, debased 
 aboriginal — camping there for weeks with his squalid wives 
 — drinks, and, perchance, when his wild blood is stirred by 
 vile liquor, murders ere his fit be over. From that den, as 
 from a foul octopus, stretch forth tentacula which fasten 
 only upon human beings. Question them, and hear vain re- 
 morse, bitter wrath, agonized despair, sullen apathy — the 
 name of one resistless, unsparing curse — drink, drink, drink I 
 
 The midday sun was hot. The stage was a fair one ; but 
 Jack pushed on, after receiving his information, for half-a- 
 dozen miles further. Then, discovering a green bend, he 
 unsaddled, and, taking the precaution to hobble his nags, 
 lighted his pipe. They rolled and cropped the fresh herbage, 
 while he enjoyed a more satisfactory noontide lounge than 
 the horsehair sofa of Mr. Hoker's best parlour would have 
 afforded, after a doubtful, or perhaps deleterious, repast. 
 
 The day was gone when Jack was made aware, by certain 
 signs and hieroglyphics, known to all bushmen, that he was 
 approaching a station. The pasture was closely cropped and 
 bare. Converging tracks of horses, sheep, and cattle ob- 
 viously trended in one direction. At some distance upon the 
 open plain he could see a shepherd with his flock, slowly 
 moving towards a point of timber more than a mile in advance 
 of his present position. " I shall come upon the paddock 
 fence just inside that timber," he remarked to himself, " and 
 the house will probably be within sight of the sUp-raUs. It 
 wUl not be a very large paddock, I will undertake to say." 
 
 This turned out to be a correct calculation. He saw the 
 sheep-yard, towards which the flock was heading, as he 
 reached the timber. He descried the paddock fence and the 
 sHp-raU in the road ; and within sight — as he put up the 
 raiLs and mustered a couple of temporary pegs, for fear of 
 accidents — was a roomy wooden building surrounded by a 
 garden. 
 
 Riding up to the garden gate, he was announced as " Mr. 
 Stranger ' ' by about twenty dogs, who gave the fullest exercise 
 to their lungs, and would doubtless have gone even further 
 
94 THE SQTTATTER'S DREAM : [c&av. 
 
 had Jack been on foot. A tall, sun-burned man, in an old 
 shooting-coat, appeared upon the verandah, and, making 
 straight through the excited pack, greeted Redgrave warmly. 
 
 " Won't you get off and come in 1 I'll take your horses. 
 [Hold your row, you barking fools !] Oh ! it is you, Mr. 
 Redgrave ; from Gondaree, I think — met you at Barrabri — 
 very glad to see you ; of course you have come to stay 1 
 Allow me to take the led horse." 
 
 " I think I promised to look you up some day," said Jack. 
 "I took advantage of a lull in station-work and — here 
 I am." 
 
 " Very glad indeed you have made your visit out, though 
 I don't know that I have much to show you. But, as we 
 are neighbours, we ought to become acquainted." 
 
 The horses were led over to a small but tolerably snug 
 stable, where they were regaled with hay previous to being 
 turned out in the paddock, and then Jack was ushered into 
 the house. Mr. Stangrove was a married man ; so much 
 was evident from the first ; many traces of the " pug- 
 wuggies, or little people," were apparent ; and a girl crossing 
 the yard with a baby in her arms supplied any evidence 
 that might be missing. 
 
 " Will you have a glass of grog after your ride ? " in- 
 quired the host, " or would you like to go to your room 1 " 
 
 Jack preferred the latter, being one of those persons who 
 decline to eat or drink until they are in a comfortable and 
 becoming state of mind and body ; holding it to be neither 
 epicurean nor economical to " muddle away appetite " under 
 circumstances which preclude all proper and befitting appre- 
 ciation. 
 
 So Redgrave performed his ablutions, and, having arrayed 
 himself in luxuriously-easy garments and evening shoes, 
 made his way to the sitting-room. He had just concluded 
 " a long, cool drink " when two ladies entered. 
 
 "My dear, allow me to introduce Mr. Redgrave — Mrs. 
 Stangrove, Miss Stangrove." 
 
 A lady advanced upon the first mention of names and 
 shook hands with the visitor, in a kindly, unaffected manner. 
 She was young, but a certain worn look told of the early 
 trials of matronhood. Her face bore silent witness to the 
 toils of housekeeping, with indifferent servants or none at 
 
IX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 95 
 
 all ; to want of average female society ; to a little loneli- 
 ness, and a great deal of monotony. Such, with few excep- 
 tions, is the life of an Australian lady, whose husband lives 
 in the far interior, in the real bush. Her companion, who 
 contented herself with a searching look and a formal bow, 
 was " in virgin prime and May of womanhood " — and a most 
 fair prime and sweet May it was. Her features were regular, 
 her mouth delicate and refined, with a certain firmness about 
 the chin, and the mutine expression about the upper lip, 
 which savoured of declaration of war upon just pretext. 
 She had that air and expression which at once suggest the 
 idea of interest in luiravelling the character. Jack shook 
 hands with himself when he thought of how he had perse- 
 vered after the traitorous idea had entered his head that 
 after all it was no use going, Mr. Stangrove wouldn't be 
 glad to see him, or care a rush about the matter. 
 
 The evening meal was now announced, which circum- 
 stance afforded Jack considerable satisfaction. He had 
 ridden rather more than fifty miles, and, whereas his horses 
 had not done so badly in the long grass of the " bend," our 
 traveller's lunch had been limited to a pipe of " Pacific Mix- 
 ture." All the same, while the preparations for tea were 
 proceeding he took a careful and accurate survey of his 
 younger feminine neighbour. 
 
 Maud Stangrove was somewhat out of the ordinary run 
 of girls in appearance, as she certainly was in character. 
 Her features were regular, with a complexion clear and 
 delicate to a degree \inusual in a southern land. Her mouth, 
 perhaps, denoted a shade more firmness than the ideal prin- 
 cess is supposed to require. But it was redeemed by the 
 frank, though not invariable, smile which, disclosing a set 
 of extremely white and regular teeth, gave an expression of 
 softness and humour which was singularly winning. The 
 eyes were darkest hazel, faintly toned with gray. They 
 were remarkable as a feature ; and those on whom they had 
 shone — in love or war — rarely forgot their gaze ; they were 
 clear and shining ; but this is to say little ; such are the 
 every-day charms of that beauty which is in woman but 
 another name for youth. Maud's eyes had the peculiar 
 quality of developing fresh aspects and hidden mysteries of 
 expression as they fell on you — calm, clear, starlike, but 
 
96 THE SQUATTER'S DEEAM : Ichap. 
 
 fathomless, glowing ever, and with hidden, smouldering fire. 
 She was dressed plainly, but in such taste as betokened 
 reference to a milliner remote from the locality. Rather, 
 but very slightly, above middle height in her figure, there 
 was an absence of angularity which gave promise of even- 
 tual roundness of contour — perhaps even too pronounced. 
 But now, in the fiower-time of early womanhood, she moved 
 with the unstudied ease of those forest creatures in whom 
 one notices a world of latent force. 
 
 Such was the apparition which burst upon the senses of 
 Mr. Redgrave. 
 
 " Average neighbours ! " said he to himself. " Who ever 
 expected this — a vision of no end of fear and interest? 
 This is a girl fit for any one to make love to or to quarrel 
 with, as the case might be. I think the latter recreation 
 would be the easier. And yet I don't know." 
 
 " I don't think you have ever been so far ' down the 
 river,' as the people call it, before 1 " said Mrs. Stangrove. 
 
 " I'm afraid I have not been a very good neighbour," said 
 Jack, beginning to feel contrite at the de hcmt en has treat- 
 ment of the general population of the Warroo, in accord- 
 ance with which he had devoted himself to unrelieved work 
 at Gondaree, and looked upon social intercourse as com- 
 pletely out of the question. " But the fact is, that I have 
 been very hard at work up to this time. Now the fences 
 are up I hope to have a little leisure." 
 
 Here Jack paused, as if he had borne up, like another 
 Atlas, the weight of the Gondaree world upon those shapely 
 shoulders of his. 
 
 Miss Stangrove looked at him with an expression which 
 did not imply total conviction. 
 
 " We have heard of all your wonders and miracles, 
 haven't we, Jane 1 I don't know what we should have 
 done in the wilderness here without the Gondaree news." 
 
 " I was not aware that I was so happy as to furnish in- 
 teresting incidents for the country generally," answered 
 Jack ; " but it would have given me fresh Ufe if I had only 
 thought that Mrs. and Miss Stangrove were sympathetica] 
 with my progress." 
 
 " You would have been rather flattered, then," said Stan- 
 grove, who was a downright sort of personage, " if you had 
 
IX.1 A STOEY QF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 97 
 
 heard the lamentations of these ladies over your woolshed — 
 indeed, Maud said that " 
 
 " Come, Mark," said Miss Stangrove, eagerly, and with 
 the very becoming improvement of a sudden blush, " we 
 don't need your clumsy version of all our talk for the last 
 year. Nobody ever does anything upon this antediluvian 
 stream from one century to another, and of course Jane and 
 I felt grieved that a spirited reformer like Mr. Redgrave 
 should meet with so heavy a loss — didn't we, Jane 1 " 
 
 " Of course we did, my dear," said that matron, placidly; 
 " and Mark, too, he said the wicked men who did it ought 
 to be hanged, and that Judge Lynch was a very useful in- 
 stitution. He was quite ferocious." 
 
 " Thanks very many ; I am sure I feel deeply grateful. 
 I had no idea I had so many well-wishers," quoth Jack, cast- 
 ing his eyes in the direction of Miss Maud. " It comforts 
 one under affliction and — all that, you know." 
 
 " How you must look down upon us, with our shepherds 
 and old-world ways," said Maud. "You come from Victoria, 
 do you not, Mr. Redgrave ] We Sydney people believe that 
 you are all Yankees down there, and wear bowie-knives and 
 guns, and calculate, and so on." 
 
 " ReaUy, Miss Stangrove," pleaded Jack, " you are indict- 
 ing me upon several charges at once ; which am I to answer 'i 
 I don't look very supercUious, do 1 1 though I admit hailing 
 from Victoria, which is chiefly peopled by persons of British 
 birth, whatever may be the prevafling impression." 
 
 "Well, you will have an opportunity of discussing the mat- 
 ter — the shepherds, I mean — with my brother, who is a strong 
 conservative. I give you leave to convert him, if you can. 
 We have hitherto found it impossible, haven't we, Mark? " 
 
 " Mark has generally good reasons for his opinions," said 
 the loyal wife, looking approvingly at her lord and master — 
 who, indeed, was very like a man who could hold his own in 
 any species of encounter. " But suppose we have a little 
 music — you might play La Bouquetiere." 
 
 " The piano is not so wofully out of tune as might be 
 expected," asserted Maud, as she sat down comfortably to 
 her work, all things being arranged by Jack, who was 
 passionately fond of music — a good deal of which, as of 
 other abstractions, he had in his soul. 
 
98 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [ceAp. 
 
 "Far from it," said he, as the shower of delicate notes 
 which make up this loveliest of airy musical trifles fell on 
 his ear like a melody of le temps perdu. 
 
 Jack had all his life been extremely susceptible to the 
 charm of music. He had a good ear, and his taste, naturally 
 correct, had been rather unusually well cultivated. With 
 Vn'm the effect of harmony was to bring to the surface, and 
 develop as by a spell, all the best, the noblest, the most 
 exalted portions of his character. Any woman who played 
 or sang with power exercised a species of fascination over 
 him, assuming her personal endowments to be up to his 
 standard. "When Miss Stangrove, after passing lightly over 
 capriccias of Chopin and Liszt, after a fashion which showed 
 very unusual execution, commenced in deference to his re- 
 peated requests to sing When Sparrows BvMd, and one or 
 two other special favourites, in such a mezzo-soprano ! he 
 was surprised, charmed, subjugated — with astonishing 
 celerity. 
 
 However, the evenings of summer, commencing neces- 
 sarily late, come to an end rather prematurely if we are very 
 pleasantly engaged. So Jack thought when Mr. Stangrove 
 looked at his watch, and opined that Jack after his ride 
 would be glad to retire. 
 
 Jack was by no means glad, but of course assented blandly, 
 and the two ladies sailed off. 
 
 " Shall we have a pipe in the verandah before we turn 
 in ? " asked his host. " You smoke, I suppose J We can 
 open this window and leave the glasses on the table here 
 within easy reach." 
 
 Taking up his position upon a Cingalese cane-chair on the 
 broad verandah, and lighting his pipe simultaneously with 
 his host. Jack leaned back and enjoyed the wondrous beauty 
 of the night. 
 
 The cottage, unlike the Mailman's Arms, fronted the 
 river, towards which a neatly-kept garden sloped, ending in 
 a grassy bank. 
 
 " My sister belongs to the advanced party of reform, Mr. 
 Redgrave, as you will have observed," said his entertainer. 
 " She and I have numerous fights on the subject." 
 
 "I am proud to have such an ally," said Jack; "but, 
 seriously, I wonder you have not been converted. Surely 
 
IX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 99 
 
 the profits and advantages of fencing are sufficiently 
 patent." 
 
 " You must bear with me, my dear sir, as a very staunch 
 conservative," answered his host, smoking serenely, and 
 speaking with his usual calm deliberation. " There is some- 
 thing, I think much, to be said on the other side." 
 
 "I feel really anxious to hear your arguments," said Jack. 
 "I fancied that beyond what the shepherds always say- — that 
 sheep can't do well or enjoy life without a bad-tempered old 
 man and a barking dog at their tails — the brief against 
 fencing was exhausted." 
 
 " I do not take upon myself to assert," said Stangrove, 
 " that my reasons ought to govern persons whose circum- 
 stances difEer from my own. But I find them sufficient for 
 me for the present. I reserve the privilege of altering them 
 upon cause shown. And the reasons are — First of all, that I 
 could not enter into the speculation, for such it would be, of 
 fencing my run without going into debt — a thing I abhor 
 under any circumstances. Secondly, because the seasons in 
 Australia are exceedingly changeable, as I have had good 
 cause to know. And, thirdly, because the prices of stock ate 
 as fluctuating and irregular, occasionally^ as the seasons." 
 
 " Granted all these, how can there be two opinions about 
 an outlay which is repaid within two years, which is more 
 productive in bad seasons than in good ones, and which dis- 
 penses with three-fourths of the labour required for an 
 ordinary sheep-station ? " 
 
 " I have no reason to doubt what you say," persisted 
 Stangrove, " but suppose we defer the rest of the argument 
 until we have had a look at the run and stock together. I 
 can explain my meaning more fully on my own beat. I dare 
 say you will sleep tolerably after your ride." 
 
 n 2 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 " Absence of occupation is not rest." — Cowper. 
 
 Jack went to bed with a kind of general idea of getting up 
 in the morning early and looking round the establishment. 
 But, like the knight who was to be at the postern gate at 
 dawn, he failed to keep the self-made engagement ; and for 
 the same reason he slept so soundly that the sun was toler- 
 ably high when he awoke, and he had barely time for a 
 swim in the river, and a complete toilet, before the break- 
 fast-bell rang. 
 
 In spite of the baseless superstition that " there is nothing 
 like one's own bed," and so on, it is notorious that all men not 
 confirmed valetudinarians sleep far more satisfactorily away 
 from home. For, consider, one is comparatively freed from 
 the dire demon, Responsibility, you doze off tranquilly into 
 the charmed realm of dreamland — with " nothing on your 
 mind." Perfectly indifferent is it to you, in the house of a 
 congenial friend or affable stranger, whether domestic dis- 
 organization of the most frightful nature is smouldering 
 insidiously or hurrying to a climax. The cook may be going 
 next week, the housemaid may have contracted a clandestine 
 marriage. Your host may be sternly revolving plans of 
 retrenchment, and may have determined to abandon light 
 wines, and to limit his consumption to table-beer and alcohol. 
 But nothing of this is revealed to you ; nor would it greatly 
 concern you if it was. For the limited term of your visit, the 
 hospitality is free, smooth, and spontaneous. Atra Cura, 
 if she does accidentally drop in by mistake, is a courteous 
 grcmde da/me, rather plainly attired in genteel mourning, 
 but perfect in manner. Not a violent, unreserved shrew as 
 she can be when quite "at home." A visit is in most 
 
CH. X.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 101 
 
 instances, therefore, a respite and a truce. The parade, the 
 review, the skirmish are for a time impossible ; so the " tired 
 soldier " enjoys the calm, unbroken repose in his own tent 
 so rarely tasted. 
 
 The weather was hot, and there did not appear to be any 
 likelihood of a change. Nevertheless, Jack could not but 
 acknowledge that no detail had been omitted to insure the 
 highest amount of comfort attainable in such a climate. 
 The butter was cooled, the coffee perfect, the eggs, the 
 honey, the inevitable chop, excellent of there kind. Every- 
 thing bore traces of that thorough supervision which is 
 never found in a household under male direction. Jack 
 thought Miss Stangrove, charmingly neat and fresh in her 
 morning attire, would have added piquancy to a much more 
 homely meal. 
 
 " Just in time, Mr. Redgrave," said that young lady ; 
 " we were uncertain whether you were not accustomed to be 
 aroused by a gong. Bells are very old-fashioned, we know." 
 
 " I doubt whether anything would have awakened me an 
 hour since. I am a reasonably early riser generally ; but 
 the ride and the extreme comfort of my bedroom led to a 
 little laziness. But where's Stangrove ? " 
 
 " I blush to say he went oS early to count a flock of 
 sheep," said Miss Stangrove, with assumed regret. " You 
 must accustom yourself to our aboriginal ways for a time. 
 But is it not dreadful to think of ? I hope you extracted a 
 total recantation from him last night." 
 
 " We only made a commencement of the game last 
 night," said Jack. "Your brother advanced a pawn or 
 two, but we agreed to defer the grand attack until after a 
 ride round the run, which I believe takes place to-day." 
 
 " I am afraid you will have a hot ride ; but I don't pity 
 you for that. Anything is better than staying indoors 
 day after day, week after week, as we wretched women 
 have to do. You might tell Mark if he sees my Jjorse to 
 have her brought in. I feel as if I should like a scamper. 
 Oh ! here he comes to answer for himself. Well, Mark, 
 how many killed, wounded, and missing?" 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Redgrave," said Stangrove, smiling 
 rather lugubriously at his sister's pleasantry. " I am afraid 
 you are just in time to remark on one of the weak points 
 
102 THE SQOATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 of my management. A shepherd came before daylight to 
 say that his flock had been lost since the day before. I 
 have been hunting for them these five hours." 
 
 "And have you brought any home?" inquired Mrs. 
 Stangrove. 
 
 " None at all," he answered. 
 
 " Did you see any 1 " persisted the lady, who seemed 
 rather of an anxious disposition. 
 
 "Yes— ten." 
 
 " And why didn't you bring them ? " pursued the chate- 
 laine, whose earnestness was in strong contrast with her 
 sister's nonchalance. 
 
 "Because they were dead," replied Stangrove, laconically j 
 " and now, my dear, please to give me some tea.' ' Sufficient 
 for the day ' — and so on." 
 
 " Accidents wiU. happen," interposed Jack, politely. " It 
 is like more important calamities and crimes, a matter of 
 average." 
 
 " Just so," said Stangrove, gratefully ; " and though I 
 can't help worrying myself at a small loss, such as this, I 
 know that the annual expense from this cause varies very 
 Httle." 
 
 " There were wolves in Arcadia, were not there ? " de- 
 manded the young lady. " They ate a shepherd now and 
 then, I suppose. If the dingoes would look upon it in that 
 light, what a joy it would be, eh ? " 
 
 " I could cheerfully see them battening upon the carcase 
 of that lazy ruffian Strawler," he very vengefuUy made 
 answer. 
 
 " My love ! " said Mrs. Stangrove, mildly, " the children 
 will be in directly — would you mind reading prayers 
 directly you finish t " 
 
 "Well — ahem," said the bereaved proprietor, rather 
 doubtfully ; " perhaps you might as well read this morning. 
 Mr. Eedgrave and I have a long way to go — what are you 
 laughing at, Maud, you naughty girl ? " 
 
 " Don't forget to have old Mameluke got in for me, Mark, 
 and to-morrow I will go sheep-hunting with you myself, if 
 little Bopeep continues unsuccessful, and in an unchristian 
 state of mind, unable to say his prayers. I didn't think the 
 fencing question involved so high a moral gain before." 
 
x.l A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 103 
 
 Breakfast over, two fresh hacks were brought up (Stan- 
 trrove was a great horse-breeder, and Jack's eye had been 
 offended as he rode up with troops of mares and foals), and 
 forth they fared for a day on the run, and a contingent 
 search for the lost flock. 
 
 Stangrove's run was about the same size as Gondaree, but, 
 save the cottages and buildings of the homestead, there were 
 no " improvements' ' of any kind other than the shepherds' huts. 
 For stock, he had seventeen or eighteen thousand sheep, a 
 herd of cattle, and two or three hundred horses. These last 
 were within their boundaries in a general way, but were 
 occasionally outside of these merely moral frontiers. So also 
 the neighbouring stock wandered at will inside of the said 
 imaginary subdivisions. 
 
 " You see," commenced Stangrove, in explanation, when 
 they were fairly out on the plain, " that I came into possession 
 here some ten years past, just after I had left school. My 
 poor old governor, who was rather a scientific literary character, 
 lived at one of those small comfortable estates near town, 
 where a man can spend lots of money, but can't by any 
 possibility make a shilling. Decent people, in those days, 
 would as soon have gone out to spend a few years with 
 Livingstone as have come to live permanently on the War- 
 roo. We had a surly old overseer, of the old sort, who 
 managed a little and robbed a great deal. When I came 
 here, after the poor old governor died, you never saw such 
 a place as it was." 
 
 "I can partly imagine," Jack said. 
 
 " Well, I worked hard, and lived like a black fellow for a 
 few years, got the property out of debt, improved the stock, 
 and here we are. I get a reasonable price for my wool, I 
 sell a draft of cattle now and then, and some horses, and am 
 increasing the stock slowly, and putting by something every 
 year." 
 
 " No doubt you are," said Jack ; " but here you have to live 
 and keep your wife and family in this out-of-the-way place ; 
 and at the present rate of progress it may be years before you 
 can make money or sell out profitably. Why not concentrate 
 all the work and self-denial into three or four years — sell out, 
 and enjoy life ? " 
 
 " A tempting picture — but consider the risk. Debt always 
 
104 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 means danger ; and why should I incur that danger 1 At 
 present I don't owe a shilling, and call no man master. As 
 for happiness, I am not so miserable now (if I could only find 
 those sheep). I have a day's work to do every day, or to 
 decline, if I see fit ; and I would just as soon be here — a place 
 endeared to me by old association — as anywhere else." 
 
 " But your family 1 " asked Jack, rather insincerely, as he 
 was thinking of Maud chiefly, and the stupendous sacrifice of 
 fier life. " But," he said, " your children are growing up." 
 
 " Yes, but only growing up. By the time they need masters 
 and better schooling I shall be a little better oft'. Some change 
 will probably take place — stock will rise — or it will rain for 
 two or three years without stopping, as is periodically probable 
 in New South Wales ; and then I shall sell, go back to the 
 paternal acres in the county of Cumberland, and grow prize 
 shorthorns and gigantic cucumbers, and practise all the 
 devices by which an idle man cheats himself into the belief 
 that he is happy." 
 
 " By which time you will have lost most of the zest for 
 the choicer pleasures of life." 
 
 "Even so — but I am a great believer in the 'in that state 
 of life ' portion of the catechism. I was placed and appointed 
 here, and hold myself responsible for the safety and gradual 
 increase of my ' one talent.' Maud, too, has a share. I am 
 compelled to be a stern guardian in her interest." 
 
 " Well," returned Jack (after his companion had opened 
 his mind, as men often do in the bush to a chance acquaintance 
 — so rare ofttimes is the luxury of congeniality), " I am 
 not sure that you are altogether wrong. It squares with 
 your temperament. Mine is altogether opposed to such views. 
 I think twenty years on the Warroo, with the certainty of 
 a plum and a baronetcy at the end, would kill me as surely 
 as sunstroke. Isn't that sheep % " 
 
 As Jack propounded this grammatically doubtful query, he 
 directed Stangrove's attention to a longlight-coloured line at 
 a distance. It was soon evident that, it was sheep coming 
 towards them. To Stangrove's great relief, they proved to be 
 the missing flock, in charge of one of the volunteers sent out 
 in all directions, if only they might perchance manage to drop 
 across them. Upon being counted they were only fifteen short 
 Ten being accounted for by the domestic declaration of Mr. 
 
X.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFK 105 
 
 Stangrove, the other five were left to take their chance, and 
 the flock sent back to a new shepherd, vice Strawler 
 superseded. 
 
 Stangrove brightened up considerably after this recovery of 
 his doubtfully-situated property. Byron asserts "a sullen 
 son, a dog ill, a favourite horse fallen lame just as he's 
 mounted," to be " trifles in themselves," but adds, " and yet 
 I've rarely seen the man they didn't vex." So with lost 
 sheep. You must lose a dozen or twenty — you hardly lose 
 more than fifty, say from ten to five-and-twenty pounds — 
 not a sum to turn the scale of ruin by any means. Yet, from 
 the time that the announcement is made of " sheep away " 
 until they are safely counted and yarded, rarely does the face 
 of the proprietor relax its expression of weighty resolve and 
 grave foreboding. 
 
 Jack found by his companion's avowal that at least one 
 person besides Bertie Tunstall held the same unprogressive 
 but eminently safe opinions. " Here's a man," said Jack, 
 "with a worse climate, far less recreation and variety than 
 I had, and see how he sticks to his fight ! However, I am 
 differently constituted — -there's no denying it. If Stan- 
 grove's father had not been somewhat of the same kidney, 
 he and I would have had little chance of discussing our 
 theories on the banks of the Warroo." 
 
 " And so you won't be tempted into fencing ? " demanded 
 Jack, returning to the charge. 
 
 " Not just at present," rejoined Stangrove. "I do not 
 say but that if I find myself surrounded by fencing neigh- 
 bours, willing to share the expense and so on, in a few more 
 years I may give in. But I am a firm believer in the Safe. 
 I am now in a position of absolute security, and I intend 
 to continue in it." 
 
 " But suppose bad seasons come t " 
 
 " Let them ! I have no bills t& meet. I can weather 
 them again as I have done before, when on this very station 
 we had to boil down our meat to a kind of soup ; it was too 
 poor to eat otherwise. We outlived that. Please God, we 
 shall do so again." 
 
 " I suppose you had terrible losses t " 
 
 " You may say that ; if another season came like it, the 
 country would be ' a valley of dry bones,' literaHj'. But even 
 
106 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [csjlV. 
 
 if I lost all my increase for a year, and a proportion of my 
 old stock, it would only shake me, not break me. A man 
 who is in debt it cooks altogether — that is the difference." 
 
 " Well, let us hope that such times won't come again," 
 said Jack, beginning to be unpleasantly affected by the idea 
 of an interview with Mr. Shrood, in which he should be 
 compelled to inform him that the season had been fatal to 
 his whole crop of lambs, and the greater part of his aged 
 ewes. " Every one says the seasons have changed, and that 
 the climate is more moist than it used to be." 
 
 " I am not so sure of that," said his host, who was not 
 prone to take much heed of "what everybody said." "I 
 see no very precise data upon which to found such an asser- 
 tion. What has been may be again. We shall have another 
 dry season within the next five years, as sure as my name 
 is Mark Stangrove. What do you think of those horses % 
 That is rather a fancy mob. I see Maud's horse Mameluke 
 among them. We must run them in." 
 
 " How do you reconcile it to your conscience to keep such 
 unprofitable wretches as horses ? " inquired Jack, " eating 
 the grass of sheep and cattle, and being totally unsaleable 
 themselves, unfit to eat, and hardly worth boiling down." 
 
 " I am grieved to appear so old-fashioned and ignorant," 
 said Mark, "but I have a sentiment about these horses, and 
 really they don't pay so badly. They are the direct descend- 
 ants, now numbered by hundreds, of an old family stud. 
 They cost nothing in the way of labour ; they need no shep- 
 herd or stockman : they are simply branded up every year. 
 You couldn't drive them off the run if you tried. And every 
 now and then there springs up a demand, and I clear a lot 
 of them off. It is all found money, and it tells up." 
 
 " Meanwhile, the grass they eat would feed ten thousand 
 sheep." 
 
 " That is perfectly true ; but of course I make no scruple 
 of putting the sheep on their favourite haunts when hard up. 
 Horses, you see, can pick up a living anywhere. Besides, I 
 have always remarked that each of the great divisions of 
 stock has its turn once or twice in a decade, if not of tener. 
 You have only, therefore, to wait, and you get your ' pull.' 
 My next ' pull ' with the stud will be when the Indian horse 
 market has to be supplied by us, as it must some day." 
 
X.] A STOEY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 10? 
 
 " You seem a good hand at waiting," said Jack. " I don't . 
 know but that your philosophy is sound. I can't put faith 
 in it however." 
 
 " Everything comes to Tiim who waits, as the French adage 
 goes," said Stangrove. "I have always found it tolerably 
 correct. However here we are at home. So we'll put this 
 lot into the yard, and I'll lead up the old horse with a spare 
 rein. We must have a ride out to Murdering Lake to- 
 morrow ; it's our show bit of scenery." 
 
 " Another eventful day over, Mr. Redgrave," said Maud, 
 as they met at the tea-table. " Yesterday the sheep were 
 lost ; to-day the sheep are found. So passes our life on the 
 "Warroo." 
 
 " You're an ungrateful, naughty girl, Maud," said Mrs. 
 Stangrove. " Think how relieved poor Mark must be after 
 all his hard work and anxiety. Suppose he had lost a 
 hundred." 
 
 "I feel tempted to wish sometimes thatevery one of the 
 ineffably stupid woolly creatures were lost for good and all, 
 if it would only lead to our going ' off the run ' and having 
 to live somewhere else. Only 1 suppose they are our living, 
 besides working up into delaines and merinos — so I ought 
 not to despise them. But it's the life I despise — shepherd, 
 shearer, stockman — day after day, year after year. These, 
 with rare exceptions (here she made a mock, respectful bow 
 to Jack), are the only people we see, or shall ever see, till 
 T.e are gray." 
 
 "You are rather intolerant of a country life. Miss Stan- 
 grove," said Jack. " I always thought that ladies had 
 domestic duties and — and so on — which filled up the vacuum, 
 with a daUy routine of small but necessary employments." 
 
 " Which means that we can sew all day, or mend stockings, 
 weigh out plums, currants, and sugar for the puddings — and 
 that this, with a little nursing sick children, pastry-making, 
 gardening, and very judicious reading, ought to fill up our 
 time, and make us peacefully happy." 
 
 " And why should it not ? " inquired Mark, looking 
 earnestly at his sister, as if the subject was an old one of 
 debate between them. " How can a woman be better em- 
 ployed than ia the duties you sneer at? " 
 
 "Do _y ou really suppose,' ' said Maud, leaning for ward and 
 
108 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 looking straight into his face with her lustrous eyes, in 
 which the opaline gleam began to glow and sparkle, " that 
 women do not wish, like men, to see the world, of which they 
 have only dreamed — to mix a little change and adventure 
 with the skim-milk of their lives — before they calm down 
 into the stagnation of middle age or matrimony ? " 
 
 " I won't say what I suppose about women, Maud," re- 
 joined her brother. " Some things I know about them, and 
 some things I don't know. But, believe me, those women do 
 best in the long run who neither thirst nor long for pleasures 
 not afforded to them by the circumstances of their lives. If 
 what they desire should come, well and good. If not, they 
 act a more womanly and Christian part in waiting with 
 humility tiU the alteration arrives." 
 
 " What do you say, Mr. Redgrave 1 " asked the uncon- 
 vinced damsel. " Is it wrong for the caged bird to droop 
 and pine, or ought it to turn a tiny wheel and pull up a tiny 
 pail of nothing contentedly all its days, unmindful of the 
 gay greenwood and the shady brook ; or, if it beat its 
 breast against the wires, and lie dead when the captor comes 
 with seed and water, is it to be mourned over or cast forth 
 in scorn ? " 
 
 " 'Pon my word," answered Jack, helplessly, rather over- 
 awed by the strong feeling and earnest manner of the girl, 
 and much " demoralized " by those wonderful eyes of hers, 
 " I hardly feel able to decide. I'm a great lover of adven- 
 ture and change and all that kind of thing myself; can't 
 live without it. But for ladies, somehow, I really — a — feel 
 inclined to agree with your brother. Sphere of home — and 
 — all that, you know." 
 
 " Sphere of humbug 1 " answered she, with all the sincerity 
 of contempt in her voice. "You men stick together in 
 advocating all kinds of intolerable dreariness and nonsensical 
 treadmill work because you think it good for women ! You 
 would be ashamed to apply such reasoning to anything bear- 
 ing on your own occupations. But I will not say another 
 word on the subject ; it always raises my temper, and that 
 is not permitted to our sex, I know. Did you see my dear 
 old Mameluke to-day, Mark i " 
 
 " Yes, and he's now in the stable." 
 
 " Oh, thanks ; we must have a gallop to-morrow and show 
 
X.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 109 
 
 Mr. Redgrave our solitary landscape. That will be one 
 ripple on the Dead Sea." 
 
 Life seemed capable of gayer aspects, even upon the 
 Warroo, as next morning three residents of that far region 
 rode lightly along the prairie trail. The day was cool and 
 breezy ; a great wind had come roaring up from the south 
 the evening before, crashing through the far woods and 
 audible in mighty tones for many a mile before it stirred 
 the streamers of the couba trees, as they all sat under the 
 verandah in the sultry night. Then the glorious coolness of 
 the sea-breeze, almost the savour of the salt sea-foam and of 
 the dancing wavelets, smote upon their revived senses. 
 Hence, this day was cool, bracing, with a clear sky and a 
 sighing breeze. Jack was young, and extremely susceptible. 
 Maud Stangrove was a peerless horsewoman, and as she 
 caused Mameluke, a noble old fleabitten gray, descendant of 
 SatelKte, to plunge and caracole, every movement of her 
 supple figure, as she swayed easily to each playful bound, 
 completed the sum of his admiration and submission. 
 
 " Oh, what a day it is ! " said she. " Why don't we have 
 such weather more often ? I feel like that boy in Nich of 
 the Woods, when he jumps on his horse to ride after the 
 travellers whom the Indians are tracking, and who shouts 
 out a war-whoop from pure glee and high spirits. ' Wagh ! 
 wagh ! wagh ! wagh ! ' Don't you remember it, Mr. Red- 
 grave? " 
 
 " Oh yes, quite well." Jack had read nearly all the 
 novels in the world, and, if any good could have been done 
 by a competitive examination in light reading, would have 
 come out senior wrangler. " Nick of the Woods was very 
 powerfully written — -that is, it was a good book ; so was the 
 Hawks of Hawk HoUow. Dick Bruce was the boy's name." 
 
 " Of course. I see you know all about him, and Big Tom 
 Bruce is the one that was shot, and didn't tell them that he 
 had a handful of slugs in his breast till after the Indian 
 town is taken, and then he falls down, dying. Grand 
 fellow, is not he % Nothing of that sort in our wretched 
 country, is there ? " 
 
 " We had a little fighting at that Murdering Lake we are 
 going to," said Mark. " Nothing very wonderful. But my 
 horse was speared under me, and he remembered it for the 
 
no THE SQUATTER'S DREAM ; [chap. 
 
 rest of his life. Red Bob was killed ; however, as he said 
 before he died, it wasn't ' twenty to one, or anything near 
 it.' He had shot scores of blacks, if his own and others' 
 tales were true." 
 
 " And why were you engaged in your small war. Master 
 Mark 1 " demanded Maud. "It's all very well to talk about 
 Indians, and so on, but what had these miserable natives 
 done to you? " 
 
 "They were not so miserable in those days," said her 
 brother ; " this tribe was strong and numerous. I would 
 have shirked it if possible ; but they speared a lot of the 
 cattle and one of the men. We had to fight or give them 
 up the run." 
 
 " The old story of Christianity and civilization ? However 
 I know you would not have hurt a hair of their red-ochred 
 locks if you could have avoided it. Indeed, I wonder you 
 kept your own scalp safe in those days. The most simple 
 sayage might have circumvented you, I'm sure, you good, 
 easy-going, unsuspicious, conscientious old goose that you 
 are." 
 
 Here another expression, which Jack preferred much to 
 those more animated glances which opposition had called 
 forth, came over her features ; as she gazed at her brother 
 a soft light seemed gradually to arise and overspread her 
 whole countenance, till her eyes rested with ' an expression 
 of deep unconscious tenderness upon the bronzed, calm face 
 of Mark Stangrove. " I wonder if anything in the whole, 
 world could lead to her looking at me like that ? " thought 
 Jack. 
 
 " This is the place. ' Stand still, my steed,' " quoted Maud, 
 as she reined up Mameluke upon a pine-crested sand-hill, 
 after a couple of hours' riding. " There you can just see the 
 water of the lake. Isn't it a pretty place ? The pretty 
 place, I should say, as it is the only bit with the slightest 
 pretension upon the whole dusky green and glaring red patch 
 of desert which we call our run." 
 
 It was, in its way, assuredly a pretty place. The waters 
 were clear, and had the hue of the undimmed azure, as they 
 gently lapped against the grassy banks. Around was a 
 fringe of dwarf eucalypti, more spreading and umbrageous 
 tnan their congen'srs are apt to be. On the further side was 
 
x] A STOEY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. Ill 
 
 a low sand-hill with a thicker covering of shrubs. A drove 
 of cattle were feeding near ; a trcop of half -wild horses had 
 dashed off at their approach, and were rapidly receding in a 
 . long, swaying line in the distance. A blue crane, the 
 Australian heron, flew with a harsh cry from the shallows, 
 and sailed onward with stately flight. 
 
 " Oh for a falcon to throw off ! " cried Maud, whose spirits 
 seemed quite irrepressible. " Why cannot I be a young lady 
 of the feudal times, and have a hawk, with silken jesses, and 
 a page, and a castle, and all that 1 Surely this is the 
 stupidest, most prosaic country in the world. One would 
 have thought that in a savage land like this they would 
 have devoted themselves to every kind of sport, whereas 
 I fltrmly believe one would have more chance of hunting, 
 shooting, or fishing in Cheapside. "Why did I ever come 
 here ? " she pursued in a voice of mock lamentation. 
 
 " Because you were born here, you naughty girl," said 
 Mark ; " are you not ashamed to be always running down 
 your native country t Don't I see a fire on the far point ? " 
 
 They rode round the border of the lake, scaring the plover 
 and the wild fowl which swam or flew in large flocks in the 
 shallows. When they reached the spot where the small cape 
 formed by the sand advanced boldly into the waters of the 
 lake at the eastern side, they observed that the fire apper- 
 tained to a small camp of blacks. Riding close up, the 
 unmoved countenance of " old man Jack " appeared with his 
 two aged wives, while at a little distance, superintending 
 the boiling of certain fish, was the girl Wilddcuk. She 
 turned to them with an expression of unaffected pleasure, 
 and, rushing up to Miss Stangrove, greeted her with the 
 most demonstrative marks of affection. Suddenly beholding 
 Redgrave, she looked rather surprised; then, bestowing a 
 searching look of inquiry upon him, she made her usual 
 half-shy, half-arch, salutation. 
 
 " So Wildduck is a protegee of yours. Miss Stangrove," 
 said Jack ; "I had no idea she had such distinguished 
 patronage." 
 
 " Maud is a bit of a missionary in her way," said Mark ; 
 " though perhaps you might not think it. Many a good 
 hour she has wasted over the runaway scamp of a gin, and 
 a little rascal of a black boy we had." 
 
112 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM. [chap. 
 
 " Poor things ! " said Maud, with quite a different tone 
 from her ordmary badinage^ " They have souls, and why- 
 should one not try to do them a little good L I am very fond 
 of this Wildduck, as she is called, though Kalingeree is 
 her real name, I remember her quite a little girl. Isn't 
 she a pretty creature ? — not like gins generally are." 
 
 " She is wonderfully good-looking," said Jack ; " I thought 
 so the first time I saw her — when she was galloping after a 
 lot of horses." 
 
 " I am afraid her stock-keeping propensities have led her 
 into bad company," said Maud ; "and yet it is but a natural 
 passion for the chase in the nearest approach the bush 
 affords. I can't help feeling a deep interest in her. You 
 wouldn't believe how clever she is." 
 
 " She looks to me very much thinner than: she used to 
 be," said Mark. " How large her eyes seem, and so bright. 
 I'm afraid she will die young, like her mother." 
 
 " She has been ill, I can see," said Maud, as the girl 
 coughed, and then placed her hand upon her chest, with a 
 gesture of pain. " What has been the matter with you, 
 WUdduck?" 
 
 " Got drunk, Miss Maudie ; lie out in the rain," said the 
 girl, who was as reaEstic as one of — let us say — Rhoda 
 Broughton's heroines. 
 
 " Oh, Wildduck 1 " said her instructress ; " how coiild you 
 get tipsy again, after all I said to you ? " 
 
 " Tipsy ! " said the child of nature, with a twinkle of 
 wicked mirth in her large bright eye — " tipsy ! me likum 
 tipsy ! " 
 
 Mark and his guest were totally unable to retain their 
 gravity at this unexpected answer to Miss Stangrove's 
 appeal, though Jack composed his countenance with great 
 rapidity as he noticed a deeply-pained look in Maud's 
 face, and something like a tear, as she hastily turned 
 away, 
 
 " Are the old miamis there stiU, Wildduck ? " asked Mark, 
 by way of turning the subject. 
 
 " Where you shoot black fellow, long ago ? " asked she. 
 " -^y giii'fi) you. peppered 'em that one day. You kill 'em — 
 one — two — Misser Stangrove." 
 
 " No, I think not, Wildduck. I fired my gun all about. 
 
X.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 113 
 
 Don't think I killed anybody. Black fellow spear Red Bob 
 that day." 
 
 "Aha !" said the girl, her face suddenly changing to an 
 expression of passion. " Serve him right, the murdering 
 dog. He kill poor black fellows for nothing ; shoot gins, 
 too, and picaninnies ; ask old man Jack." 
 
 Here she said a few words rapidly in her own language to 
 the old man. The effect was instantaneous. He sprang up 
 — he seized his spear — his eyes suddenly assumed a fixed 
 and stony stare — with raised head he strode forward with 
 all the lightness and activity of youth. He muttered one 
 name repeatedly. Then his expression changed to one of 
 horrible exultation. 
 
 " I believe old man Jack was there," said Mark. " Per- 
 haps he threw the spear that hit me." 
 
 " Dono," said Wildduck ; "might ha' been. He'd have 
 done it quick if he had, I know that." 
 
 A spring cart with luncheon had been sent on at an early 
 hour, and commanded to camp close by the deserted miamis, 
 which had never been inhabited since the battle. Leaving 
 their sable friends, with an invitation to come up and 
 receive the fragments, they rode over to the spot indicated. 
 
 " Give me the hobbles," said Mark to the lad who drove 
 the spring cart. " You can lay the cloth and set the 
 lunch." 
 
CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 " The Phantom Knight, his glory fled, 
 Mourns o'er the fields he heaped with Aeni."^— Scott. 
 
 Jack had the privilege of lifting Maud from her horse, 
 and then their three nags were unsaddled and hobbled. 
 Rejoicing in this "constitutional freedom," they availed them- 
 selves of it to the extent of drinking of the lake, rolling 
 in the sand, and cropping with relish the long grass which 
 only grew on the lake-side. 
 
 " Here is the very spot — how strange it seems ! " said 
 Mark, " that we should be drinking bottled ale and eating 
 pdth de/oie gras just where spears were flying and guiis 
 volleying. It was night, however, when we made our 
 charge. "We had been tracking all day, and were guided 
 by their fires latterly." 
 
 " Did they make much of a fight ? " asked Jack. 
 
 " They were plucky enough for a while. Our party had 
 a few nasty wounds. They had some advantage in throw- 
 ing their spears, as they were close, and we could not see 
 them as well as they saw us. Poor old Bob ! the spear 
 that killed him was a long slender one. It went nearly 
 through him. They took to the lake at last." 
 
 "And have they never inhabited these miamis since?" 
 asked Maud. 
 
 " Never, from that day to this. Blacks are very super- 
 stitious. They believe in all kinds of demons and spirits. 
 You ask Wildduck when she comes up." 
 
 They walked over the " dark and bloody ground " when 
 the repast was over. There were the ruined wigwams just 
 as their occupants had fled from them at the first volley of 
 their white foes, nearly a generation since. Marks of haste 
 were apparent. The wooden buckets used for water, and 
 
CH. XI.1 A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIEE. 115 
 
 scooped from the bole of a tree, a boomerang or two, a 
 broken spear, mouldered away together. 
 
 " The situation," said Jack, " is not without a tinge of 
 romance. This isn't particularly like Highland scenery ; 
 and blacks always return and carry off their dead, if pos- 
 sible ; otherwise Sir Walter's lines might stand fairly 
 descriptive — ■ 
 
 " ' A dreary glen — 
 Where scattered lay the bones of men, 
 In some forgotten battle slain, 
 And bleached by drifting wind and rain.' " 
 
 " It must be a terrible thing in a deed like this not to be 
 quite certain whether one was in the right or not. Very 
 likely some of those buccaneers of stockmen provoked this 
 tribe, if you only knew it, Mark." 
 
 " Perhaps they did, my dear — more than likely. But we 
 had only plain facts to go upon. They were killing our 
 cattle and servants. We did not declare war. It was the 
 other way. Injustice may have been done, but my con- 
 science is clear." 
 
 " There comes old man Jack, and Mrs. old man Jack, 
 collectively," said Redgrave. " Let us hear what they say 
 about it." 
 
 Slowly, and with sad countenances, the little band ap- 
 proached, and sat down at a short distance from the 
 luncheon. They were regaled with the delicacies of civiliza- 
 tion. Maud administered port wine to Wildduck, and, 
 guardedly, to old Nannie. "The others declined the juice or 
 the grape, but partook freely of the eatables. 
 
 " Now, then, Wildduck," said Redgrave, " tell us any- 
 thing you know about this battle. Your people never lived 
 here since ? " 
 
 "Never, take my oath," said Wildduck, "never no more 
 — too many wandings (demons). One black fellow sleep 
 there one night, years ago ; he frighten to death — close up. 
 He tell me " 
 
 " What did he tell you, Wildduck ? " said Maud. 
 
 "Well," began the girl, sitting down on her heels in 
 the soft grass, " he was out after cattle and tracked 'em 
 here at sundown. So he says, ' I'll camp at the old miamis, 
 blest if I don't. Baal me frighten,' he say. Well, he lie 
 
116 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 down long a that middle big one miami and go fast asleep. 
 In the middle of the night he wake up. AU the place was 
 fuU of blacks. Plenty — plenty," spreading out both her 
 hands. " They ran about with spears, and womrahs, and 
 heilaman. Then he saw white fellows, and fire came out of 
 their guns. Very dark night. Then a white fellow, big 
 man with red hair, fire twice — clear light shine, and he saw 
 a tall black fellow send spear right through him. He say," 
 said the girl, lowering her voice, "just like old man Jack." 
 
 " This is something like the legitimate drama. Miss Stan- 
 grove," said Jack. " You see there is more good, solid 
 tragedy in Australian life than you fancied." 
 
 " Go on, Wildduck," said she. "What a strange scene 
 — only to imagine ! What happened then ? " 
 
 " When white fellow fall down, the tall black fellow 
 give a great jump, and shout out, only he hear nothing. 
 Then all the blacks make straight into the lake. He look 
 again-— all gone — he hear 'possum, night-owl — that's all." 
 
 " And do you believe he saw anything really, Wildduck ? 
 Come now, tell the truth," cross examined Mark. 
 
 " Well, Charley, big one, frighten ; I see that myself. 
 But he took a bottle from the Mailman's Arms, and he'd 
 never wait tUl he saw the bottom — I know that. Here 
 come old man Jack ; he look very queer, too." 
 
 The old savage had begun to walk up towards the spot 
 where they had gathered rather closely together in the 
 interest of Wildduck's legend. There was, as she had said, 
 something strange in his appearance. 
 
 He walked in a slow and stately manner ; he held hiip- 
 self unusually erect. From time to time he glanced at the 
 old encampment, then at the lake. His face lit up with 
 the fire of strong passion, and then he would mutter to him- 
 self, as if recalling the past. 
 
 "Ask him what he is thinking about, Wildduck,'' said Mark. 
 
 The girl spoke a few words to the old man. It was the 
 philter that renews youth, the memory of the passionate 
 past. He stalked forward with the gait of a warrior. 
 Shaking off the fetters of age, he trod lightly upon the well- 
 known scene of conflict, with upraised head and lifted hand. 
 Words issued from his lips with a fiery energy, such as 
 none present had ever witnessed in him. 
 
XI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIIE. 117 
 
 " He say," commenced Wildduck, " this the place where 
 his tribe fight the white man, long time ago. Misser Stan- 
 grove young f eUer then. Many black fellow shot — so many 
 — so many (here she spread out her open palms). By and 
 by all run into lake." 
 
 " Does he remember Eed Bob being killed ? " asked 
 Maud. 
 
 " Red "Wanding," cried the girl, still translating the old 
 man's speech, which roUed forth in faltering and passionate 
 tones, " he knew well ; that debil-debil shoot picaninny be- 
 longing to him — little girl — ' poor little girl ' he say. (Here 
 the gray chieftain threw up his arms wildly towards the 
 sky, while hot tears fell from the eyes stUl glaring with 
 unsated wrath and revenge.) He say, before that he always 
 friend to white fellow — no let black fellow spear cattle." 
 
 " Ask him where he was himself that night," said Mark. 
 
 The inquiry was put to him. Old man Jack replied not 
 for a few moments ; then he walked slowly forward to a large 
 hollow log of the slowly-rotting eucalyptus, which had lain 
 for a score of years scarce perceptibly hastening on its path 
 of slow decay. Stooping suddenly, he thrust in his long 
 arm and withdrew a spear. It was mouldering with age, 
 but stUl showed by its sharpened point and smoothed edges 
 how dangerous a weapon it had been. He felt the point, 
 touched a darkened stain which reached to a foot from the 
 end, and, suddenly throwing himself with lightning-like 
 rapidity into the attitude of a thrower of the javelin, 
 shouted a name thrice with a demoniac malevolence which 
 curdled the hearts of the hearers. He then snapped the 
 decayed lance, and, throwing the pieces at Mark's feet with 
 a softened and humble gesture, relapsed into his old mute, 
 emotionless manner, and strode away along the border of 
 the lake. 
 
 "He say," concluded "Wildduck, with a half confidential 
 manner, " that he spear Red Bob that night with that one 
 spear. He hide 'em in log, and never see it again till this 
 day." 
 
 " Some secrets are well kept," said Mark. " If it had 
 been known within a few years after the fight, old man 
 Jack would have been shot half a dozen times over. Now, 
 no one would think of avenging Red Bob's death more 
 
118 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 tlian that of Julius Caesar. After all, it was a fair fight ; 
 and I believe old man Jack's story." 
 
 " Well, I shall never laugh at bush warfare again," said 
 Maud ; " there is sad earnest sufficient for anybody in this 
 tale." 
 
 " "We may as well be turning our horses' heads home- 
 ward. Wildduck, you come up to-morrow and get some- 
 thing for your cough." 
 
 " Come up now," accepted Wildduck, with great prompti- 
 tude. " Too much frightened of Wanding to-night to stop 
 here." 
 
 A brisk gallop home shook ofE some of the influences of 
 their somewhat eerie adventure. Maud strove to keep 
 up the lively tone of her ordinary conversation, but did not 
 wholly succeed. Her subdued bearing rendered her, in 
 Jack's eyes, more irresistible than before. He was rapidly 
 approaching that helpless stage when, in moods of grave 
 or gay, a man sees only the absolute perfection of his ex- 
 emplar of all feminine graces. From the last pitying glance 
 which Maud bestowed on Wildduck, to the frank kiss 
 which she so lovingly pressed on Mameluke's neck as she 
 dismounted, Jack only recognized the rare combination of 
 lofty sentiment with a warm and affectionate nature. 
 
 Next morning Jack was under marching orders. He 
 had left M'Nab sufficiently long by himself, in case anything 
 of the nature of work turned up. He had secured an ex- 
 tremely pleasant change from the monotony of home. He 
 had, most undeniably, acquired one or more new ideas. How 
 regretfully he saw Mark finish his breakfast, and wait to 
 say good-bye, preparatory to a long day's ride after those 
 eternal shepherds ! 
 
 " You must come and see us again," said Mrs. Stangrove, 
 properly careful to retain the acquaintance of an agreeable 
 neighbour and an eligible parti. " You have no excuse 
 now. We shall not believe in the use and value of your 
 fencing if it won't provide you with a little leisure 
 sometimes." 
 
 " You must all come and see me before shearing," re- 
 joined he. " I shall make a stand on my rights in etiquette, 
 and refuse to come again before you have 'returned my 
 call,' as ladies say. I have several novelties beside the 
 
XI.] A STORY OF AUSTBALIAN LIFE. 119 
 
 fencing to show, which might interest even ladies. I hope 
 you won't give Stangrove any rest till he promises to 
 bring you." 
 
 " We have a natural curiosity to see all the new world 
 you are reported to have made," Maud said, " and even your 
 model overseer, Mr. M'Nab. He must surely be one of the 
 ' coming race,' and have any quantity of ' vril ' at command. 
 I suppose the land will be filled with such products of a 
 higher civilization after we early Arcadians are abolished," 
 
 " You must come and see, Miss Stangrove. I will tell 
 you nothing. M'Nab is the ideal general-of -division in the 
 grand army of labour, to my fancy. But whether it is to 
 be Waterloo or Walcheren the future must decide. Au 
 revoir I " 
 
 He shook hands with Stangrove, and, mounting, departed 
 with his brace of hackneys for the trifling day's ride between 
 there and home. Truth to tell, he tested the mettle of his 
 steeds much more shrewdly than in his leisurely downward 
 course. It was nearer to eight hours than nine when he 
 reined up before the home-paddock gate of Gondaree. 
 
 Returning to one's own particular abode and domicile is 
 not always an unmixed joy, however much imaginative 
 writers have insisted upon the aspect. " The watchdog's 
 honest bay " occasionally displays a want of recognition 
 calculated to irritate the sensitive mind. Evidence is some- 
 times forced upon the unwilling revenant of the proverbial 
 and unwarrantable playing of mice in the absence of the 
 lord of the castle, who is thereby unpleasantly reminded 
 that he occupies substantially the position of the cat. Pos- 
 sibly he is greeted with the unwelcome announcement that 
 an important business interview has lapsed by reason of his 
 absence. It may be that he finds his household absent at 
 an entertainment, thus causing him to moralize upon deso- 
 late hearthstones and shattered statuettes, while he is 
 gloomily performing for himself the minor offices so promptly 
 bestowed on more fortunate arrivals. Or fate, being in one 
 of her dark moods— a subtle prescience of evil, only too 
 true — meets him on the threshold, and he enters his home 
 as chief mourner. " Happy whom none of these befall;" 
 and in such cheer did our hero find himself when, after 
 hurried inquiry, it transpired that " nothing had happened/' 
 
120 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [uhap. 
 
 that everything was going on as well as could be, and that 
 Mr. M'Nab was out at the woolshed (No. 3), and had left 
 word that he would be in at sundown. 
 
 " So everything has gone on well in my absence," said 
 Jack to his lieutenant, as they sat placidly smoking after 
 the evening meal. " I began to be a little nervous as I 
 got near home, though why it should be I can't say." 
 
 " So well," answered M'Nab, " that if it were not for the 
 woolshed there would be too little to do. Once a month is 
 often enough to muster the paddocks, and the percentage of 
 loss has been very trifling. The sheep are in tip-top con- 
 dition. The clip will be good and very clean. I hope we 
 are past our troubles." 
 
 " I hope so too," echoed Jack. " How many sheep are 
 there in the river paddock 1 " 
 
 " Nine thousand odd. You never saw anything like 
 them for condition." 
 
 " Isn't there a risk in having them there at this time of 
 year? The river might come down; and Stangrove told 
 Jie the greater part of that paddock is under water in a 
 big flood." 
 
 " Plenty of time to get them out. If the worst came we 
 could soon rig a temporary bridge over the anabranch 
 creek." 
 
 "People about here say," objected Jack, "that when a 
 real flood comes down all sorts of places are filled which 
 you wouldn't expect ; and sheep are the stupidest things — 
 except pigs — that ever were tried in water and a hurry." 
 
 " You needn't be uneasy ; I'll have them out of that 
 hours before there is any danger," said M'Nab, confidently. 
 " Meanwhile, if they don't use the feed the travelling stock 
 will only have the benefit of it. What did you think of 
 Mr. Stangrove's place, sir ? " 
 
 "I was agreeably surprised," said Jack, with an air of 
 much gravity. "The whole afiair is old-fashioned, of 
 course ; but the stock are very good, in fine order, and 
 everything about the place very neat and nice. Mr. 
 Stangrove and his family are exceedingly nice people." 
 
 " So I've heard," said M'Nab. " So I believe (as if that 
 was a point so unimportant as to merit the merest assent) ; 
 but the Eun I — the run is one of the best and largest on 
 
XI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 121 
 
 the river, and to think of its being thrown away upon less 
 than twenty thousand sheep, a thousand head of cattle, 
 and a few mobs of rubbishy horses ! " 
 
 "Dreadful, isn't it?" said Jack, smiling at M'Nab's 
 righteous indignation ; " but Stangrove is one of those men 
 who thinks he has a right to do what he wills with his own. 
 And really he has something to say for himself." 
 
 " I can't think it, sir ; I can't think it," asserted the stern 
 utilitarian. "The State ought to step in and interfere 
 when a man is clearly wasting and misusing the public 
 lands. I'd give all the shepherding, non-fencing men five 
 years' warning; if at the end of that time they had not 
 contrived to fence and dig welk the country should be 
 resumed and let by tender to pien who would work the 
 Crown lands decently and profit^ly." 
 
 " You're rather too advanoe.d' a land-reformer," said his 
 employer. " You might have the tables turned upon you 
 by the farmers. However, you can argue the point of evic- 
 tion with Mr. Stangrove, who will be here with the ladies, 
 I hope, before shearing. But he has fought for his land 
 once, and I feel sure would do so again if need were. Still 
 I think he will be rather astonished at our four boundary 
 riders." 
 
 The first necessity was an inspection of the new wool- 
 shed, which was raising its unpretending form, like a 
 species of degenerate phoenix, from the ashes of its glorious 
 predecessor. It was strong and substantial, full of neces- 
 sary conveniences — good enough — but not the model edifice 
 — the exemplar of a district, the pride of Lower Eiverina. 
 
 Now befell a halcyon time of a couple of months of Jack's 
 existence, during which the millennium, as far as Gondaree 
 was concerned, seemed to have arrived. 
 
 The weather was perfect ; there was just enough rain, not 
 more than was needed to " freshen up " the pasture from 
 time to time. There were ten thousand fat sheep; the 
 lambing had commenced, and prospects were splendid. 
 
 Better than all, the reactionary reign of economy directly 
 proceeding from M'Nab's well-calculated outlay had set in. 
 With forty-two thousand " countable " sheep and twenty 
 thousand lambing ewes, " in full blast," there were but the 
 four boundary riders, M'Nab, the cook, and Ah Sing, plus 
 
122 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 the shed workmen. " This was something like," Jack said 
 to himself. " Fancy the small army I should have billeted 
 upon me if I were like Stangrove, and had the same pro- 
 portion of hands to employ. The very thought of it is 
 madness, or insolvency — which comes to the same 
 thing." 
 
 " I really believe we could do with even fewer hands upon 
 a pinch," said M'Nab. " Ah Sing is of course a luxury, 
 though a justifiable one. The boundary-riders come in for 
 their own rations, so a ration-carrier is unnecessary. The 
 two that live at the homestead cook for "themselves. There 
 is next to no work in the store till shearing ; you or I can 
 give out anything that is wanted. The cook chops his own 
 wood, and fetches it in once a week ; water is at the door. 
 If it were not for having to convoy travelling sheep, one 
 man could watch and the rest go to sleep tiU shearing. 
 There are no dingoes, and we have no township near us to 
 breed tame dogs. Next year we must have thirty thousand 
 lambing-sheep by hook or by crook, and then you may put 
 Gondaree into the market with sixty thousand sheep as 
 soon after as you please." 
 
 " What about these ten thousand fat sheep 1 " said Jack. 
 " Isn't it time we were thinking of drafting and sending 
 them on the road J " 
 
 " If I were you, Mr. Redgrave, I would not sell them, 
 unless you were obliged, till after shearing. They are 
 worth from twelve to fourteen shillings all round in Mel- 
 bourne, let us say. Well, the wethers will cut six shillings' 
 worth of wool, and the ewes five. It would pay you to 
 shear them and sell them as store sheep." 
 
 " That's all very well ; but if you don't sell at the proper 
 time I always notice that it ends in keeping them for 
 another year ; by which you lose interest, and risk a fall 
 in the market." 
 
 " Not much chance of sheep falling below ten shillings," 
 rejoined M'Nab. " We can send them in very prime about 
 March. We may just as soon make one expense of the 
 shearing." 
 
 " Well," yielded Jack, " I dare say it won't make much 
 difference. We shall have it — the clip — and if they only 
 fetch ten shillings there will be a profit of five and twenty 
 
XI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 123 
 
 per cent. They don't cost anything for shepherding, that's 
 one comfort." 
 
 So matters wore on till July. To complete the astonish- 
 ing success and enjoyment of the situation, Jack received a 
 letter from Stangrove, to say that he was going to drive over, 
 and would bring the ladies for a day's visit to Gondaree. 
 
 Jack's cup well-nigh overflowed. To think of having 
 lier actually in the cottage, under his very roof — to have 
 the happiness of beholding her walking about the garden 
 and homestead, criticising everything, as she would be sure 
 to do. Perhaps even appreciating, with that clear intellect 
 of hers, the scope and breadth of the system of manage- 
 ment, of his life pleasures even. Could she be won to 
 take an interest, then what delirious, immeasurable joy ! 
 
 Preparations were made. A feminine supernumerary was 
 secured from the woolshed camp. Fortunately the cook was 
 undeniable, and he needed but a word to " impress himself " 
 and execute marvels. The cottage was entirely given up to 
 the ladies, and the bachelors' quarters made ready for occupa- 
 tion by Stangrove, M'Nab, and himself. So might they 
 retire, and smoke and talk sheep ad libitum. The small 
 flower-garden round the cottage, or rather at the side, as its 
 verandah almost overhung the river, was made neat. Even 
 M'Nab, though grumbUng somewhat at a feminine invasion 
 " just before shearing," looked out his best suit of clothes, 
 and prepared to abide the onset. Had there ever been a lady 
 at Gondaree before ? Jack began to consider. It was ex- 
 ceedingly doubtful. 
 
 At the appointed day, just before sundown, Stangrove's 
 buggy rattled up behind, as usual, a very fast pair of horses. 
 He was a great man for pace, and, having lots of horses to 
 pick out of, generally had something only slightly inferior to 
 public performers. Indeed, his friends used to complain 
 that he never could be got to stay a night with any one on 
 the road — being always bent upon some impossible distance 
 in the day, and insisting upon going twenty or thirty miles 
 farther, in order to accomplish it. However that might be, 
 no man drove better horses. 
 
 " Here we are at last, Redgrave," said he, as Jack rushed 
 out to satisfy himself that Maud was actually in the flesh at 
 his gates. "We should have been here before^ but the 
 
m THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 ladies, of course, kept me waiting. However, I think we've 
 done it under seven hours — that's not so bad." 
 
 " Bad ! I should think not — splendid going ! " said Jack. 
 " 1 must get you to sell me a pair of buggy horses ; mine are 
 slow enough for a poison cart. Mrs. Stangrove, how good 
 of you to cheer up a lonely bachelor ! Miss Stangrove, I 
 throw myself and household on your mercy. "Will you, 
 ladies, deign to walk in ? you will find an attendant, and 
 take possession of my house and all that is in it. Stangrove, 
 we must take out the nags ourselves ; no spare hands on a 
 fenced-in run, you perceive." 
 
 " All right, Kedgrave, that's the style I like. Mind you 
 keep it up." 
 
 The stable was well found, though the groom was absent. 
 Abundance of hay had been supplied, and the buggy was 
 placed under cover. The friends were soon sauntering down 
 by the river, and of course talking sheep, in the interval 
 before dinner. 
 
 " Saw a lot of your weaners as we came along," said Stan- 
 grove. " How well they look» Much larger than mine, and 
 the wool very ctean. It certainly makes a man think. 
 How many are there in that paddock 1 " 
 
 " Nine thousand," answered Jack, carelessly. " They have 
 been there since they were weaned." 
 " And how often are they counted 1 " 
 " Once a month, regularly." 
 " What percentage of loss 1 " 
 
 " Next to none at all ; the fact is we have no dogs, and the 
 season has been so far, glorious." 
 
 " "Well, I have five shepherds for the same number," said 
 Stangrove ; " have had one or two ' smashes,' endless riding, 
 bother, and trouble. It seems very nice to turn them loose 
 and never have any work or expense with them — the most 
 troublesome of one's whole flock — till shearing. However, as 
 I said before, my mind is made up for the next couple of 
 
 years-rafter that, I won't say " 
 
 ,." I think ,£ hear the dinner-bell," said Jack ; " the ladies 
 will be wondering what has become of us." 
 
 MfNab having arrived about this time, looking highly 
 presentable, th-e masculine contingent entered the cottage, 
 and dinner was announced. 
 
XI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 125 
 
 "Your housekeeping does not need to fear criticism," 
 said Mrs. Siangrove, as she tasted the clear soup. This 
 was a speciality of Monsieur Jean Dubois, an artist who, 
 but for having contracted the colonial preference for cognac, 
 our vin ordinaire, would have graced stUl a metropolitan 
 establishment. 
 
 "We women are always complimented upon our domestic 
 efficiency, home comforts, and so on," said Maud. "It ap- 
 pears to me that bachelors always live more comfortably 
 than the married people of our acquaintance." 
 
 " I don't think that is always the case," pleaded Mrs. 
 Stangrove. " But in many instances I have noted that you 
 gentlemen, who are living by yourselves, always seem to 
 get the best servants." 
 
 " ' Kinder they than Missises are,' Thackeray says, you 
 know ; but it must be quite an accidental circumstance. In 
 by far the greater niunber of instances a lone bachelor is 
 oppressed, neglected, and perhaps robbed." 
 
 "lam not so sure of that," persisted Maud. "You 
 exaggerate your chances of misfortune. I know when I 
 am travelling with Mark we generally find ourselves much 
 better put up, as he calls it, at a bachelor residence than at a 
 regular family estabhshment. Don't we, Mark?" 
 
 "Well, I can't altogether deny it," deposed Stangrove, 
 thus adjured. " It may not last, and the bachelor may be 
 living on his capital of comfort. But I must say that, unless 
 I know a man's wife is one of the right sort, I prefer the 
 unmarried host. You fling yourself into the best chair in 
 the room as soon as you have made yourself decent. You are 
 safe to be asked to take a glass of grog without any un- 
 necessary waste of time. And you are absolutely certain 
 that no possible cloud can cast a shade over the evening's 
 abandon. Whereas, in the case of the ' double event,' the 
 odds are greater that it won't come ofE so successfully." 
 
 " What are you saying about married people, Mark ? 
 You're surely in a wicked sarcastic humour. Don't believe 
 him Mr. Redgrave." 
 
 " My dear ! you are the exceptional helpmate, as I am 
 always ready to testify. But there may be cases, you know, 
 when the husband has just stated that he'll be hanged if he 
 will have his mother-in-law for another six months, just yet j 
 
126 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 or the cook, not being able to ' hit it ' with the mistress's 
 slightly explosive temper, has left at a moment's notice, and 
 there is nothing but half-cold mutton and quite hot soda- 
 bread to be procured ; the grog, too, has run out, which is 
 never the case in a bachelor's establishment — and so — and 
 so. Unless the lady of the house is partial to strangers (like 
 you, my dear), give me Tom, or Dick, and Liberty Hall.' 
 
 " So I say too," added Maud. " Of course being a single 
 young person, I feel flattered by the respectful admiration I 
 meet with at such houses. It's not proper, I suppose. I ought 
 to feel more pleased to be under the wing of a staid, over- 
 ■worked, slightly soured mother of a family, who keeps me 
 waiting for tea till all the children are put to bed, and 
 gives me something to stitch at during the evening ; but I 
 don't — and so there's no use saying I do." 
 
 " I'm afraid your tastes border on the Bohemian, Miss 
 Stangrove," said Jack. "I'm rather a Philistine myself, I 
 own, in the matter of young ladies." 
 
 " Thinking, no doubt, as is the manner of men, that 
 stupidity contains a great element of safety for women. I 
 could prove to you that you are utterly wrong ; but you 
 might think me more a person of independent ideas — that 
 is, more unladylike than ever. So I abstain. How nicely 
 your verandah looks over the river. It is quite a balcony. 
 Isn't it very unpleasantly near in flood-time? " 
 
 " The oldest inhabitant has never seen water cover this 
 point," said Jack. " I ascertained that very carefully before 
 I built here. If you look over to those low green marshy 
 flats on the other side, you will see that miles of water must 
 spread out for every additional inch the river rises." 
 
 " Yes, Steamboat Point is all right," said Mark. " I've 
 heard the blacks admit that. I've seen a big flood or two 
 here too ; but the water runs back into the creeks and ana- 
 branches in a wonderful way. Gets behind you and cuts 
 you off before you can help yourself, sometimes, in the 
 night. If I were you I would have every weaner out of 
 those river paddocks before spring." 
 
 " We could have them out soon enough if there was any 
 danger," here interposed M'Nab. 
 
 " You would find it hard, take my word for it," said 
 Gtangrove, "if the river came down a banker." 
 
XI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 127 
 
 " I coulJ whip a bridge over any back creek here in half 
 an hour," said M'Nab, decisively, " that would cross every 
 sheep we have there in two hours.'' 
 
 "There's a ZSTapoleonic ring about that, Mr. M'Nab," 
 said Maud ; " but the Duke would have had all his forces — 
 I mean his sheep — withdrawn from the position of danger 
 in good time. One or two of Buonaparte's bridges broke 
 down with him, you remember." 
 
 "It doesn't look much like a flood at present," said 
 Jack ; " though this is no warranty in Australia, which is 
 a land specially dedicated to the unforeseen. Let us hope 
 that there will be nothing so sensational at or before 
 shearing this year." 
 
 " Not even bushrangers," said Maud. "What does this 
 mean?" handing over to her brother the Warroo Watch- 
 tower and Down-river Advertiser, in which figured the 
 following paragraph : " We regret sincerely to be compelled 
 to state that the rumours as to a party of desperadoes hav- 
 ing taken to the bush are not without foundation. Last 
 week two drays were robbed near Mud Springs by a party 
 of five men, well armed and mounted. The day before 
 yesterday the mailman and several travellers on the Oxley 
 road were stopped and robbed by the same gang. They are 
 said to be led by the notorious Redcap, and to have stated 
 that they were coming into the Warroo frontage to give 
 the squatters a turn." 
 
 Mrs. Stangrove turned pale, Maud latighed, while Mark 
 devoted himself very properly to calm the apprehensions of 
 his wife. 
 
 " Maud," he said, " this is no laughing matter. It is the 
 beginning of a period, whether long or short, of great 
 trouble and anxiety, it may be danger, I am not an 
 alarmist ; but I wish we were well out of this matter." 
 
 " It seems very ridiculous," said Jack ; " every man's 
 hand will be against them, and they must be run or shot 
 down, ultimately." 
 
 " Nothing more certain," admitted Stangrove ; " but 
 these fellows generally ' turn out ' from the merest folly or 
 recklessness, and become gradually hardened to bloodshed. 
 They are like raw troops, mere rustics at first. But they 
 soon learn the part of ' first robber,' and generally lose 
 
128 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM [ch. xi. 
 
 some of their own blood, or spill that of better men, before 
 they get taken." 
 
 " We have a dray just loading up from town. There is 
 time — yes, just time," said M'Nab, consulting his pocket- 
 book, " to write by mail. We can order revolvers, and a 
 repeating rifle or two, and have them up in five weeks. 
 Can we get anything for you ? " 
 
 " Certainly, and much obliged," said Stangrove ; " if they 
 know that we are well armed, ;they will be all the more 
 chary of coming to close quarters. You may order for me 
 a brace of repeating rifles and three revolvers." 
 
 " With some of the neighbours we might turn out a 
 respectable force, and hunt the fellows down," said Jack, 
 who felt ready for anything in the immediate proximity of 
 Maud, and only wished the gang would attack Gondaree 
 then and there. 
 
 There was no such luck, however. The ordinary station 
 life was unruffled. The ladies rode and drove about with 
 cheerful energy. Maud admired the paddocks and the 
 unshepherded sheep immensely, and vainly tried to extort 
 her brother's consent to begin the reformed system as soon 
 as they returned to Juandah. 
 
 Mark had said that he would defer the enterprise for two 
 years, and he was a man who, slow in forming resolves, 
 always adhered to them; 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " So farre, so fast the eygre drave, 
 
 The heart had hardly time to beat, 
 Before a shallow seething wave 
 
 Sobbed in the grasses at our feet ; 
 The feet had hardly time to flee 
 
 Before it brake against the knee, 
 And all the world was in the sea." — Jean Ingdovi. 
 
 The days passed pleasantly in excursions to Bimbalong, 
 to the back paddocks, and in rides and drives along the 
 perfect natural roads peculiar to the locality. In the long 
 excursions, the twilight was upon them more than once 
 before they reached home. Jack did not altogether neglect 
 his opportunities. "When he rode close to Maud's bridle- 
 rein, as they flitted along in the mild half-light between the 
 shadowy pines, or the avenues of oak and myall, words 
 would become gradually lower in tone, more accented with 
 feeling, than the ordinary daylight converse. 
 
 "And so you think," said Jack, on one of these pleasant 
 twilight confidentials — Stangrove, who was driving, being 
 rather anxious to get home before the light got any worse — 
 " that I am not playing too hazardous a game in spending 
 freely now, with the expectation of being so largely recouped 
 within a year or two." 
 
 " It is exactly what I should do if I were a man," said the 
 girl, frankly. " How men can consent to bury themselves 
 alive in this wearisome, never-ending, bush sepulchre I cannot 
 think. I should perish if I were compelled to lead such a life 
 without possibility of change. When we think of the glorious 
 old world, the dreamland of one's spirit, the theatre of art, 
 luxury, war, antiquity, which leisure would enable one to 
 visit — how can one be contented ? " 
 
 " I never thought / should feel contented on the Warroo," 
 
130 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 said her companion ; " yet now, really, I don't find it so 
 awfully dtdl, you know." 
 
 " Not just at present," answered Maud, archly. " Well, I 
 am candid enough to own that, our families having joined 
 forces since your visit, things are a shade more bearable. But 
 fancy growing gray in this life and these surroundings. 
 Twenty years after ! Pancy us all at that date, here ! " 
 
 " I can't fancy it. What should we be like. Miss Stangrove? " 
 
 " I can tell you," pursued the excited girl. " Mark much 
 the same, gray and more silent — strongly of opinion that the 
 Government of the day were in league with free selectors, and 
 generally robbers and murderers. His opinions are pretty 
 strong now. Tlien, of course, they would have ripened into 
 prejudices. My sister-in-law, frail, worn out by servants and 
 household cares ; just a little querulous, and more indisposed 
 to read." 
 
 "And yourself?" asked Jack. 
 
 " Oh ! I should have been quietly buried under a couba 
 tree before that impossible period. Or, if I unhappily survived^ 
 would have become eccentric. I should be spoken of generally 
 as a ' little strong-minded,' slight dash of temper, and so on ; 
 very fond of riding, and, they say, can count sheep and act as 
 boundary-rider when her brother is short of hands. How 
 do you like the picture ? " 
 
 " You have not paid me the compliment of including me 
 on the canvas." 
 
 " I don't possibly imagine you within thousands of miles 
 of Gondaree or Juandah at such a time. You will be 
 dreaming among the ' Stones of Venice,' lounging away the 
 winter in Rome, or settled in a hunting neighbourhood in a 
 pleasant English county, making up your mind, very 
 gradually, to return to Australia, and to devote the rest of 
 your days to model farming and national regeneration." 
 
 " There is only one thing absolutely necessary to render my 
 existence happy under the conditions which you have so 
 accurately sketched," — here he leaned forward, and placing 
 his hand upon her horse's mane, saw a softened gleam in her 
 marvellous eyes — as of the heart's farewell to unacknow- 
 ledged hope — " and that is " 
 
 " We are really riding shamefully slow," said she suddenly, 
 as she drew her rein, and the free horse tossed his head and 
 
XII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAKr LIFE. 131 
 
 went off at speed. " Mark must have nearly reached home, 
 and Jane, as usual, will be fancying all kinds of impossible 
 accidents — that dear old Mameluke has tumbled down, posi- 
 tively tumbled down and broken my arm in three places. I 
 tell her she'll suspect me of taking a ' bait ' next. How still 
 the plain looks, and how exactly the same — north and south, 
 east and west ! But even in this light yoti can distinguish 
 the heavy, dark, winding line of the river timber." 
 
 In due time the guests departed, and Mr. Redgrave was left 
 to the consideration of the loneliness of his condition, a view 
 of life which had not presented itself strongly before his 
 introduction to Miss Stangrove. He had been contented to 
 enjoy the society of wife, widow, and maid in the most 
 artless, instinctive fashion, without any fixed plan of personal 
 advantage. Not that this unsatisfactory general approbation 
 had escaped criticism by those who felt themselves to be 
 sufficiently interested to speak. He had been called selfish, 
 conceited, fastidious, fast, uninteresting, and mysterious. 
 Many adjectives had in private been hurled at his devoted 
 head. But ha " had a light heart, and so bore up." Besides, 
 he had a reserve of popularity to fall back upon. There 
 were many people who would not suffer Jack Redgrave to be 
 run down unreasonably. So up to this time he had eluded 
 appropriation and defied disapproval. 
 
 Now matters were changed. The slow, resistless Nemesis 
 was upon him. In his ears sounded the prelude to that 
 melody — heard but once in this mortal life — in tones at first 
 low and soft, then rich and dread with melody from the 
 immortal lyre. At that summons all men arise and follow. 
 Follow, be it angel or fiend. Follow, be the path over vernal 
 meads, through forest gloom, or the drear shades of the nether 
 hell. 
 
 No woman, Jack soliloquised, had ever before commended 
 herself to his tastes, his senses, his reason, and his fancy. 
 She was in his eyes lovely in form and face ; original, cul- 
 tured, tender, and true. He would make her his wife if his 
 utmost efforts might compass such triumph, such wild ex- 
 aggeration of happiness. She might not care particularly 
 about him. She might merely have whiled away a dull 
 week. Now, many a time had lie done likewise, with ap- 
 parent interest and inward tedium. Were it so, he felt as if 
 
 K 2 
 
132 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM: [chap. 
 
 he could bestow a legend on Steamboat Point by casting him- 
 self into the rapid but not particularly deep waters which 
 flowed beneath. At any rate he would try. He would make 
 the great hazard. He would know his fate after shearing. 
 Meanwhile, there was nearly enough to do until that solemn 
 Hegira to put the thought of Maud Stangrove out of his 
 head. 
 
 Having made up his mind, Mr. Kedgrave dismissed the fair 
 Maud with philosophical completeness. Master Jack was 
 extremely averse to holding his judgment in suspense, that 
 process involving abrasion of his peculiarly delicate mental 
 cuticle. He was prone, therefore, to a speedy settlement of 
 all cases of conscience. Judgment being delivered, he bore 
 or performed sentence unflinchingly. Yet his friends asserted 
 that during any stay of proceedings he could amuse himself 
 as unreservedly, as free from boding gloom, or " the sad com- 
 panion, ghastly pale, and darksome as a widow's veil," as any 
 sportive lambkin on his way to mint sauce and deglutition. 
 Thus, having settled that the subjugation of Miss Stangrove 
 could not be undertaken until after shearing, he went heart 
 and soul into the arrangements for that annual agony, to the 
 total exclusion of all less material considerations. 
 
 To a healthy man, in the full possession of all mental and 
 bodily faculties, perhaps a state of perfect employment is the 
 one most nearly approaching to that of perfect happiness. It 
 is rarely conceded at the time ; but more often than we wot 
 of do men recall, when in the lap of ease, that season of com- 
 parative toil and strife, with a sigh for the "grand old days 
 of pleasure and pain." Each nerve and muscle is at stretch. 
 The struggle is close and hard ; but there is the glorious sen- 
 sation of " the strong man rejoicing in his strength." The 
 very fatigue is natural and wholesome. The recovery is sure 
 and complete ; and, if only a reasonable meed of success 
 crown those unsparing efforts, the heart swells with the proud 
 joy of him round whose brow is twined the envied crown in 
 the arena. Let who wiU choose the dulled sensation with 
 which, in after life, the successful merchant notes his divi- 
 dends, or the politician accepts the long-promised leadership. 
 
 Mr. Redgrave, then, having girded himself for the fight, in 
 company with M'Nab, drank delight of battle with his peers, 
 that is, with the shearers, washers, and knockabout men, who 
 
XII.] A STORY OP AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 133 
 
 I struds repeatedly, and gave as much trouble as their ingenuity 
 could manage to supply during the first week of shearing. 
 
 Suddenly — as is the custom of all Australian weather- 
 wonders — clouds charged with heavy driving showers came 
 hurtling across the fair blue sky. This abnormal state of 
 matters on the Warroo was succeeded by a steady, settled 
 rainfall, pouring down heavily, and yet more heavily on 
 several successive days, as if heaven's windows were once 
 more opened, and the dry land was again to be circumscribed. 
 Without loss of time, down came the river, " tossing his 
 tawny mane," foam-flecked, and bearing on his broad brown 
 bosom all sorts of goods and chattels not intended for water 
 carriage. The anabranch surrounding a large portion of the 
 river paddock, wherein were the weaners, was simultaneously 
 filled by the turbid torrent, which dashed into its deep but 
 ordinarily dry bed from the brimming river. At the present 
 level no danger was to be apprehended for the unconscious 
 weaners ; but M'Nab was unwilling to trust to the proba- 
 bilities, and decided upon getting them out. A bridge was 
 extemporised, of a sort laid away in the well-stored chambers 
 of his practical brain, and thrown across the narrowest part. 
 
 "With a heavy expenditure of patience, and the efficient 
 leadership of certain pet sheep, which M'Nab had reared 
 and trained for shearing needs, the whole lot were mustered 
 and safely crossed over the newly-born water-course. 
 
 " lam not sure now," said M'Nab, "that we have not had 
 all our trouble for nothing. I believe the river will be low 
 again in a week." 
 
 " All the same," affirmed Jack, " it's well to be on the safe 
 side, especially of a back creek in flood-time. Nobody knows 
 what these confounded rivers are capable of doing when no 
 one wants them." 
 
 "Well, they can have the No. 2 paddock, and the dry 
 ewes can have No. 3. I wanted No. 2 for the shorn sheep, 
 though.. It's just a nuisance the water coming down now." 
 
 The mild excitement of the spate, as Mr. M'Nab called it, 
 died away. The sun came out ; the waters returned to nearly 
 their former limits, and a wide, half-dried surface of mud, 
 alone denoted where the deep and turbid waters had rolled 
 over the. broad channel of the anabranch. 
 
134 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [ohav. 
 
 The wool-shed and wash-pen had been correctly placed 
 upon the borders of a creek so conveniently humble as never 
 to attain to any measure of danger or discomfort in the 
 highest flood. So, directly the rain ceased, the great yearly 
 campaign went on rapidly and smoothly. 
 
 Weeks passed ; the season was advancing ; the sun became 
 hotter ; there was not a day of broken weather ; every- 
 thing was in capital gear, and worked with even suspicious 
 smoothness 
 
 " We are getting on like a house afire," said M'Nab ; " that 
 is," as he suddenly bethought himself of the awkwardness of 
 the allusion, " much faster than I expected. We have a good 
 lot of men. There is no dust. The wash-pen is just grand. 
 I never saw wool cleaner and better got up, though I say 
 so." 
 
 " Our luck has turned," said Jack ; " no more accidents ; 
 though it's strange that, when all is unnaturally successful, 
 something is sure to happen. If the engine was to smash, a 
 valve or some small trouble to happen, I should feel that the 
 ring of Polycrates had been thrown into the Warroo, and not 
 returned by an officious codfish." 
 
 " I don't know about Polly Whatsyname's ring," said Mr. 
 M'Nab, whose education had not included the classics ; " but 
 things couldn't be better. I shall put those weaners back into 
 the river paddock again. The grass is all going to waste." 
 
 "Just as you like," said Jack, who had forgotten his 
 caution now that the emergency was over. " I suppose we 
 shall have the dust blowing in about a fortnight." 
 
 " By then we shall be done shearing. I don't care what 
 comes after," answered the manager. " And now I must go 
 back to the shed." 
 
 " Thank God, it's Saturday night ! " said Jack, as they sat 
 down to their dinner at the fashionable hour of nine p.m. 
 " I enjoy a good bout of work ; it's exciting, and pulls one 
 together. But one wants a little sleep sometimes ; likewise 
 something to eat." 
 
 " This has been a middling hard week," graciously admitted 
 M'Nab, who rarely would concede that any amount of labour 
 constituted a really laborious term. " One more week, and 
 every dray wiU be loaded up, and the wool off our hands." 
 
xii.] A STORY OF AUSTEALIAK LIFE. 135 
 
 " Do you think the weather will hold good ? It had rather 
 a lowering, hazy look to-day." 
 
 " That means that it's raining somewhere else," said 
 M'Nab, uninterestedly. " It's very often our share of it on 
 the Warroo here." 
 
 " Don't know — somehow I have had a queer feeling all day 
 that I can't account for. Hard work generally goes to raise 
 my spirits in view of the splendid appreciation of food and 
 sleep that follows. But I have felt what the teller of tales 
 calls a ' presentiment ' — a foreshadowing of evil — if such a 
 thing can be." 
 
 " Take a glass of grog extra to-night, sir ; you've caught 
 cold at the wash-pen, or the influenza the men had before 
 shearing has fastened on you. Some of them got a great 
 shaking with it, and lay about like a lot of old women." 
 
 " I suspect the vagabonds considered it a favourable time 
 to be ill," laughed Jack, " as they were not paying for their 
 rations, and thought we might put them on at a little gentle 
 work. However, we won't pursue the subject." 
 
 No one can have an adequate comprehension of the value 
 of the Sabbath as a day of pure rest who has not worked at 
 high pressure, with brain or hand, the week-time through. 
 Well and wisely was the Lord's Day ordained — well and 
 wisely is it maintained — for the needful recovery of the 
 wasted powers of the wondrous, miraculous machine called 
 Man. In this age, above all others, it is vitally necessary 
 that a weekly truce should be proclaimed, when the life-long 
 conflict may cease and the fever-throbs of the " malady of 
 thought " may be stilled. 
 
 But for this anodyne, how many a brow, hot with the 
 electric currents that flash ceaselessly through the brain, 
 would pass swiftly from pain to madness ! How many a 
 stalwart frame, the unguarded, yet precious, capital of the 
 son of labour, would stagger and fall by the wayside of a 
 life which was one endless, monotonous martyrdom of unre- 
 lieved toil ! But the eve, the blessed herald of the coming 
 holy day, arrives ; the worn craftsman rests, enjoys, and 
 sinks into a dreamless sleep. The modern Alchemist, he 
 who painfully coins his brain into gold, relinquishing crucible 
 and furnace, walks forth into the pure air of heaven, and 
 thanks the Great Ruler for the respite— the sweet moments 
 of a charmed, untroubled day. 
 
136 THE SQUATTER'S DEEAM : [chap. 
 
 John Redgrave, as lie awoke at dawn, and turned over for 
 an iiour or two of rare repose, had some such glimmerings of 
 thankfulness. He had nothing to do or to think about until 
 late in the afternoon, when the sheep for Monday's shearing 
 would have to be packed into the shed, and the next contin- 
 gent due for the somewhat trying lavation by spout placed 
 near their tubbing apparatus. All the morning — what an 
 amazing quantity of time ! — absolutely free. A leisurely cahn 
 breakfast, with the glorious " nothing to do " for ever so long 
 afterwards. It was the reign of Buddha, the classic Elysium. 
 He would sit on high like broad-fronted Jove, and meditate, 
 and read and write, and be supremely happy. 
 
 From the tenor of Mr. Redgrave's thoughts, it will not 
 escape the acute reader that he had forgottenhis presentiment. 
 But scarcely had he concluded his solitary, luxuriously-linger- 
 ing meal — (M'Nab of course was miles away on some indis- 
 pensable work, which he kept for Sundays and holidays) — 
 than the Eidolon stole forth from the curtains of his soul, and 
 confronted him with disembodied but ghastly presentment. 
 Down went the register of Jack's animal spirits — down — 
 down. The very face of heaven darkened — ^the sky became 
 overcast. The breeze became chill and moaned eerily, with- 
 out any assignable reason — for what were clouds in Riverina 
 but the heralds of prosperity, or its synonym, the Rain-King, 
 but the lord and gold-giver of all the sun-scorched land ? 
 
 Thus he reasoned. But his logic was powerless to dislodge 
 the demon. The necessary evening work was formally pro- 
 ceeded with ; but the sun set upon few more depressed and 
 utterly wretched mortals than John Redgrave, as he moodily 
 smoked for an hour, and retired early to an uneasy couch. 
 More than once he half rose through the night, and listened, 
 as a strange sound mingled with the blast which roared and 
 raved, and shook the cottage roof in the frenzied gusts of the 
 changeful spring. But an hour before dawn he sprang sud- 
 denly up and shouted to M'Nab, who slept in an adjoining 
 room. 
 
 " Get up, man, and listen. I thought I could not be mis- 
 taken. The river has got us this time." 
 
 " I hear," said M'Nab, standing at the window, with all 
 his senses about him. " It can't be the river ; and yet, what 
 else can it be? " 
 
XII.] A STORY OF AUSTEALIAN LIFE. 137 
 
 " I know," cried Jack ; " it's the water pouring into tlie 
 back creek when it leaves the river. There must be an awful 
 flood coming down, or it could never make all that row. The 
 last time it filled up as smoothly as a backwater lagoon. 
 Listen again ! " 
 
 The two men stood, half -clad as they were, in the darkness, 
 ever deepest before dawn, while louder, and more distinctly, 
 they heard the fall, the roar, the rush of the wild waters of 
 an angry flood down a deep and empty channel. A very 
 deep excavation had been scooped of old by the Warroo at 
 the commencement of the anabranch, which, leaving the river 
 at an angle, followed its course for miles, sometimes at a 
 considerable distance, before it re-entered it. 
 
 " My conscience I " said M'Nab, " I never heard the like 
 of that before — in these parts, that is. I would give a year's 
 wage I hadn't crossed those weaners back. I only did it a 
 day or two since. May the devil — but swearing never so 
 much as lifted a pound of any man's burden yet. We'll 
 not be swung clear of this grip of his claws by calling on 
 Mm." 
 
 With this anti-Manichaean assertion, M'Nab went forth, 
 and stumbled about the paddock till he managed to get his 
 own and Jack's horse into the yard. These he saddled and 
 had ready by the first streak of dawn. Then they moimted 
 and rode towards the back of the river paddock. 
 
 " I was afraid of this," said Jack, gloomily, as their horses' 
 feet plashed in the edge of a broad, dull-coloured sheet of 
 water, long before they reached the ridge whence they usually 
 descried the back-creek channel. " The waters are out such 
 a distance that we shall not be able to get near the banks 
 of this infernal anabranch, much less throw a bridge over any 
 part of it. There is a mile of water on it now, from end to 
 end. The sheep must take their chance, and that only chance 
 is that the river may not rise as high as Stangrove says he 
 has known it." 
 
 " I deserve to be overseer of a thick run with bad shep- 
 herds all my life," groaned M'l^ab, with an amount of 
 sincerity in his abjectly humiliated voice so ludicrous that 
 Jack, in that hour of misery, could scarcely refrain from 
 smiling. " But let us gallop down to the outlet ; it may not 
 have got that far yet." 
 
138 THK SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 They rode hard for the point, some miles down, where the 
 treacherous offshoot re-entered the "Warroo. It sometimes 
 happens that, owing to the sinuosities of the watercourses of 
 the interior, horsemen at speed can outstrip the advancing 
 flood-wave, and give timely notice to the dwellers on the 
 hanks. Such faint hope had they. By cutting across long 
 detours or bends, and riding harder than was at all consistent 
 with safety to their clover-fed horses, they reached the outlet. 
 Joy of joys, it was " as dry as a bone." 
 
 " Now," said M'Nab, driving his horse recklessly down 
 into the hard-baked channel, " if we can only find most of 
 the sheep in this end of the paddock we may beat bad luck 
 and the water yet. Did the dog come, I wonder ? The Lord 
 send he did. I saw him with us the first time we pulled up." 
 
 " I'm afraid not," said Jack ; " we've ridden too hard for 
 any mortal dog to keep up with us, though Help will come 
 on our tracks if he thinks he's wanted." 
 
 "Bide a bit — bide a bit," implored M'Nab, forgetting his 
 English, and going back to an earlier vernacular in the 
 depth of his earnestness. " The dog's worth an hour of time 
 and a dozen men to us. Help I Help 1 here, boy, here ! " 
 
 He gave out the canine summons in the long-drawn cry 
 peculiar to drovers when seeking to signal their whereabouts 
 to their faithful allies. Jack put his fingers to his mouth 
 and emitted a whistle of such remarkable volume and 
 shrillness that M'Nab confessed his admiration. 
 
 " That wiU fetch him, sir, if he's anywhere within a mile. 
 Dash'd if that isn't him coming now. See him following our 
 tracks. Here, boy ! " 
 
 As he spoke a magnificent black and tan collie raised his 
 head from the trail and dashed up to Jack's side, with every 
 expression of delight and proud success. 
 
 Mr. Redgrave was one of those men to whom dogs, horses, 
 children, and others attach themselves with blind, unreasoning 
 confidence. Is it amiability ? Has mesmerism any share in 
 the strange but actual fascination ] There were many far 
 wiser than he unsought and unrecognized by the classes 
 referred to. In his case the fact, uncomplimentary or other- 
 wise, remained fixed and demonstrable. The sheep-dog in 
 question was introduced to him by an aged Scot, who arrived 
 one day at Gondaree followed by a female collie of pure 
 
xii] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAK LIFE. 139 
 
 breed and vinusual beauty. Jack, always merciful and 
 sympathetic, had comforted the footsore elder, who carried a 
 large bundle upon his back, at which the dog cast ever and 
 anon a wistful glance. Lowering the pack carefully to the 
 ground before he drained the cheering draught, he wiped his 
 lips, and, untying the knapsack, rolled out, to his host's wild 
 astonishment, five Mind puppies ! 
 
 " Ye ken, sir, the auld slut here just whelpit a week syne, 
 maist unexpectedly to me. I was sair fashed to make my 
 way doon wi' sax doggies. But I pledged my word to Maister 
 Stangrove to gang back to Juandah before shearing, and I 
 wadna brak my word — no, not for five poond." 
 
 " But are you going to carry the whole litter another fifty 
 miles?" 
 
 " Weel, aweel, sir, I'll not deny it's a sair trial ; but I 
 brocht lassie here from the bonnie holms o' Ettrick, where my 
 auld bones will never lie. The wee things come of the bluid 
 of Tarn Hogg's grand dog Sirrah. Forbye they're maist 
 uncommon valuable here. I never askit less than a pund for 
 ilka ane o' them yet, and siller's siller, ye ken." 
 
 " I'U give you a sov," said Jack, " for the black and tan 
 pup — him with the spot between the eyes. I siippose we 
 could rear him with an old ewe % " 
 
 " He's the king of this lot, but ye shall have the pick of 
 them a' even withoot the siller, for the kind word and the 
 good deed you've done to the auld failed, doited crater that 
 ance called himsel' Jock Harlaw of Ettrick. May the Lord 
 do so to me and mair, if I forget it." 
 
 The next day the old man came up, and solemnly delivered 
 over the plump, roly-poly dogling, which, being fostered upon 
 an imprisoned ewe, throve and grew into one of the best dogs 
 that ever circumvented that deceitful and wicked quadruped 
 called the sheep, the measure of whose intelligence has ever 
 been consistently underrated. 
 
 The judicious reader will comprehend that, even on a fenced 
 run, a good sheep-dog is valuable, and even necessary. The 
 headlong, reckless system of driving, the cruel, needless 
 terrorising under which " shepherded sheep " have for genera- 
 tions suffered in Australia may be as strongly repudiated as 
 ever. But under certain conditions, it is well known to all 
 rulers of sheep stations that there is no moving sheep without 
 
140 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 the aid and conversation of a dog. Therefore, though much 
 of the occupation of the ordinary half -trained sheep-dog be 
 gone, a. really well-bred and highly-trained animal is still 
 prized. 
 
 The collie "Help," then, as he grew, up showed great 
 hereditary aptitude for every kind of knowledge connected 
 with the " working " of sheep. He was passionately fond of 
 Jack, whom he recognized as his real and true master ; but 
 ha would follow and obey M'Nab, appearing to know by 
 intuition when work among the sheep was intended. From 
 him, as a man of sheep from earliest youth, he learned all the 
 niceties of the profession. At drafting and yarding he was 
 invaluable. Lifted into a yard crammed with panic-stricken 
 or unwilling sheep, he would run along on their bodies or 
 " go back through them " in a manner wonderful to observe 
 — this last practice being known to all sheep-experts as the 
 only way hitherto invented for prevailing on sheep to runup 
 freely to a gate. He would bark or bite (this last with great 
 discretion) at word of command. He would stay at any part 
 of the yard pointed out to him, and though among the station 
 hands it was commonly, but erroneously, reported that he 
 could " keep a gate," and had been seen drafting " two ways 
 at once," still it was so far near the truth that he had many 
 times been posted at the entrance of sub-yards, and had 
 prevented any sheep from entering during the whole duration 
 of the drafting. For the rest, he was affectionate, generous, 
 and brave, a good watch-dog, and no mean antagonist. In 
 his own branch of the profession he was held to be unequalled 
 for sagacity and efBectiveness on the whole river. 
 
 In the hour of sore need this was the friend and ally, most 
 appropriately named, who appeared on the scene. With a 
 wave of the hand from Jack, he started off, skirting the 
 nearest body of sheep. The well-trained animal, racing round, 
 the timid creatures, turned them towards the outlet, and 
 followed the master for further orders. This process was 
 repeated, aided by M'Nab, until they had gone as fa,r from 
 the outlet of the creek as they dared to do, with any chance 
 of crossing before the flood came down. 
 
 " "We must rattle them in now," said M'Nab; " I'm afraid 
 there is a large lot higher up, but there's five or six thousand, 
 of these, and we must make the best of it." 
 
xli.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 141 
 
 As the lots of sheep coalesced on their homeward route, the 
 difficulty of driving and the value of the dog grew more 
 appa;rent. Large mobs or flocks of sheep are, like all crowds, 
 difficult to move and conduct. By themselves it would have 
 been a slow process ; but the dog, gathering from the words 
 and actions of his superiors that something out of the common 
 was being transacted, flew round the great flock, barking, 
 biting, rushing, worrying — driving, in fact, like ten dogs in 
 one. By dint of the wildest exertion on the part of the 
 men, and the tireless efforts of the dog, the great flock 
 of sheep, nearly six thousand, was forced up to the anabranch. 
 Here the leaders unhesitatingly took the as yet dry, unmoist- 
 ened channel, and in a long string commenced to pour up 
 the opposite bank. 
 
 "Give it them at the tail, sir," shouted M'Nab, who was 
 at the lead, " go it, Help, good dog — there is not a moment 
 to lose. By George, there comes the flood. Eat 'em up, old 
 man ! — give it 'em, good dog ! " 
 
 There was fortunately one more bend for the flood water ' 
 to follow round before it reached the outlet. During the 
 short respite Jack and M'Nab worked at their task till the 
 perspiration poured down their faces — till their voices became 
 hoarse with shouting, and well-nigh failed. Horses and men, 
 dog and sheep, were all in a state of exhaustion and despair 
 when the last mob was ascending the clay bank. 
 
 " 'Two minutes more, and we should have been too late," 
 said M'Nab, in a hoarse whisper ; " look there ! " 
 
 As he spoke, a wall of water, several feet in height, and 
 the full breadth of the widest part of the channel, came 
 foaming down, bearing logs, trees, portions of huts and hay- 
 stacks — every kind of dSbris — upon its eddying tide. The 
 tired dog crawled up the bank and lay down in the grass. A 
 few of the last sheep turned and stared stolidly at the close 
 wild water. There was a hungry, surging rush, and in 
 another minute the creek was level with the river, and the 
 place where the six thousand sheep had crossed dryshod (and 
 siieep resemble cats very closely in their indisposition to wet 
 their feet) was ten feet under water, and would have floated 
 a river steamer. 
 
 Jack returned to the homestead rather comforted by this 
 present bit of success, and hopeful that the sheep left in the 
 
142 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM ; [<Sbat. 
 
 river paddock might yet escape. They had no further 
 anxiety about those which they had plucked out of the firOi 
 • — that is to say, the water — for they were in a secure high 
 and dry paddock, and they were not likely to attempt to swim 
 back again. 
 
 It was very provoking to think, however, that only a week 
 previous the whole lot had been absolutely safe if they had 
 been sufficiently cautious to let well alone till after shearing. 
 
 On the morrow such a sight met John Redgrave's eyes as 
 they had not looked upon since he entered into possession 
 of Gondaree. The cottage was built, as has been before 
 related, upon a bluff, and was believed to be impregnable by 
 the highest flood that ever came down the "Warroo. \yhen, 
 Jack walked into the verandah, and saw by the pale dawn- 
 light the angry waters, deep, turbulent, and wide as his vision 
 went, rushing but a few feet below the floor on which he trod, 
 he felt as if he were at sea, and trusted that the older resi- 
 dents had made no miscalculation. It was certainly a novel 
 experience in that dry and thirsty land to hear the " roar of 
 waters " so closely brought home to one's bed and board. 
 On the other side of the river, far as the eye could see, the 
 vast flats were as an inland sea, the trees standing in the 
 water like pillars in a vast aqueduct, their stems forming 
 endless colonnades. 
 
 This augured badly for his own river-paddock, and, breakfast 
 hastily concluded, he started down to see if any of the sheep 
 were visible from the opposite bank of the anabranch. He 
 managed to get near enough to sweep the flats with a field- 
 glass, and at last made out the greater part of the weaners, 
 huddled together upon a small rise, surrounded by water, and 
 not much above the general level. Here, though cold and 
 hungry, they might remain in safety till the flood fell, if the 
 waters rose no higher. But there lay the danger. The wajiers 
 surrounded them for a long stretch on every side.. Even if 
 they could get near them, nothing would induce young sheep 
 to face a much less expanse of water. The current was too 
 rapid to work any species of raft. If the river continued 
 rising through the night, there would not be a sheep of these 
 three thousand and more alive by daylight. 
 
 Jack turned sick at heart with the bare idea. Good heavens ! 
 was he to be eternally the sport of circumstance and the 
 
XII.] A STORY OP AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 143 
 
 victim of disaster 1 Was there such a thing as Bad Luck, 
 an evil principle, in which he had steadfastly disbelieved, 
 but which he did not doubt in other cases had hunted men 
 to their doom J Could it possibly happen in his own case ? 
 How rarely do men accept any of life's evils as possibilities 
 in their own cases ! Here, however, he was again face to 
 face with an unsolved difficulty, a peril imminent, deadly, 
 and well-nigh hopeless of escape. Three thousand some 
 hundreds of beautiful young sheep, with fourteen months' 
 wool on. Another two thousand pounds gone at one blow ! 
 It was enough to make a man hang himself. 
 
 He had a long consultation with M'Nab, who had settled 
 in his own mind that nothing could be done, except drown 
 a man or two, in trying conclusions with such a waste of 
 water, with large logs and uprooted trees whirling madly 
 down the stream, which indeed looked like a lake dislodged 
 from its moorings, and mad for a view of the distant sea. 
 
 So he calmly waited the issue, hoping for a fall during 
 the night, and cursing himself, as deeply as a sound Presby- 
 terian could afford to do, for having brought this loss upon 
 his employer by over-greed of grass. The river did not fall. 
 Indeed, it rose so rapidly that on their last visit to the 
 place of observation they could hear the continuous bleat- 
 ing of the hapless sheep — a token that they were alarmed 
 and endangered by the rising tide. 
 
 All that night the sound was in Jack's ears as he listened 
 at intervals, or tossed restlessly on an uneasy bed. 
 
 "With the earliest dawn he was astir and down at the 
 look-out. There had evidently been a considerable rise during 
 the night. He saw that the water had made a clean breach 
 over the spot occupied by the flock — of the whole number, 
 there was not a solitary sheep to be seen. He would have 
 been saved a few days of anxious expectation — a feeling 
 between utter despair and trembling hope — had he known 
 that his friends at Juandah, that very day, had seen scores 
 of their carcases floating past their windows, but were 
 happily unconscious of their particular ownership. 
 
 For nearly a week Jack was inconsolable — he took no 
 interest in the remaining portion of the shearing, which 
 M'Nab finished wtth his customary exactness, paying off the 
 shearers, washers, and extra hands, and despatching every 
 
144 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM: [chap. 
 
 pound of wool and every sheepskin as if the last of the clip 
 — like a cow's mUk — was the richest and most valuable. 
 
 The floods had rolled away, and the sun shone out hotter 
 than ever upon miles of blackened clover and mud-covered 
 pasturage, entirely ruined for the year by the unseasonable 
 immersion. When they rode over the paddock the sight was 
 pitiable in the extreme. By far the greater proportion of the 
 drowned sheep had been floated away bodily, as the " cruel, 
 crawling tide" rose inch by inch in the darkness, till they 
 were swept from footing. But many were found entangled 
 in drift-wood, carried into large hollow trees — as many as 
 fifteen or twenty, perhaps, in one cluster — black and decom- 
 posing, with the wool bleaching in great strips and masses. 
 A miserable sight for John Redgrave, in truth, who, but a 
 fortnight since, had considered that wool almost in his 
 pocket, and every shorn weaner good value for half a 
 sovereign all round. Then the confounded /ama clamosa of 
 the afEair. The local papers had quick and fast hold of the 
 tale : 
 
 "We are deeply grieved to hear that Mr. Redgrave of 
 Gpndaree, who has spared no cost in improving that valuable 
 property, has lost ten thousand sheep in the late disastrous 
 flood." Next week — "We have much pleasure in stating 
 that Mr. Redgrave has had only five thousand sheep drowned, 
 but we had not then learned that his wool-shed and wash- 
 pen, with a portion of the clip, were entirely washed away." 
 And so on. 
 
 The quickest way to escape condolences and local sympathy 
 woiild be to make tracks for Melbourne. This he accordingly 
 did, having, like the preceding season, had a sufficiency of 
 salt-bush Hfe for a whUe. Matters in some respects were 
 more favourable to his mental recovery than on his former 
 visit. Wool was up. The season, bar floods, had been good 
 on the whole. Everybody connected with sheep was disposed 
 to be cheerful and make allowances. Most of the people he 
 met had not heard of the trifling overthrow of the remote 
 Warroo, and the incidental " natural selection " of his 
 lamented weaners. Others, who had heard, did not care. The 
 joyous squatters, on the strength of a good twopenny rise in 
 the home market, made light of his sorrows. One man said, 
 laughingly, that he knew of a station, about a thousand 
 
xii.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 145 
 
 miles lower down, which the same flood had treated even 
 more scurvily. 
 
 " "Wallingford, you know, had overstocked that run of 
 his with store cattle ; all the back country dry as a bone ; 
 no rain for two years ; five or six thousand head of cattle 
 all but starving ; poor as crows, give you my word. Every- 
 thing depending upon the river and the lake flats for the 
 clover, as soon as it was ripe. Well, the flood comes down, 
 smothers his clover ; river twenty miles wide for nearly a 
 month ; lake overflowed too. Droll predicament, wasn't it ? 
 Quite antipodean. Half the run too dry ; t'other half too 
 wet. No rain ; clover of course black as your hat when the 
 water went down. Wallingford heaps of bills to meet, too." 
 
 The salient points of humour which Mr. Wallingford's 
 ingeniously complicated calamities evolved under artistic 
 treatment served indirectly to comfort our victim. The 
 misfortunes of others, especially of the same profession, are 
 soothing, benevolists notwithstanding. Jack felt ashamed 
 of howling over his few sheep, and recollected the still im- 
 posing numbers of the last count, and returned to his normal 
 state of contentment with today, and rose-coloured antici- 
 pation of to-morrow. 
 
 His interview with Mr. Mildmay Shrood was pacific and 
 encouraging. That gentleman congratulated him upon the 
 name and fame to which the Gondaree clip had attained, 
 prophesying even greater distinction. He listened with 
 polite sympathy to the account of the loss of the weaners, 
 but observed that such accidents must occasionally happen in 
 wet seasons, and that, as he was informed, the country 
 generally had received immense benefit from the late rains. 
 
 " Your clip is one of the best in the whole of Riverina, 
 my dear Redgrave, and your number of sheep — '52,000,' 
 thank you — has on the whole kept up admirably. Manage- 
 ment, my dear sir, is everything — everything. Good- 
 morning. Good-morning." 
 
CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 " Hojie told a flattering tale.'' 
 
 Thus endorsed, Jack began to consider himself to be 
 as fine a fellow as the rest of the world was bent upon 
 making him out to be. He held up his head as in the old 
 days, when debt and he were strangers, and gave his opinion 
 with imposing decision upon all matters, pastoral, social, 
 and political. He was glad now that he had followed 
 M'Nab's advice, and shorn the fat sheep. Their wool told 
 up noticeably in the clip, and he trusted that in the coming 
 autumn he should be able to top the market with the first 
 draft of fat sheep from the glorious salt-bush plains which 
 skirted the lonely Bimbalong. 
 
 He received a certain amount of satisfaction from observ- 
 ing how reduced was the list of stores and necessaries with 
 which he had been entrusted by M'Nab. " Why, it's next 
 to nothing," s£|,id he, as he looked over it ; " one would think 
 we were providing for a cattle station except for next year's 
 shearing requirements. If we have only another decent 
 year or two, the debt will be wiped off, and hey for Europe ! " 
 Then, from that vision of the sea, arose the form — as of a 
 Venus Anadyomene — of Maud Stangrove. "Would she 
 share his pilgrimage 1 How enchanting the thought ! How 
 divine the companionship ! Together would they wander 
 through the cities of the old world, as through the dream- 
 palaces of his boyish days. Paris, with her mingled splen- 
 dours and Ivixuries. Rome, calm and majestic, even amid 
 her ruins, as befitted the Mother of Nations. Venice, with 
 mysterious gondolas still floating adown her sea, which is 
 "her broad, her narrow streets," which still, as in old days 
 of regal pride, and power, and love, is " her black-marble 
 
OH. XIII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 147 
 
 stair." Switzerland, with her pure, white-robed, heaven- 
 gazing Alps, receiving their crimson dawn-blush ere behold- 
 ing the fresh day-birth of a world. Last of all, but how 
 far from least, " Merrie England," the great land of their 
 fathers — every legendary and historical feature of which 
 had been graven in his mind from earliest childhood. Bound 
 on such a pilgrimage as this, " with one fair spirit for his 
 minister," how cheerfully would he abandon, for a season, 
 the dull labours and prosaic thoughts with which his later 
 years had been bedimmed ! He thought of Maud's cultured 
 and receptive mind ; her keen spirit of observation ; her 
 unfailing cheerfulness ; and the deep, unselfish tenderness 
 which he had remarked in her home intercourse. Could he 
 but win this peerless creature to himself ; could he but pro- 
 vide for this diamond of purest ray serene the costly setting 
 which alone harmonized with its rank among " earth's 
 precious things," he told himself that the sayings of cynics 
 about the ills of humanity would be meaningless false- 
 hoods. 
 
 This, perhaps, slightly exalted conception of the prob- 
 abilities of matrimony, combined with the absence of the 
 central figure, around which such roseate clouds softly 
 circled, tended to abridge Mr. Kedgrave's metropolitan 
 sojourn. He made the novel discovery that ordinary modern 
 society was worldly and frivolous — that club viveurs were 
 selfish and dissipated — that his acquaintances, generally, 
 were destitute of ennobling aims ; and that it behoved any 
 man, whose soul cherished a lofty purpose, to follow out a 
 sustained plan unswervingly. To this end he determined, 
 rather ungratefidly, considering how powerful a tonic his 
 visit had proved, to abandon the vain city, and betake him- 
 self incontinently to the majestic desert and to — Maud 
 Stangrove. 
 
 He made an abrupt departure, somewhat to the surprise 
 of that very small section of society which troubled itself 
 with his weal or woe, and appeared suddenly before M'Nab, 
 who, in his turn, was surprised also. 
 
 Mr. M'Nab was not only astonished at his employer's 
 short stay in Melbourne, but also at his cheerful and 
 animated demeanour. 
 
 " The trip has done you a world of good, sir," he said. " I 
 
 L 2 
 
148 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 thought when you went away that it would take you longer 
 to forget our losses." 
 
 " Well, there's nothing like change of air, and the know- 
 ledge of what other people are doing, when you are low. 
 If people spent more money in trains and coaches they would 
 spend less on doctors, I believe. A man who is shut up 
 with his misery broods over it till, like a shepherd, he goes 
 mad some day. When I got to town, I found others had 
 suffered even more heavUy, and, of course, that comforted 
 me." 
 
 " And the wool t " inquired M'Nab. 
 
 " Nothing but compliments," answered Jack. " Never 
 expected to see wool got up like it on the Warroo, and so 
 on. Mr. Shrood prophesied all kinds of triumphs and fancy 
 prices next year. I might have had ten thousand sovereigns 
 to take away in my hat, if I had asked for them. This 
 flood seems to have done a world of damage, and such a 
 trifle as the loss of two or three thousand sheep was voted 
 not worth talking about." 
 
 "It was an awful sacrifice — just a throwing to the fishes 
 of two thousand golden guineas, any way ye look at it," 
 said, slowly and impressively, the downright M'Nab. He 
 could never be led to gloss over any shortcomings, losses, or 
 failures, holding them as points in the game of life to be 
 carefully scored, which no player worthy of the name would 
 omit. " You're welcome to knock half of it off my wages," 
 he continued, " as I shall always believe that I was to blame 
 for want of care. But I hope we'll have profits yet that 
 will clear off the score of this and other losses." 
 
 " I am fully confident that we shall, M'Nab," said Jack, 
 hopefully; "and I have no notion of making my deficit 
 good out of your screw, though it is manly of you to offer 
 it. You work as hard and do as much as one man can. 
 Whether things go right or wrong, I shall never blame you, 
 be assured. I am free to admit that in your place I should 
 not "do half as well. And now, do you want any help for 
 a week or two, for I think I shall ride down to Juandah 1 " 
 
 " I did not expect you back for a month more," said 
 M'Nab, smiling to himself; "so I had arranged to do 
 without you, you see. I can get on grandly till we begin 
 to draft the fat sheep for market." 
 
xiii.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 149 
 
 Thus absolved and conscience-clear, Mr. Redgrave imme- 
 diately betook himself to Juandah, where he was received 
 with frank and kindly welcome by everybody. It was 
 fortunate that he had gone to Melbourne after the flood- 
 disaster, as he was now able to treat that damaging blow 
 in a much more light and philosophical fashion than would 
 have been possible to him without the aid of his metropoli- 
 tan experiences. 
 
 "It was rather a facer," he admitted to Stangrove, who 
 had delicately described their grief at seeing the drowned 
 weaners floating past their windows in scores and hundreds, 
 " but when a fellow has a large operation in hand he must 
 look at the progress of the whole enterprise, and not fix his 
 mind upon minor drawbacks. A single vessel doesn't matter 
 out of the whole convoy of East Indiamen. The loss of the 
 Royal Georye had no perceptible influence on the rest of the 
 British navy. I shall shear over sixty thousand sheep next 
 year, with luck, and when I sell shall think no more of those 
 poor devils of weaners than you do of the blacks — probably 
 mythical — that Red Rob slew during your minority." 
 
 " With luck — with luck — as you say," said 8tangrove, 
 rather absently. " But, as we agreed before, luck seems 
 necessary to the working out of your plan, which I admit, at 
 present prices, looks feasible enough. But suppose we don't 
 get our fair share of luck this year, what then 1 However, 
 we needn't anticipate evil. Let's come in and see the ladies." 
 
 " ' So behold you of return,' as dear old Madame Florae 
 says," commenced Maud, looking up from T/ie Newcomes. 
 " How truly fortunate you men are, Mr. Redgrave, that you 
 can get away to some decent abode of mankind every now 
 and then under the pretence of business ! Now we poor, 
 oppressed wom^en have to give reasons that will bear the 
 most searching investigation before we are allowed to go 
 anywhere. Men only say vaguely 'must go — important 
 business,' and take themselves ofE." 
 
 " Really, Miss Stangrove, I don't see but that you, in this 
 nice cool room, -with nothing to do but to read about Ethel 
 and Barnes, that grand old cat Lady Kew, and the dear old 
 Colonel, are about as well off as any one I have seen in my 
 travels." 
 
 " That's all noilsense. We endure life here, of course. 
 
150 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM ; [ohap. 
 
 but look at the delightful change of scene, air, life, people, 
 trees, bread and butter, everything new and fresh that you. 
 have had lately. Uniformity, is death to some natures. 
 That is why some unhappy individuals of my sex make 
 dismal endings and horrid examples of themselves. Some 
 girl marries the butler, or the stockman, or the music master 
 periodically. Depend upon it, it is nothing but Nature's 
 protest against the murderous monotony of their daily lives." 
 
 " Maud, Maud," interposed Mrs. Stangrove, " how can 
 you say such dreadful things 1 Quite improper, I think. I 
 declare Mr. Redgrave will be shocked and alarmed if you 
 go on so. Really, my dear ! " 
 
 Jack mildly combated these extreme and unconventional 
 opinions, declaring that some of the most discontented, 
 useless, and life-weary people he had ever seen had enjoyed 
 no end of variety — passed their lives in sight-seeing — been 
 everywhere — and yet were more utterly ennuyes than even 
 Miss Stangrove on the banks of the Warroo. 
 
 " Well," said that young lady, " you see they had only 
 been working out the vanity and vexation of spirit theory, 
 and how dreary a result it was for the "Wise King to come 
 to ! But I should like ' to see the folly of it too.' I think 
 manufacturing one's own vanity and vexation is more satis- 
 factory than acquiring it second-hand." 
 
 " I wonder if our black friends ever feel bored," said 
 Jack ; " before we came and gave them iron tomahawks it 
 must have taken a fellow a week to chop out a 'possum ; so 
 I suppose constant employment conduced to cheerfulness. 
 Still, of late years, food being plentiful, wars traditionary, 
 and travel impossible, game perhaps a trifle scarcer, a sense 
 of impatience of the ' slow, strong hours ' may have crossed 
 their tmused intelligences." 
 
 "It may be, for all we know," said Mark, who had re- 
 entered and thrown himself upon a sofa, " at the root of the 
 frantic love for ardent spirits which all the younger natives 
 have. The men of a generation or two back, like ' old man 
 Jack,' don't drink. But all the middle-aged and younger 
 ones, more pwrticularly those, hy compa/rison, educated, drink 
 fearfully hard whenever they get the chance." 
 
 "So do all savages," said Jack; "likewise smoke furi- 
 ously. Alcohol and tobacco seem particularly attractive to 
 
Xiii.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 151 
 
 their organizations ; and they have no power of moderation. 
 ' Too much of anything is not good,' said the Red Indian, 
 ' but too much rum is just enough.' That's their idea — all 
 over the world." 
 
 " I suggest that we have exhausted the subject," mildly 
 interposed Mrs. Stangrove, " and as it is getting cool 
 we might all go for a drive in the break with Mark and the 
 young horses. Can you take us, my dear 1 " 
 
 This was voted a first-rate suggestion. The evening, 
 comparatively cool only, was approaching. So the ladies 
 apparelled themselves suitably, and as Mark let the half- 
 broken team out, without fear of stone or stump, along the 
 glorious, level, sandy out-station track, the rushing air re- 
 freshed their senses, jaded by the long, breezeless midsummer 
 day. It was twilight deepening into night as they returned, a 
 very cheerful and animated party. Maud, with the changeful 
 mood of her sex, declared herself again reconciled to existence, 
 and even conscious of pleasurable anticipation as regarded tea. 
 
 Jack was catechised after that refection upon the balls, 
 archery-parties, picnics, races, &c., to which he had been on 
 his late visib to town. Maud sang a new song or two which 
 she had managed to get up, buried alive as she assumed 
 herself to be, and John Redgrave was more deeply enthralled 
 than ever. 
 
 Stangrove asked him to stay a fortnight or so with them, 
 if he could spare the time ; and Jack declared it would be 
 m.ost uncomplimentary to M'Nab's management, and the 
 fencing system generally, to suppose that a proprietor was 
 pinned to his homestead like a mere shepherding squatter. 
 So he gratefully accepted the invitation and the opportunity. 
 In spite of the weather — and even the presence of the beloved 
 object cannot render the month of January a pleasant one in 
 Lower Riverina — the days passed in a dreamily luxurious 
 tropical fashion. Jack had an early enjoyable swim in the 
 capacious "Warroo, now rippling over sand-bars and pebbles, 
 as if it had never risen with death upon its angry tide. Then 
 the breakfast in the cool darkened room, before the great and 
 resistless glare of the day commenced, was very pleasant. 
 After that period, and until the sun was down, I am free to 
 confess that allthedra/matispersonce might as well have been 
 in Madras or Bombay. Outside the heat was awful, and the 
 
152 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : Ichap. 
 
 first efiect on leaving tlie shelter of the cottage after ten 
 o'clock a.m., was as if one had suddenly encountered the 
 outer current of a blast furnace. Mark was out on the run, 
 as a matter of course, pretty nearly all day and every day. 
 There were never-ending duties among the sheep, cattle, and 
 horses which did not permit him to make any philosophical 
 reflections upon the heat of the weather. He simply put it 
 out of the question, as he had done from boyhood. Conse- 
 quently he did not feel it half as much as those who tried 
 by every means to evade it. 
 
 Jack did not feel himself called upon to offer to join 
 his host in these daily expeditions. He occasionally, of 
 course, volunteered when his assistance was likely to be 
 useful. But generally he lounged about the house, and made 
 himself generally useful by reading aloud to the ladies, irri- 
 gating Mrs. Stangrove's flower-garden, practising duets with 
 Maud, and generally raising Miss Stangrove from that deso- 
 late and vacuous condition into which she had been in danger 
 of falling before his opportune arrival. The riding and the 
 driving parties were of course not abandoned. There was 
 always some period arbitrarily defined as the cool of the 
 evening, when such exercise, even walking by the Warroo 
 under the sighing river-oaks, was suitable and satisfactory. 
 He and Mark had long arguments about all kinds of subjects, 
 in which the ladies now and then took part. Nothing could 
 have been more generally agreeable than the whole thing. 
 But the days wore on, and Jack felt that he had no decent 
 excuse for staying longer ; he therefore prepared to depart. 
 He had not seen his way either, much as he longed for an 
 opportunity, to put that very tremendous and momentous 
 question to Maud, to which he had sworn to himself that he 
 would receive a definitive answer before quitting Juandah. 
 Truth to tell, their intimacy had not advanced so quickly as 
 he had hoped. He saw, or thought he saw, that Maud liked 
 his society. But she was so frank and unembarrassed that he 
 mistrusted the existence of any deeper sentiment. He was 
 not altogether without knowledge of the ways of womenkind ; 
 and he knew that this frank recognition of the pleasantness 
 of his society was by no means a good sign. He did not feel 
 inclined to ask any girl, obviously non-sympathetic, to marry 
 him, trusting to the unlikeliness of her seeing any decenter 
 
XIII.] A STORY OF AUSTEALIAN LIFE. 153 
 
 sort of fellow in these wilds, and to her acknowledged distaste 
 for life on the Warroo. " No, hang it," he said to himself, 
 " that would be hardly generous. I'll wait till she shows 
 some sign that she really cares for me — loves me, I mean. If 
 she doesn't, John Redgrave is not the man to ask her. If 
 she does, she can't hide it, nor can any woman that ever 
 lived. I know so much of the alphabet." 
 
 Thus hardening his heart temporarily and strategically, 
 Mr. Jack finished copying the last galop, put a finishing 
 touch to the grand arterial system of irrigation borrowed 
 from Ah Sing, which he had engineered for the benefit of 
 Mr. Redgrave's roses and japonicas, gave Mark Stangrove 
 a real good day's work at the branding-yard, showed him a 
 new dodge for leg-roping which elicited the admiration of 
 the stockmen, and went on his way, accompanied for a mile 
 or two by his host. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 "Soft! "What are you ? 
 Some villain mountaineers ? 
 I have heard of sueh." — Oymbeline. 
 
 Mes. Stangrove and Maud were sitting in the drawing- 
 room that morning, a little silent and distrait, we may con- 
 fess, when a man's footstep was heard on the verandah. 
 " I did not think that Mark would have returned so soon," 
 said Maud, going to the French window and looking out. 
 She stood there for an instant, and then, turning to her 
 sister a face ashen-white and strangely altered, gasped 
 out a single word — that word of dread, often of doom, in 
 the far, lone, defenceless Australian waste — "Bushrangers! " 
 Mrs. Stangrove gave a moaning, half-muffled cry, and 
 then, obeying the irresistible maternal instinct, rushed into 
 the adjoining apartment where her children were. At 
 the same moment a tall man with a revolver raised in his 
 right hand stepped into the room, and gazed rapidly round 
 with restless eyes, as of one long used to meet with fre- 
 quent foes. Behind him, closely following, were three other 
 armed men, while a fifth was visible in the passage, thus 
 cutting off all retreat towards the rear. 
 
 Maud Stangrove was a girl of more than ordinary firm- 
 ness of nerve. She strove hard against the spasmodic terror 
 which the feeling of being absolutely in the power of lawless 
 and desperate men at first produced. Rapidly conning 
 over the chances of a rescue, in the event of the working 
 overseer and his men returning, as she knew they were 
 likely to do, at an early hour, having been out at the 
 nearest out-station since sunrise, accompanied by Mark, 
 who had intended when leaving to cut across to them and 
 
cH.xiv.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAIS' LIFE. 155 
 
 inspect their work, she felt the necessity of keeping cool 
 and temporizing with the enemy. 
 
 Steadying her voice with an effort, and facing the intruder 
 with a very creditable air of unconcern, she said — " What 
 do you want i I think you have mistaken your way." 
 
 The robber looked at her with a bold glance of admira- 
 tion, and then, with an instinctive deference which struggled 
 curiously with his consciousness of having taken the cita- 
 del, made answer — " See here, Miss, I'm Kedcap ; dessay 
 you've heard of me. You've no call to be afeared ; but 
 we've come here for them repeating rifles as Mr. Stangrove's 
 been smart enough to get up from town." 
 
 " I don't know anything about them," said Maud, thank- 
 ful to remember that she had not seen lately these unlucky 
 celebrities in the small-arm way, which, for their marvel- 
 lous shooting and rapidity of loading, had been a nine-days' 
 wonder in the neighbourhood. 
 
 " Well," interposed a black-visaged, down-looking ruffian, 
 who had ensconced himself in an easy chair, " some of you 
 will have to know about 'em, and look sharp too, or we'll 
 burn the blessed place down about your ears." 
 
 "You shut up. Doctor," said the leader, who seemed, like 
 Lambro, one of the mildest-mannered men that ever " stuck 
 up mails or fobbed a note." " Let me talk to the lady. 
 It's no use your fencing. Miss, about these guns ; we know 
 all about 'em, and have 'em we will. Mr. Stangrove shot 
 a bullock with the long one last Saturday. You'd better 
 let us have 'em, and we'll clear out." 
 
 Maud was considering whether it would not be safer to 
 " fess " and get rid of the unwelcome visitors, who, though 
 wonderfully pacific, might not remain so. A diversion was 
 effected. One of the younger members of the band suddenly 
 appeared with the baby — the idolized darling of the household 
 — in his arms. 
 
 "Here," he cried, "I've got something as is valuable. 
 I shall stick to this young 'un to put me in mind of my 
 pore family as I've been obliged to cut away from." 
 
 Mrs. Stangrove, poor lady, had been keeping close with 
 the older children, flattering herself that this precious in- 
 fant, then taking the air in his nurse's arms, was safe from 
 the marauders. She was speedily undeceived by the pierc- 
 
156 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap.' 
 
 ing cry whicli readied her ears, as the affrighted babe, just 
 old enough to " take notice " of the stranger, proclaimed 
 distrust of his awkward, though not unkind, dandling. 
 
 Rushing in with frantic eagerness, and the " wrathful 
 dove " expression which the gentlest maternal creature 
 assumes at any " intromitting " with her young, as old Du- 
 gald Dalgetty phrases it, Mrs. Stangrove suddenly confronted 
 the audacious intruder, and, seizing the child, tore it out of 
 his arms with so deft a promptitude that the delinquent 
 had no time for resistance. Looking half startled, half 
 sullen, he stood in the same position for a moment, with 
 so ludicrous an expression of defeat and mortification that 
 his companions burst into a fit of unrestrained laughter, 
 while Mrs. Stangrove, in the reaction from her unaccustomed 
 ferocity, clasped the child to her bosom in a paroxysm of 
 tears. 
 
 " This here's all very well," said Redcap, " but we didn't 
 come for foolery. If these rifles ain't turned up in five 
 minutes you'll be sorry for it. If some of 'em gets to the 
 brandy. Miss," here he lowered his voice and looked signifi- 
 cantly at Maud, "there's no saying what will happen. 
 Better deal with us while we're in a good temper." 
 
 Maud believed that the coveted weapons were somewhere 
 upon the premises, although she had spoken truly at the first 
 demand when she averred that she was ignorant of their 
 precise locality. She was aware that a moment might 
 change the mood of the robbers from one of amused tolera- 
 tion to that of reckless brutality. Not wholly ignorant of 
 the terrible legends, still whispered low and with bated 
 breath, of wrongs irrevocable suffered by defenceless 
 households, her resolution was quickly taken. 
 
 " Jane," she said to Mrs. Stangrove, who, helpless and 
 unnerved, was still sobbing hysterically, "if you know 
 where these guns are tell me at once, and I wiU go for 
 them. It can't be helped. These men have behaved fairly, 
 and as we can neither fight nor run away, we must give up 
 our money-bags, or what they consider an equivalent.. 
 Where are the rifles f " 
 
 " Oh, what will Mark say? " moaned out the distracted 
 wife. " If he were only here I should not care. And yet, 
 perhaps, it's better as it is. If they do not hurt the dear 
 
XIV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 157 
 
 children I don't care what they take. You know best. The 
 rifles are in Mark's dressing-room, in the shower-bath." 
 
 Maud went out, and presently reappeared with the beau- 
 tiful American repeaters, one of which had the desirable 
 peculiarity of being able to discharge sixteen cartridges in 
 as many seconds, if needful ; the other was a light and 
 extremely handy Snider — " a tarnation smart shooting- 
 iron," as one of the station hands, who hailed from the 
 Great Republic, had admiringly expressed himself. 
 
 Redcap's eyes glistened as he possessed himself of the 
 " sixteen-shooter," and handed the Snider to the Doctor. 
 
 "All's well that ends well," growled that worthy, " we'll 
 be a match for all the blessed traps between here and 
 Sydney with these here tools ; but for two pins I'd put a 
 match in every gunyah on the place, just to learn Stangrove 
 not to be in such a hurry to run in a mob of pore f eUers as 
 had got tired of being messed about by those infernal 
 troopers." 
 
 " You'll just do what I tell you. Doctor," said Redcap, 
 savagely, " and if I catch one of you burning or shooting 
 without orders he'll have to settle with me. Hallo ! it can't 
 be dinner-time." 
 
 This last observation was called forth by the appearance 
 . of the parlour-maid with the table-cloth and a tray. She 
 was a buxom country girl, without any of that hyper-sensi- 
 tiveness of the nervous system common to town domestics. 
 A bushranger to her was simply an exaggerated " traveller," 
 and nothing more. One o'clock p.m. having arrived, it did 
 not occur to her that the family would choose to omit the 
 important midday meal on account of visitors, however un- 
 welcome. She proceeded, therefore, with perfect coolness to 
 lay the cloth, and observing no sign of objection from Maud, 
 presently brought in the dishes, and set the chairs as usual. 
 Maud, thinking that the less fear they showed the better it 
 would be for them, called the children, and motioned to 
 iMrs. Stangrove to take her accustomed place. Simul- 
 taneously, Miss Ethel, a quiet little monkey of nine years, 
 being extremely hungry, then and there recited the cus- 
 tomary grace, praying God to " relieve the wants of others, 
 and to make them truly thankful for what they were about 
 to receive." 
 
158 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 Maud afterwards confessed that it cost her a strong effort 
 to repress a smile as she noted the look of undisguised 
 astonishment which came over the faces of Eedcap and his 
 men, who probably had not heard for many a year, if ever, 
 that simple benediction. 
 
 The Doctor recovered himself first. " I feel confoundedly 
 hungry," said he ; "I suppose we may as well take a snack 
 too." 
 
 "Then come along with me to the kitchen," said the 
 maid, promptly, with the most matter-of-fact air, opening 
 the door of the passage. 
 
 The men stared for a moment as if disposed for equal 
 privileges in the region of communism which they now 
 morally inhabited. But the old instinct was not entirely 
 overpowered, and with one look at Maud's rigid counte- 
 nance and the pale face of Mrs. Stangrove, Redcap followed 
 the girl, and signed to his comrades to do likewise. 
 
 At this moment one of the bed-room doors opened, and a 
 man entered the room, dressed in a full suit of black. His 
 hair shone with pomatum, and he looked something between 
 a lay reader and a provincial footman. 
 
 " Look out," roared the Doctor, " perhaps there's more of 
 'em coming," as he raised his revolver. 
 
 " Com.e, none of that. Doctor," said th6 new-comer ; 
 " don't you never see nothin' but a cove's clothes? " 
 
 A roar of laughter from the others and the returned Red- 
 cap apprised him of his mistake. It was the youngest 
 member of their own band, who, being of a restless disposi- 
 tion, had managed to find his way to the spare room, where 
 he had coolly appropriated a combination suit of John Red- 
 grave's, and had further anointed himself with a pot of 
 pomatum, which did not belong to that gentleman. This 
 episode improved the spirits both of captors and captives, 
 and, hustling one another like school-boys, the whole gang 
 made their way into the kitchen, where, to judge from the 
 sounds of laughter that issued therefrom, they enjoyed 
 themselves much more than would have been the case in the 
 dining-room. 
 
 In about half an hour Maud had the inexpressible grati- 
 fication of seeing them mount and make off steadily along 
 the road which led " up the river." 
 
XIV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 159 
 
 When they were fairly off Maud felt symptoms of having 
 taxed nature severely. She turned deadly pale as she threw 
 herself upon the sofa, covering her face with her hands, 
 while her whole frame shook with convulsive sobs, as she 
 tried with her full strength of will to control the tendency 
 to " the sad laugh that cannot be repressed." However, as 
 chiefly happens in those feminine temperaments where the 
 reasoning powers are stronger than the emotional, she suc- 
 ceeded, and bestowed all her regained energy to the support 
 and consolation of her sister-in-law. 
 
 While these wonderful things were happening, John 
 Redgrave was peacefully riding along the up river road, 
 thinking of the manifold perfections of his divinity, and little 
 dreaming that she waS at that very moment a distressed 
 damsel, in the power of traitors and jfaitoii/rs. 
 
 " What a lovely morning ! " soliloquized he, " not so warm 
 as it has been ; a breeze too. How peaceful everything looks ! 
 Really, this is not such a fearful climate as I thought it at 
 first. With a decent house, and one fair spirit to be his 
 minister, a fellow might gracefully glide through existence 
 here for a few years — that is, if he were making lots of 
 money. It would be almost too uneventful, that's the worst 
 of it — nothing ever happens here. Hallo ! what a pace the 
 Sergeant is coming at, and old Kearney too ! " 
 
 This exclamation was called forth by the sudden appearance 
 of the whole police force which was thought necessary for the 
 protection of a district about a hundred miles square. Jack 
 knew their figures, and indeed their horses, the Sergeant's 
 gray and the trooper's curby-hocked chestnut, to well too be 
 mistaken. They raced up to him, and, pulling up short, both 
 addressed him at once — a trifle out of breath. 
 
 " Have you seen any travellers on horseback, Mr. Red- 
 gravel" asked the Sergeant. 
 
 " If it's purshuing them ye are, ye're going right wrong," 
 blurted out trooper Kearney. 
 
 " Seen who ? Pursuing what 1 " demanded Jack. " Why 
 should I pursue anybody 1 " 
 
 "Then you haven't heard," said the Sergeant. 
 
 " The divil a hear," interrupted Private Kearney ; " sure he 
 doesn't look like it, and he ridin' along the road as peaceful 
 as if there wasn't a bushranger betuxt here and Adelaide." 
 
160 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 " Bushrangers ! " quoth Jack, fully aroused. " I'd forgotten 
 aU about them, and near here ? Where were they seen last, 
 Stewart ? " 
 
 " Constable Kearney, will you oblige me by keeping silence, 
 and falling to the rear," said the Sergeant, majestically, while 
 he proceeded to enlighten Jack as to the probable where- 
 abouts of the gang " from information received." 
 
 " As far as I can make out, sir, and if that scoundrel of a 
 mailman hasn't put me on the wrong track, they were at Mr. 
 Stangrove's Ban Ban out-station last night, and have either 
 gone down the river or over to his head-station to-day." 
 
 " His head-station ! His head-station ! " echoed Jack, in 
 wild tones of astonishment — " no ! surely not ! " 
 
 " Very likely indeed, / think," said the Sergeant, " it's just 
 about their dart from Ban Ban — they may be there now." 
 
 " What in the name of all the fiends are we wasting time 
 here for, then ? " answered he, in a voice so hoarse and strange 
 that the Sergeant looked narrowly at him to note whether he 
 had been drinking, all forms of eccentricity on the Warroo 
 being referable, in his opinion, founded upon long experience, 
 to different stages of intoxication. " Thank God, I brought 
 my revolver with me — come on, there's a good fellow." 
 
 Sergeant Stewart had not, indeed, done more than slacken 
 his pace for the time necessary to restore the wind of his 
 horses, pretty well expended by a three-mile heat. He was a 
 cool, plucky, good-looking fellow, and no bad sample of a 
 crack non-commissioned ofo^cer of Australian police, a body of 
 men inferior to none in the world for general light cavalry. 
 He was as distinguished-looking in his way as his old name- 
 sake, Bothwell, in Old Mortality, whom he resembled in 
 more points than one. 
 
 By the time Jack had concluded his sentence, his blood- 
 hackney was pulling his arms off, neck and neck with the 
 Sergeant's wiry gray, while Mr. Kearney and the doubtful 
 chestnut were powdering away behind, at no great distance. 
 
 " It's lucky we met you," said the Sergeant ; " there are 
 five of them, I hear ; three of us are a pretty fair match for 
 the scoundrels." 
 
 " I see you have your rifles," said Jack ; " you don't gene- 
 rally carry them." 
 
 " No ; but this time we thought we were out for a week. 
 
XIV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 161 
 
 I only saw the mailman, who gave me the office, early this 
 morning, and came here as hard as we could split. Here 
 comes another recruit, I suppose — by George ! it's Mr. 
 Stangrove." 
 
 So it proved. That gentleman, as unsuspicious as Jack 
 h im self, was cantering along a bush track which led into the 
 main " frontage road " at right angles. 
 
 •' Halloa, Redgrave ! turned round since I left you, and our 
 gallant police force too. What's the row — horse-stealers ? " 
 
 " Worse than that, I'm afraid, old fellow," said Jack, 
 going close up. " Redcap and his lot have been seen not 
 far ofE." 
 
 He stopped — for the sudden spasm of pain which con- 
 tracted Stangrove' s features was bad to see. 
 
 " Good God ! " he said, at length, gnawing his set lip ; 
 " my poor wife will be frightened to death, and Maud ! Let 
 us ride — pray God we are not too late." 
 
 " Little was said. The horses, all tolerably well-bred, 
 and possessing that capacity for sustaining a high rate of 
 speed for hours together peculiar to "dry-country horses," 
 held on, mile after mile, until they sighted a large reed-bed, 
 which occupied a circular flat or bend of the river. 
 
 " By gad ! here they are," said the sergeant, " camped on 
 the bank ! I can see their saddles ; the horses are feeding 
 in the reed-bed. Now if we can get up pretty close before 
 they see us we have them." 
 
 " All right," said Jack, with the cheerfulness of a man 
 whose spirits are raised by the near approach of danger. 
 " You and Mr. Stangrove get round that clump of gums, 
 and take them in the rear ; Kearney and I will sneak along 
 close to the bank, till we're near enough to charge. I'll 
 bet a tenner I have the saddles first. Then they are 
 helpless." 
 
 " I think you wouldn't make a bad general, sir," said the 
 Sergeant. " Mr. Stangrove, I think we can't do better." 
 
 Stangrove handled his revolver impatiently, and, with 
 something between a groan and a reply, rode silently on. 
 
 "Now, see here, Mr. Redgrave," said Pat Kearney — a 
 mse old veteran, who had put " the bracelets " upon many 
 a horse and cattle stealer, and was not now about to have 
 his first fray with bushrangers — " if we can snake on 'em 
 
 M 
 
162 THE SQUATTER'S DKEAM : [chap. 
 
 before they have time to take to thim unlucky rade-bids — 
 my heavy curse on thim for hiding villains — we have thim 
 safe. They may fire a shot, but they're unsignified crathers, 
 not like Bin Hall or Morgan." 
 
 " And why shouldn't these fellows fight ? " asked Jack. 
 
 " Ye see, now, it's this a way. Ju^t keep under the bank 
 near thim big oaks — sure that's iligant. 'Tis a great orna- 
 mint to the force ye'd make intirely. Well, as I tould ye, 
 that spalpeen of a Redcap — more by token I put a handful 
 of slugs in him once— has never killed any one yet — nor the 
 others — d'ye see now 1 " 
 
 " I don't see, Kearney, that it makes much difference — 
 they're outlaws." 
 
 " Ah ! but there's a dale of differ between men that's 
 fighting with a halter round their necks, and these half- 
 baked divils that hasn't more than fifteen years' gaol to 
 fear, with maybe a touch of Berrima, at the outside." 
 
 " I understand, then ; you think that they are more likely 
 to give in after the first flutter than if they were sure to be 
 hanged when caught." 
 
 " By coorse they will ; why wouldn't they ? I knew 
 Redcap when he'd think more of duffing a red heifer than 
 all the money in the country. If he seen me, I believe he'd 
 hold up his hands, from habit like." 
 
 "Then you don't think it a good plan to make bush- 
 ranging the same as murder, and to hang a fellow directly 
 he turns out ? " 
 
 " Thim that wanted that law made didn't have their 
 families living on the "Warroo," said the old trooper, sturdily. 
 " How can a couple of men like us thravel and purtect a 
 district as big as Great Britain ? And what would turn a 
 raw lot like these devils let loose quicker than a blundering, 
 over-severe law ? By the mortial, they see us. Hould on, 
 sir, and we'U charge them together, like "Wellington and the 
 Proosians at Waterloo." 
 
 The robbers had a good strategical position. Their base 
 of operations was the reed-bed, a labyrinth of cane-like 
 stalks which met overhead in the narrow paths worn by the 
 feet of the stock. They were, however, divided in party 
 and in purpose. Two of them had been detailed to fetch 
 up the horses grazing in the reed-bed, and the remainder, 
 
xiT.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 163 
 
 having just sighted Redgrave and Constable Kearney, stood 
 to their arms with sufficient determination. 
 
 On the very edge of the river bank, beneath which the 
 stream ran in a deeper channel than ordinary, were the five 
 saddles of the gang. They had evidently dismounted at 
 this spot, and, after unsaddling, had gone to the edge of 
 the reed brake, where an unusually shady tree afforded 
 them an inviting lounge. 
 
 Thus it chanced that Jack's keen eyes discovered the state 
 of affairs, as he and Kearney prepared to rival "Waterloo, on 
 a necessarily limited scale. 
 
 "Look here, Kearney," said he, as they commenced the 
 grand charge, " I mean to throw those saddles into the river. 
 The rascals are a good thirty yards from them. They can't 
 do much without horses. So you blaze away, and cover me 
 as well as you can." 
 
 " It's a great move intirely — but watch that divQ Kedcap ; 
 'tis a mighty nate shot he is — and you'll be out in the open 
 — bad cess to it." 
 
 Jack's blood was up, and he did not care two straws for 
 all the Redcaps and revolvers in Saltbushdom. Racing 
 frantically for the accoutrements, he jumped off, and emptied 
 his revolver, save one barrel, at the enemy. Kearney, a 
 cool and experienced warrior, drew off some little distance 
 to the right, and opened business on his own account, not 
 only with his revolver, but with his breach-loading rifle, 
 while his trained horse stood as steady as a Woolwich 
 gunner. Jack, stooping down, coolly threw one saddle after 
 another into the swirling current, where they were swept 
 off before the very eyes of the brigands. As he stood up- 
 right, after hearing the " ping " of more than one bullet 
 unpleasantly close, he felt a sharp blow — an electric throb — 
 in his left arm, and realized the fact that a buUet had 
 passed through the muscles near the shoulder. 
 
 Inwardly congratulating himself that his right arm was 
 unharmed. Jack drew himself up, and, facing the dropping 
 shots which still hissed angrily around him, his eye fell upon 
 the redoubtable Redcap, who, rifle in hand, had evidently 
 been trying the range of Stangrove's late purchase in a 
 manner not contemplated by that gentleman. Jack swung 
 round, and lifting his revolver, as if at gallery practice, 
 
 M 2 
 
164 THE SQUATTEE'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 pulled the trigger with, that deadly confidence of aim which 
 some men say is never experienced save in snipe-shooting or 
 man-shooting. Bar accidents, the career of William Cross- 
 hrand, otherwise Redcap, was ended. Not so, however, was 
 he to he sped. There had been an old forcing-yard built at 
 the spot for the purpose of swimming cattle and horses over 
 the river. A few straggling posts were left. Behind one 
 of these the robber adroitly slipped, and the bullet buried 
 itself in the massive and twisted timber, just on a level with 
 Mr. Redcap's unharmed breast. 
 
 "Sure it was the greatest murder in the world," said 
 Mr. Kearney, afterwards, with apparent incongruousness. 
 " 'Twas a dead man he was^ only for that blagguard of a 
 post." 
 
 At this moment the Sergeant and Stangrove — who had 
 been waiting till the two other outlaws came up, driving 
 their hobbled horses before them — made a rush, which was 
 the signal for an advance in line of the attacking party. A 
 few scattered shots were exchanged on both sides. The 
 shooting (let any of my readers try what practice they can 
 make, with the best revolvers, from moving horses) was not 
 anything to boast of. It was soon evident that the bush- 
 rangers were not going to fight to the last gasp. They began 
 to slacken fire, and show signs of capitulation. Perhaps the 
 most dramatic incident occurred just before the surrender. 
 The Sergeant had ridden up, neck and neck, with Stangrove 
 to their partially entrenched position, and had exhausted 
 his anmiunition in a sharp exchange, when the Doctor 
 stepped forward from behind a tree, and took deliberate aim 
 at him with the Snider. 
 
 There was no time to reload. Things looked critical. 
 Stangrove and the others were engaged on their own 
 account ; but the Sergeant was equal to the situation ; he 
 fell back upon the moral force in which he so enormously 
 excelled his antagonist. Raising his hand in a threatening 
 attitude, and drawing himself up as if on parade, he fixed his 
 stern eyes upon the audacious criminal and roared out — 
 
 " You infernal scoundrel, would you dare to shoot me ?^' 
 
 It was a strange and characteristic spectacle. The hand- 
 some, soldierly, comparatively refined man-at-arms, sitting 
 upon his horse, affording a perfectly fair mark ; the half- 
 
XIV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 165 
 
 sullen, half-irresolute criminal, with the power of life and 
 death in his wavering hands ; but the mental pressure was 
 too great. The old reverence for the representative of the 
 Law was not all uprooted. A host of doubts and dismal 
 visions of dock and judge, and manacled Hmbs, and the 
 Sergeant sternly implacable, " reading him up " before a 
 crowded court, rose before his overcharged brain. The con- 
 flict was too intense. With a muttered oath he flung down 
 the historic Snider, and stood with outstretched hands, 
 which the alert officer of police immediately enclosed in the 
 gyves of the period. 
 
 " You've acted like a sensible chap," said Stewart, patron- 
 izingly, as the handcuffs clicked with the closing snap. 
 " I'm not sure that you won't get off light. You have had 
 the luck not to have killed anybody that I know of since 
 you turned out." 
 
 About the same time Mr. Redcap and the other semi- 
 desperadoes had lowered their flags to Stangrove, his late 
 guest, and Constable Kearney. This last warrior had, like 
 his superior officer, lost no time in securing the prisoners. 
 Four pairs of handcuffs were available for the elder men. 
 The youngest brigand had his elbows buckled together be- 
 hind his back with a stirrup-leather. 
 
 " Bedad ! ye're a great arr-my intirely," said Mr. Kear- 
 ney, complacently. " Sure it's kilt and murthered I thought 
 we'd all be with a lot of fine young men like yees forenint 
 us. But the Docther there hadn't the heart to rub out the 
 Sergeant ; 'tis the polite man he always was." 
 
 " Well, they say taking to the bush is a short life and a 
 merry one," grumbled out Redcap in a kind of Surrey-side 
 tragedy growl. " I know our time's been short, and a 
 dashed long way from merry. I'm thankful we ain't shed 
 any blood — leastways not killed any cove as I knows of." 
 Here he looked at Jack's woimded arm, the blood from 
 which had considerably altered the hue of his shooting- 
 jacket. 
 
 " Oh ! the divil a hanging match there'll be, if that's 
 what ye're thinking of," said Kearney. " Sure when they 
 didn't hang Frank Gardiner why would they honoTir the 
 likes of ye with a rope, and Jack Ketch, and a parson 1 
 Cock ye up with hanging indeed ! Ye''l be picking oakum 
 
166 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 or chipping freestone, or learning to make shoes and mats, 
 ten years from now." 
 
 ''You have been at my station, I see by the rifles," said 
 Stangrove ; " was that all you took ? " 
 
 "Nothing else, Mr. Stangrove," said Redcap, humbly, 
 " as I'm a Uving man. "We'd heard so much about them — 
 that the big one could carry a mile and shoot all day — that 
 we was boimd to have 'em. But we done no harm, and the 
 ladies wasn't much frightened — not the young lady 
 anyhow." 
 
 " It's lucky for you they were not," said Stangrove, 
 huskily ; " and it may serve you something at your trial. 
 Sergeant, what are you going to do with the prisoners ? will 
 you bring them to Juandah to-night ? " 
 
 " No, sir, I propose to make straight for the gaol at Bar- 
 rabri ; we'll get to the ' Mailman's Arms ' some time before 
 to-morrow morning. It's the first halt we shall make ; so 
 step out, you fellows. The sooner we get to Barrabri the 
 sooner you'll be comfortably in gaol, where you'll have no- 
 thing to think of till the Quarter Sessions." 
 
 " Good-bye, Sergeant. Good-bye, Kearney. Redgrave, 
 you had better come home with me and get that arm seen 
 to. By the way, Sergeant, leave word at the ' Mailman's 
 Arms' to send on Doctor Bateman, if he's anywhere 
 about." 
 
 " So far so good," said Jack, as they turned their norses' 
 heads towards Juandah. " They were not a very terrific set 
 of ruffians, and had evidently not bound themselves by a 
 dark and bloody oath never to be taken alive." 
 
 " The sharpest shooting seems to have come your way," 
 said Stangrove, noticing that Jack's face was growing pale. 
 " I heard a bullet or two whistle near me ; but I believe 
 they were sick of their life and anxious to yield decently. 
 I feel mercifully inclined towards them, inasmuch as I be- 
 lieve they let us ofE cheap at Juandah ; whereas, if it had 
 been one of the old gangs " 
 
 "Here we are," said Jack, as they reined up at the stable 
 door. " Do you know I feel very queer." Here he dis- 
 mounted, and moving with some difficulty, that mortal 
 paleness overspread his face which, once seen, is indelibly 
 associated with real or temporary lifelessness, and down 
 
Siv.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 167 
 
 went Mr. John Redgrave, helpless as a new-born babe, or a 
 young lady menaced by a black beetle. 
 
 Stangrove let go his horse, and i-aised his prostrate guest 
 in his arms (and a most awfully heavy burden he found 
 him) when out rushed Mrs. Stangrove and Maud. 
 
 " Oh, my darling, we have had the bushrangers here, the 
 horrid men ; they took both the rifles ; and one of them 
 took dear baby in his arms and frightened me to death. 
 Have you seen them ? And who is that ? Why, it's Mr. 
 Redgrave. Is he wounded 1 " 
 
 " He was hit through the arm, but he is not desperately 
 wounded. He lost some blood and fainted. Oh, you're 
 coming to ; that's right ; sit up, old man, and we'll soon 
 have you in bed." 
 
 Maud had come forward with a half-cry parting her lips, 
 while her widely-opened eyes were expressive of pained yet 
 warmest sympathy. She could not trust herself to speak, 
 but, kneeling beside the insensible form, bathed Jack's face 
 with her handkerchief dipped in water, with a woman's 
 ready wit, and, loosening his neckerchief, watched with 
 deepest earnestness the first faint signs of returning life. 
 
 " 'Pon my word," said Jack, as he sat up and stared 
 rather wildly around him, " I feel awfully ashamed of 
 myself to tumble down and give trouble all from a scratch 
 like this. But I suppose it has bled and Sangrado-ed one 
 a bit. It will soon pass off." 
 
 " You have been fighting for us, Mr. Redgrave," said 
 Maud, with involuntary tenderness in every tone of her 
 voice ; " and we must not be ungrateful. Try if you can 
 walk inside now. Lean on me. I am ever so strong, I can 
 tell you." 
 
 Jack did as he was bid, and felt it necessary to avail him- 
 self of the rude strength of which Miss Stangrove boasted. 
 Without any great loss of time he found himself on a couch 
 in the spare room, where, with the aid of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Stangrove, he was turned into an interesting invalid, with 
 his arm bound up, pending the arrival of Dr. Bateman. 
 
 Part of the evening was spent by the household in his 
 bedroom, and a very pleasant evening it was. Mrs. Stan- 
 grove was gravely happy, but inclined to be tearful when 
 recurring to the dear children. Maud and her brother 
 
168 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 took tke humorous side of the adventvire, and Jack laughed 
 till his arm ached at Maud's description of the appearance 
 of the younger bushranger as he turned out in part of 
 Jack's raiment, and the remainder as left by a travelling 
 agent for an orphan asylum. 
 
 " ' AU's well that ends well,' " said Stangrove. , " I shall 
 not have the same anxious feeling every time the dogs bark 
 now. It might easily have been worse ; and, taking them as 
 bushrangers, a decenter lot of fellows I never wish to meet." 
 
 Dr. Bateman came next morning, having fortunately 
 looked in at the ' Mailman's Arms ' on his way in from a 
 back block, whither he had been called to set a stockman's 
 leg, broken only the week before. Hearing of the casualty 
 awaiting him at Juandah, he came on best pace, making 
 running with his wiry iron-legged mustang from the start. 
 The doctor, who had in a general way to minister to the 
 indispositions and accidents of the population of a district 
 about a hundred and fifty miles long and a hundred broad, 
 required to possess the constitutional qualities of his 
 favourite mare. Most of them he did possess, thinking 
 as little of a ride of a hundred miles in a day and a half 
 as she did of carrying him. 
 
 " So you managed to get hit, Mr. Redgrave ? " quoth he, 
 in a loud cheery voice, bustling in after breakfast. " In- 
 fernal scoundrels — never knew such a gang. Never in 
 my life. Worst lot that have taken the bush since old 
 Donohoe's time." 
 
 " But, doctor," protested two or three voices in a breath, 
 " you surely mistake — they " 
 
 "What I say I stick to," interrupted the doctor, with a 
 twinkle in his shrewd gray eye. " Worst gang I ever 
 knew — -/or a medical man. Why, you are, my dear sir, the 
 only wounded man in the whole district. I'm ashamed of 
 them — the country's going to destruction. No energy 
 among the natives." 
 
 " Oh, that's it," said Stangrove ; " I was going to stand 
 up for my friend, the enemy — Mr. Redcap and his merry 
 men ; but from your point of view they did behave dis- 
 gracefully ; not a patch upon Morgan, or the Clarkes, or 
 even the virtuous and politically celebrated Frank Gardiner. 
 What do you think of your patient, doctor % " 
 
XIV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 169 
 
 " That he is in very good quarters. Pulse marks quicker 
 time to-day than yesterday. Slight touch of fever, only 
 natural ; arm inflamed and painful. A week's quiet, not a 
 day less, will set him right. Would have been a very pretty 
 case had bullet perforated the humerus. As it is, merely 
 amounts to laceration of muscles, minor vessels, and nerves." 
 
 "You'll stay to-night, doctor, of course?" asked 
 Stangrove. 
 
 " No, must go after lunch ; have to ride down the river 
 as far as Emu Reach. Man drowned last night — inquest." 
 
 " How was that ? " 
 
 " Oh, shepherd, of course ; frightful amount of lunacy 
 among them. Poor old Pott Quartsley got a great fright 
 last week up Din Din. He went into a shepherd's hut at 
 dusk and saw him standing just in front of the door. 
 ' What are you staring at me like that for, you old fool ? ' 
 he said. Gave him a slight push. The shepherd turned 
 half round and slid into the same posture, sUently. ' Great 
 God ! ' said Quartsley, rushing frantically out, ' what is all 
 this?'" 
 
 " And what was it? " asked Stangrove. 
 
 " Why, the man had hanged himself the day before with 
 his bridle-rein fastened to the tie-beam. His feet just touched 
 the ground, and his hat was on his head, so that he looked, 
 in the half-light, exactly like a man standing upright. It had 
 a great effect on old Quartsley." 
 
 " What direction wUl the result take ? " 
 
 " That of fencing, I believe. Says he can't afford to keep 
 expensive luxuries like shepherds any longer. That they're 
 extravagances are sure to injure the finest property — the 
 soundest constitution in the long run. Says he shall repent, 
 economize, and fence— for the future." 
 
 " Bravo ! " said Jack, a little feebly ; "if old Quartsley 
 begins to fence you won't be left behind, Stangrove? " 
 
 " I gaid two years," answered he, " and in two years I'll 
 consider the question, not an hour before that time. In the 
 interval don't you excite yourself. The doctor and I are 
 going to the men's hut. I'll send Maud with some cold tea 
 for you." 
 
CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 " A little cloud as big as a man's hand." 
 
 It is not half a bad thing to "be laid up," as it is called, 
 for a reasonable and moderate fraction of one's life — more 
 especially if a " bright particular star " is impelled to 
 beam softly and brilliantly upon one in consequence. 
 Jack, after the inflammation, which gave him " fits " the 
 first day or two, had subsided, began to enjoy himself 
 after a subdued fashion. Though food was restricted by 
 the despotic doctor, and liquor, other than tea, altogether 
 interdicted, there was no embargo laid upon tobacco. 
 Mr. Redgrave, therefore, used to get over the window 
 which "gave" into the garden, and have many a soothing 
 and delightful pipe in the afternoons and the long, clear, 
 bright nights. 
 
 He was, I firmly believe, perfectly well able to read ; but 
 he pretended that it made his head ache, so Maud fell into 
 the trap and volunteered to read Macaulay's Assays, the 
 Satv/rday Review, Macmillan's Magazine, Market Ha/r- 
 horough, and even some choice bits from Tennyson and 
 Browning. What pleasant mornings these were ! Stan- 
 grove was out ; Mrs. Jane deep in housekeeping and nursery 
 details ; so these two people were able for a brief season to 
 taste uninterruptedly the charm of pure intellectual enjoy- 
 ment, unalloyed by the jar of small duties or the regretful 
 sense of unperformed work. Convalescence, that regal state 
 and condition, evades all ordinary responsibilities. It is 
 above duty, blame, arithmetic and grammar — the scourges 
 and penances of this toiling pilgrimage we call life. It 
 was joy unspeakable to lie back with half-closed eyes and 
 hear Maud's fresh, clear young voice ringing out in 
 
CH. XV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 171 
 
 accents of love, or laughter, or denunciation, or sounding 
 strangely unnatural in the bitterness of the Saturday's 
 sarcasms. 
 
 There was much reviewing of reviewers too, poetizing 
 upon poets ; philosophizing upon philosophers. Arguments 
 and comments were plentifully superinduced by the variety 
 of texts. A week on board ship is equal to a year on 
 land — a day's tending of an invalid involves a feeling of 
 dominancy and ownership, which renders the experience 
 equal in completeness to a week on shipboard. According 
 to this scale of reckoning, Maud Stangrove and John Red- 
 grave had protracted opportunities of knowing each other's 
 characters, amounting in all to such duration of time as 
 fully justified them in contracting that morally indis- 
 soluble betrothal called an " engagement." This unlimited 
 liability they actually had the temerity to enter into, and 
 in the usual solemn manner sign, seal, and ratify, before 
 John Redgrave left Juandah, perfectly recovered and un- 
 utterably happy. 
 
 He, of course, immediately acquainted Stangrove with the 
 stupendous and miraculous fact, which that unimaginative 
 personage received with his usual coolness. 
 
 "Maud is of age," he remarked, "and is fully entitled 
 to choose for herself. She could not have chosen a better 
 fellow ; but I wish that confounded mortgage of yours was 
 sold for sewing guards, or whatever the women buy obsolete 
 deeds for. I was quite startled by seeing ' Know all men 
 by these presents ' glaring at me on Jane's work-table the 
 other day. I hate the look even of one ; it's like the skin 
 of a dead serpent." 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! " said Jack, " you don't think the trifle of 
 debt I owe upon 60,000 sheep — which they will be and 
 more by lambing time — worth thinking seriously about. 
 Why, Mildmay Shrood told me when I was down " 
 
 " Just what he wished you to beheve, I dare say. He's 
 a good fellow, as men of money go, I grant you ; but he 
 would put his thumb or his foot on you if the money market 
 fell with as little compunction as I feel for this fellow 
 here." And Mark trod savagely upon a large brown flat 
 insect, which was making its way in a blundering, purblind 
 fashion from a decayed log to the wood-pile. 
 
172 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 " I'm sorry that I can't show as clear a sheet as I 
 could have done once upon a time, old fellow,", said Jack. 
 "But, on the other hand, nothing venture nothing have. 
 If things turn out as I expect, please God, Maud shall 
 have everything in the wide world that she can frame a 
 wish for." 
 
 " And if not — you must pardon me for looking on the 
 dark side of things — I have so much more often seen that 
 colour come up " 
 
 "If not," said Jack, "if not — I will never ask her or 
 any woman to share my poverty. Our engagement must 
 remain as it is till I can tell with some show of accuracy 
 how things are likely to go. You may trust me not, to 
 hurry her." 
 
 " I trust you in that and in far more important matters," 
 returned Mark, as he wrung his hand. " Henceforth you 
 are our brother, save in name — let things go as they will — 
 but I must do my best for Maud." 
 
 "Do you think I shall place a single obstacle in your 
 way ? If I thought I could not add some colour and rich- 
 ness to her life, which — pardon me — it lacks here, I would 
 turn away now and never see her face more." 
 
 When Jack returned to his home and his duties he dis- 
 played an amount of interest in the statistics and general 
 progress of the station which amazed and delighted Mr. 
 M'Nab. That energetic personage had been toiling away 
 by himself since the news, much exaggerated, of Mr. Red- 
 grave's adventure with his ordinary conscientious regularity. 
 Everything was in apple-pie order. The minimization of 
 labour had been carried out almost to a fault, as Jack 
 thought, when he had to unsaddle and feed his own horse, 
 and, Mr. M'Nab being absent, and Monsieur Dubois gone 
 for a load of wood, the place looked desolate enough after 
 the home-like, old-fashioned Juandah. However, Jack com- 
 forted himself with thinking that this was the straight road 
 to clearing off the mortgage — to a triimiphant sale of a fully 
 stocked run, and to the final possession of a " kingdom by 
 the sea," or beyond sea, in which Maud Stangrove should 
 reign, when "the happy princess followed him." 
 
XV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 173 
 
 Day after day he accompanied M'Nab in long rides from 
 ' one end of the run to the other. With him he counted the 
 sheep wherever such counting might be necessary. He took 
 his turn at vs^eighing of rations, and in- every way worked 
 with hand and head as hard (so M'Nab, with grim humour, 
 asserted) as if he had been his own overseer. 
 
 In the rare intervals of leisure, when that embodiment of 
 concentrativeness permitted his thoughts to dwell upon any 
 subject other than sheep, he could not avoid the inference 
 that the proprietor of Gondaree was a changed man. 
 Up to this turning-point of his life John Redgrave had 
 been content to work fairly, sometimes fiercely, with head 
 or hand ; but, in any case, to accept success or failure with 
 undisturbed serenity. Now it was otherwise. He examined 
 searchingly the whole working of the establishment, and 
 satisfied himself, much to M'Nab's gratification, of the con- 
 dition and well-being of each division of the stock, of the 
 plant, and machinery of the place. He went carefully 
 through the account-books, and verified the debits and credits, 
 with an accuracy which his lieutenant had not believed to 
 be in him, as he afterwards said. He compiled a statement 
 of the financial position of Gondaree, which, after various 
 testings and corrections, was agreed between them to be 
 arithmetically, mathematically, indisputably exact. He had 
 fully decided to sell. The sheep were in fine condition, severely 
 culled, and originally well chosen. The run was of the best 
 possible quality, in full working order, and capable of yet 
 greater development. He could not imagine its fetching less 
 than the highest market price. At that time such a run, so 
 ' stocked, so improved, was held to be good value for twenty- 
 five shillings per head. It was not impossible or even un- 
 likely that two competing buyers might run it up to 
 twenty-seven and sixpence. The lesser price would pay off 
 the mortgage — he had no other debts in the world — and 
 ' leave him, say, forty or fifty thousand pounds. 
 
 This was the account current he had ciphered out many 
 and many a time. It was written upon sheets of paper, large 
 and small, upon blotting-pads, upon stray leaves of journals, 
 and pretty well engraven upon a less perishable, more 
 retentive, material — the heart of John Eedgrave. 
 Something in this wise were the figures : — 
 
174 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 10,000 fat sheep, now ready for market at, say, 
 
 15s £7,500 
 
 50,000 sheep, with station, stores, furniture, 
 implements, horses, drays, &c., all given in at, 
 say, 25s. £62,500 
 
 £70,000 
 Mortgage due Bank of K Holland £25,000 
 
 Interest, commission, incidentals, and 
 
 expenses overlooked, say ... ... £5,000 
 
 £30,000 
 
 £40,000 
 
 As far as any one could make out, judging from the 
 present prices, Gondaree was as safe to sell at this estimate 
 as Mr. Stangrove's fast, handsome buggy horses — young, 
 sound, and a dead match — were to bring fifty pounds in any 
 sale-yard in the colonies. Here was a magnificent surplus. 
 Say, forty thousand pounds. That was enough, surely. A 
 large proportion would of course remain on mortgage, and, 
 as he would receive one-third or one-half cash, it could not 
 be better placed, receiving, as he would, eight per cent, 
 interest, the ordinary tarifE between squatter and 
 squatter. Should he not sell before shearing, and realize 
 this Aladdin's Palace, into which the Princess was ready to 
 step, at once and without delay ? 
 
 He could not exactly a:Sord the train of slaves, with 
 diamonds as big as pigeons' eggs, and rubies and emeralds 
 to match ; but on three or four thousand a year a decent 
 approximation to rational luxury might be reached. Should 
 he decide at once, and, as with poor, dear, old, despised 
 liitte Marshmead, scribble ofi the fatal advertisement and 
 abide the issue 1 
 
 He took up his pen. But why do so few people sell out 
 mining shares, railway debentures, seductive scrip of all sorts, 
 at exactly the maximum of profit i He wavered. Then he 
 concluded to reap the profit of the last, really the last 
 shearing ; wait till the 20,000 lambs were fit to count, and 
 thus make sure — of course it was a moral certainty — of an 
 additional twenty thousand pounds. Prices would keep up 
 
xv.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 175 
 
 at least another couple of years — that would be long enough 
 for him. 
 
 So he decided to see his shearing over, and to have every- 
 thing fit to deliver, at a week's notice, by the time the coming 
 crop of lambs should be weanable and countable. While 
 this great resolve was maturing, the fiercely bright summer 
 days, each about sixteen hours long, were gliding by. The 
 stars burned nightly in the unclouded heavens, in which so 
 pure was the atmosphere, so free from the slightest hint of 
 mist or storm, that the most distant denizen of the thought- 
 untraveUed stellar waste shone golden-clear. Even in the 
 sultry monotony of that changeless sea-like desert summer 
 is not endless. Autumn, with an earlier twilight, a keener 
 breath of early morn, a shorter, scarce less burning day, 
 advanced, followed with slow but firm step the fading 
 summer-time. 
 
 " So the fat sheep are drafted, tar-branded, and fairly on 
 the road at last," said Mr. Redgrave, after a week's tolerably 
 sharp work. " They look very prime. I hope they will 
 meet as good a market as they deserve." 
 
 " Never a better lot left the Warroo," said M'Nab ; " the 
 wethers are very even, and extraordinary weights. Better 
 sheep I never handled. The drover is a good steady feUow ; 
 and I'U catch them up before they get near the train." 
 
 "The season has been dry the last month or two," 
 remarked Jack ; " after those unlucky floods one felt as if it 
 never would be too dry again ; but it looks like it now for 
 all that." 
 
 " The feed is not so good as it might be on the road, 
 they say," agreed M'Nab ; " but six weeks' steady driving 
 will take them to the train ; and they wUl lose very little 
 condition in that time. If we don't top the market we 
 ought to do." 
 
 Within a few weeks after this conversation Jack found 
 himself sole denizen of Gondaree, M'Nab having taken him- 
 self off by the mail, allowing just sufficient time for him to 
 catch the sheep and organize the order in which they should 
 be " trained " for the Melbourne market. With the first 
 maU after his departure. Jack discovered to his great vexa- 
 
176 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 tion that a sudden and serious fall had taken place in fat 
 stock. The season had, without any great demonstration of 
 dryness, been consistently free from rain. It was cool and 
 ■ breezy — a hopeful condition, Jack thought. It was a very 
 bad sign with the older residents. 
 
 It has been remarked, by persons of lengthened Australian 
 experience, that the sudden fluctuations in price which have 
 occurred with a curious periodicity since there has been stock 
 enough in the colonies to found theories upon, have usually 
 as little warning as the alarm of fire in a theatre. One 
 person, scenting the coming danger, rises and steals quietly 
 out, a few more follow with ill-concealed haste, then with 
 sudden terror starts up every creature in the building, and 
 the resistless agony of the panic is in full operation. 
 
 So, apparently, is it with those mighty and disastrous 
 changes in the value of live stock, which have ever, in the 
 history of Australia, pulled men's houses about their ears, 
 like those of cards. They have whelmed alike the grizzled 
 pioneer after a life of toil, the youthful capitalist in the 
 first year of his first purchase, the hoary merchant, and the 
 gambling speculator in one tidal wave of ruin. Before such 
 an under-current sets in the apparent dearth of stock,^ in a 
 land full of sheep and cattle, from Cooktown to the county 
 of Cumberland, is curiously noticeable. Nobody will sell 
 their oldest ewes, their most decrepit cows ; it pays so much 
 better to hold on. Bills, when times and credit are good, 
 are renewed (with, of course, interest added), and every 
 financial accommodation is resorted to rather than that the 
 sanguine stockholder should be compelled to slay the goose 
 which (in his opinion) is so prolific of the golden eggs, in the 
 guise of wool and increase. 
 
 So the game goes on, until some fine day the money-market 
 tightens, after its deadly, unforeseen, boa-constrictor fashion. 
 The ominous cry of fire, or its financial synonym, is raised. 
 A few wary or fortunate operators " get out ; " but for the 
 rank and file, who have been trusting to continuous good 
 luck, high prices, and a "change in the climate for the 
 better," the stampede of the panic is their only portion. In 
 all lost battles of life, more than once has it chanced that 
 " the brave in that trampHng multitude had a fearful death 
 to die." 
 
XV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAK LIFE. 177 
 
 Similar storm-signals now smote upon Jack's unaccustomed 
 ear. 
 
 " "We are sorry to note that all our correspondents speak 
 of continued absence of rain in their particular localities. A 
 drought is beginning to arouse the fears of stockholders, and 
 prices of fat and store stock have fallen rapidly." Such was 
 the utterance of the Warroo Watchman. 
 
 This was the letter from his town agents, to whom he 
 had entrusted the sale of the much-considered fat sheep : — 
 
 " Dear Sir, — If you haven't started your fat sheep, keep 
 them back tUl you hear again from us. 
 " Market glutted — all stock down. 
 
 "Yours faithfully, 
 
 " Dkawe & Backwell." 
 
 This looked bad. What a nuisance it was ! For the last 
 two years he couldn't have gone wrong, at whatever time 
 he had despatched them ; a fair average price had been 
 always obtainable; and now, just when everything was 
 marked out, the whole arrangements incapable of failure in 
 any way — here the confounded demand breaks down, and 
 upsets all a man's calculations ! 
 
 Something after this fashion ran Jack's thoughts. What 
 should he ■do'! Bringing the sheep back again was ex- 
 pensive, undignified, and would by no means aid in decreas- 
 ing the debt, which had lately become rather a lete noir in 
 his daily imaginings. The Warroo was not suflBciently 
 advanced for the telegraph, or he might have held con- 
 verse with the ready-witted M'Nab, who woidd have been 
 certain to strike out the most favourable line of action. 
 He had nothing for it but to write to Drawe and Back- 
 well, to say that he had sent forward the sheep ; that they 
 must communicate with M'Nab, in charge, and do the 
 best they could under the circumstances. 
 
 Up to this period of the enterprise John Redgrave, in 
 despite of the episodes of the wool-shed and the flood, had 
 suffered from no anxiety as to the ultimate success of the 
 great venture. The prices of wool and sheep, store, fat, ewes 
 and lambs, culls — everything that could be counted and 
 could run out of a yard — had been firm and adamantine, 
 
178 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM ; [chap. 
 
 as the bullion in the vaults of the Bank of England. 
 Every sort, kind, and condition of sheep was worth half-a- 
 sovereign, two to a pound, minimum ; one pound a head 
 with station ; without, ten shillings. 
 
 Now there seemed a danger of the citadel being under- 
 mined, of the great fabric of investment and adventure — 
 buUt up by a free expenditure of capital and energy during 
 the last five years — melting away like an iceberg before the 
 south wind. With such a thaw — resolving into primitive 
 elements the gilded temple — down would go the fame and 
 fortune of John Redgrave, and, for aught he cared, down 
 might go his life, and stilled for ever might be those rest- 
 less heart-beats. ■ Thus, when by a sudden intuitive forecast 
 the shadow of misfortune fell athwart the sunlight of his 
 soul, did he for an instant feel the dull agony of despair 
 — ^thuR spoke he to his saddened spirit. 
 
 "With the first mail that was due after M'Nab's depar- 
 ture, allowing him time to reach the sheep, came a letter, 
 as thus — " Sheep-market is bad — decidedly bad, with no hope 
 of getting better. I can keep the sheep about Echuca till 
 I get your answer. Shall I send them on, or return 1 My 
 advice is to sell at all hazards." 
 
 Jack returned answer that he was to do whatever he 
 thought best, and to use his own discretion unreservedly. 
 
 The sheep were sold accordingly. They brought eight 
 shillings and tenpence all round, which just returned, clear 
 of all expenses, eight shillings net. A magnificent price 
 truly, and a terrible come-down from the fourteen or fifteen 
 shillings which had been the regular price, for years past, 
 of large, aged, prime sheep, as were the Gondaree lot. 
 
 M'Nab was back in remarkably quick time after this 
 untoward outcome of so much care and forethought, and 
 planning and contriving. 
 
 " The sheep were beautifully driven ; I never saw a lot 
 better looked after ; they showed first-rate in the yards at 
 Newmarket. AU the drovers, butchers, and agents said 
 there hadn't been a lot in like them this season. They 
 topped the market, but what sort of a market was it 1 — 
 rushed and glutted with all kinds of half-fat stock, going 
 for nothing. And cattle down too — ^regular store prices j 
 a most miserable sight." 
 
XV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 17S 
 
 "And what's said about wool and stations?" inquired Jack. 
 
 " That there's going to be the devil to pay ; there's a 
 tremendous commercial panic in England. Discount up to 
 war figures. 'I'he great dissenting bankers — Underend, 
 Burney & Co. — gone for any sum you like to mention. 
 Run on the Bank of England. Panic on the Stock Ex- 
 change. The end of the world, as far as accommodation is 
 concerned ! " 
 
 " By Jove ! " said Jack, " could anything have been more 
 unlucky 1 I wish to heavens that I had sold out three 
 months since, though that might only have landed some 
 other unlucky beggar in tho same fix. There's no chance 
 of selling now at any price? " 
 
 " Sell ! " answered M'Nab, and here he looked kindly 
 and almost pitifully at Jack, on whose face there was a 
 dark and troubled look, such as he had never seen there in 
 bygone mishaps. " There won't be a station sold for the 
 next three years, except at prices which will leave the 
 owners the clothes they wear, and not a half- crown to put 
 in the breeches-pocket either." 
 
 " What in the world shall I do ? " groaned Jack. " I would 
 have given much to have cleared out after shearing." 
 
 "Well, sir," said M'Nab, sitting down and putting on a 
 calm, argumentative look, " let us look at the matter both 
 ways. No doubt the outlook is gloomy ; but here we have 
 the place and the stock. There's not a station in the 
 colonies that can be worked at a less annual expense. 
 Surely we can carry on and pay interest on the mortgage 
 till times come round." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Jack, disconsolately. " But suppose 
 times don't come round ; and suppose the Bank presses for 
 their money? " 
 
 " The times will change and improve," said M'Nab, im- 
 pressively, " as surely as the sun will shine after the next 
 stormy day, whenever that may be. And as for the Bank, 
 they seldom push any customer in whom they have con- 
 fidence, and who has a real good property at his back." 
 
 " I trust so. But how in the world shall I ever grub on 
 for three or four years more in this infernal wilderness, 
 waiting for better seasons, and a rise in the market, which, 
 for all we know, may never come 1 " ' 
 
 N 2 
 
186 THE SQtJAtTER*S BREAM ; toHAt. 
 
 " My dear sir," said M'Nab, "nothing but patience and 
 doggedness ever did any good in stock matters yet. It's 
 the men that stick to their runs and their cattle and sheep, 
 in spite of losses and danger, and discouragement and 
 misery, that have always come out in the end with the 
 tremendous profits that from time to time have always been 
 realized in Australia, and will again. Look at old E.uggie 
 M'Alister, coming back to his place one day, after counting 
 out his two flocks to a person sent up to take charge by his 
 agents, finding the place burnt down, the hut robbed, the 
 cook speared, and a big black fellow swimming the Murray 
 with his best double-barrelled gun in his mouth. There 
 was cause for despair for ye, if ye like ! " 
 
 " And what did your friend do ? " 
 
 " Shot the black fellow with his carbine ; dived for the 
 double- barrel. Lived under a dray with the bailiff till after 
 shearing ; got the run out of debt, and is worth ten thousand 
 a year, and has a villa near Melbourne this minute." 
 
 " I could have done that once," answered Jack ; " but 
 whether I am growing old, or have only one supply of 
 energy, which is exhausted, J know not ; I can't face the 
 idea of all the work, and daily drudgery, and endless 
 monotony — over again — over again ! " 
 
 " There's nothing else to be done, sir. You'll think better 
 of it to-morrow. And you needn't bother about my salary. 
 We'll work together, and I'll never ask you for a penny of 
 it till better times come." 
 
 Next day, as was his custom. Jack did not find the storm- 
 signals so unmistakable or portentous. As M'Nab had 
 very properly pointed out, there were still the . first-class, 
 fully-improved run, the sixty thousand sheep. The clip 
 would be large and well got up, in spite of the fall in the 
 value of the carcase. 
 
 TJnderend, Burneys, might totter and fall, crushing under 
 the ruins of a long-decayed house, tunelled and worm-eaten 
 with usury, the trusting friend, the confiding public ; but 
 unless mankind and womenkiud abandoned those garments, 
 delicate, indispensable, and universally suitable from India 
 to the Pole, the demand for wool, like that for gold, might 
 slacken, but could not cease. This confounded American 
 war would come to an end. Why the deuce could they not 
 
XT.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 181 
 
 put off this insane, suicidal contest for a year or twol 
 The season would improve — even that was against a man. 
 It looked drier, and yet more dry, every day he got up. 
 Whereas, at Marshmead — ah ! why, why did he ever leave 
 that lovely (though flattish — but never mind), cool, green, 
 regularly raining Eden ? " Sad was the hour and luckless 
 was the day " — as Hassan the camel-driver said. But if he 
 had never left it he would never have seen Maud. " So, after 
 all, it is Kismet. The will of Allah must be done ! " 
 
 With this rather unorthodox consolation Jack ended his 
 tioliloquy, and prepared to march sternly along the path of 
 duty, though the flowerets lay withered by the wayside, the 
 surges of the shoreless sea of Ruin sovinded sullenly in his 
 ears, and though the illuminating image of Maud Stangrove, 
 smiling welcome with eyes and brow, was hidden by mists 
 and storm-rack. 
 
 All things went on much as usual ; but it was like the 
 routine of a household in which there has been a death. 
 Jack's favourite of all the Lares and Penates had always 
 been Hope. Her image was not shattered ; but the light 
 and colour had faded from the serenely glowing lineaments. 
 The calm eyes that had looked forth over every marvel of 
 earth and sea and sky — resting on the far mountains, il- • 
 lumined by golden gleams from the Eternal Throne ^were 
 now rayless. 
 
 Hope inspired, John Redgrave was and had proved him- 
 self capable of bodily and mental labour of no mean order 
 — of self-denial severe and enduring. But severed from 
 the probability of attainment of success, of eventual 
 triumph, he was prone to a state of feeling as of the 
 cheetah that has missed the prey, and after a succession 
 of lightning-like bounds retires sullenly to hood and 
 keeper. 
 
 As soon as he could assure himself that he was in a 
 proper and befitting state of mind, he rode down to Juandah, 
 making the journey in a very different tone and temper 
 from the last. He did not find that his altered prospects 
 had made his friends less cordial ; on the contrary, it seemed 
 to him that never before was he so manifestly the bien-venu 
 as on this occasion. Maud sang and played, and talked 
 
182 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 cheerily, and with a slight preference for the minor key, 
 which harmonized with the sore and bruised spirit of the 
 guest. Mrs. Stangrove, too, exerted herself to the extent 
 of sprightUness wonderful to behold. When a man is 
 suffering in mind, body, or estate, the sympathy of sincere, 
 unworldly women — and all women are unworldly with those 
 they love — is soothing, tender, and inexpressively healing. 
 As the dark-souled physician in the Fair Maid of Perth 
 was enabled by the perfection of his art to apply to the 
 severed hand of the knight the unguent which stilled his 
 raging torment at a touch, so the sweet eyes and the soft 
 tones of Maud Stangrove cooled and composed his fevered 
 soul. Mark Stangrove, also, was unusually genial, even 
 hilarious. 
 
 " This insatiable "Warroo is going to have another dig at 
 us," he said. " We have just not escaped a flood, and now 
 we are in for a drought. That means a few years more of 
 the mill for us. Well, we're all in the same boat ; we must 
 stick to the oars, keep a good look out, and weather it out 
 together." 
 
 " A good look out ! " echoed Jack. " I see nothing but 
 rocks and breakers." 
 
 " Come, come, old fellow ; a capful of wind, or even a 
 ■ heavy gale, doesn't mean total wreck always. We shall, of 
 course, have to take in sail, throw cargo over, and all that. 
 Seriously, things are going to be bad in more ways than one. 
 I'm not altogether taken by surprise ; I've seen it before ; 
 but I don't wish to crow over you for all that. I think in 
 some ways you are better off than I am." 
 
 " How do you make that out? " 
 
 "WTiy, though I am a good deal under-stocked, this 
 drought will put me ever so much about. I shall lose a lot 
 of my lambs and calves, have to travel all the sheep, and, 
 generally, be compelled to spend money and lose stock right 
 and left till rain comes again." 
 
 " You can afford it," said Jack, " and I can't ; it will be 
 the straw that breaks the camel's back. A long drought 
 means unsaleable stock — which means increase of debt, 
 interest, and principal — which means ruin." 
 
 " You go too fast, my dear fellow. I used to tell you 
 that you were going to be rich rather more quickly than I 
 
XV.] A STOIIY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 183 
 
 fancied probable ; and now you are determined to be ruined 
 ■with equal rapidity. I must tell Maud to read you a 
 sermon upon patience and perseverance." 
 
 "I deserve no quarter from her or from you either," 
 professed Jack, who was now en penitence all round, "for 
 dragging her into this uncertain, anxious life of mine." 
 
 " Well, accidents will happen, you know. I blamu 
 those rascally bushrangers and your gun-shot wound for it 
 all ; no woman can nurse any fellow, under a hundred, 
 without appropriating him. But I'll take care that you 
 are not married till you are something more than a bank 
 overseer, which is a different thing from a bank manager, 
 you know." 
 
 " Hang all banks and bank officials, from the board of 
 directors to the junior messenger," fulminated Jack, 
 " though, as they only sell money to fools like me, who 
 choose to buy, they are scarcely to blame either. And now, 
 old fellow, as I've relieved my mind, we'll go in and be 
 civil to the ladies. Even if times are bad, one must not 
 quite forget to be a gentleman. Thank you, once and for 
 all, old fellow, for your true kindness." 
 
 After this Jack put away his Skeleton gently, though 
 firmly, into his closet, and, turning the key, compelled him 
 there to abide, only permitting him to come out and sit by 
 the fire with him occasionally when no one was present, or 
 to walk cheerfully round the room when he was dressing in 
 the morning — or to wake him before earliest dawn and 
 whisper in his ear till he rose desperately at the first faint 
 streak of day. But these being the regularly allotted 
 periods and interviews, lawfully to be claimed and recog- 
 nized by all well-bred skeletons and their proprietors. Jack 
 could not with any conscience grumble. 
 
 He explained the whole state of affairs to Maud, who, to 
 his surprise, took it coolly, and, like Mark, said " that 
 things might not turn out so badly. That every one agreed 
 that his station was very well managed, and that probably 
 he might overrate the probability of loss. That, whether 
 or no, she knew he would fight it out manfully — and that 
 she would wait — oh, yes ! years upon years — as long as he 
 would promise to think of her, and for her, now and then." 
 
 So they parted. Jack thinking how difficult it was to 
 
184 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 understand women. He would have sworn that the fiery 
 girl, whose petulances had so often amused him, would have 
 been as deeply disappointed, as intolerant of the delay, as 
 himself. And now here she was calmly looking forward to 
 years of stocking-mending and child-nursing on the Warroo 
 before they could be married, as if she had never dreamed 
 of a higher life, to be realized in a few short months. 
 
 John Redgrave had never experienced, and therefore had 
 not realized, the most deeply-rooted attribute of woman's 
 manifold nature — the capacity for self-sacrifice. Rarely can 
 he who is blessed with her first pure love overtax its 
 wondrous endurance — its angelic tenderness. 
 
 With right down hard work, as with the conscientious 
 performance of military duty, in the trenches or otherwise, 
 before the enemy, much of the darker portion of the spirit's 
 gloom disappears. Man is a working animal — civilization 
 notwithstanding ; and an undecided mental condition, com- 
 bined with bodily inaction, has ever produced the direst 
 forms of misery to which our kind is subjected here below. 
 
 So day after day saw Jack and his faithful subject fully 
 occupied from dawn to sunset in the ordinary routine of 
 station work. The personal labour devolving upon each 
 was tolerably severe, but the exact number of hands allotted 
 to the place by the inexorable M'Nab was rigidly adhered 
 to, and not an extra boy even would he hear of until the 
 inevitable month before shearing, when all ordinary labour 
 laws must perforce be suspended. 
 
 The four boundary-riders, all active, steady men, young 
 or in the prime of life, well-paid and well-housed, did their 
 duty regularly and efficiently. It was part of M'Nab's 
 creed that, if you kept a man at all you should pay him 
 well, and otherwise minister to his well-being. In cheap 
 labour there was no economy ; and for anything like in- 
 differently-performed work he had a dislike almost amount- 
 ing to abhorrence. He and Jack transacted all the business 
 that of right appertained to the home station. They by 
 turns convoyed the increasingly numerous and hungry flocks 
 of travelling sheep ; took out the rations ; laid the poisoned 
 meat, which, spread over the run in cartloads, was daily 
 returning an equivalent in dead eagles, dogs, and dingoes ; 
 coimted the sheep regularly ; and all this time there was, 
 
XV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 185 
 
 not a sheep-skin unaccounted for — not a nail or a rail out 
 of order in the whole establishment. 
 
 So fared all things until the time for shearing drew nigh. 
 Jack felt quite delighted at the first engagement of washers, 
 the first appearance of three or four shearers, with their big 
 swags and low-conditioned horses, having journeyed from a 
 far land where winter was not wholly obsolete as a 
 potentate, and did not stand for a mere section of the year 
 between autumn and spring. The changed appearance of 
 the long-silent huts was pleasant to his eye ; the daily 
 increase of strange voices and unembarrassed, careless talk ; 
 the giving out of rations ; the arrangement of the steam- 
 engine ; the arrival of teamsters — all these things heralded 
 the cheerful, toilsome, jostling shearing-time, half festive, half 
 burdensome, yet still combining the pains and pleasures of 
 harvest. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " And did she love him ? What and if she did ? 
 Love cannot cool the burning Austral sands, 
 Nor show the secret waters that lie hid 
 
 In arid valleys of that desert land. " — Jean Ingelow. 
 
 The season had not been a good one for grass. It was a 
 very good one for wool. Save a little dust, no exception 
 could be taken to anything. The clip was well grown ; the 
 washing simply perfection. The lambing had been a for- 
 tunate one. Counting these aspirants for the trials and 
 triumphs to which the merino proper is foredoomed, the 
 count stood well over sixty thousand sheep, of all ages. 
 But a few months since, what a comfortable sum of money 
 did they represent ; whereas now — but it would not bear 
 thinking of ! The shearers even seemed to be unnaturally 
 good and easy to manage now that no particular benefit 
 could accrue from their conduct. Everything was right but 
 the one important fact, which lay at the root — the price of 
 stock. Even if that had improved, the season was going to 
 turn and evilly entreat them ; the " stars in their courses 
 fought against Sisera ; " and Jack began to consider 
 himself as his modern exemplar — the prey of the gods ! 
 
 He sent oS his wool, but this year he determined not to go 
 to town himself ; with the present prices and a fast-coming 
 drought staring him in the face, what could a man do in the 
 Club or in Collins Street but advertise himself as an incipient 
 insolvent ? Better stick to his work, save a little money, now 
 that it was too late, and spend the summer pleasantly in 
 staving off bush fires, following in the dusty wake of endless 
 hordes of starving travelling sheep, and watching the desolar 
 
CH. XVI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 187 
 
 tion of the grass famine, already sore in the land, deepen from 
 scarcity into starvation. A pleasant programme truly, and 
 considerably altered from that one dreamily sketched out for 
 himself and Maud so short a year agone — ah, me ! 
 
 He wrote to his agents, desiring them to sell or ship the 
 clip at their discretion, and to pour the proceeds into the lap 
 of the Bank of New Holland, so to speak, by the hands of 
 Mr. Mildmay Shrood. From that gentleman he, by and by, 
 received a missive, very soothing and satisfactory, as times 
 went — ■" The wool had been sold very well, and had maintained 
 the high reputation of Gondaree both for quality and con- 
 dition. Mr. Redgrave was empowered to continue to draw 
 upon the bank for expenses, though (he might, perhaps, be 
 pardoned for suggesting, in the present severe financial 
 pressure) the bank trusted that their constituents would use 
 every effort to keep down expenses to the lowest limit con- 
 sistent with efficient working. It was thought by gentlemen 
 of experience that the present xmtoward season would soon 
 break up. In the meanwhile, however, the utmost care and 
 caution were necessary to prevent loss and depreciation of 
 valuable securities." 
 
 "All this is very reassuring," said Jack, grimly, to himself, 
 as he marked the allusion to the securities — doubtless now 
 regarded as the property of the bank, or something nearly 
 akin. " However, we are not quite sold up yet, and if the 
 season would change and a little rally come to pass in the 
 market we might snap our fingers at the men of mortgage 
 yet. There is a chance still, I believe. The wool fetched 
 the best price on the river ; everything will depend upon the 
 season, and how we get through the summer." 
 
 When poor Tom Hood once wrote that the " summer had 
 set in with its usual severity," little thought the great 
 humorist that he was describing the sad simple earnest of 
 the far land, to him a terra incognita. 
 
 All places have their " hard season '' — that portion of the 
 year when the ordinary operation of the weather has power 
 to inflict the greatest amount of damage upon dwellers or 
 producers. In one country it is winter, which is the foe of 
 man with unkind frosts, cruel snow-storms, hurtling blasts, 
 or dark and dreary days. In another land it is the hurricane 
 season, when every vessel goes down at anchor, or is lifted 
 
188 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 high and dry over bar and beach, when the town totters above 
 the shrinking inhabitants, and when, perchance, the more aw- 
 ful earthquake gapes for the wretches whom the great tempest 
 has spared. But in Australia, more especially in that great 
 interior system of sea-like plains, where for hundreds of 
 miles the level is unbroken, and where, doubtless, at no very 
 distant period the surges of ocean resounded, the hard season 
 there is the summer, more particularly the periodically recur- 
 ring oppression of a dry summer following a dry winter. In 
 that land, where the brief spring is a joy and a luxury only too 
 transient, where the winter is a time of rejoicing — mild, fair, 
 verdant — where autumn is the crown and utter perfection of 
 sublunary weather, the sole terror is of the slow, unnatural, 
 gradual desiccation which — as in the olden Pharaoh days — 
 eats up every green herb, and, if protracted, metamorphoses 
 plain and forest and watercourse into similitudes of the 
 " valley of dry bones." 
 
 Such has happened aforetime in the history of Australia. 
 Such may, at the expiration of any aqueous cycle, happen 
 again. 
 
 A term of dread was apparently settling down upon the 
 land when John Redgrave resolved to stay at home the 
 summer-time through. Such were the prospects which con- 
 fronted him as he rode from paddock to paddock, among the 
 tens of thousands of sheep, and watched from day to day the 
 pasturage shrivel up and disappear ; the water retire into 
 the bosom of the sun-baked earth. 
 
 The days were long, even dreary, and as the summer wore 
 on they seemed longer and niore dreary still. Hot, glaring, 
 breezeless — there was no change, no relief — apparently no 
 hope. There was no sign of distress among the Gondaree 
 flocks. In that well-watered, well-pastured, well-fenced, and 
 subdivided station the stock scarcely felt the pressure of the 
 death-like season which was decimating the flocks in less- 
 favoured localities. But everything that was heard, said, or 
 thought of in that melancholy time tended to depression and 
 despair. " This man had lost ten thousand sheep, having 
 made too late a start for the back country, and been unable 
 to reach water from the intervening desert. They — fine, 
 strong, half-fat wethers — had gone mad with thirst — ob- 
 stinately refused to stir — as is the manner of sheep in their 
 
XVI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 189 
 
 extremity, and had perished to the last one. Then some one 
 had sold three thousand weaners for ninepeuce a head, a 
 well-grown lot too." 
 
 As the panic and the season acted and reacted upon one 
 another, by the time the summer had passed, and the 
 autumn and the cold nights, but still dry, stern, merciless 
 as the summer, had come, the value of stock and stations 
 had come to be nominal. 
 
 People of imaginative temperaments began to ask them- 
 selves whether they could have been sane when they in cool 
 blood set down 20,000 sheep and a station as value for 
 £20,000 or £25,000. Had such prices been actually paid 1 
 
 Yes, actually paid 1 Not in golden sovereigns, perhaps, 
 but in good cheques upon perfectly solvent bank accounts, 
 and in bills of exchange, which were legally strong enough 
 to extract the last penny of their value from him whose 
 name was written under the talismanic word "accepted." 
 The money had been there, doubtless ; and now it seemed 
 as if it had turned into withered leaves, like the fairy gold 
 in the old legends. 
 
 So mused Jack on liis daily rounds, as wearily he rode 
 day after day, often on a weak and tired horse, for grass 
 was none, and hay and corn were considerably dearer than 
 loaf sugar ; or when he lighted his pipe at night, and sat 
 staring at the stars, while M'Nab wrote up his accounts, 
 and generally bore himself as if droughts were merely pass- 
 ing obstacles to the prosperity which must eventually attend 
 the proprietor of well- classed sheep and a fenced-in run. 
 
 The famine year dragged on. Long will that season be 
 remembered throughout the length and breadth of the great 
 island-continent. Its history was written in the hearts of 
 ruined men — in the dangerously-tasked minds of many a 
 proprietor whom " luck and pluck " carried through the 
 ordeal. Still the drought grasped with unrelenting gripe 
 the enfeebled flocks — the thirst-maddened and desperate 
 herds. The great merchants of the land were begin- 
 ning to grow accustomed to the sound of the terrible 
 word "bankruptcy." All bank shares had fallen, and 
 were falling, to prices which showed the usual cowardly 
 distrust of the public in the time of trial. Eumour began 
 to be busy with the names of more than one bank, inolud- 
 
190 THE SQUATTER'S DEEAM : [chap. 
 
 ing the Bank of New Holland, which had, it was asserted, 
 made stupendous advances to the squatters. " Hadn't they 
 lent old Captain Blockstrop a quarter of a million, and even 
 that wouldn't do ? Every day the directors met, old Billy 
 used to talk to the manager in much the same tone of voice 
 that he had been accustomed to use to his first mate, and 
 demand ten, twenty, or thirty thousand pounds, as the case 
 might be. ' I must have it, Mr. Shrood,' the old man 
 would roar out, ' if I'm to carry on, or else, sir, the house 
 of WiUiam Blockstrop and Co. will have the shutters up to- 
 morrow morning.' And be got the money of course." 
 
 " And suppose he didn't get it ? " might remark an in- 
 quiring bystander, innocent of the mighty system of 
 involuted financial machinery. 
 
 " Not get it ! " would Croker, or Downemouth, fianewra 
 informed in all the monetary diplomacy of the day, say — 
 " Do you suppose that bank can afford to let old Blockstrop 
 drop ? No, sir ; rotten as the commercial and pastoral 
 interests are, they know better than to cut their own 
 throats just yet. Other fellows may have to sell their 
 sheep for half-a-crown a head, and take to billiard-marking, 
 or ' pies all hot,' for all the bank cares ; but once you're in 
 like old Blockstrop they can^t let you go." 
 
 Autumn passed over, winter commenced — that is, the 
 month of June arrived. The rain seemed as far off as ever. 
 One day Jack smiled grimly as he observed the anachronism 
 of a tolerably smart bush-fire, which was burning away 
 merrily, not the grass, good wot, but the dried forest leaves 
 which lay inches deep on the bare bosom of the tranced and 
 death-like earth. 
 
 Up to this time hope had prevailed among the sore dis- 
 heartened stock-owners that the weather must change. It 
 would be unnatural, impossible, that such a season could last 
 over the next three months. There would be some rain, and 
 even a little rain in that strange country, where most of 
 the trees and shrubs are edible and even fattening for stock, 
 counts for much. Were it to last for three months more 
 millions of sheep and hundreds of thousands of cattle' would 
 be lying dead on the bare, dusty, wind-swept, wastes, which 
 had formerly been considered to be pastures. 
 
 Could this thing be ? The old colonists shook their heads. 
 
XVI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 191 
 
 They remembered 1837-38-39 — during which memorable 
 years but little rain fell, when flour was £100 per ton, when 
 rice even was too expensive for consumption, when more than 
 half of the handful of stock then in New South "Wales 
 perished for lack of food. With the present heavily-stocked 
 runs what manner of desolation might be expected now t 
 
 In the midst of this " horror of a great tempest — when 
 men's hearts were failing them for fear " — John Redgrave 
 received this letter, lying innocently, unguis in herhd, 
 among the ordinary contents of his Monday morning's mail- 
 bag:— 
 
 " Bank of New Holiand, 
 
 " June 30th, 1868. 
 "John Redgrave, Esq., Gondaree, Warroo. 
 " My dear Sir, — I have been instructed by the Board of 
 Directors to draw your attention to the amount of your over- 
 draft, amounting, at date, with interest, to .£30,114 12s. 9d., 
 which I am to request that you will reduce at your earliest 
 convenience. 
 
 " I remain, 
 
 " Yours faithfully, 
 
 " MiLDMAY Shrood." 
 
 Jack's face turned nearly as white as when he fell fainting 
 at the Juandah gate. He set his teeth hard as he crushed 
 the fateful missive in his hand ; and leaning back, growled 
 out a savage oath, such as seldom passed his lips. " This 
 was to be the end, then, of all his hopes, and plans, and work, 
 exUe, and anxiety. To be sold up now, in the very vortex of 
 the unabated panic, in the worst month of the year, in the 
 most depressing period of the worst drought that had been 
 known for thirty years ! No warning, no hint of such an 
 impending stroke. The sword of Damocles had been 
 suspended financially above his head, in his daily musings, 
 in his nightly dreams, for many a month. But strong in 
 sanguine anticipation of a change in the season, in a rise of 
 the market, he had become accustomed to its presence. It 
 had come to be as harmless as a punkah ; and now — it had 
 fallen, keen, deadly, inevitable, full upon his defenceless 
 head." 
 
 Por he knew his position to be utterly hopeless. " Reduce 
 
192 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 his overdraft ! " What a world of irony lay in the request ! 
 Even could he sell without the consent of the hank — to 
 which abstraction every sheep, lamb, and fleece was mort- 
 gaged — how was he to realize, when best fat sheep were sell- 
 ing under five shillings, and ewes, as well-bred and classed as 
 his own, were offering in any number at half a-crown a head, 
 and unsaleable at that ] God in heaven ! he was a ruined 
 man — not in the sense of those whom he had known in mer- 
 cantile life, who seemed in some wonderful fashion to fail, and 
 come forth again with personal belongings hardly curtailed 
 to ordinary observation, but really, utterly, tangibly ruined — 
 left without home, or household goods, or opportunity to 
 commence afresh. A beggar and a byword for rashness, extra- 
 vagance, utter want of discretion, purpose, energy, what not. 
 Who has not heard the chorus of cant which swells and 
 surges round a fallen man 1 M'Nab was away ; he would tell 
 him the news next day. Meanwhile, he must go to town and 
 see what could be done. Matters might be arranged some- 
 how, though of what the "somehow" was to be composed 
 he had not the faintest conception, even after a night cap 
 wherein the proportion of " battle-axe " was not very closely 
 calculated — " To bed, to bed, to bed ! " Banquo, his 
 ghost, did not more effectually murder sleep than in 
 Jack's case did the delicate, deadly caligraphy of Mildmay 
 Shrood. 
 
 On the morrow he told M'Nab what had happened, and 
 betook himself on horseback to thC' stage which the mail 
 could reach on the following day, choosing the distraction of 
 a long ride rather than the slow torture of a whole day's 
 waiting. 
 
 M'Nab was moved, though not altogether surprised, at 
 the intelligence. He knew that the interest must have been 
 running up upon the bank account, when all was necessarily 
 going out and nothing, since the clip of wool, coming ini He 
 held as firmly as ever to his opinion that stock and stations 
 must rise again after a time. The ship would right herself, 
 though water-logged and dipping bows under with every sea. 
 The thing was to know how long the storm would rage. He 
 cautioned Jack to be cool and cautious in his dealing with the 
 bank, and at whatever cost to procure further accommodation 
 — ^time being the all- important matter in such a season. 
 
XVI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 193 
 
 Three days' rain would send up the value of all stock fifty 
 per cent, at least, to rise another cent, per cent, within the 
 year. 
 
 ****** 
 
 John Redgrave reached Melbourne after a journey over 
 five hundred miles of a 'country which, in all but the 
 essential features of camels and Arabs, would seem to have 
 been translated bodily from the great desert of Sahara. 
 Nor leaf, nor grass, reed nor rush relieved the bare, dusty, 
 red-brown wastes. The stations, deserted by their travelling 
 stock, looked as if built by a past generation of lunatics 
 upon a " waste land, where no one comes or hath come since 
 the making of the world." 
 
 From time to time columns of dust, moving cloud-pillars, 
 met or passed them on their way, the abodes of evil Genii, 
 as the Bedouins told. Evil spirits were abroad, doubtless 
 Jack thought, in sufficient numbers. The land looked as if 
 not only there never had been any herbage whatever, but, 
 from the total absence of the roots, as if there could by no 
 possibility be any in the future. The mail horses were worn 
 and feeble, threatening to leave them stranded in the midst 
 of some endless plain. At the mail-station, no fresh animals 
 being forthcoming, it seemed as if their journey must then 
 and there end, or be performed on foot. But the driver, a 
 man of resources, lounged over to the pound, and seeing 
 therein two comparatively plump nags, one of which had 
 certainly worn harness, set up a claim, and promptly 
 released them upon payment of sustenance fees. With these 
 equivocal steeds the journey was prosecuted to the railway 
 terminus, and once more, after nearly two years' absence, Mr. 
 Eedgrave found himself in the great city which has grown 
 up in little more than a generation. 
 
 Pleasant would have been the change from the lone waste, 
 in process of change into a charnel-house, but for the great 
 overshadowing dread which dwelt with John Eedgrave day 
 by day. The fresh breezes of ocean fanned his bronzed cheek, 
 but awoke not, as of old, the joyous pulsations of a heart 
 free to respond to every tone of the grand harmony of 
 Nature. The slave who feels at every step the galling of 
 his heavy chain thanks not God for the blue sky, or the 
 
194 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 song of the soaring bird ; and he who is the thrice fettered 
 bond-slave of Debt bears a spirit steeled against all softening 
 and ennobling influences. 
 
 Some transient gleams of the joy of new sensation and old 
 friendship were permitted even to his hopeless condition. 
 But even amid the welcome and the talk of old associates 
 there ran depressing announcements. 
 
 " Times were incredibly bad. As for stock, no one would 
 take them at a gift. Wool was down, lower than for years, 
 and (of course) never would rise again. Hugh Brass was 
 gone. Estate in liquidation. The Marsalays, Moreland, 
 ditto ; Heaven only knew for what amount — not that it 
 mattered much, in these days, whether a man stopped for 
 one hundred thousand or three. Fellow went one day to 
 bank-manager, and actually wanted advances on a good run 
 and twenty thousand sheep. Manager, new appointment, 
 inquired if he had omy other liabilities ? Shut him up, rather. 
 Times' changed, eh, old boy ? " 
 
 Jack admitted that they were— indeed ! 
 
 The day after his arrival. Jack hied him to the portals of 
 the enchanted castle, at which he had so confidently blown 
 the horn in the days of careless youth. Changed, alas ! was 
 the Knight ; dimmed was his armour ; hacked his morion ; and 
 shorn the waving plume that had nodded to the breeze. 
 After entering the antechamber he was compelled to wait. 
 That purgatorial apartment was tenanted by an elderly man 
 of the squatter persuasion, as Jack could see at a glance. 
 He, doubtless, was awaiting his turn in the folter-hammer, 
 and by the fixed and anxious look of the worn face his 
 anticipations were strongly tinged with evU. A different 
 species of pioneer this from Jack, from Stangrove, from 
 Hugh Brass, from Tunstall. He was more akin to the 
 Euggie M'Alister type. His sinewy hand and weather- 
 beaten frame were those of a man who by long years of 
 every kind of toil, risk, and privation had buUt up a modest 
 property — a home and a competency — no more. He was 
 the father of a family, possibly with boys at school receiving 
 a better education than their parent, a brood of merry girls 
 disciplined by a much-enduring governess. There would be 
 an ancient orchard at such a man's homestead — no doubt it 
 
XVI.] A STORY OP AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 195 
 
 was in or near the settled districts — and a large " careless- 
 ordered " flower-garden in which the masses of bloom com- 
 pensated in picturesqueness and splendour for lack of 
 neatness. Jack could have sworn he had only incurred debt 
 by compulsion to buy a few thousand acres immediately 
 round his house, when the free-selectors came swarming over 
 the flats he had discovered in old dangerous days, and ridden 
 over as his own, winter and summer, for twenty years. He 
 had trusted (so he told Jack) to a good season or two pulling 
 him through, whereas now, the strong man's voice trembled 
 as he said — 
 
 " If they sell me up, I shall have to go out a beggar. 
 Yes, a beggar, sir, after thirty years' work. I could bear it, 
 very like ; but my wife and the children. Great God ! what 
 will become of us ? " 
 
 Out of the inner room came a plump, well-shaven towns- 
 man. He was evidently in good spirits ; he hummed a tune, 
 rubbed his hands, looked benevolently at Jack and the older 
 bushman, and passed forth into the atrium. He was a 
 stockbroker ; his paper was all right till the fourth of next 
 month. What could man wish for more % It was an eternity 
 of safety. What changes in the market might take place 
 by that time ! He lit a cigar, looked at his watch, and 
 lounging over to the cafe, ordered a somewhat luxurious 
 lunch, to which, and to a bottle of iced moselle, he did full 
 and deliberate justice. About the time when the broker had 
 finished his soup, and was dallying with his amontillado, 
 the door of the bank sanctum opened, and forth walked, or 
 rather staggered, the pioneer squatter, with clenched teeth 
 and features so ghastly in their expression of hopeless woe 
 that Jack involuntarily rushed to his aid, as to a man about 
 to fall down in a fit. The old man looked at him with eyes 
 so awful in their despair that he shuddered — his lips moved, 
 but no sound came from them. Waving his hand, with a 
 gesture as deprecating remark, the unhappy man, like one 
 in his sleep, passed on. 
 
 Jack walked in with a quick, resolute step, and an ap- 
 pearance of composure he was far from feeling, and saluted 
 the man of doom. 
 
 There was a flavour of bygone cordiality in Mr. Shrood's 
 
 9 » 
 
196 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 greeting, but his face instantly assumed an expression of 
 decorous gravity, mingled with the stern resolution of irre- 
 sponsible power. Jack at once crossed swords, so to speak, 
 by producing the fatal letter. " I received this from you 
 a week since, Mr. Shrood. What am I to understand 
 from it?" 
 
 Before this momentous interview proceeds fiirther we 
 may let our readers into a secret which was necessarily 
 hidden from John Redgrave and the outside world — as the 
 discussions of the terrible conclave preceding the dread 
 fiat at the Vehmegericht. 
 
 The bank directors had held a general meeting, with the 
 president in the chair, having in view the circumstances of 
 the country and the securities and liabilities of the bank. 
 Among those present were some of the best financial intel- 
 ligences of the day, men of ripe experience, keen calcula- 
 tion, and sound logical habit of mind. Many were the pros 
 and cons. There was some difference of opinion as to the 
 mode of operation ; none whatever as to the fact of the 
 danger of the position. One of the oldest directors had 
 opened the proceedings. He asserted^that never before in 
 the history of the colony had the indebtedness of all classes 
 of constituents been so large. It had coincided with an 
 altogether unparalleled period of financial loss and' depres- 
 sion in England — he might add, in Europe ; and, with a 
 heavy fall in the price of wool, stock, and stations, a war 
 of stupendous magnitude in the new world had not been 
 without effect upon previous monetary relations. From all 
 these causes had the great pastoral interest of Australia 
 suffered, and the suffering was more intensified by the 
 operation of a drought, still unbroken, and of a severity 
 unknown for thirty years. He felt the deepest sympathy 
 for the pastoral interest, for the gentlemen who had invested 
 their capital — he might almost say their lives — in these 
 mighty and fascinating adventures. He trusted he might 
 not be accused of sentimentaHsm — ^but the pastoral tenants 
 had paid in health, strength, and all the powers of manhood, 
 to the credit of this account, and spent their blood freely in 
 its support. 
 
 He knew that the liability of the bank connected with the 
 
XVI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 197 
 
 indebtedness of this class of constituents — was very great. 
 But so, likewise, were tlie resources of their old, stable, and 
 securely-founded establishment. The squatters had, on the 
 whole, been their best, their most solvent customers. Let all 
 be helped now, in their hour of need, except those who were 
 manifestly unreliable, incapable, or too deeply involved. A 
 favourable change might take place within the year. If so, 
 the bank would always receive the praise of having stood firm 
 in danger, and having helped to save from ruin a deserving, 
 an honourable, and an indispensable class of producers. Here 
 Mr. Oakleigh paused, and a murmur as nearly resembling 
 approbation as could be expected to emanate from the august 
 assembly, came from the listeners. One would have concluded 
 that the advocate of mercy and continuous accommodation 
 had carried his point. But a still more reverend senior, no 
 other than the president himself, during the debate, left 
 his place with the deliberation of age, and, adjusting his 
 spectacles, thus spoke : 
 
 "He had listened with great pleasure to the lucid statement 
 of facts presented to the Board by their friend and valued 
 director, Mr. Oakleigh. His suggestions did him honour. 
 They might congratulate themselves upon the possession of 
 such an intellect, so high a tone of feeHng, in their council. 
 But,"and here the speaker changed his position, and inserted 
 one hand into his ample white waistcoat, " he must be par- 
 doned for representing to gentlemen present that the laws 
 which governed sound banking institutions, such as their own, 
 did not admit of consideration for individuals or for classes 
 of constituents, however deserving of sympathy. The logic 
 of banking was inexorable. Economic laws were unvarying ; 
 they had stood the test of years, of generations. By them, 
 and them only, could he consent to be governed." Here he 
 applied himself to his snuff-box, and proceeded. " It would be 
 clearly apparent to all now present that the liabilities of the 
 bank were unusually large ; they were daily increasing. The 
 reserve fund was being seriously, he might say dangerously, 
 lowered. If such a course were persevered with, in the 
 present state of the money market, but one result could be 
 looked for. The credit of the bank would be endangered ; even 
 worse might f oUow, to which he would not at present allude. 
 
198 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM ; [chap. 
 
 Such being the case, and it could not in his opinion be denied, 
 ■what was their plain, undoubted, inevitable course of action t 
 He had had many years of experience as a merchant, and as 
 director and president of the Bank of New Holland, which 
 latter position he had had the honour to hold for a term 
 exceeding the lifetime of some present. From the teaching 
 of these long and chequered years, not unmarked by financial 
 tempests, such as they were now contending with, he submitted 
 his opinion, which was fixed and unalterable. The bank must 
 close all pastoral accounts under a certain a/mount. They 
 must .realize upon such securities promptly, and without 
 respect to persons. It would be for the directors to fix the 
 sums, but obviously the larger accounts must be called in. 
 But this course, once decided upon, must be inflexibly ad- 
 hered to. Cases of great individual hardship would occur; 
 it was unavoidable in the operation of all such acts of policy. 
 No one, speaking as an individual, felt more deeply such con- 
 sequences of a protective policy than he himself. But he 
 would remind gentlemen present that they owed a justice to 
 families of shareholders in the bank, rather than what might 
 be considered mercy to those who had assumed a voluntary 
 indebtedness. The action he had indicated comprehended 
 safety to the bank, to the shareholders, and to the more 
 important constituents. Temporizing would, in his opinion, 
 involve the bank and all concerned in eventual ruin." 
 
 The president took off his spectacles, wiped them carefully 
 with a spotless handkerchief, and sat solemnly down. His 
 arguments were felt to be incontrovertible. His great age, 
 his long experience, his unfailing success in the management 
 of all affairs with which, for half a century, he had been 
 connected, his high character, added weight to his arguments, 
 of themselves not easily to be controverted. But little more 
 was said, and that chiefly in a conversational manner. Before 
 the Board separated, a motion was carried that the manager 
 be instructed to close all pastoral accounts under thirty- five 
 thousand pounds. In the event of non-payment to realize 
 upon securities without delay. 
 
 Such had been the preliminary debate— such had been 
 the bill before the oligarchs of the Council of Currency- — the 
 potentates who coerce kings and resist nations, who render 
 
XVI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 199 
 
 war possible or truce compulsory — with wliom peace and 
 prosperity or " blood and iron " are matters of exchange. 
 
 Such was the court, such the gravely-debated proposition, 
 such the irreversible verdict arrived at, before Jack reached 
 Melbourne. All " unconscious of his doom," though full of 
 intuitive dread, did he then demand of Mr. Mildmay Shrood 
 what he was to understand by the letter he had received. 
 That gentleman might have saved many words, and some 
 anxiety to his interlocutor, by simply replying " Ruin ! ? " — ■ 
 but an answer so laconic would not have justified the reputa- 
 tion for politeness which the manager of the Bank of New 
 Holland, in common with managers of banks generally 
 deservedly held. 
 
 He used no insincerity when he answered that it gave 
 him much pain to be compelled to state that the bank 
 felt it necessary to call upon him to reduce, or indeed, to 
 extinguish his liability to them without delay. 
 
 "And, if I am unable — ^in the teeth of this detestable 
 season and this infernal panic, which the London money- 
 mongers seem to have got up on purpose to take away our last 
 chance, what then ? " demanded Jack, commencing to boU 
 over. 
 
 " I must again express my unfeigned regret," said Mr. 
 Shrood, " but I cannot disguise from you that the bank will 
 at once realize upon the security which it holds for your 
 advances." 
 
 " In plain words, your bank, without warning of any kind, 
 demands a very large sum of money, advanced during several 
 years, and sells me up without mercy, in the midst of a grass 
 famine and a money famine." 
 
 " I am afraid, though you put it strongly, and perhaps 
 not altogether fairly as regards the bank, that your view of 
 their action as regards yourself is correct." 
 
 " And can you talk of fairness ? " said Jack with quiver- 
 ing lip and blazing eyes, as he stood up and faced the 
 calm, decorous man of business. " Was I not led to imagine 
 when this money was advanced with such apparent 
 willingness, that I should have time, accommodation, all 
 reasonable assistance if required, for the repayment ? All the 
 money has been faithfully invested in stock and permanent 
 
200 THE SQUATTER'S DEEAM ; [chap. 
 
 improvements. No run in the country, at this moment, is 
 in better order or more cheaply managed. Can any one say 
 that I have been extravagant in my personal expenses ? It is 
 hard — devilish hard — and unfair to boot." 
 
 Mr. Shrood was quite of the same opinion. He was a man 
 of kindly though disciplined impulses, and what men call " a 
 good fellow," underneath his armour of caution and ofGicial 
 reserve. He did not intend to explain the policy of the bank. 
 It was his to obey, and not to criticize, though within certain 
 well-defined limits he had much discretionary power. But 
 he had always liked Jack, and was as sorry as he could afford 
 to be, with so many unpleasantnesses of similar character to 
 deal with, for his gravitation towards the bad, which he 
 doubted could not be arrested. 
 
 Stm, he thought he would make one effort with the 
 directors in favour of John Eedgrave, whose property he 
 knew was thoroughly good of its kind, and whose particular 
 case he felt to be one of " real distress." 
 
 " I can but reiterate my expressions of regret, my dear 
 Mr. Eedgrave," returned he ; " nothing but the extreme, 
 the unprecedented financial disorganization could have led 
 the bank authorities to countenance so harshly restrictive a 
 policy. I cannot speak of it in any other terms. But I will 
 make a special effort to obtain further accommodation for 
 you, though I do not advise you to rest any great hope upon 
 a favourable response. On Wednesday the Board sits again. 
 If you will call on Monday morning next, I will inform you 
 of their ultimatum." 
 
 Jack thanked the banker from his heart, and went forth to 
 spend two or three days after a rather less melancholy fashion. 
 We know that John Redgrave was so enthusiastic a votary 
 of the present that, unless that genius was manifestly over- 
 shadowed by the awful future, he was apt to cry ruthlessly 
 — " Stay, for thou art fair." 
 
 So he ate of the unaccustomed, and drank of the choice, 
 and otherwise solaced himself, carrying a good hope of the 
 success of Mr. Mildmay Shrood's intercession, the prestige 
 of which he overrated sadly, until Monday morning. 
 
 His heart commenced to register a low tide of electricity — 
 dark doubts, akin to despair, began to throng and rise ; there 
 
XVI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 201 
 
 was " a whisper of wings in tlie air," altogether non-angelic, 
 as he stood once more in the presence of MUdmay Shrood, and 
 of — Fate. One look at the fixed expression of the features of 
 the manager was sufficient to settle the question of concession. 
 All hope and expectation died out of Jack's heart. He 
 nerved himself for the blow. 
 
 " I regret more deeply than I can express " com- 
 menced Mr. Shrood. 
 
 " It is not worth while to go on," interrupted Jack. " I 
 believe that you have tried to do what you could for me, 
 and I thank you sincerely for it. The question is now, 
 what time can I have to make arrangements with another 
 bank, or a mercantile firm, to carry me on — if such an 
 unlikely thing comes to pass ? " 
 
 " The bank will take no action for one month — so much 
 I can guarantee ; at the end of that period no further 
 cheque will be paid, and the bank will sell or take possession 
 of the stock and station, as mortgaged to them." 
 " What about current expenses ? " 
 
 " They will be paid as usual — if not exceeding ordinary 
 amounts." 
 
 "Well, thank God," said Jack, "my people, the few 
 there are of them, are paid up. I shall not have to trouble 
 you for much. I wish you good morning." 
 
 The banker walked over to him, and looked full in the 
 face of the man who was going forth, as he believed, to 
 utter, inevitable ruin. He knew that only by a miracle 
 could any one obtain assistance in the present state of 
 finance. All the other banks, all the great mercantile 
 squatting houses, bankers themselves in all but name, had 
 been throwing over dead weight, dropping small, doubtful, 
 or not vitally necessary accounts, for months past. 
 
 John Redgrave's quest would be that of a drowning man 
 who solicits the inmates of dangerously laden boats, in the 
 worst possible weather, out of sight of land, to have pity 
 upon him and to risk their lives, manifestly for his sake. 
 He might not encounter the precipitate phraseology of the 
 British tar, but a crack with an oar-blade would, metaphori- 
 cally, represent his reception. 
 
 Mr. Shrood was not, of course, any more than the officer 
 
202 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 of any other service, likely to divulge the inner workings of 
 official action ; but he ^v^ung Jack's hand with an emphasis 
 not all conventional, as he wished him success, and bade 
 him a genuine farewell. 
 
 "It is precious hard upon that young fellow, I must 
 say," said he, half aloud. "I really did not think I could 
 be so unbusinesslike as to flurry myself about a single 
 account, with the half-yearly balance coming on too. It 
 must be rear lunch-time." 
 
 Mr. Mildmay Shrood opened an inner baize-embellished 
 door, and disappeared into a long passage, which led to his 
 private suite of apartments. He then and there threw 
 himself into a game of romps with his daughters, aged six 
 and eight years respectively, and informed his wife that 
 there would be a flower-show on the following Saturday, to 
 which, if nothing materially affecting his health, or the 
 weather, took place in the interval, he intended to have the 
 honour of escorting her. 
 
 Mrs. Shrood expressed her high approval of this an- 
 nouncement, and at the same time stated her opinion that 
 he looked rather fagged, asked if the affairs of the bank 
 were going on well, and if he would like a glass of sherry. 
 
 " What bank, my dear ? Yes, thank you ; the brown 
 sherry, if you please. What bank do you allude to ? " 
 
 "Nonsense, Mildmay ! Why, our bank, of course." 
 
 " Madam," replied the husband gravely, draining the 
 glass of sherry with zest and approbation, " I have before 
 had the honour to remark to you that, once inside that door, 
 I know of the existence of mo bank, either in New Holland or 
 New Caledonia. And further, O partner of my cares and 
 shares — I was about to say — but suppose we say Paris 
 bonnets, dtpropos of one that's just come in, unless, madam, 
 you wish to come and see me periodically at Gladesville, 
 you will not mingle my private life, in any way or form, 
 with my existence in that other place." 
 
 Here Mr. Shrood, who had in his earlier days been a 
 staunch theatre-goer, waved his wine glass, and, putting 
 himself in the attitude of " first robber," scowled furiously 
 at his wife. 
 
 That sensible matron first threw her arms round his 
 
XVI.] A STOEY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 203 
 
 neck, and told him not to be a goose, and then, after 
 arranging her ruff, rang the bell for lunch, to which Mr. 
 Shrood, having by this time, like a wise man, got Jack's 
 stony face and gloomy eyes out of his thoughts, did reason- 
 able justice. 
 
 Mr. Redgrave, with his customary hopefulness, recovered 
 from the first misery of his position sufficiently to go about 
 to all likely places, and to test the money-market most 
 exhaustively, as to the accommodation needed for a squatter 
 with an undeniable property and a heavy mortgage. His 
 agents, Drawe and Backwell, were first applied to. They 
 had nothing to learn, as his relations with them had 
 always been of a confidential nature, since the old, the good 
 old days of Marshmead. They had always given him good 
 advice, which he did not always want, and money, which 
 he always did. They had always helped him to the limit 
 of safety, and would have, done anything in reason for him 
 now ; but, like many others, they were not able. Their 
 capital and reserve fund were strained to the fullest extent. 
 Times and the seasons were so bad that no one without the 
 resources of the Count of Monte Christo, combined with 
 the business talents of a Eothschild, could have done the 
 pastoral community much good in that year. They had a 
 smoke over it in the back office ; but nothing, in the shape 
 of relief, was found to be practicable. 
 
 " You see, old fellow," said Backwell, who, as old squatter 
 himself, understood every move in the game, " we could 
 find four or five thousand pounds for you, but what good 
 would that be ? You would have to sell twenty thousand of 
 your best sheep to meet the acceptances, and, of course, 
 the bank won't stand your reducing the stock much. Then 
 — though that would have been a good payment to account 
 a year or two back — they won't thank you for it now. 
 They want the whole of their advances to you, and less 
 won't do. There are plenty more in the same boat. People 
 say they are shaky themselves. They have some fearfully 
 heavy accounts — old Blockstrop and others — we all know. 
 They can't afford to show any mercy, and they won't. 
 What stock will come to, unless the drought breaks up, no 
 man can say. We are not what I should call a very solvent 
 
204 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM. [en. xvi 
 
 firm at present ; and so I tell you. They must have some 
 fellows to sell stock, you know, or we should have a note 
 to settle our little account in quick sticks. Let me drive you 
 out to St. Ninian's to-night, and we'll have a taste of the 
 sea-breeze, and look at Drawe's dahlias ; they're all he has 
 to live for now, he says." 
 
CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 " But dreary though the moments fleet, 
 let me think we yet shall meet."~Burn3. 
 
 Jack came back next morning rather " picked-up " after 
 Mrs. Backwell's kindly talk, and Drawe's dahlias, and a 
 stroll by the " loud-soundiag sea," which looked to him as 
 if it belonged in its glory and freshness to another world 
 which he should soon quit and never revisit. He was suffi- 
 ciently invigorated to try all the banks — the Denominational , 
 the London Bartered, the Polynesian, the Irish, Welsh, and 
 Cornish, the Occidental, the Alexandra, the United, and so 
 on. It was of no avail. At the majority he was informed 
 that the bank was not prepared to take up fresh squatting 
 accounts at present. At some he was requested to call after 
 the next Board day ; but the answer, varied and euphemized, 
 was "No," in all cases. Then he tried the mercantile firms, 
 the old-standing English or Australian houses, which, in spite 
 of the assumed supposed American domination in all thiiigs 
 in the colony of Victoria, had held the lead, and kept their 
 pride of place since the pre-a\iriferous days. With them, 
 and the great wool-dealing firms, the same answer only 
 could be obtained. They would advance anything in reason 
 upon the coming clip, or on any given number of sheep, at 
 market rates ; but, as to " taking-up " a fresh account of 
 that magnitude, they were " not prepared." 
 
 Tired out, disappointed, and disheartened, Jack left town, 
 after writing a brief note to Mr. Shrood, intimating that the 
 bank might sell Gondaree as soon as that remorseless corpora- 
 tion pleased. He recommended Messrs. Drawe and Backwell 
 
206 THE SQUATTER'S DEEAM : [chap. 
 
 as auctioneers ; they knew the property well, and would 
 probably get as much for it as any other firm. 
 
 Then was the wearisome return journey commenced. In 
 former days there had always been some glimmer of hope or 
 expectation wherewith to gild the excessive neutral tints of 
 the landscape. Now there was no hope, and the expectation 
 was evil. He would have likened himself to an Indian chief 
 going back to deliver himself up to the torture. At Gondaree 
 was the stake to which he would have to be attached on 
 arrival. The fire would be lighted, and the roasting would 
 begin and continue till he should receive the coup de 
 grdce, by being tacitly directed to leave his own station, 
 and go forth into the wilderness — a beggar and a broken 
 
 M'Nab did not ask many questions ; it was not his wont 
 except when he wished to lower the spirits of an owner of 
 store sheep, with a view to a slight concession in price. 
 But he gathered from Jack's visage and listless air that no 
 success of any kind had attended his efforts. 
 
 " Gondaree is to be sold," said he, with the recklessness of 
 despair, " some time next month. You will soon see an 
 advertisement headed ' Magnificent salt-bush property on 
 the Warroo,' and so on." 
 
 " And ye were unable to get any assistance from the 
 bank i " 
 
 " No more than brandy and soda out of an iceberg," re- 
 sponded Jack, helping himself to the first-named restorative. 
 " Whether they want money, and have to recoup themselves 
 out of us poor devils, I don't know. But you would think 
 that other than cash payments had been unknown since 
 Magna Charta. Shall have to carry our coin in leather bags 
 soon." 
 
 "Ay, that's bad, very bad! I didn't realize things 
 would be just that bad. Surely the banks might have just 
 a trifle of discrimination ; if Gondaree is sold now, they're 
 just making some one a present of thirty thousand pounds 
 out of your pocket." 
 
 " I am much of your way of thinking, M'Nab ; I am just 
 as sure as that we shall see the sun to-morrow that I am going 
 
xvii.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 207 
 
 to be sold ofE at the edge of a rising market. It's hard — 
 too hard ; but a man's life, more or less, can't matter." 
 
 " Could you not have sold half, and held on with the rest "i " 
 suggested M'Nab, still restlessly cogitating every conceivable 
 scheme. "The place could divide first-rate opposite the 
 Point. If you had sent me down, I'll warrant I would have 
 knocked up a deal, or a put-off, in some fashion." 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder if you had," assented Jack. " I 
 ought to have sent you down with a power of attorney — only 
 that one has a mistaken preference for mismanaging one's 
 own affairs. Well, it can't be helped now. Cursed be the 
 stock and station. Cursed be the whole concern." 
 
 Jack was fully a week at home before he could nerve 
 himself for the inevitable last visit to Juandah — his farewell 
 to Maud Stangrove. It was a cruel word ; it would be a 
 bitter parting ; but he must tell her in his own speech that 
 his fate had but suffered him to win her heart, had but lured 
 him to the contemplation of the unutterable happiness that 
 should have been theirs, to drop the veil for ever, to shatter 
 the goblet in which the draught had foamed and sparkled 
 with unearthly brilliancy. 
 
 He had thought once that perhaps, pledged as they were 
 to each other, a mutual understanding to await the events of 
 the next few years might have still existed between them. 
 But he cast out the tempting idea, with even added bitterness, 
 as he thought of the lots of other men and other women 
 whom he had often pitied and despised. 
 
 What, he told himself, could compensate her for the long 
 weary years of waiting and watching, the gradual extinction 
 of youth in form, in mind, in soul, to be repaid, after youth 
 had passed by, with a sombre union, which poverty should 
 divest of all grace, joy, and romance. No — they must part 
 — and for ever ! Maud, with her youth and beauty, would 
 soon find a mate more worthy than he of the treasure of 
 her love. He, with all his faults, was not the man to drag 
 those light footsteps into the mire of poverty and obscurity. 
 As for him, he wotild carve out fame and another fortune 
 for himself — or fill a nameless grave. 
 
 Juandah was suffering, Hke all the rest of the country 
 from the withering drought, which still denied water to the 
 
208 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 dusty fissures, verdure to the earth, and had apparently 
 closed up the windows of heaven. Still there was a look of 
 homely comfort about the place, which showed the garrison 
 to be trusty and bold — fierce though the siege had been, and 
 close the blockade. 
 
 " Come in, old fellow, and we'll see if we can find you 
 something to eat," called out Mark Stangrove, who, with a 
 very old shooting-coat on, had just ridden in on a very lean 
 steed, and with a general air of having finished a hard day's 
 work. " I'm not very sure of it. Maud and the missus have 
 been very hard set of late — no eggs, no butter, little milk, no 
 vegetables, indifferent meat, and a great flavour of rice in all 
 the dishes. I've been pulHng weak sheep out of a water-hole 
 all day. Pleasant work and inspiriting." 
 
 Jack walked in, and it was fully explained to him by the 
 unspoken kindness of the ladies of the house that they knew 
 pretty well the measure of his misfortune. Somehow, one is 
 not always sufficiently grateful for the delicate and generous 
 consideration that one meets with in time of trouble. It is 
 like the deference accorded when people are too sick, or too oldi 
 or too generally incompetent to enter into active competition 
 with the talents of the world militant. It is kindly meant, 
 but there is a savour of accusation of weakness. So John 
 Redgrave felt partly grateful, and partly savage with himself, 
 at being in a condition to be morally " poor-deared " by Maud 
 and her sister. All his life, up to this time, he had been from 
 earliest boyhood as one in authority. He had said, since he 
 could recollect, " to this man, go here," and so on. Now 
 was it to be that he should have to descend from his pride of 
 place, to suffer pity, to endure subordination, to live as the 
 lowly in spirit and in fortune ? With the suddenness of 
 the levin-bolt it would sometimes flash across him that 
 such might be his doom. And with the thought would 
 come a passionate resolve to end his fast-falling, narrowing 
 existence, ere it were swept away amid the melancholy and 
 ignoble circumstances which had terminated other men's 
 lives. 
 
 It may have been gathered from these and other faithful 
 impressions of the inner workings of John Redgrave's mind, 
 that, though a careless, kindly, easy-going species of person- 
 
XVII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 209 
 
 age, he was naturally and unconsciously proud. To his pride 
 was just now added the demon of sullen obstinacy. 
 
 He was unable, however, after a few moments, to with- 
 stand the influence of the unaffected kindness and sym- 
 pathy of his friends. When he looked at the two women, 
 and remarked that they looked pale and careworn, as 
 having had privations of their own to bear in this most 
 miserable season, he hated himself for having entertained 
 any selfish feeling. 
 
 " You have come back from your travels," said Maud ; 
 " it seems to me that you are always going and returning. 
 I always have envied you your wanderings." 
 
 " I am afraid I have come to the stage when I shall go — ■ 
 but, in the words of the Highland Lament, ' return nae 
 mair,' " answered he, sadly. 
 
 " You mustn't talk like that," said Mrs. Stangrove. 
 " People who, like us, have lived so long in this country, 
 know all about the ups and downs of squatting. Why 
 shouldn't you begin again, like others, and do better with a 
 second venture than the first ? Look at Mr. Upham, Mr. 
 Peenix, and Cheerboys Brothers ; they have all been ruined, 
 at least once, and how thriving they are now." 
 
 " I hope to show my friends, and the world too, my dear 
 Mrs. Stangrove," said Jack, standing up and squaring his 
 broad shoulders, " that one fall has not taken all the fight 
 out of me. But it is an uphill game, and I may, Uke many 
 a better man, find the odds too heavy. But, whatever 
 happens, you may believe that I shall not forget my friends 
 at Juandah, who have proved themselves such in my hour 
 of need." 
 
 " I have heard," at length Maud said, in low faltering 
 tones, " that people in — in their dark hours — and we all 
 have them at some time of our lives— should walk by the 
 counsel of their friends if they know them to be good and 
 true. We are too apt to be led by our own wayward 
 spirits, and sorrow warps our better judgment. I know 
 Mark will be glad to give you his best advice. And oh ! 
 do — do talk matters over with him. He is cool, and sure 
 judging, and is seldom mistaken in his course." 
 
 Mrs. Stangrove had slipped out "on household work 
 intent." 
 
210 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [ohap. 
 
 " Maud," he said, " dearest, loveliest, best-beloved, why has 
 fortune, so kind though unsought for many a year, deserted 
 me now, when for the first time in my life I had prized her 
 with a miser's joy for your dear sake, and for yours alone ? 
 My heart wiU break — is broken — at the thought of leaving 
 you. But " 
 
 " Why should you leave us — me, if you will have it so ?" 
 interrupted she passionately ; " stay with us for a time till 
 your wound be healed, as in the first dear time when I 
 nursed you, and knew the joy of lightening your weary 
 hours and soothing all your pain. Do you think mine a 
 fair-weather love, given in assurance of ease, and pleasure, 
 and fairy summer-time — or did I yield my heart to be 
 yours in weal or woe ? You dishonour me by an implied 
 mistrust — and yourself by such faint-hearted fears of the 
 future." 
 
 She had risen, and laid her hand on his shoulder as she 
 spoke with all the aroused magnetic energy of tender, yet 
 impetuous womanhood, ere yet experience has quenched the 
 open trust of youth, or sorrow smirched the faint delicate 
 hues of beauty. 
 
 " Promise me that you wiU talk yoiu" plans over with 
 Mark. And oh ! if you would but follow his advice." 
 
 Jack groaned aloud, but his face was set unyieldingly, as 
 he took her hand in both of his, and looked pityingly and 
 mournfully in the sweet pale face, and loving, tear- 
 brightened eyes. 
 
 " My darling, my darling," he said, hoarsely, "it cannot 
 be. I must tread my path alone. For good or for evil, I 
 will confront my fate sole and unfriended, and either make 
 a name and another fortune, or add mine to the corses on 
 life's battle-field. If I live and prosper I will return to my 
 love. But here I release her from the pain and the lowli- 
 ness of a life linked to so ill-starred a destiny as that of 
 John Redgrave." 
 
 ****** 
 
 The evening was not dreary. Mark and his wife exerted 
 themselves to dispel the gloom that threatened to enshroud 
 the little party. Maud was again outwardly calm and self- 
 possessed, as women often are, in the supreme hours of life. 
 
XVII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 211 
 
 Jack exhibited the recklessness of despair, and appeared to 
 have dismissed from his mind the misery of his position. 
 Stangrove recounted the many shifts and contrivances ren- 
 dered necessary by the exigencies of the season. 
 
 "Did you ever taste milk, old feUow," he said, " distiUed 
 chiefly from water-lilies ? I assure you our two melancholy 
 milkers have consumed no other food for weeks. There is 
 not, of course, a particle of grass, or so much as an unstripped 
 salt-bush or cotton-bush for miles. Well, the big lagoon 
 (quite a lake it looks in winter) has not dried up yet. You 
 may see the cows standing up to their backs in it all day 
 long. Even the lihes are not on the surface. An occasional 
 flower is all that they get there, but from time to time you 
 may notice one of the amphibious creatures put her head 
 deeply under water like a diving duck, and raise it after a 
 longish interval, filled with a great trailing bunch of roots 
 and esculent filaments. Great idea, isn't it ? I wonder how 
 long they would take to Darwinize into webbed feet and a 
 beaver ly breadth of tail." 
 
 " They manage to Uve, and give us milk besides, on this 
 blanc-mange, or whatever it is," said Mrs. Stangrove. " I 
 don't know what the poor children would have done but for 
 these submarine plantations." 
 
 "My dear old Mameluke has copied their idea, then," 
 joined in Maud, with a brave attempt at light converse, which 
 ended in a flickering, piteous smile ; " for I saw him in the 
 cows' water party yesterday, with very httle but his head 
 visible. He has lost all the hair from his knees down, either 
 from the leeches or the water." 
 
 " We are living in strange times," remarked Jack ; " it is 
 a pity we can't get a few hints from the blacks, who must 
 have seen all the dry seasons since Captain Cook. What 
 have you done with all your sheep, Mark ? " 
 
 " We are eating the few that are left," said Mark. 
 
 "And very bad they are," interposed Mrs. Stangrove. 
 " We are aU so tired of mutton, that I shall never like it 
 again as long as I live." 
 
 " The beef would be worse, if we had any," resumed Mark. 
 " The sheep are just eatable, though I agree as to the indiffer- 
 ent quaUty. All the flocks are in the mountains in charge 
 of mv working overseer, old Hardbake, as well as the cattle. 
 •^ p 2 
 
212 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 Here is the last letter : ' The sheep is all weU, and the wool 
 will be right if so be as you get rain by the time the snow 
 falls here. "We must cut and run then for fear of hacoi- 
 dence. The cattle is pore but lively. Send some more 
 baccy. Yours, to command, Gregory Hardbake.' Curious 
 scrawl, isn't it ? " 
 
 The ladies having retired, Mark Stangrove and his guest 
 adjourned to the veranda for the customary talaks parlemeni, 
 and for some time smoked silently under the influence of 
 the glorious southern night. All was still save the faint 
 but clearly-heard ripple of the stream, and the low, sighing, 
 rhythmical murmur of the river oaks. Cloudless was the 
 sky ; the broad silver moon hung in mid firmament, with 
 splendour undimmed, save by a wide translucent halo — in 
 happier times suggestive of raia. In this hopeless season, 
 the denizens of the Warroo had learned by sad experience 
 to distrust this and all other ordinary phenomena. 
 
 " Glorious night," said Mark at length, breaking the long 
 silence, " but how infinitely we should prefer the wildest 
 weather that ever frightened a man to his prayers ! Strange, 
 how comparative is even one's pleasure in the beauty of 
 nature, and how dependent upon its squaring with our 
 humble daily needs. When I read such a passage as — ' the 
 storm beat mercilessly in the faces of the wayfarers, with 
 heavy driving showers,' &c. — when the author has exhausted 
 himself in this endeavour to elicit your sympathy for the 
 unlucky hero and heroine — I feel madly envious, which I 
 take it is not the feeUhg intended to be produced. So you 
 are going to clear out, old feUow, for good and all ? You 
 know, I am sure, how sorry we all are. "Will you pardon 
 me if I ask what, your plans are for the future ? " 
 
 " I have no plans," answered Jack. " I shall make a fresh 
 start as soon as I am sold up. I must do as other shipwrecked 
 men, I suppose — go before the mast, or take a third-mate's 
 berth, and work up to a fresh command — if it's in me." 
 
 " That's aU very well in its way. I admire pluck and inde- 
 pendence ; but without capital it's a long, weary business." 
 
 " How have the other men fared ? " demanded Jack. " I 
 am not the first who has been left without a shilling, but 
 with health, strength, and — weU — some part of one's youth 
 remaining, it is a disgrace to such a man, in this country 
 
XVII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 213 
 
 above all others, to lie down or whine for assistance at the 
 first defeat." 
 
 " Granted, my dear fellow ; though I confess I take your 
 proposition to apply more strictly to the labourer proper 
 than to him who starts weighted with the name and habits 
 of a gentleman. There is no track open to him that he 
 could not travel with tenfold greater speed with the aid of 
 capital to clear the way." 
 
 " That I cannot have without laying myself under obliga- 
 tions to friends or relatives, and nothing would induce me 
 to ask or accept such help," quoth Jack, with unwonted 
 sternness. " I have lost a fortune and the best years of 
 my life — as I believe by no fault of my own. I will regain 
 it, as I have lost it, without help from living man ; or the 
 destiay which has robbed me of all that makes life worth 
 having may take a worthless life also." 
 
 " It strikes me that you are hardly just, not to say 
 generous," rejoined Mark, " to speak of your life as entirely 
 worthless ; but I am not going to preach, old fellow, to a 
 man in your hurt and wounded state. I have been near 
 enough to it myself to understand your chief bitternesses. 
 Now listen to me, like a good fellow, as if I were your 
 elder brother or somebody in the paternal line. You know 
 I am a heap of years older, besides having the advantage of 
 being a spectator, and a very friendly one, of your game." 
 
 Jack nodded an affirmative, while Stangrove, refilling his 
 pipe, sent forth a contemplative cloud and recommenced : 
 
 "When a man is ruined — and I have seen a whole dis- 
 trict cleared out in one year before now — one thing, almost 
 the chief thing, he has to guard against is, a wild desire 
 springing -mainly from mortification, wounded pride, and a 
 kind of reactionary despair, to get away from the scene of 
 his disaster and from his previous occupation, whatever it 
 may be. Now this feeling is perfectly natural. All the 
 same it should not be indulged. "When a man has done 
 nothing worse than the unsuccessfxil, he should calmly re- 
 view his position, and above all take the advice of his 
 friends. If he have plenty of them — as you have — he may 
 rest assured that their verdict as to his plans and prospects 
 is far more likely to be correct than his own. "When he 
 disagrees with the whole jury of them, he generally is in 
 
214 THE SQUATTER'S DEEAM : [chap. 
 
 tlie position of the proverbial person who found eleven most 
 obstinate jurymen entirely opposed to his way of thinking." 
 
 " But surely a man must know his own capacity, and can 
 gauge the measure of his own powers more correctly than 
 any number of friends," pleaded Jack. 
 
 " I am not sure of that. I believe in several heads being 
 better than one, especially where the latter has just come 
 out of the thick of the conflict, and has not escaped with- 
 out a hard knock or two. To pursue my lecture on adversity 
 — don't take it so seriously, Redgrave, or I must stop. A 
 good fellow, with staunch friends, is invariably helped to 
 one fresh start, often to two. So you may look upon it as 
 a settled thing. Sheep are cruelly low now " 
 
 " "What ! begin with another sheep station, and a small 
 one ? " interrupted Jack. " Let me die first." 
 
 "There, again, allow me to differ with you, and to state 
 another peculiarity of misadventure. A fellow always insists 
 upon changing his stock. A cattle-man takes to sheep, 
 after a knock-down, and vice versd. Whereas, it is just the 
 thing he should not do. He knows, or fancies he knows, 
 all the expenses and drawbacks of one division of stock 
 farming ; of the peculiar troubles of the other he is ignorant, 
 and so over-estimates the advantages. By this shuttle- 
 cocking, he abandons one sort when their turn for profit is 
 at hand, and generally gets well launched into the other as 
 their turn is departing. Besides, all the accumulation of 
 experience — a fair capital in itself — is thus wasted." 
 
 " Hang experience," swore Jack, with peculiar bitter- 
 ness ; " it's the light that illumines the ship's wake, as some 
 unlucky beggar like me must have said ; and which leaves 
 the look-out as dim as ever." 
 
 " You persist in doing yourself injustice," continued his 
 patient friend ; " everybody will concede that you have had 
 very hard luck ; you have lost by one fluke — you may get 
 your revenge by another, if you have the wherewithal to put 
 on the card ; not otherwise though. As I said before, sheep 
 are down to nothing — at that painful price you are com- 
 pelled to sell. Why not buy some other fellow's place at 
 the same flgure 1 When the tide rises, as it surely will, you 
 will float into deep water with the rest of them." 
 
 " What do you fancy the real value of runs to be ? " 
 
XVII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 215 
 
 " From six to ten shillings for sheep and stations, accord- 
 ing to quality, not a halfpenny more." Jack could not 
 repress a groan. " Well, with five thousand pounds you 
 ought to be able to buy a good property with twenty 
 thousand sheep — half cash, half at two years." 
 
 " Where's the money to come from ? " demanded Jack, 
 from the depths of his beard. 
 
 " My dear fellow," Stangrove said, getting up and walk- 
 ing over to him, " you don't think me such a beast as to 
 have bored you all this time if I had not intended to act 
 as well as talk. I will find the money ; you know I have 
 always been a screwing, saving kind of chap. You can 
 relieve your conscience by giving me a second mortgage till 
 you pay up." 
 
 Jack grasped the hand of his entertainer till the strong 
 man half flinched from the crushing pressure. 
 
 " You are a good fellow, true friend, and worthy to be 
 the brother of the sweetest girl that ever gladdened a man's 
 heart. But I cannot accept your offer, noble and self- 
 sacrificing as it is. I am an unlucky devU ; I have no faith 
 in my future fortune ; and I will not be base enough to 
 run the risk of dragging down others into the pit of my 
 own poverty and wretchedness." 
 
 " But, my dear fellow, hear reason ; don't decide hastily. 
 You don't know to what you are, perhaps, condemning 
 yourself, and — others besides yourself." 
 
 " It is because I am, considering others," answered Jack, 
 as he stood up and looked, half pleadingly, at the silver 
 moon, the sUent stars, the clear heavens, the wonder and 
 majesty of night, as who should strive to win an answer 
 from an oracle. " It is for the sake of others, for the sake 
 of her, that I reject your ofEer. I should only blend your 
 ruin with my own — foredoomed, it may be, like much else 
 that happens in this melancholy, mysterious life of ours. 
 And now, God bless you. I will start early. I could not 
 say farewell to Maud. Tell her my words, and — to forget me." 
 
 The two men grasped each other's hands silently, and 
 without other speech each went to his own apartment. 
 
 Before sunrise Jack left an uneasy pillow, and, dressing 
 hastily, walked quietly out of the house, and into the horse- 
 paddock, or an enclosure so designated, which in former 
 
216 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap, 
 
 days had contained adequate nutriment for all inmates. He 
 found his attenuated steed, and caught him without much 
 difficulty. The unlucky animal was standing by a box tree, 
 staring vacantly upwards, and refreshing himself from 
 time to time with a vigorous bite at the bark, which he 
 chewed with evident relish. Saddling up at the stable, he 
 walked towards the outer sliprails, intending to avoid the 
 dismounting at that rude substitute for a gate, about 
 which he had often rallied Mark. He had just concluded 
 the taking down and replacing of these antiquated entrance- 
 bars, and, with an audible sigh, was about to mount, when 
 he saw Maud coming along the short-cut footpath from the 
 house, which led to the garden gate. She waved her hand. 
 He had no choice — no wish, but to stop. She was his love. 
 She was before his eyes once again. He had tried to spare 
 her — ^perhaps himself. But it was not to be. 
 
 She came swiftly up this dusty path, in the clear warm 
 morning light, her hair catching a gleam of the level sun, 
 her cheek faintly tinted with a sudden glow, her lips apart, 
 her eyes burning bright. She looked at him, for one 
 moment, with the honest tenderness of a woman, pure from 
 the suspicion of coquetry — loving, and not ashamed though 
 the world should witness her love. 
 
 " John," she said, in a tone of soft, yet deep reproach, 
 " were you going away, for ever perhaps, and without a 
 word of farewell? " 
 
 " Was it not better so ? " he murmured, taking her hand 
 in both of his, and looking into her eyes with mingled 
 gloom and passion, as though he had been Leonora's lover, 
 doubting, pitying, yet compelled to bid her forth to the 
 midnight journey on the phantom steed. 
 
 " Better ! why should it be better ? " said she, with a 
 wild terror in her voice and looks. " Have you no pity for 
 yourseK — for me — that you despise the advice of your best 
 friends, and insist upon dooming yourself to poverty and 
 obscurity 1 I knew Mark was going to speak to you, and 
 he told me that he would help — like a good fellow as he is 
 — you or — us — why should I falter with the word? — to 
 make a new commencement. Why, why are you so proud, 
 so unyielding, so unwiUing to sacrifice your pride for my 
 sake ? You cannot care for me ! " 
 
XVII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 217 
 
 Here the excited girl flung herself forward, as if she 
 would have humbled herself in the dust before him, while a 
 storm of sobs shook her bosom, and caused her whole form 
 to tremble as if in an ague fit. 
 
 Jack raised her tenderly in his arms, and, pouring forth 
 every name of love, strove to soothe and pacify her. 
 
 " Darling," he said, " have pity upon me, and trust me a 
 little also. All that a man should do would I do for your 
 dear sake ; and if I do not at once consent to accept Mark's 
 generous offer, or that of any friend for the present, why will 
 you not let me try my chance, single-handed, with fortune, 
 like another 1 When the Knight returns to his Ladye-love 
 after such a combat, is he not doubly welcome, doubly dear ? 
 Why should you insist upon my being defended from the 
 rude blasts of adversity, as if I were unable to prove myself 
 a man among men? " 
 
 " You deceive yourself," she said, in sad, serene accents ; 
 " you will not yield yourself to the counsels of those who are 
 cool and prudent. Will you not let me tell you that, though 
 you are the dearest, greatest of mortal men in my eyes, I do 
 not think prudence is a marked gift of yours ? " 
 
 " You are a saucy girl," he said, as she smiled sadly through 
 her tears ; " but you are only telling me what I knew before. 
 Still, but for imprudence, or what the world calls such, con- 
 quests and splendid discoveries would never have been made. 
 I have something of the ' conquestador ' in me. It must have 
 space and opportunity for a year or two, or I shall die." 
 
 " Will you make me one promise before you go ? " said 
 she, looking earnestly into his face, " and I can then wait — ■ 
 for, trust me, I shall wait for you till I die — with a heart 
 less hopelessly despairing." 
 
 " I wUl, if 
 
 " Then promise me this — that if, in two years, you have 
 not succeeded, as you expect, you will return to me, and will 
 not then refuse Mark's proffered aid." 
 
 He hesitated. 
 
 " Think this," she said, as she raised herself slightly on 
 tiptoe, and whispered in his ear. " It is my life that I am 
 asking of you ; I feel it. If you love your pride — yourself 
 more " 
 
 " I promise," he said hastily. " I promise before God, if iu 
 
218 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [oh. xvii. 
 
 two years I have made no progress, I will return and bow 
 myself at your feet. You shall deal with me as you list." 
 
 Their lips were pressed convulsively together in one linger- 
 ing kiss. Then she released herself with mute despair. 
 
 She stood for one moment gazing upon him with all the 
 ardour of her love and truth shining out of her wondrous, 
 eyes. Her face became deadly pale. Its whole expression 
 gradually changed to one unutterably mournful and despair- 
 ing. Then, turning, she walked slowly, steadily, and without 
 once turning her head, along the homeward path. Jack 
 watched her till she passed through the garden gate and 
 entered the veranda. Mounting his horse, he rode along the 
 river road at a pace more in accordance with the condition 
 of his emotions than the condition of his hackney. 
 
CHAPTEK XVIII. 
 
 " Fickle fortane has deceived me : 
 She promised fair, and performed but ill." — Burns. 
 
 Events were following in quick succession across John 
 Redgrave's life, like the presentments of a magic lantern ; 
 and it seemed to him at times with a like unreality. But 
 reason, in hours of compulsory attention, proved with cold 
 logic that they were only too harshly true. 
 
 A little while, as he could not help owning to himself, 
 and he would be driven forth from the Eden of " the poten- 
 tiality of wealth " and luxury, into the outer world of dreary 
 fact, poverty, and labour. Fast sped the melancholy, aim- 
 less, half-anxious, half-despairing days, following upon the 
 advertisement which took all the pastoral and commercial 
 world into his confidence, and stamped him with the stigma 
 of failure. Thus, one fine day, a stranger, a shrewd-looking 
 personage, redolent of capital, from his felt wide-awake to 
 his substantial boots, arrived by the mail, and presented 
 the credentials which announced him a Mr. Bagemall 
 (Bagemall Brothers and Holdfast) and the purchaser of 
 Gondaree. It was even so. That " well-known, fattening 
 run, highly improved, fenced and subdivided, with 65,794 
 well-bred, carefully-culled sheep, regularly supplied with 
 the most fashionable Mudgee blood, the last two clips of 
 wool having averaged two shillings and ninepence per lb.," 
 &c., &c., as per advertisement, had been sold publicly, Messrs. 
 Drawe and Backwell auctioneers. Sold, and for what price t 
 Eor eight shillings and threepence per head, half cash and 
 half approved bills at short dates ! 
 
 Well, he had hoped nothing better. In the teeth of 
 such a season, such a panic, such a general loosening of the 
 
220 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 foundations alike of pastoral and commercial systems, what 
 else was to be expected as the proceeds of a forced sale, with 
 terms equal to cash ? The murder was out. The hazard 
 had been played and lost — let the stakes at least be handed 
 over with equanimity. 
 
 So Mr. Bagemall was received with all proper hospitality, 
 and courteously entreated, he being apparently bent more 
 upon the refreshment and restoration of the inner man, 
 after a toilsome and eventful journey, than upon informa- 
 tion regarding his purchase. He made no inquiries, but 
 smoked his pipe and enjoyed his dinner, talking in a cheery 
 and non-committal manner about the state of politics, and 
 the last European news by the mail. He went early to bed, 
 pleading urgent want of a night's rest, and postponed the 
 serious part of the visit until the morrow. 
 
 When the morning meal and the morning pipe had been 
 satisfactorily disposed of, he displayed a willingness, but no 
 haste, to commence business. 
 
 " I suppose we may as well take a look round the place, 
 Mr. Redgrave," said he; "everything looks well in a general 
 way; nothing like fencing to stand a bad season. Monstrous 
 pity to put such a property in the market just now. Can't 
 think what the banks are about. Sure to be a change for 
 the better soon, unless rain has ceased to form part of the 
 Australian climate, and then we shall aU be in the same 
 boat." 
 
 "I shouldn't have sold if I could have helped it, you 
 may be sure," answered Jack; "but the thing is done, 
 and it's no use thinking about it. The sooner it's over 
 the better." 
 
 "Just as you please — just as you please,'' said the 
 stranger. " You will oblige me by considering me in the 
 light of a guest during my short stay. I must go back 
 the end of the week. I don't know that I need do any- 
 thing but count the sheep, in which our friend here 
 (turning to M'Nab) perhaps will help me. Everything 
 being given in, I sha'n't bother myself or you by inspect- 
 ing the station plant. The wash-pen and shed speak for 
 themselves." 
 
 " Thank you very much," said Jack ; " delivering over a 
 sta.tion is generally a nuisance, especially as to the smaller 
 
XVIII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 221 
 
 matters. I remember being at Yillaree, when Knipstone 
 was giving delivery to old M'Tavish. They had been 
 squabbling awfully about every pot and kettle and frying- 
 pan, all of which Knipstone had carefully entered — some of 
 them twice over. To complete the inventory he produced 
 a brass candlestick, saying airily, ' The other one is on the 
 storetable.' 'Bring it here, then, you rascal,' roared M'Tavish. 
 ' I wouldn't take your word for a box of matches.' " 
 
 " The purchase-money was somewhere about eighty thou- 
 sand pounds," remarked Bagemall, who seemed to remember 
 what every station had brought for the last ten years. " A 
 paltry fifty pounds couldn't have mattered much one way 
 or the other." 
 
 The next morning the counting began in earnest. A 
 couple of thousand four-tooth wethers had been put in the 
 drafting yard, for some reason or other, and with this lot 
 they made a commencement. 'Now, except to the initiated, 
 this counting of sheep is a bewUdering, all but impossible 
 matter. The hurdle or gate, as the case may be, is partially 
 opened and egress permitted in a degree proportioned to the 
 supposed talent of the enumerator. If he be slow, inex- 
 perienced, and therefore diffident, a small opening suffices, 
 through which only a couple of sheep can run at a time. 
 Then he begins — ^two, four, six, eight, and so on, up to 
 twenty. After he gets well into his tens he probably makes 
 some slight miscalculation, and while he is mentally de- 
 bating whether forty-two or fifty-two be right, three sheep 
 rush out together, the additional one in wild eagerness 
 jumping on to the back of one of the others, and then 
 sprawling, feet up, in front of the gate. The unhappy 
 wight says "sixty" to himself, and, looking doubtfully at 
 the continuous stream of animals, falls hopelessly in arrear 
 and gives up. In such a case the sheep have to be re-yarded, 
 or he has to trust implicitly to the honour of the person in 
 charge, who vddens the gate, lets the sheep rush out higgledy- 
 piggledy, as it seems to the tyro, and keeps calling out 
 "hundred" — "hundred" with wonderful and almost sus- 
 picious rapidity. Yet, in such a case, there will rarely be 
 one sheep wrong, more or less, in five thoiisand. Thus, 
 when arrived at the yard, M'Nab looked inquiringly at the 
 stranger, and took hold of one end of the hurdle. 
 
222 THE SQUATTEK'S DREAM : [char 
 
 " Throw it down and let 'em rip," said Mr. Bagem'all. 
 "You and I wUl count, and Mr. Redgrave will perhaps 
 keep tally." 
 
 Keeping tally, it may be explained, is the notation of 
 the hundreds, by pencil or notched stick, the counter being 
 supposed only to concern himself with the units and 
 tens. 
 
 M'Nab, who was an unrivalled counter, relaxed his 
 features, as recognizing a kindred spirit, and, as the sheep 
 came tearing and tumbling out, after the fashion of strong, 
 hearty, paddocked wethers, he placed his hands in his 
 pockets and reeled off the hundreds, as did Mr. Bagemall, 
 in no time. The operation was soon over. They agreed in 
 the odd number to a sheep. And M'Nab further remarked 
 that Mr. Bagemall was one of those gifted persons who, 
 by a successive motion of the fingers of both hands, was 
 enabled (quite as a matter of form) to check the tally- 
 keeper as well. Paddock after paddock was duly mustered, 
 driven through their respective gates, and counted back. 
 In a couple of days the operation, combined with the 
 inspection of the whole run, was concluded. 
 
 Sitting in the veranda after a longish day's work, all 
 smoking, and Jack looking regretfully at his garden, which, 
 small and insignificant compared with the exuberant planta- 
 tion of Marshmead, was very creditable for the Warroo, 
 and indeed was just about to make some small repayment 
 for labour in the way of fruit, Mr. Bagemall remarked — 
 
 "I didn't know you had any blacks about the place. 
 Does this lot belong here 1 " 
 
 " It must be old man Jack and his family," answered 
 M'Nab. "I have been wondering what had become of 
 them for ever so long. I heard Wildduck was very ill. 
 Yes, this is our tribe, sir ; not a very alarming one, but all 
 that brandy and ball-cartridge have left." 
 
 " What has the old fellow got on his back 1 " inquired Mr. 
 BagemaU ; "the men carry nothing if they can help it." 
 
 " Poor Wildduck," said Jack, half to himself, " I had 
 forgotten all about her of late, with the allowable selfish- 
 ness of misfortune. By Jove ! it's she that the old man is 
 carrying. She must be ill indeed." 
 
 The old savage, followed by his aged wives at humble 
 
XVIII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 223 
 
 distance, marched on in a stately and solemn manner, until 
 he reached a mound near the garden gate. Here the little 
 procession halted ; one of the gins placed an opossum rug 
 upon the earth, and upon this the old man, with great care 
 and tenderness, placed the wasted form of the girl Wild- 
 duck. She it was, apparently in the last stage of con- 
 sumption, as her hollow cheeks testified, and the altered 
 face, now lighted by eyes of unnatural size, brilliant with 
 the fire of death. The three men walked over. 
 
 " Ah, Misser Redgrave," said she, while a dreamy smile 
 passed over her wan countenance, " stockman say you sell 
 Gondaree and go away. Old man Jack carry me from 
 Bimbalong — me must say good-bye." Here a frightful fit 
 of coughing prevented further speech, while the old man 
 and the gins made expressive pantomime, in acquiescence, 
 and then, seating themselves around, took out sharp-edged 
 flints, and, scooping a preliminary gash on their faces, pre- 
 pared for a " good cry." Strangely soon blood and tears 
 were flowing in comnungled streams adown their swart 
 countenances. "Wildduck lay gasping upon her rug, and 
 from time to time sobbed out her share of the lament for 
 the kind white man who was about to leave their country. 
 
 Jack leaned over the ghastly and shrunken form of what 
 had once been the agile and frolicsome Wildduck. The 
 dying girl — for such unquestionably she was — looked up in 
 his face, with death-gleaming and earnest gaze. 
 
 " You yan away from Gondaree, Misser Redgrave? " she 
 gasped out. " No come back ? " 
 
 Jack nodded in assent. 
 
 " Me yan away too," she continued ; " Kahngeree close 
 up die, me thinkum ; that one grog killum, and too much 
 big one cough, like it white fellow. You tell Miss Maudie, 
 I good girl long time." 
 
 " Poor Wildduck," said Jack, genuinely moved by the 
 sad spectacle of the poor victim to civilization. "Miss 
 Maudie will be very sorry to hear about you. Can't you 
 get down to Juandah 1 I'm sure she would take care of 
 you." 
 
 " Too far that one place, now. Me going to die here. 
 Old man Jack bury me at Bimbalong. My mother sit down 
 there, long o' waterhole — where you see that big coubah 
 
224 THE SQUATTEK'S DREAM: [chap. 
 
 tree. Misser Redgrave ! " she said, with sudden earnestness, 
 trying to raise herself ; " you tell me one thing ? " 
 
 " What is it, my poor girl ? " 
 
 " You tell me " — here she gazed imploringly at him, with 
 a look of dread and doubt piteous to mark in her uplifted 
 face — •" where you think I go when I die ? " 
 
 " Go ! " answered Jack, rather confused by this direct 
 appeal to his assumed superior knowledge of the future. 
 " Why, to heaven, I believe, Wildduck. We shall all go 
 there, I hope, some day." 
 
 " I see Miss Maudie there ; she go, I know. You go too ; 
 you always kind to poor black fellow." 
 
 " I hope and trust we shall all go there some day, if 
 we're good," said he, unconsciously recalling his good 
 mother's early assurances on that head. " Didn't Miss 
 Maudie tell you so." 
 
 " Miss Maudie tell me about white man's God — teach me 
 prayer every night — say, ' Our Father.' You think God 
 care about poor black girl 1" 
 
 " Yes, I do ; you belong to Him, Wildduck, just the 
 same as white girl. You say prayer to Him. He take 
 care of you, same as Miss Maudie tell you." 
 
 " She tell me she very sorry for poor black girl. She 
 say, why you drink brandy, Wildduck ? that wicked. So 
 me try — no use — can't help it. Black fellow all the same 
 »s little child. Big one stupid." 
 
 " White fellow stupid too, Wildduck," said John Red- 
 grave ; " you have been no worse than plenty of others who 
 ought to have known better. But perhaps you won't die 
 after aU." 
 
 " Me die fast enough." Here the merciless cough for a 
 time completely exhausted her. " I believe to-morrow. You 
 think I jump up white fellow ? " 
 
 " I can't say, Wildduck," answered he. " We shall all 
 be very different from what we are now. You had better 
 cover yourself up and go to sleep." 
 
 " I very tired," moaned the girl, feebly ; " long way 
 we come to-day. You tell new gentleman he be kind to old 
 man Jack. You say good-bye to poor Wildduck." Here 
 she held out her attenuated hand. It had been always 
 small and slender, as in many cases are those of the women 
 
XVIII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 225 
 
 of her race. In the days of her health and vigour, Jack 
 had often noticed the curious delicacy of her hands and 
 feet, and speculated on the causes of such conformation 
 among a people all ignorant of shoe and stocking. But 
 now the small brown fingers and transparent palm were 
 like those of a child. He held them in his own for a 
 second, and then said, " Good-night, WUdduck." 
 
 " Good-bye, Misser Redgrave, good-bye. You tell Miss 
 Maudie, perhaps I see her some day, you too, long big one 
 star." Here she pointed to the sky. Her eyes filled with 
 tears. Jack turned away. When he looked again, she had 
 covered her face with the rug. But he could hear her sobs, 
 and a low moaning cry. 
 
 " Strange, and how hard to understand ! " said Jack to 
 himself, as he strode forward in the twilight towards the 
 cottage. " I wonder what the extent of this poor ignorant 
 creature's moral responsibility may be. What opportunities 
 has she had of comprehending her presence on this mysterious 
 earth 1 Save a few lessons from Maud, she has never heard 
 the sacred name except as giving power to a careless oath. 
 As to actual wickedness she is a thousand-fold better than 
 half the white sinners of her own sex. Her sufferings have 
 been short. And perhaps she lies a-dying more happily 
 circumstanced than a pauper in the cold walls of a work- 
 house, or a waif in a stifling room in a back slum of any 
 given city. As far as the children of crime, want, and vice 
 are concerned, all cities are much on a par, whether Austra- 
 lian, European, or otherwise." 
 
 The night was boisterous, yet, mingled with the moaning 
 of the blast, Jack fancied that at midnight he heard a cry, 
 long-drawn, wailing, and more shrUl than the tones of the 
 wind-harp, or the sighing of the bowed forest. 
 
 The pale dawn was still silent, ghostly gray. No herald 
 in roseate tabard had proclaimed the approach of the tyrant 
 sun — lord of that stricken waste — when John Redgrave 
 walked over to the camp. He saw at once, by the attitudes 
 of the group, that they were mourners of the dead. Each 
 sat motionless and mute, gazing with grief -stricken counten- 
 ances towards the fourth fire — in the equally divided space — 
 by which lay a motionless figure, covered from head to foot 
 with furs. He looked at old man Jack, but he moved not a 
 
 Q 
 
226 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 muscle of his disfigured countenance, while in his eyes, 
 fixed with a strong glare, there was no more speculation 
 than in those of the dead. 
 
 The women sat like ebon statues ; down their shrivelled 
 breasts and bony arms the dried rivulets of blood made a 
 ghastly blazonry. Jack knew enough of the customs and 
 ceremonies of this fast-fading people to be aware that no 
 speech, or even gesture, was possible during the two first 
 days of mourning. He walked over and raised the covering 
 from the face of the dead girl. Her features, always delicate 
 and regular (for, though rarely, such types unquestionably 
 do exist among most aboriginal Australian tribes), were 
 composed and peaceful. The closed eyes were fringed with 
 lashes of extraordinary length. The heavy waving locks, 
 rudely combed back, were not without artistic effect. The 
 pallor of death bestowed a fairer hue on the clear brown, 
 not coal-black, skin. The lingering shadow of a smile 
 remained upon the scarcely closed lips, which half recalled 
 the arch expression of the merry forest child, dancing in 
 the sunshine like the swaying leaflets. Now, like them in 
 autimm-death, she was lying on the breast of the great 
 earth-mother. One hand pressed her bosom, in the shut 
 fingers of which was a small cross, hung round the neck by 
 a faded ribbon, which he remembered to have been a present 
 from Maud Stangrove. " He whose word infused with life 
 this ill-starred child of clay will He not recall the parted 
 spirit ? " thought Jack, as he reverently replaced the fur cloak. 
 " God bless her," he said, softly. 
 
 He turned and looked back as he entered his dwelling. 
 There sat the three figures — rigid, sorrow-denoting, motion- 
 less as carvings on a mausoleum. For two days they 
 watched their dead — soundless, sleepless, foodless. Ere the 
 third day broke, the mourners and their charge had dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Gondaree had been sold. The stock and station had been 
 " delivered," in squatting parlance ; the meaning of which is, 
 that the purchaser had satisfied himself that the actual 
 living, wool-bearing sheep coincided in number, sex, age, and 
 quality with the statement of Messrs. Drawe and Backwell. 
 Also that the run comprised about the specified number of 
 
xviii.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 227 
 
 square miles ; that the fences were tangible, and not paper 
 dehneations ; that the wool-shed and wash-pen were not ideal 
 creations of the poet, or that synonymous son of romance, 
 the auctioneer; lastly, that the great Warroo itself was 
 a perennial summer-defying stream, and not a dusty ditch — • 
 a river by courtesy, full-tided only in winter, when every- 
 body has more water than he knows what to do with. In 
 the great pastoral chronicles it is written that serious 
 mistakes as to each and all of these important matters have 
 been made ere now. 
 
 None of these encounters between the real and the pro- 
 bable had occurred with respect to Gondaree. Mr. Bage- 
 mall had expressed himself in terms of unbusinesslike 
 approval of the whole property both to Mr. Redgrave and 
 M'Nab. The run was, in his opinion, first class ; the im- 
 provements judicious and complete ; the stock superior in 
 quality, and in condition really wonderful, considering the 
 season. 
 
 "Nothing the matter, my dear sir," said he to Redgrave, 
 " but want of rain and want of credit. Both of these 
 complaints have become chronic, worse luck. I remember, 
 some years since, when we were nearly cleaned out from the 
 same causes. However, if I had not bought the place, 
 some one else would. I feel ashamed, though, of getting 
 it such a bargain. Fortune of war, you know, and aU that, 
 I suppose. Horses 1 Certainly — not mentioned in terms 
 of sale. But any two of the station-hacks you choose. I 
 suppose you will go in for back blocks. Take my advice, 
 don't be down-hearted. This is the best country that ever 
 was discovered for making fresh starts in life. As long as 
 a man is young and hearty, there are chances under his 
 feet all day long. Think so? Know it. "Why, look at 
 old Captain Woodenwall, turned sixty when he was stumped 
 up ten years ago, and look at him now. Warm man, mem- 
 ber of the Upper House, drives his carriage again. Got 
 every one's good word too. Never give in. NU whatsy- 
 name, as the book says. Good-bye, sir, you have my best 
 wishes. I have made my arrangements with your super- 
 smart fellow, quite my sort, rising man. Sha'n't be here 
 for years, I hope. Good-bye, sir." 
 
 After this somewhat lengthened address, protracted 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 beyond Lis custom, Mr. Bagemall departed by the mail. 
 He had previously entered into an arrangement with 
 M'Nab, continuing to that energetic personage, whose 
 talent for organization he fully appreciated, the sole 
 management of Gondaree. He had furthermore admitted 
 him to a partnership, the estimated value thereof to be 
 "worked out" of future profits. Mr. Bagemall had not 
 now to learn that this was the cheapest and surest way of 
 securing the permanent services and uttermost efforts of a 
 man of exceptional brain and energy, as he very correctly 
 took Alexander M'Nab to be. 
 
 " Well, all is over now," said Jack to his late manager ; 
 "everything seems to be much as it was before — except 
 that Hamlet will be played without the unlucky beggar of 
 a prince. I'm glad Bagemall took you in — he showed his 
 sense ; he's not a bad fellow by any means." 
 
 "I'm glad, and I'm sorry, Mr. Redgrave. It was too 
 good an offer for me to refuse ; but I've saved a couple of 
 thousand pounds, and I had a notion that if you could have 
 raised as much more — which would have been easy enough — 
 I should say we might have gone in together for some back 
 country with a little stock on it. There are lots of places 
 in the market, and it's a grand time for investing. There 
 will never be a better, in my opinion." 
 
 " Thank you very much, old fellow," said Jack, moved by 
 the generosity of his ex-lieutenant, the more so as M'Nab 
 was very careful of his money, all of which he had hardly 
 earned ; " but I intend to make tracks, and go on my path 
 alone. I have hardly settled what I shall do yet. I think 
 I shall travel and look about me for a few months. I am 
 heartily tired of this part of Australia." 
 
 "Better by far nip in now, while the chance is good," 
 argued the shrewd, clear-sighted M'Nab. "Depend upon 
 it, there will be no such opportunities this time next year. 
 The first forty-eight hours' rain will make a difference. All 
 kinds of good medium runs are hawked about now, and if 
 Mr. Bagemall hadn't been so quick I should have been in 
 Collins Street this week with half-a-dozen offers in my 
 pocket. But what I want to say is this — ^there's two thou- 
 sand lying to my credit in the London Bartered. Take my 
 advice, run down to Melbourne and get two or three more 
 
XVIII.] A STOEY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE, 229 
 
 to put to it, and Drawe and Backwell will give you a dozeii 
 runs to pick from. It's heartily at your service. If you 
 don't like tlie saltbush, there's Gippsland, a splendid 
 country, with good store cattle-stations going at three 
 pounds a head." 
 
 John Redgrave grasped the hand of the speaker and wrung 
 it warmly. 
 
 " You're a good fellow, M'Nab," said he, " and you have 
 justified the opinion which I formed of you at the beginning 
 of our acquaintance. I shall always remember you as a 
 true friend, and a much cleverer fellow than myself. I 
 should almost have felt inclined to have gone in with you as 
 managing partner, but I cannot take your or any other 
 friend's money, to run the risk of losing it and self-respect 
 together. It cannot be ; but I thank you heartily all 
 the same." 
 
CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 " Strong is the faith of our youth to pursue 
 The path of its promise." — Frances Brown. 
 
 On the following morning John Redgrave quitted for 
 ever the place in which he had spent five of the best years 
 of his life, all his capital, and, measured by expenditure of 
 emotional force, as much brain-tissue as would have lasted 
 him to the age of Methuselah at quiet, steady-going Marsh- 
 mead. He had packed and labelled his personal belongings, 
 which were to be sent to Melbourne by the wool-drays. 
 They would reach their destination long ere he needed 
 them, doubtless. He mounted his favourite hackney, 
 leading another, upon the saddle of which was strapped 
 a compact valise. The boundary-riders had come in, appar- 
 ently for no reason in particular. But it had leaked out that 
 the master was to clear out for good on that day. They 
 were all about the stable-yard as he came out of the garden 
 gate, attended by M'Nab. 
 
 They made haste to anticipate him, and one of them led 
 out the half -Arab gray, while another held his stirrup, and 
 a third the led horse. 
 
 " We want to say, sir," said the foremost man, " that we are 
 all sorry as things have turned out the way they have. All 
 the country about here feels the same. You've always acted 
 the gentleman to every man in your employ since you've been 
 on the river ; and every man as knows himself respects you 
 for it. We wish you good luck, sir, wherever you go." 
 
 Jack tried to say a word or two, but the words wouldn't 
 come. Something in his throat intercepted speech, much as 
 was the case when he last said good-bye to his mother after 
 the holidays. He shook hands with M'Nab and with the men 
 
en. XIX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 231 
 
 all round. Mounting his horse, and taking the led horse by 
 the lengthened rein, he rode slowly away along the Bimba- 
 long track. The men raised a cheer, he waved his hand in 
 response, and the small world of Gondaree went on much as 
 usual, like the waters of a pond after the widening circles 
 caused by a transient interruption. 
 
 After riding at a foot-pace for an hour. Jack began to 
 press on a little, intending to put a fair day's jom-ney at 
 nightfall between him and his late home. Turning in his 
 saddle for a moment, to take a last look at the well-known 
 landscape, with the winding, dark-hued line of the river 
 timber cutting the sky-line, he saw that he was followed by 
 the dog ' Help.' This astute quadruped, who, as Jack was 
 wont to assert, " knew in a general way as much as other 
 folks," had evidently considered the question of his master's 
 departure, and had adopted his line of action. Aware from 
 experience that if he exhibited an intention to go anywhere, 
 or do anything, not comprehended in instructions connected 
 with sheep, he was liable to be chained up till further orders, 
 he had taken good care to keep out of the way at Jack's 
 leave-taking. His master had no intention of taking him 
 with him, but had wished to pat him for the last time, and 
 great whistling and calHng had taken place in consequence. 
 "But Gelert was not there." 
 
 As the dog, therefore, upon Jack's discovering him, came 
 sidling forward, wagging his tail apologetically, and bearing 
 in his honest eyes an expression partly of joy and partly of 
 confession of wrong-doing. Jack felt a sensation of satisfaction 
 more considerable than some people would have thought the 
 occasion warranted. 
 
 " So you've come after me, you old rascal," said he — upon 
 which Help, divining that he was forgiven, set up a joyous 
 bark, and careered wildly over the plain. " Do you know 
 that you are not showing as much sense as I gave you credit 
 for, in leaving a rich master to follow a poor one ? You're 
 only a provincial, it seems, not a dog of the world at all. 
 However; as you have come, we must make the best of it. 
 Come to heel — do you hear, sir ? — and we must get a muzzle 
 at the first store we come to." 
 
 The Bimbalong boundary, now a long line of wire fence, 
 with egress only by a neat gate on the track, was reached in 
 
232 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 due time. Here Jack's memory, unbidden, recalled the day 
 of their first muster of the cattle — the glorious day, the 
 abundant herbage, the free gallop after the half -wild herd, in 
 which poor Wildduck had distinguished herself ; and, fairer 
 than all, the glowing hope which had invested the unacus- 
 tomed scene with brightest colours. How different was the 
 aspect of the spot now ! The bare pastures, the prosaic 
 fence-liae— the Great Enterprise carried through to the point 
 of conspicuous failure ; the reckless, joyous child of these lone 
 wastes lying in her grave, under the whispering streamers of 
 the great coubah tree yonder. And is every hope as cold and 
 dead as she ? He was faring forth a wanderer, a beggar. 
 Better, perhaps, thought he, in the bitterness of his spirit, 
 that I had dropped to the bushranger's bullet. Better to 
 have fallen in the front of the battle than to have survived 
 to grace the triumph and wear the chain. 
 
 The landless and dispossessed proprietor rode steadily on 
 along the weU-marked but unfrequented track which led 
 " back " — that is, into the indifferently-watered, sparsely- 
 stocked, and thinly-populated region which stretched endless 
 at the rear of the great leading streams. In this desolate 
 country, compared with which the frontage properties on the 
 Warroo, slightly suburban as they might be deemed, were as 
 fertile farms, lay grand possibilities — ^the Eldorado which 
 always accompanies the unknown. Here were stUl tenantless, 
 as wandering stockmen had told, enormous plains to which 
 those on the "Warroo were as river flats, fantastic, isolated 
 ranges, full of strange metallic deposits and presumably rich 
 ores. Immense water-holes, approaching the character of 
 lakes, where curious tribes of aboriginals hunted, some of 
 which were entirely bald, others bowed in the limbs from the 
 continuous chase of the emu and kangaroo. Prom time to 
 time Jack had listened to these tales of Herodotus ; had, with 
 some trouble, verified the localities indicated, and seen a 
 pioneer or two who had explored this terra incognita. 
 
 Full of eager anticipation of the new untrodden land, in 
 which wonders and miracles might still survive, leading to 
 fortune by a triumphant short cut — a new run with limitless 
 plains and hidden lakes, a copper mine, a gold mine, a silver 
 mine, a navigable river — all these were possible in the 
 unknown land, waiting only for some adventurer with purse 
 
XIX.] A STORY OF AUSTEALIAUT LIFE. 233 
 
 as empty and need as desperate as his owner. Lulled by 
 these glorious phantasies, John Redgrave gradually recovered 
 his spirits — they were elastic, it must be confessed ; and as 
 the horses, poor but plucky, like their master, stepped cheerily 
 along the level trail, he caught himself more than once 
 humming a half-forgotten air. He had proposed to himself 
 to make for a small township about forty miles distant, the 
 inhabitants of which were composed in equal proportions of 
 horse-stealers, persons " wanted," and others, these last lack- 
 ing only the courage, not the inclination, to turn bush- 
 rangers. Gurran — this was the name of this delectable 
 settlement — of course boasted of two public-houses. 
 
 About an hour before sundown Jack calculated that he 
 was about ten miles from his destination. He had of course 
 not been pressing his horses, and had plodded steadily on 
 without haste, but without halt, since the morning. He could 
 not, as he calculated, reach Gurran by Sundown, but an 
 hour's travelHng along the smooth, broad trail by the clear 
 starlight would be pleasant enough. He did not want. 
 Heaven knows, to get to the beastly hole too early. A 
 simple meal, hunger sweetened, a smoke by the fire, and 
 then to bed, with a dayhght start next morning. Such were 
 his intentions. 
 
 As he thought over and arranged these " short views of 
 life," he became aware that the sky was overclouded. 
 Clouds were by no means rare on the Warroo, but no one 
 had been ia the habit of connecting them with rain for 
 many a month past. And so Jack rode on carelessly, while 
 the sky grew blacker, the air more still and warm, bank 
 after bank rose in the south, and at length — no, surely, it 
 never can be, by Jove I it is — a drop of rain ! 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder, now I think of it," said Jack, 
 sardonically, " if it were to rain cats and dogs, just when I 
 am regularly cleaned out. A month ago it might have 
 made a difference." He unfastened an overcoat which he 
 threw over himself, and as the rain commenced in a gentle 
 but continuous drizzle {he knew the sign) paced gloomily 
 
 forward. 
 
 His cynical anticipations were but too literally fulfilled. 
 At firstjight and almost misty, then a steady downpour, in 
 twenty minutes it was half a shower-bath, half a water- 
 
234 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 spout. Every shred of Jack's clothing was soaked and re- 
 soaked, till the feeling was as if he were clad in wet brown 
 paper. The horses slipped, and boggled, and stumbled, and 
 laboured in the black soil plain which alternated with the 
 sand, and which has the peculiar and vexatious quality of 
 ba llin g, or gathering on hoof or wheel, when thoroughly 
 moistened. The air changed, the temperature was lowered, 
 the night became dark, so that Jack more than once lost his 
 way. The thunder pealed, and the lightning in vivid 
 flashes from time to time showed a watery waste, with 
 creeks running, and all the usual Australian superabundance 
 of water immediately succeeding the utter absence of even a 
 drop to drink. It was nine o'clock when, tired, soaked to 
 the skin, with beaten horses, and temper seriously damaged, 
 John Redgrave pulled up before the "Stock-horse Inn" at 
 Gurran. The person who kept the poison-shop came out, 
 with his pipe in his mouth, and, seeing a traveller, expressed 
 mild surprise, but did not volunteer advice or assistance. 
 
 " Have you any hostler here ? " demanded Jack, with 
 pardonable acerbity. 
 
 " "Well, there is a chap, but he's on the burst just now, as 
 one might say. Are you going to stop 1 " 
 
 " Yes, of course," said Jack ; " why don't you look a little 
 more lively ! If you were as wet and cold as I am you'd 
 know what I want." 
 
 " I should want a jolly good nip to begin with," said the 
 unmoved landlord ; " but you can let your horses go, and put 
 your saddles and swags in the ferendah, can't ye? " 
 
 " Haven't you got a stable ? " asked Jack, furious at this 
 reception after such a ride. 
 
 " Well, there's a stable at the back, but the door's off, and 
 there's nothing in it." 
 
 " No corn ? no chaff ? " 
 
 " No — there ain't nothin'. How am I to get it up 
 here 1 " 
 
 " And what is there for my horses to eat, if I let them 
 go?" 
 
 " Well, there's a bit of picking down by the crick. It's 
 aU our horses has to live on." 
 
 Jack reflected for a while ; then, considering that the 
 other inn couldn't possibly be worse than this, and might 
 
XIX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 235 
 
 be better, he concluded to try it, and telling the astonished 
 innkeeper that he was an uncivil brute, and deserved to lose 
 his license, he headed straight for the light of the rival 
 hostelry. 
 
 Here he met with a decided welcome and abundant 
 civility. His horses were unsaddled, and put into a build- 
 ing which, if rude, possessed the essentials of equine comfort. 
 And when he found himself before a good fire in a small 
 parlour adorned with wonderful prints, with a glass of hot 
 grog in possession, and a supper of eggs and bacon in pros- 
 pect, he felt that there were extenuating circumstances in 
 the lot even of that ill-fated and persecuted individual John 
 Redgrave, late of Gondaree. 
 
 He awoke next morning early, and, dressing hastily, went 
 straight to the stable, which to his exceeding wrath and 
 despair he found empty. The badly-fastened door was open ; 
 there was no means of knowing at what hour the nags had 
 escaped or been taken out. Here was a pleasant state of 
 matters ; all the misery of the position, intensified by the 
 state of his nerves, rushed upon him. He knew well what 
 a nest of robbers he was among. If not stolen, the horses 
 had been "planted" or concealed until a reward, consonant 
 with the ideas of the thieves, was forthcoming. He would 
 do anything rather than go back to Gondaree. He had a 
 few pounds left, and he could, at worst, buy a mustang of 
 the neighbourhood and pursue his journey. Turning back 
 sullenly to the inn, he saw his host ride up, who stated that 
 he had been out since daybreak after the absentees without 
 success, but that he had sent a young man after them, who, 
 if this here rain didn't wash out the tracks, would find 'em 
 " if they was above ground." With this meagre consolation 
 Jack proceeded to attack his uninviting breakfast. 
 
 The rain was still falling; the dismal, dusty, thinly- 
 timbered flat, which stretched for miles in unbroken dulness, 
 with a shallow, unmeaning, dry creek winding tortuously 
 through, was now converted into a sea of black mud. Jack 
 knew that in a week it would be carpeted with green, as 
 would indeed be the whole of Gondaree, and the Warroo 
 generally. He groaned as he thought that all this "un- 
 earned increment" would be of not a shilUng's-worth of 
 value to him. Mr. Bagemall and Mr. M'Nab would reap 
 
236 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 the benefit of it — it was a clear fifty per cent, upon the 
 price of every sheep on the place to begin with. Gregory 
 Hardbake would be on the way down from the mountains 
 rejoicing. All the world would be joyful and prosperous, 
 while he was left on his beam-ends, a stranded wreck, and 
 not even allowed to pursue his lonely voyage in peace. It 
 was hard ; but Fate should break, not bend, him. His 
 friends, if he had any left, should see that. All that day 
 he was compelled to pace up and down the narrow verandah 
 of the melancholy wooden box, comforted by the assurances 
 of the host that his 'osses would be safe to be got within 
 the week, that the " young man as was after 'em " had 
 never been known to miss finding such runaways. Unless 
 — added he, meditatively — they've gone and made back to 
 where they came from. 
 
 However, that night the much-vaunted " young man," a 
 long-legged, brown-faced, long-haired son of the soil, of the 
 worst type of pound-haunting, gully-raking bush native, 
 returned without the horses. When Jack, in the course of 
 the evening, mentioned that thirty shillings for each horse 
 would be forthcoming on delivery, he brightened up, and 
 declared his determination to have another try next 
 morning. 
 
 As Jack, about noon on the following day, was observing 
 gloomily that the rain had stopped, to his intense delight 
 the young man before eulogized was observed approaching, 
 driving the lost horses before him. Perhaps no sense of 
 gratification is keener for the moment than that of the 
 traveller in Australia, who in a strange, possibly evil- 
 reputed locality recovers the favourite steed. The agonizing 
 anxiety, the too probable fear of total loss, the delay, ex- 
 pense, and inconvenience of remount — all these doubts and 
 dreads vanish at the moment when the well-known outline 
 appears. Like wrathful passengers upon reaching the end 
 of the voyage, aU previous offences are condoned. The 
 despotic captain, the surly second officer, become almost 
 popular, and a general amnesty is proclaimed. 
 
 So, as old Pacha, with his high shoulder and flea-bitten 
 grey skin, followed by his companion, walked into the stable 
 yard, about two panels square of rickety round rails. Jack 
 thought the much-suspected " young man " not such a bad 
 
XIX.] A STOEY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 237 
 
 fellow after all. He perhaps reciprocated tlie compliment 
 after receiving the reward, though his conscience ought to 
 have troubled him if, as is too probable, he had "shifted" 
 Jack's horses the first night, and left them at a convenient 
 distance from the inn on the second. 
 
 Their owner concluded not to tempt misfortune further. 
 
 Saddling up promptly, he once more took the road, glad 
 to leave behind Gurran and all its belongings. 
 
 That night John Redgrave reached a station where, of 
 course, he was hospitably received, and where he rested 
 secure from the machinations of persons to whom fresh 
 horses and " clean-skinned " cattle presented an irresistible 
 temptation. 
 
 Keeping a northerly course, he gradually passed the 
 boundaries of the comparatively settled country, and entered 
 the legendary and half -explored region that skirted the great 
 desert of his dreams. Here rose, like polar meteors, fresh 
 gleams of hope irradiating the sunless cloud-land in which 
 his spirit had dwelt of late — glimpses of that garden of the 
 Hesperides — a new discovery — fortunate isles — aland of gold 
 and gems, were on the cards. Like the garden of old, there 
 was the Dragon — a dragon to be fought or circumvented, as 
 circumstances might direct. 
 
 Did he lose the faint track which led between the solitary 
 outposts of the pioneers, there was the certainty of death 
 by thirst. A few days' anxious wandering, twenty-four 
 hours of delirious agony, and the bones of John Redgrave 
 and his weary steeds would lie blanching on the endless plains 
 and sand-ridges, until the next lost wayfarer or questing 
 tracker fell across them. 
 
 Did he escape the famine-fiend, were there not the prowling 
 patient human wolves of the melancholy waste ready to 
 surround and do to death that enemy of all primeval man, 
 the wandering, insatiable white man ? Little, however, did 
 John Redgrave reck of Scylla and Charybdis. The barque 
 must float him onward and still onward to fortune and to 
 fame, or must lie deep amid ocean's treasures, or a stranded 
 wreck upon the inhospitable shore. He was in no mood to 
 be frightened at aught which other men had dared. With 
 the demon of poverty astern, what to him was the terrible 
 deep, fanned by the wildest storm that ever blew ? Still he 
 
238 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 pressed onward ; not heedlessly, but with wary patience, as 
 beseemed an experienced bushman, whose life might depend 
 upon the strength and speed of the good horse between his 
 knees. The influence of the great drought in this unstocked 
 country became fainter and less unfavourable. The gray 
 tufted grasses and salsolaceous bushes, uncropped by stock, 
 remained nutritive and uninjured year after rainless year in 
 that strange Australian desert. Their strength untaxed by 
 the moderate journeys, old Pacha and his companion, with 
 the wonderful hardihood of Australian horses, improved in 
 condition. 
 
 Now it chanced that at one of the most distant stations, of 
 which the proprietor had been able to say, like Othere, " no 
 man Kes north of me," Jack picked up a partner, who volun- 
 teered to join in his adventure, sharing equally in the expenses 
 of the modest outfit and in the profits, such as they might be. 
 Guy "Waldron was a big, ruddy-faced, jovial young English- 
 man, scarce a year from his father's hall in Oxfordshire. An 
 insuperable disgust for the slow gradation of English fortune- 
 making, combined with the true dare-devil Norse tempera- 
 ment, had driven him forth with his younger son's portion 
 to make or mar a colonial career. The two men took to one 
 another with sudden strength of liking. 
 
 The quiet resolution and utter disdain of danger which 
 Jack exhibited after a course of highly discouraging anec- 
 dotes volunteered by Mr. Blockham, the proprietor of Outer 
 Back Mullah, attracted the younger son. 
 
 " I am horribly tired," he said to Jack, " of doing colonial 
 experience with this old buffer. It's tremendously hard 
 work and no pay, and, as I've been here for a year, I fancy 
 we're quits. I know as much bullock as I'm likely to learn 
 for the next five years. I got a tip from home the other day. 
 What do you say if I go run-hunting with you 1 You're just 
 the sort of mate I should like, and I believe there is some 
 grand country to the north-west, in spite of what old Block- 
 ham says." 
 
 Jack looked at the cheerful, pleasant youngster, full of 
 mirth, and with the eager blood of generous youth, unworn 
 and sorrow free, coursing through every vein. Much as he 
 hungered after congenial fellowship in his lonely quest, he 
 yet spoke warningly. 
 
XIX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 239 
 
 " It's a risky game enough, Waldron, you know. I'd 
 say, if you take my advice, stay where you are for another 
 year. You'll get your money out then, and be sv/re of in- 
 vesting it properly. You have a little to learn yet, excuse 
 me, like all new arrivals." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I dare say, that's all very prudent, and so on. 
 There are new chums and new chums. Look at my arms, 
 old fellow." 
 
 Here he roUed up his jersey and showed his musctdar 
 fore-arm, bronzed and well-nigh blackened by exposure to 
 the unrespecting sun. 
 
 " I've not had my coat on much, as you see. I can ride, 
 brand, leg-rope, split, fence, milk, and draft with any man 
 we've ever had here. A year or two more Jackerooing 
 would only mean the consumption of so many more figs of 
 negro-head, in my case. No ! take me or leave me, as you 
 Kke, but I'm off exploring on my own hook if you don't." 
 
 " In that case," assented Jack, "we may as well hunt in 
 couples. We can back up one another if the niggers are 
 as bad and the water as scarce as your friend says." 
 
 " He be hanged ! " said the impetuous youth. " He's not 
 a bad old chap, but he tells awful yarns, and, like aU old 
 hands, he thinks nobody knows anything but himself." 
 
 " Then it's settled. Can you get a couple of horses 1 " 
 
 " Yes, and a stunning black boy. The young scamp is 
 awfully fond of me, and as a tracker he's a regular out-and- 
 outer. By Jove ! won't it be joUy — Redgrave and Waldron, 
 the intrepid explorers ! I feel as if we could go to 
 Carpentaria." 
 
 Jack smiled at the boy's joyous readiness for the battle. 
 Once he had been as wild in delight at feast or foray ; but 
 those days had gone. 
 
 "We must wait till we come back," said he, gravely, 
 " before we begin to arrange the fashion of the chaplet. If 
 the black boy is plucky, and really wants to go with us, 
 bring him by all means." 
 
 Mr. Waldron, for whom remittances had lately arrived, 
 spent the next day in getting in his horses, packing his 
 effects, the half of which were condemned by Jack as being 
 overweight, and questioning and lecturing the boy Doorival 
 as to his special " call " for the enterprise. This sable waif 
 
240 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 was not the particular property of any one, so he was per- 
 mitted to risk his valueless life without remark or remon- 
 strance. He had been captured in a somewhat indiscrimi- 
 nate reprisal upon a wild tribe by a neighbour of Mr. 
 Blockham's, with his foot sticking out of a hollow log, in 
 which, like a dingo puppy, he had instinctively hidden. 
 Dragged forth by that member, he had been chained up tUl 
 he grew tame, and well flogged from time to time till 
 further " civilized." After a few years of this stern train- 
 ing he had become sufficiently civilized to run away, and 
 had arrived at Outer Back Mullah some months since, a 
 shade more than half dead with fear and thirst. Travelling 
 through hostile country, where his kidney fat woiildn't have 
 been worth an hour's purchase after discovery by his 
 countrymen, he had had necessarily but little leisure and 
 less refreshment. Guy Waldron had taken him in hand as 
 he would a bull-terrier pup, and, finding him game and 
 sharp, had adopted him as peisonal retainer. On the third 
 morning after the treaty, therefore, Doorival appeared on 
 an elderly but well-conditioned screw, leading a pack-horse, 
 and showing in his roving black eyes and gleaming teeth 
 the strongest satisfaction at his promotion. 
 
 Mr. Blockham did by no means disguise his sentiments 
 when he bade farewell to his quondam pupil and his ad- 
 venturous guest. 
 
 " Well, "Waldron, good-bye. I wish you both luck, I'm 
 sure ; but I'm blest if I don't believe a warrigal will be 
 picking some of your bones before this day six months. 
 I've no opinion of exploring ; I don't believe in running 
 after new country ; let other fellows, if they're fools enough, 
 do all that bullocking. Wise men buy their work after- 
 wards — and cheap enough too. I didn't take up Outer 
 Back Mullah; quite the contrary. I gave a chap two 
 hundred pounds for it, and where' s he now 1 " 
 
 " Somebody must find the runs," said Guy, " and a good 
 run, with permanent water, or say a dozen or twenty blocks, 
 are worth more than two hundred or two thousand pounds 
 either." 
 
 " That's all very well," returned the cynical senior ; " but 
 how do you know there's any country where you're going, 
 let alone water? Besides, excuse me, sir, but you're a- 
 
XIX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 241 
 
 goin' with a man that's been unlucky, by his own word, 
 with everything he's touched before. I don't believe in a 
 man as is unlucky. I've seen a deal of life, and I never go 
 in with one of that sort ; not if I know it. No offence to 
 you, sir." This to Jack. " Tou can't help it, I know. As for 
 you, you young black bilber, what are you grinnin' and 
 lookin' so pleased at] You'll wish old Driver was a lickin' 
 ye with the dog-chain again, when some of them myalls gets 
 round ye a little before daylight." 
 
 The little expedition set forth, maugre the boding utter- 
 ances of Mr. Blockham. The equipment was not costly, 
 but it was sufGicient ; and two of the party at least had a 
 " letter of credit " good for aU. the drafts which they were 
 likely to draw upon it for some time to come. 
 
 What says the wise, sad humorist ? — 
 
 " Our youth ! our youth ! that spring of springs, 
 It surely is one of the blessedest things 
 
 By Nature ever invented. 
 When the rich are happy in spite of their wealth, 
 When the poor are rich in spirits and health, 
 
 And all with their lot contented." 
 
 Guy "Waldron, fvdl of hope, and thirsting for wild Hfe 
 and adventure, rode side by side with Jack, carolling as he 
 went, like Taillefer singing the song of EoUo in the fore- 
 front of the Battle of Hastings. 
 
 Doorival followed at a short distance, accompanied by the 
 dog Help, whom he had managed to propitiate, and to whom 
 he from time to time addressed all kinds of pretended 
 inquiries and suggestions. 
 
 " By Jove ! " said Guy, " I feel quite a new man now I've 
 got away from that confounded dull place, and that dismal 
 old growler Blockham. He's like the man in Marcus 
 Clarke's ballad, who ' Did nothing but swear and smoke.' 
 It's a luxury to have a Christian to talk to again. Talk of 
 Englishmen ! — Doorival's a king to him." 
 
 " It's all luck," said Jack ; " even in this rather distant 
 region you might have found a chum who got the periodi- 
 cals by every mail, and went in for decent reading at odd 
 
 times." 
 
 " That's true enough," said the representative of " Young 
 
242 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 England," " for I went over one day to get our mail — sixty- 
 mile ride too — and Haughton's cousin had just come down 
 from India, such a jolly chap he was too— had been in 
 Cashmere lately, and told us no end of yarns. But I was 
 fool enough to think all squatters were alike, and let my 
 agents send me anywhere they liked." 
 
 " Well, you'll know better next time," said Jack, " after 
 we've discovered this new country, and sold a few blocks to 
 buy a couple of thousand store cattle with. You can pick 
 up an Indian swell, or any sort of partner you fancy, if that 
 works out." 
 
 " You'll suit me down to the ground, old fellow," said Mr. 
 Waldron, enthusiastically. " We're in ' for better for worse,' 
 as they say in the christening service, or the matrimonial 
 questions and answers, or whatever it is." 
 
 " It doesn't concern us at present," said Jack, gravely. 
 " Possibly you'll be better informed on that subject like- 
 wise, some day. In the meantime, how long shall we be 
 getting through this cursed scrub ? " 
 
 " I believe we shall have a week of it, if old Blockham is 
 to be believed. He always used to swear that the scrub on 
 this side of Mullah was more than a hundred miles thick, 
 and that beyond that was a sandy desert, which ran right 
 into the middle of the continent." 
 
 " Probably his geographical information was defective," 
 answered Jack. " He is evidently one of that order of 
 pioneers whose watchword is 'no good country beyond me.' 
 We must keep a due north-west course, take our chance of 
 water, and if Australia keeps true to her past character the 
 worse country we pass through the better our chance of 
 dropping on to something astoundingly good." 
 
 " You think so really ? " asked Waldron. 
 
 " Sure of it — look at the Won-won country, the Matyara, 
 and half-a-dozen other choice districts I could name. The 
 first explorers must have been perfectly desperate with the 
 awful jungles and barren tracts they had to pass through. 
 Then one fine morning a fellow climbs up the last iron-bark 
 range, or tears his garments in pushing through the last 
 thicket, and lo ! the Promised Land lies stretched out before 
 him." 
 
 " By George ! you raise a fellow's spirits awfully," said 
 
XIX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 243 
 
 Guy. " I suppose you have been in this funny country ever 
 so many years? " 
 
 "I wasn't born in it, if that is what you mean," answered 
 his companion ; " but I have been in Australia ever since I 
 could speak ; so I have had the benefit of sufficient colonial 
 experience at any rate." 
 
 Thus conversing, sometimes idly enough, at times with a 
 strong tinge of earnestness, the day wore on. At sundown 
 they reached a fairly commodious spot, and there they made 
 their simple dispositions for passing the night. 
 
 Here Mr. Doorival began to demonstrate his quality, and 
 to establish the soundness of the reasoning which led to his 
 being promoted to his present position. He it was who 
 discovered the water, made the fire, helped to unpack the 
 cooking utensils, and to hobble out the horses — the whole 
 under the watchful eye of the dog Help, who lay under a 
 bush and watched the proceedings with great interest. 
 
 One horse was tethered, so as to be at hand in case of need ; 
 the others were permitted to range within moderate bounds. 
 Only a small fire was made, as, once within the boundaries 
 of the real wild blacks, it would be hazardous to run the 
 chance of attracting them to the camp. And it was thought 
 en regie. The nights were mild, as rarely in that region is it 
 otherwise, the occasional storms and fierce rainfalls excepted. 
 
 After the evening meal and the postcmnal smoke, each one 
 wrapped himself in his blanket and lay down separately, 
 and at some distance from the fire ; so in case of attack their 
 antagonists would be less likely to surround them, or to dis- 
 cover the precise locaUty from which the deadly discharge of 
 the white man's firearms might be expected. Help deserted 
 his youthful acquaintance of the day, and, curling himself up 
 beside his master, dozed all watchfully, as is the manner of 
 his kind. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " Oh, for a lodge in some vast wilderness." — Cowper. 
 
 Foe five days the explorers piirsued their toilsome jour- 
 ney. The scrub was dense ; the travelling was monotonous 
 and discouraging ; but the leader was too old a bushman 
 to expect other than difficulty and privation at the onset, 
 while the temperament of Guy Waldron soared easily in its 
 first essay of conflict with the wilderness above such trifles 
 as scarcity of water and a dangerous route. The boy Doo- 
 rival managed to pick up a little game from time to time, 
 which materially aided their unpretending menu. Once, 
 indeed, the horses went back a whole day's journey ; the 
 situation was far from reassuring while they waited in 
 camp for their scout. But at sundown the unerring and 
 patient tracker returned triumphantly with the truants ; 
 and that night in camp was so full of satisfaction that it 
 might be considered to approach a condition of actual 
 pleasure so lightly flow or ebb the currents of mental circu- 
 lation which we characterize as joy or sorrow. 
 
 " By Jove I " said Guy, " I've often thought it was joUy 
 enough dozing before the fire on a great ottoman at Waldron 
 Hall, after a good day's shooting, before it was time to dress 
 for dinner, but I really believe I feel more real pleasure at this 
 moment as we lie here smoking and seeing these rascally nags 
 of ours short-hobbled and safe again for a start. I thought 
 we were up a tree several times to-day, for exploring on foot 
 is not inspiriting exercise, anyhow you look at it." 
 
 " Doorival is a trump," assented Jack. " He was a happy 
 thought ; here's his health in this fiowing bowl of ' Jack the 
 Painter.' I wish Mr. Blockham's stores had been a little 
 more recherchi." 
 
CH. XX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 245 
 
 " He believes in the great doctrine of cheap and t'other 
 thing," answered Waldron. " I never could have imagined 
 that sugar of such exceeding blackness was manufactured as 
 we always had there. I used to tell Vii-m that some planter 
 distantly related must have worked up his spare niggers in 
 it. He was always giving me lessons in economy. One 
 night he said solemnly, as we were smoking, ' Look here, 
 "Waldron, you'll never make no money if you use matches 
 to light your pipe when there's a fire right before you ; ' 
 whereupon he placed a coal on the bowl of his and puffed 
 away like a man who had saved a sovereign. Fancy saving 
 the fractional part of a farthing, and then paying a shilling 
 for a glass of bad grog." 
 
 " It sounds absurd," agreed Jack, " but with colonists of 
 his stamp the grog is exceptional, while the penny wisdom 
 is invariable. And I must say in justice that the Block- 
 hams of our acquaintance generally die rich, having 
 burrowed their way to wealth, mole-blind to the pleasures 
 of the intellect, the claims of sympathy, and the duties of 
 society." 
 
 " Well, we'll go in for the severest screwing," said Guy, 
 " when we get hold of this new run, with which we shall 
 make a colossal fortune and a Eiiropean reputation. I 
 should like to crow over my old governor, bless his old soul ! 
 — ^he always delicately hinted that I should never do any 
 good out here, or anywhere else. Wanted me to take a 
 farm. A farm ! Fancy three hundred acres in Oxfordshire, 
 with a score or two of bullocks, and twice as many black- 
 faced Down sheep. Regular cockatooing. I didn't see it 
 then. Now I'd almost as soon ' keep a pike.' " 
 
 " You're an adventurous, crusading kind of fellow, I 
 know, Master Guy," said Jack, reflectively, " and I'm very 
 glad to find another knight-errant. But I'm not sure, all 
 the same, whether both of us might not have gone into the 
 Master of Athelstane business advantageously, and grown 
 heavier and fussier every year, while we looked after our 
 own green fields and these same despised short-horned 
 beeves. However, it's Kismet, I suppose, that such land 
 and sea rovers should exist, and either plant their standards 
 or fill the breach for other more cautious combatants to 
 walk over. Now, every man to his blanket. Good-night." 
 
246 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 The scrub was passed at length, and, as Jack had prophe- 
 sied, they descried open country so superior to the character 
 of the district generally as to warrant the expectation of 
 still more splendid discoveries. 
 
 The watercourses were larger and the occasional lagoons 
 deeper, and beyond all question permanent. The plains 
 were immense, and though not richly grassed were covered 
 with the best kinds of salsolaceoiis herbage, known to bush- 
 men as affording better and healthier food for stock than 
 the more enticing-looking green sward. 
 
 However, with the insatiable greed of their kind, they 
 were not disposed to content themselves with anything short 
 of the magnificent and exalted standard which they had set 
 up for themselves. So onward and onward still they pressed, 
 though from time to time the existence of " Indian sign " 
 began to be pressed upon their attention by the watchful, 
 uneasy Doorival. 
 
 " My word, plenty wild black fellow sit down here," he 
 exclaimed one day. " Big one tribe — plenty fighting men — 
 you see um track." Here he pointed to some perfectly in- 
 visible imprint upon the hard dry soil. " We better push 
 on, these fellows sneak 'long a camp some night." 
 
 " Then they'll get pepper," answered Guy, with his cus- 
 tomary contempt of danger. " I could knock over as many 
 of your countrymen, Doorival, with this Terry-rifle as would 
 keep them corroboreeing for a month. All the same, I'd 
 rather they didn't tackle us just yet." 
 
 " I think we must take rather longer stages," proposed 
 Jack, " and get out of this hostile country. We haven't 
 seen the track of cattle or sheep for nearly a week. I 
 suspect we are beyond the furthest-out people." 
 
 However, it would appear that Jack had under-estimated 
 the enterprise of his countrymen, for next day Doorival came 
 tearing in full of excitement to annoimce that he had seen 
 cattle tracks, "all about — all about;" and by a patient 
 system of induction the gradually concentric tracks brought 
 them before the light had wholly faded within view of the 
 actual encampment. 
 
 It was an outside station, in every sense of the word. As 
 they rode up across the long, ever-lengthening plain to the 
 speck in the shifting wavelets of the mirage which they knew 
 
XX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 247 
 
 to be a hut, a strangely characteristic reception awaited 
 them. 
 
 In front of a small mud-walled cabin, thatched with wiry 
 tussock grass which grew sparsely by the great lagoon on the 
 bank of which it was constructed, sat a ragged individual, 
 whose haggard features displayed pain and anxiety in equal 
 proportions. 
 
 Before him were two crossed sticks, upon which were 
 arranged a brace of double-barrelled rifles, much after the 
 fashion of the disabled soldier in Gil Bias who levied con- 
 tributions from the charitable on the roadside. 
 
 Perceiving as they advanced that the sentinel hoisted a flag 
 of truce, so to speak, by waving a tattered handkerchief, they 
 rode up and dismounted. 
 
 " By George ! this is a droll homestead," said Mr. Waldron, 
 with his usual impetuosity. " May I ask if you are the 
 survivors of Leichhardt's expedition, or the Spirits of the 
 Inner Desert, or Robinson Crusoe redivivus ? At any rate I'm 
 proud to make your acquaintance, sir. Allow me to introduce 
 my friend, Mr. Redgrave ; my own name, "Waldron." 
 
 An unaccustomed smile distorted the stranger's features. 
 He retained his sitting position, as if, like the prince in the 
 greatest of all fairy tales, he was composed of black marble 
 below the waist. 
 
 " We're very glad to see you and your friend too — plea- 
 sure decidedly mutual. Name of our firm. Heads and Taylor. 
 We made out from Burnt Creek. I've been at death's door 
 with rheumatism — can't walk a yard to save my life. Taylor 
 is just recovering from fever and ague. He's in bed in the 
 humpy." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that," said Jack, sincerely. " But 
 what is the idea of this battery 1 " 
 
 " Blacks ! " said the rheumatic gentlemen. " I believe we 
 have the greatest lot of devils on this run anywhere this side 
 of Carpentaria. They've tried to rush the hut several times 
 — once at night, luckily when the stockmen were at home, 
 and we potted seven. They're away all day, and I have to 
 mount guard, as you see. However, turn out your horses, 
 and we'll enjoy ourselves for once in a way. It's no compli- 
 ment, unfortunately, to say that the longer you stay the 
 better shall we be pleased." 
 
248 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 " Thanks, very much," said Jack ; " we won't trespass on 
 your rations ; but we'll camp alongside of you for a few days, 
 and perhaps we may be able to be of mutual assistance." 
 
 " Likely enough," said the prince with the black marble 
 legs, moving uneasily on his form. " I suppose you are 
 looking out for country?" 
 
 " That is our object. Have you a notion of anything first- 
 class?" 
 
 " If you wait till the stockmen come in, I believe one of 
 them knows of some wonderful country close by, that is 
 within fifty miles. He lost himself, and got out there when 
 we first came up ; and he has ever since wanted us to move 
 over and take it up ; but this place is good enough and large 
 enough for all the stock we shall have for the next ten years. 
 So Taylor and I refused to budge. It will be the very thing 
 for you. Perhaps you won't mind helping me into the hut. 
 I should like to see if , Taylor wants anything. It is quite a 
 luxury to feel safe." 
 
 They lifted their afflicted brother pioneer carefully, and 
 deposited him upon the edge of a rude stretcher in the hut. 
 On the other bed lay the wasted form of a man, who raised 
 his eyes beseechingly as they entered. 
 
 " Poor chap," said Mr. Heads, " he's past the worst stage, 
 but he's awfully weak, and generally very thirsty about this 
 time. I was just wondering whether I could drag myself in 
 when you hove in sight. Of course I knew it was all right 
 when I saw your horses. Horses denote respectability, 
 always." 
 
 " Except when mounted by bushrangers,'' said Jack. 
 
 " I didn't think of that. There's nothing to steal out here, 
 and an off-chance of being walked into by the blacks. We 
 haven't attained to a sufficiently high stage of civilization 
 to support white Indians. Meanwhile, ' sufficient for the 
 day,' &c." 
 
 " I should say so," said Waldron, lost in admiration of the 
 courage and coolness of these dwellers in the wilderness. 
 " You have had your share of evils, and something over." 
 
 " It's all a lottery — the fellows at Burnt Creek used to 
 call us ' heads and tails,' and say we ought to toss up who 
 would be first eaten by the niggers. I didn't think it 
 would be such a close thinj, however." 
 
XX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 249 
 
 At nightfall the two stockmen came home, and the 
 history of the establishment was fully disclosed. The 
 overland journey with the stock had been unusually toil- 
 som.e, and in swimming a river and remaining in wet clothes 
 Mr. Heads had contracted an illness which had taken the 
 form of acute rheumatism, and threatened to cripple him 
 for life. Fever and ague had fastened their remitting 
 fangs upon Taylor, and here in this lonely outpost, in the 
 midst of hostile savages, hundreds of miles from medical or 
 other aid, had the wayworn pioneers to brave their fate — 
 to recover if their constitutions proved sufficiently strong, 
 or to die and be buried in the waste. Such are the risks, 
 however, which Englishmen have ever been found willing 
 to dare for fame or for fortune. 
 
 And such, as long as " proud England keeps unchanged 
 the strong hearts of her sons," will they stUl continue to 
 brave. Fortunately the stockmen were resolute, active 
 young men, or a very Flemish account of the cattle would 
 have been rendered. Of course they rode armed to the teeth 
 with carbine and revolver, and made but Httle scruple of using 
 both on occasion. 
 
 " I'm blowed if I know how the boss stands it, sitting up 
 there like an image, day after day. He's a good shot, and 
 these warrigal devils knows it, or they'd have rushed the place 
 long enough before now. I'm that afraid of seeing the hut 
 burned, and them lyin' cut up in bits outside, that I hardly 
 durst come home of a night." 
 
 " How are the cattle doing i " asked Jack. 
 
 " Well — they can't help doing well ; and they'd do better 
 if these black beggars woiild let 'em alone. Better fattening 
 country no man ever see. Pity you gentlemen don't sit down 
 handy and be neighbours for us." 
 
 "I'm not sure that we won't," said Jack, in a non-com- 
 mittal tone of voice ; " but we sha'n't go in for any but 
 real, first-class country, and plenty of it. We want run 
 for ten or fifteen thousand head of cattle, at least." 
 
 " Come, Mick," said Mr. Heads, " you may as well lay this 
 gentleman on to that Eaak country that you saw when you 
 were lost beyond the range, if you were not too frightened 
 to know what it was Hke." 
 
 " Well, I don't say but I will," said Mick, slowly. " I 
 
250 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chak 
 
 dare say he'll sling me a tenner if it turns out all right. It 
 is country, and no blessed mistake. This here run ain't a 
 patch on it." 
 
 " Is there plenty of it ? " inquired Jack, with conmiend- 
 able caution. " We don't want a mulga scrub and a plain 
 or two. We must have a whole country side ; good water, 
 and twenty-five-mile block. Something in that line. And 
 I'll give you " 
 
 "Twenty pounds, after we've seen and approved," broke 
 in Waldron, who was impatiently chafing to clench the 
 bargain. " So it's a bargain, eh t " 
 
 "Done — and done with you, sir," said the stockman 
 heartily. " You're one of the right sort ; and I'd give a 
 trifle out of my own pocket to have you alongside of us. 
 I'll go a bit of the way to-morrow, and put you up to the 
 lay of the country — there's room enough and water enough 
 for half the cattle in Queensland." 
 
 This important stage reached, the rest of the evening was 
 spent in comparatively cheerful and abstract talk. Mr. Heads 
 took a more cheerful view of his situation and surroundings, 
 and stated that when Messrs. Redgrave and Waldron had 
 arrived and fairly put down stakes, he should look upon 
 themselves as residents in a settled district. " They had not 
 had a beast speared for a week. Matters were decidedly im- 
 proving. If Taylor would only get stronger, he believed he 
 would be on his legs again in no time. Couldn't say how 
 cheered up they all felt. Don't you, Taylor?" Here the 
 periodical chills came on the sick man, and he began to shiver 
 as if he would shake his teeth out soon. 
 
 It was held, after due consultation, to be only consistent 
 with the exercise of Christian charity to remain for a few 
 days, and to comfort the garrison of this garde douloureuse. 
 The horses profited by the respite ; and when the journey was 
 recommenced the explorers had the satisfaction of leaving 
 their hosts in a state of mental and bodily convalescence. 
 Mr. Taylor, having passed over the shaking stage, began to 
 recover strength, while Mr. Heads, still much restricted as 
 to locomotion, was hopeful as to ultimate recovery, and in- 
 clined to believe that the heathen would be confounded in 
 due time, and the persecuted cattle be permitted to eat their 
 cotton-bush unharmed, free from spears and stampedes. 
 
XX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 251 
 
 Detailed information as to route and water-courses was 
 obtained from Mick Mahoney, the stockman, a New South 
 Welshman of Irish extraction, who was loud in praise of the 
 grand country he was, in his own phrase, " laying them on 
 to." Altogether, matters wore a more hopeful and en- 
 couraging appearance to Jack's mind than at any time since 
 the " hegira " from Gondaree. The horses were fresh and in 
 good heart ; their arms and ammunition were carefully looked 
 to. Some slight addition was made to the commissariat ; and 
 Mr. Waldron, as he rode forth, all adieux having been made, 
 declared himself to be " as fit as a fiddle," and ready to fight 
 all the blacks in the glorious new territory of Kaak if it was 
 half as good as Mick Mahoney had made out. 
 
 "1 feel like one of the Pilgrim Fathers," he was good 
 enough to remark, " just unloaded from the Mayflower, and 
 all ignorant of Philip of Pokanoket, Tecumseh, and the rest 
 of the Red Indian swells. I suppose we shall not have any 
 of their weight to do battle with. A spear like an arrow is 
 a mild kind of weapon enough unless it hits you. I propose 
 if we get this country, to be kind to these Austral children 
 of Ishmael, against whom is, apparently, the hand of every 
 man." 
 
 " The worst possible policy," said Jack ; " after the place 
 is settled, well and good, but as long as ill-blood lasts you 
 can't be too careful." 
 
 " I think you are disposed to be hard on them," answered 
 Guy ; " but of course you're the commanding officer, and I 
 give in. Only, I have a strong feeling in favour of a genuine 
 patriarchal reign. The whole tribe, gradually convinced of 
 the good feeling and firmness of the new ruler, bowing down 
 to the beneficent white stranger, and, while toiling for him 
 with passionate devotion, insensibly creating for themselves 
 a higher ideal. 
 
 "Dreams and phantasies of youth, my dear "Waldron, 
 frightfully exaggerating the good qualities of human nature, 
 never by any chance realized. There's always some scoundrel 
 of a stockman who undoes all your teaching, or some long- 
 headed crafty pagan who convinces his brethren of the very 
 obvious fact that stealing is a cheaper way of procuring 
 luxuries than working for them." 
 
 " It may be so," said the boy (another name for enthusiast, 
 
252 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 unless the nature be precociously cold or corrupt) ; " but all 
 the same, if we get this country, I should like to do something 
 for these pre-Adamite parties, or whatever they are. I think 
 they are very improvable myself." 
 
 " Up to a certain point, but not a peg further ; like aU 
 savages, they lack the power of continuous self-denial ; that's 
 where the lowest known specimens of the white races im- 
 measurably excel them. Out of any given hundred of the 
 most debased whites you may get an individual infinitely 
 susceptible of development by culture. You may take the 
 continent through, and from the whole aboriginal population 
 you shall be unable to cull such a one." 
 
 " "Well, I know that is the general creed about niggers, as 
 we comprehensively call all men a few shades darker than 
 ourselves ; but when we annex this kingdom of Eaak I will 
 certainly try the experiment. In the meanwhile, when shall 
 we get to it ? I feel most impatient to gaze on this land of 
 the Amalekites. They have no walled cities at any rate." 
 
 " If we have luck we may get there to-morrow," said Jack, 
 " and camp on our own run, or runs, for we shall have plenty 
 to sell as well as to keep." 
 
 Steering precisely by the directions given, and a rough chart 
 manufactured for them, they found themselves quartered 
 for the first night in a barren and unpromising scrub. How- 
 ever, this was the description of country described, being, 
 indeed, the occasion of Mick Mahoney losing his tracks and 
 eventually blundering into the astonishing land of Haak. 
 
 Next morning they were aU on the alert, and for the 
 greater part of the day toiled through a most hopeless and 
 apparently endless scrub. Evening approached and found 
 them still in the jungle. Guy began to think that they had 
 missed their course ; or that Mick Mahoney had lied ; or that 
 they were going deeper and deeper into one of the endless 
 waterless thickets which occur " down there." Doorival, who 
 by no means reUshed this description of travelling, and -who 
 had found his pack-horse most vexatious and hard to manage, 
 suddenly ascended a high tree, and soon as he reached the 
 top began to gesticulate and call out. 
 
 " All right, Misser Eedgrave," he cried out, as soon as he 
 had deposited himself, with some breathlessness, on the 
 ground ; " me see 'um that one new Country, big waterhole. 
 
XX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 25S 
 
 and big hill, like't Mick tell you. Plenty black fellow sit 
 down ; I believe me see 'van smoke all about." 
 
 " They be hanged ! " said Guy, throwing up his hat ; " let 
 us push on and camp on the edge of it. I don't want to 
 stop another night in the wilderness." 
 
 Fired with new hope, they redoubled their exertions, and 
 as the sun fell in broad banners — "white and golden, 
 crimson, blue " — he lighted up the welcome panorama of a 
 vast pyramidal mass of granite, throwing its shadows across 
 a silver-mirrored lake, while, far as eye could see, stretched 
 apparently endless plains. 
 
 The comrades looked at each other for a moment, and then 
 Guy burst into a wild hurrah, and, taking Jack's hand, shook 
 it with unacted fervour. 
 
 " By Jove, old fellow," said he, "this is a moment worth 
 living for, worth a whole long life in Oxfordshire, with aU 
 the partridge and pheasant shooting, fishing and hunting, 
 dressing for dinner, and all the other shams and routine of 
 recreation. This is life 1 pure and unadulterated ; travel, 
 adventure, anxiety, and now Success ! Triumph I Fortune ! " 
 
 " Don't make such a row, my dear fellow," said Jack, more 
 philosophical, but inwardly e:raltant, " or else we shall have 
 the whole standing army of Raak upon our backs. You may 
 depend upon it the fellows are pretty weU fed in this 
 locality ; and when that is the case they are apt to become 
 very ugly customers in a skirmish. "We may as well take 
 off the packs." 
 
 "What, camp here?" demanded "Waldron, in a most 
 aggrieved tone. 
 
 " Why not ? You would not have us go on to the lake 
 before we know whether the tribe is not in force there. No ! 
 here we have the scrub at our backs, and if attacked — and 
 we must keep that possibility uppermost in our minds — we 
 have a capital cover to fight or fly in, whichever may be 
 most expedient." 
 
 So they abode there, warily abstaining from making any 
 but the smallest fire, and deferring possession of the new 
 world till the morrow. 
 
 They had been long on their way to the lake — ^to their lake 
 
 concerning the name of which they had already held 
 
 discussion, before the sun irradiated the virgin waste which 
 
254 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 lay unclaimed, untrodden, save by the foot of the wandering 
 savage, before and around them. The pyramid of fantastically 
 piled rocks rose clear and sharp in outline on the shore of the 
 lake. The distance, as is usual with such landmarks in a 
 perfectly level country, was greater than they had supposed. 
 It was midday when they loosed their tired horses among the 
 luxuriant herbage at its base, and wandered to the edge of 
 the gleaming waters, doubly gracious from their rarity in 
 that land of fierce heat and infrequent pool and stream. 
 Amid the caves which deeply tunnelled the foundation of 
 this wonder-temple of Nature they found traces of burial 
 and tribal feast, and the strange, gigantic Red Hand, the 
 symbol of forgotten rites, traced rudely but indelibly upon 
 the dim cavern walls. Doorival gazed with wondering and 
 troubled looks upon these tokens of an older day — a more 
 powerful organization of the fast-fading tribes. 
 
 " I believe big one black fellow sit down here," he said, 
 with some appearance of awe and perturbation, a most un- 
 usual state of mind with him, a full-blooded wolf cub that he 
 was, and curiously devoid of fear ; '' one old man Coradjee 
 come every moon and say prayer along a that one murra. 
 By and by wild black fellow run track belonging to us, and 
 sneak up 'long a camp." 
 
 " We must keep a good look out, then, Doorival," said 
 Redgrave, sanguine and fearless in the presence of the great 
 discovery. " Keep your revolver in good order, and Mr. 
 "Waldron and I will pick them off with our rifles like crows. 
 Help will tell us when they are coming, won't you, old 
 man?" 
 
 That intelligent quadruped, conscious that he was being 
 appealed to, but not, let us say, fully understanding the 
 whole of the conversation, looked wistfully at his master for 
 a minute, and then relieved his feelings by a series of loud 
 barks and a rush down to the lake, in the erroneous expecta- 
 tion of catching some of the water-fowl that thronged the 
 shallows. 
 
 They concluded to camp at the lake that day, and on the 
 next to try and discover the river which they doubted not 
 divided at some point this magnificent tract of country. The 
 one fact established of a permanent watercourse, and their 
 prize was gained. They had nothing more to do but to put 
 
XX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 255 
 
 in their tenders for as many five-mile blocks as they pleased 
 of the Raak country. Their fortune was made ; they could 
 easily dispose of a third part of it ; stock up another third 
 with breeding cattle, and after three or four years of very 
 easy squatter-life — -pace the blacks — might consider them- 
 selves to be wealthy men. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " The brown Indian marks with murderous aim." — Goldsmith. 
 
 Late next day they fell upon converging tracks and 
 indications that the wild creatures of the region walked 
 steadily in one direction, mostly discovered and collated 
 by Doorival. Keeping the average direction, they came 
 towards evening upon a noble, full-fed flowing stream, 
 running north-easterly, and abounding in fish and wild- 
 fowl. 
 
 "Hurrah!" shouted Guy "Waldron, "this is something 
 like a river. What a glorious reach that is ! "We ought to 
 christen it, for I swear no white man ever saw it before ; 
 what shall we call it 1 I make you a present of the lake, 
 by which to immortaKze any of your fair friends ; but I 
 should like to name this river ; or I'll toss up, whichever 
 you like." 
 
 " I will accept the lake, which I hereby call Lake Maud 
 — we will provide the champagne on a future occasion. 
 What shall you call the river % " 
 
 " I shall call it the Marion, after my dear old mother. 
 Heaven knows whether she will ever see her wild boy again. 
 I should like to have my head in the old lady's lap again, as I 
 used to do when I was a schoolboy, and she used to talk to me 
 in her gentle way, and charm all the perversity out of me. I 
 wonder what sets me thinking of the blessed saint now." 
 
 "It won't do you any harm, Guy," said Jack, kindly. 
 " Mine died when I was a little chap, but I shall never forget 
 her, it seems like yesterday. And now, what about making 
 tracks for civilization — save the mark — the day after to- 
 morrow ? We may run the river down to-morrow to see if the 
 
XXI ] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 257 
 
 country gets worse or better, and then we must head for the 
 nearest place the mail passes and send in our tenders — the 
 sooner the better." 
 
 " All right. I should like a month here ; but one can't 
 be too spry about the tenders ; there are always such a lot 
 of rascally landsharks on the look-out for anything like good 
 new country. They might have got a scrap or two of in- 
 formation out of old Blockham, from which basis they are 
 quite capable of tendering for all the available country 
 within a thousand mUes of him." 
 
 " Quite true," said Jack. " I'm glad you see it in that 
 light. I've heard of many a pioneer who has had the hard 
 work of years snatched away from him by tenders suspici- 
 ously close to, but little in advance of, his own. How the 
 information was supplied Heaven only knows, but it has 
 been done before now. Didn't old Ruthven get Yap-yap 
 and Marngah, all that country side 1 and didn't "Westrope, 
 who discovered it, lose heart and migrate to California, dis- 
 gusted with Australia, and wroth with the whole civil 
 service from the messengers to the minister ? " 
 
 Their exploration fully confirmed the previous high esti- 
 mate of the quality of the country. Following the river 
 downward, they came from time to time upon unusually 
 broad, deep reaches, equal to a three years' drought without 
 serious diminution. The plains retained their character, 
 and were rich in saline herbage, intermingled with the best 
 kinds of fattening grasses. There was room for half-a- 
 dozen stations of the largest size ; and as far as they could 
 see there was no appearance of the country " falling ofE " — 
 that is, changing into the apparently verdant but utterly 
 worthless spinifex, or the endless scrubs which multiply 
 labour and decrease profits. No ; the Eaak country was as 
 good as good could be, perfect in quality, and more than 
 sufficient in quantity. They rested contented, and decided 
 to make back to the settlements with morning light. "With 
 that end in view they shaped their course in such fashion 
 as to strike the Great Scrub, which they had penetrated 
 after leaving Mr. Blockham' s, at a point more in the direct 
 line to the settled country, whence they might send in their 
 tenders for their principality with the smallest possible 
 loss of time. 
 
258 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 By cutting off corners, and making use of their previous 
 experience, they managed to reach the border of this jungle 
 tract late on the following evening. 
 
 All that day and the previous night the boy Doorival had 
 been uneasy and watchful. Had they not known his excep- 
 tional courage, they would have attributed his uneasiness to 
 the causeless fear and general apprehension so often exhibited 
 by aboriginals when in strange territory. More than once 
 he pointed out a thin column of smoke rising at no great dis- 
 tance from them. Sometimes one was observable on one 
 flank, sometimes on the other, or in their rear. And as they 
 rode forward it seemed that these tiny vaporous phenomena 
 were rather less distant than in the earlier part of the 
 day. 
 
 " You see that one ? " said the boy, in a low, broken voice, 
 indicative of dread. "Black fellow talk along that one 
 smoke. One black fellow 'long a hill see you, he make smoke. 
 'Nother one black fellow see that one smoke, ke make 'um 
 smoke, tell 'nother one black fellow. ' all right.' By and by, 
 I believe, we see 'um, and no mistake. I think keep watch, 
 all hands, 'long a camp to-night." 
 
 " Very well, Doorival," said Jack, " we shall aU sleep 
 with one eye open. Help will tell us when they are pretty 
 close up, and we have plenty of cartridges all ready for the 
 first round." 
 
 They had approached within a couple of miles of a long 
 cape of scrub which stretched out into the open country, as 
 a promontory into the sea, when it suddenly became apparent 
 that they had entered upon a different description of travel- 
 ling. They found a wide expanse of deep sand, level as the 
 blown beaches of the sea, embellished in large patches here 
 and there with the pink flowering mesembryanthum, which 
 looked like a great bright flag cast down on the mimic shore, 
 but deep and toilsome for the horses, so that an active foot- 
 man could have run as fast as the struggling, floundering 
 quadrupeds. Here, in this unexpected trap, suddenly ap- 
 peared two large bodies of blacks, who converged, as if by 
 preconcerted signal, and followed closely upon their tracks. 
 They did not make any pretence of attack, but followed 
 patiently in the wake of the party, as if more in the hope 
 that the horses might sink exhausted in the gand, and go 
 
XXI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE, 259 
 
 place the party at their mercy, than with the intention of 
 forcing an engagement. 
 
 John Redgrave and his companions had ridden hard that 
 day in order to reach the point now in front of them, and, 
 ignoring the possibility of any change of country, had not 
 perhaps exercised sufficient caution in so doing. Now they 
 saw their error. The horses toiled, stumbled, and staggered 
 in the deep, yielding sand, while nearer and stUl nearer 
 came the savage horde, following up, with woK-like ob- 
 stinacy, their faltering footsteps. At length, when the 
 timber was distant about a inile, the expedition held a 
 council of war, 
 
 " I wonder, if we get into the cover, whether there is any 
 chance of the fellows following us further," said Waldron, 
 " My horse is nearly done, thanks to my unfair weight ; but 
 I don't like to leave him behind." 
 
 " Plaia black fellows never go 'long a scrub," asserted 
 Doorival ; " we get 'long a timber they stop and turn round. 
 Too much afraid of debil-debil ; but I believe they catch us 
 before that ; they close up now." 
 
 " How can we stop them 1 " demanded Guy. " I can't 
 go faster to save my life." 
 
 " I'll show you," said Jack, dismounting ; " you lead my 
 horse on slowly, and be ready to wait for me as I come up. 
 I'll manage to stop them." 
 
 " But you are going to certain death," said Waldron. " I 
 can't stand that." 
 
 " Not at all," said Jack, coolly ; " you take my orders : 
 I'm first officer, you know. Walk on quietly, and leave me 
 here." 
 
 Jack remained where he was, and permitted Waldron and 
 Doorival to go slowly forward. He looked carefully to his 
 rifle, and as the array of natives came rather confusedly 
 along he picked out a conspicuous-looking personage in the 
 lead and fired. The unfortunate savage threw up his arms 
 and dropped dead in his tracks. Another fell, desperately 
 wounded,' and yet another to the third shot. The mass of 
 pursuers became confused at this sudden onslaught. They 
 halted, appeared irresolute, and finally made a flank move- 
 ment, and suffered our travellers to pursue their way in 
 peace. ^ ^ 
 
260 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 Jack quickly rejoined his men, who had stopped at the 
 first shot ; they then dismounted, and, leading their weary 
 horses, made good their way to the cover, where they found 
 firm ground and a sheltered nook, wherein they rested for 
 the night, thankful to believe that they would remain un- 
 molested by the dismayed contingent of the tribes of Haak. 
 " It was unfortunate that we should be compelled to draw 
 first blood," said Jack, as they kept midnight watch, " but 
 it was unavoidable. If one horse had fallen we should have 
 had the whole mob upon us at once, without the faintest 
 chance of escape." 
 
 "What made you think of that particular style of 
 defence ? " 
 
 "I happened to know two explorers," answered Jack, 
 " who saved themselves in a similar emergency long ago. 
 Only that they were in very wet, marshy country. Shirley 
 told me he had never known it fail ; and he being an un- 
 questioned authority I determined to try it." 
 
 " Well, there's nothing like experience," said Guy, reflec- 
 tively. " I should never have thought of it, though I was 
 just preparing to sell my life dearly, as the writing fellows 
 call it. To-morrow we shall be well across this belt of scrub, 
 and I suppose we may consider the war-path business over." 
 " I trust so," answered his comrade ; " we have plenty of 
 obstacles and troubles before us yet without that. I must 
 say I shall be glad to see the first bush inn again, unsatis- 
 factory halting-places as they are, notwithstanding." 
 
 " That tribe give us fits when we go back to Eaak again," 
 observed Doorival, with decision. " How many men you 
 take, Misser Redgrave?" 
 
 "Plenty of men, plenty of guns, Doorival," said Guy 
 Waldron ; " don't you be afraid. You must teU them all 
 about that if they don't touch the cattle we'll be the best 
 friends they ever had." 
 
 " I not afraid," said the boy, proudly. " You nebber see 
 me frighten, Misser Waldron ! " 
 
 "Well, I never did," admitted Guy; "you are as plucky 
 a little beggar as I ever saw of your age, white or black." 
 
 For three days they pursued their course through the 
 interminable scrub, occasionally suffering for want of water, 
 and at other times rendered anxious by the idea that they 
 
XXI.] A STOEY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 261 
 
 had mistaken their course, and perhaps struck the barren, 
 waterless thicket at a point where it was broader than they 
 had imagined, in which case they might be a week or even 
 a fortnight before they threaded its of ttimes fatal maze. On 
 the fourth day they sent Doorival ahead to see if he could 
 find any indication of a change of landscape, which would 
 fortify them in the idea that they had not been mistaken in 
 their calculations. 
 
 To their great joy their messenger returned before sunset 
 with the welcome intelligence that he had seen open country 
 ahead, and they would reach it early next morning. 
 
 A smaU supply of water being discovered, the little party 
 camped, full of sanguine anticipation of the morrow, looking 
 upon the worst of the journey as past, and already fancying 
 themselves restored to civilization and free to enter upon the 
 first stage of their successful discovery. 
 
 Their camp-fire was rather larger than usual that night. 
 Some of the minor precautions were dispensed with. No 
 sign of native trails had been seen lately, and after their 
 repulse of the Eaak army they felt themselves equal to any 
 ordinary skirmishing party. 
 
 The partners talked long as they sat and smoked by the 
 fire. Guy was unusually excited with the confirmation of 
 their reckoning and the expectation of a trip to the metropolis 
 for the presentation of their tenders, in the names of Redgrave 
 and "Waldron, for so many blocks upon either bank of the 
 river Marion, with others, including, of course, Lake Maud 
 and Mount Stangrove. 
 
 " It's full of magnificent sensations, this rdle of successful 
 explorer, Redgrave," he said. " Nothing comes up to it that 
 I ever felt before, especially when you see plainly before you 
 the unmistakable profits and advantages. It comprehends 
 so much beside discovery ; it's the creation, as it were, of a 
 colony of one's very own." 
 
 " It's a grand thing in its way," agreed Jack, with less 
 enthusiasm, recalling one great enterprise which had looked 
 as fair and yet failed so fatally. " But, as I said before, 
 many things have to be done yet; and I'm getting old 
 enough, I fear, to dread the proverbial slip." 
 
 " I know," interrupted Guy, with eager scorn ; " but there 
 canH be a break-down in our case — it's morally impossible. 
 
262 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : fcHAt. 
 
 They must accept our tenders. "We can't have any difficulty 
 in selling some of our spare blocks for cash enough to put 
 on store cattle. How glorious it will be to see them pitch- 
 ing into that lovely saltbush by the lake ! I know my 
 governor would send me out two or three thousand pounds 
 if he knew I had a real partner and a real station — a 
 country-side of my own." 
 
 " It all looks very well, old fellow," said Jack, " and I feel 
 with you that nothing in the ordinary run of events can 
 prevent our forming a fine property out of our discovery, 
 which is entirely confined to our own knowledge. You had 
 better go straight in with the tenders as soon as we reach 
 the region of her Majesty's maUs, and I will stay at any 
 convenient township till I hear from you." 
 
 "But why not come down with me?" demanded Guy. 
 " I have lots of tin to carry us on for a few months, and a 
 spell in town would do you no harm." 
 
 " I have made no vow," said Jack, " but I have taken a 
 solemn resolution " — and a strange light came into his eyes 
 as he spoke, and into his heart a thrill as he thought of 
 Juandah and his last words to Maud Stangrove — " a resolu- 
 tion not to resume toy position in society until I do so as 
 the man who has achieved a success j I must return a leader, 
 a conqueror, or my old comrades shall see me no more. My 
 barque must sail up the harbour with flags flying and prizes 
 towed astern, or lie a battered hull for wind and wave to 
 hold revel over." 
 
 " Ha ! " said Guy, " stands the case thus ? So we are too 
 proud to bend to the breeze until the wind changes ? Well, 
 I understand the feeling ; only you must put me up to all 
 the ways of your Lands Department, or else I shall get sold 
 or nobbled, or ' had,' and then where will the prize-money 
 come from % " 
 
 " It is all simple enough," said Redgrave. " You will 
 leave with everything cut and dry, and in writing. You 
 will be able to manage advances and so on down below, and 
 I shall be all the more handy to go and take delivery of the 
 first lot of store cattle." 
 
 " By Jove ! " said "Waldron, excitedly, " I feel as if I were 
 behind them at this very moment." 
 
 As he spoke the dog Help rose slowly and, looking out 
 
XXI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 263 
 
 into the darkness, growled in a low, fierce tone, while 
 Doorival, converted suddenly into a statue, expressive of 
 the act of listening, with an intensity apparent in every 
 nerve and muscle, raised his hand in sUent warning. Each 
 man felt for his arms, and placed himself in full and perfect 
 readiness for the reception of whatever enemy might appear. 
 The night was intensely dark. Within a few feet of the 
 fire the thicket was altogether composed of Egyptian dark- 
 ness. It might have been solitary as the great desert, it 
 might have contained an army with banners, for all that 
 could be seen : still evil was abroad, they doubted not. 
 The dog, whose tongue never lied, growled yet more menac- 
 ingly. From Doorival at length came the interpretation of 
 the faint sounds of the desert. 
 
 " Hang that fire," he said, at last, " I think we big fools 
 for making it ; black fellow coming to rush the camp ; I 
 hear 'em stick break just now." 
 
 Not a sound had fallen upon the less delicate organs of 
 the two men, and Redgrave, but for the corroboration of 
 Help's evidence, would have felt almost inclined to discredit 
 Doorival' s information. 
 
 "Sticks break all night in the bush," he said, "still 
 there's soniething up by the old dog's bristles. If it were 
 a dingo he would walk out to meet it ; but you see he cowers 
 close by us. Listen again." 
 
 " Your hear 'em now ? " said Doorival, in a hoarse whisper, 
 as a very faint but continuous murmur of voices came in on 
 the breeze. " Black fellow — no mistake." 
 
 " Every man to his tree," said Guy. " I vote we clear out 
 to the rear of the fire, so that we may deliver a converging 
 fire upon the scoundrels when they come near the light. I 
 call it devilish unhandsome to try and pot us now we are so 
 near civilized society. However, they'll get it hot, that's 
 one comfort." 
 
 " It was a strange experience," Redgrave thought, as he 
 cooUy picked out the largest available tree where none were 
 very big, and with Guy awaited the attack. In utter deso- 
 lation of that nameless soHtude, with the hour midnight, 
 and the faint but distinct sounds as of the light tread and 
 hushed voices of the advancing savages, Redgrave felt as if 
 they were enacting a scene in some weird drama, and were 
 
264 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 awaiting the Demon with whose intercourse their fate was 
 interwoven. 
 
 That they would come off victorious, with the advantage 
 of preparation and the immense superiority of fire-arms, he 
 never doubted. Still the blacks had the advantage of num- 
 bers, and of that instinctive cunning which renders the 
 savage man no mean antagonist. 
 
 The noises ceased ; for some minutes, an unpleasant period 
 of suspense, they awaited the onset. Then the dog suddenly 
 burst into a loud, fierce bark, as the still, warm midnight 
 air was rent by a storm of yells ; and a shower of spears, 
 apparently from every point of the compass, covered the 
 fire and every foot of ground within some distance with 
 thirsty spear-points. 
 
 A double volley, fired low and carefully in the direction of 
 the thickest spears apparently had some effect, as a sudden 
 cry, promptly checked, implied. For some time this curious 
 interchange of missiles took place. Whenever the blacks 
 pressed forward, desirous of discovering the exact hiding- 
 place of the daring white men, a steady discharge repulsed 
 them. The whites were well supplied with ammunition, and 
 the rapidity with which they loaded and fired deceived the 
 attacking party. More than one man of note had fallen, 
 and they became less eager in the attack upon a party so 
 well prepared, so skilled in defence. Apparently a last 
 attack was ordered. Some kind of flank movement was 
 evidently arranged, and some of the boldest of the fighting 
 men of the tribe ordered to the front. The spears commenced 
 to fall very closely among the resolute defence corps. They 
 appeared as if thrown from a shorter distance. Guy could 
 have sworn that the spear which whizzed so closely by his 
 head, as he leaned over to fire in the direction of a suspici- 
 ously opaque body, was thrown from behind yon small clump 
 of mulga. With the decision of intelligence, or the reck- 
 lessness of despair, the dog Help suddenly rushed out and 
 assaulted what appeared to be a man at the base of the 
 clump referred to. Guy dashed forward to the smouldering 
 fire, and seizing a fire-stick threw it in the direction of the 
 combat where the dog was baying savagely, and occasional 
 blows and spear-thrusts showed that a fight A I'outrance was 
 proceeding. The brand blazed up for a moment, just suffi- 
 
XXI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 265 
 
 cient to display tlie burly form of a savage warrior engaged 
 in the ignoble contest. With practical quickness Guy took 
 a snap shot and sent a buUet through the broad chest, the 
 arms of which at once collapsed. 
 
 In the excitement of the moment Guy moved forward, dis- 
 playing the whole of his grand and lofty figure in the un- 
 certain Ught. A score of spears from the concealed enemy 
 hurtled around him with the suddenness of a flight of arrows. 
 One of the puny-looking missiles — they were reed spears, 
 tipped with bone — pierced his arm, another struck him in the 
 side. Snapping the former short off, and carelessly drawing 
 forth the other, the wounded man stalked back to his cover, 
 from whence he, with Jack and Doorival, kept up a ceaseless 
 fusillade. So deadly was the fixe that their assailants dared 
 not approach more nearly the desperate strangers, who fought 
 so hard and shot so straight. From time to time a yell, a 
 smothered cry, proclaimed that a shot had taken effect. 
 
 The explorers took advantage of a pause in the attack to 
 draw together and hold converse. 
 
 "Redgrave, old fellow," said Guy, in tones which were 
 strangely altered, " I fancy that I've lost more blood than 
 shows, or else I'm hard hit, for I feel deuced faint and queer." 
 
 " You don't mean it, Guy ; surely you can't be serious in 
 thinking those two needle punctures could stop you." 
 
 " The one in the arm is only a scratch, though it makes 
 one wince ; but this confounded one in the flank has bitten 
 more deeply, and I don't know what to say about it." 
 
 " Then there is nothing for it," said Jack, decisively, " but 
 to beat a retreat. If these black devUs think you are badly 
 hurt nothing will stop their rush when they choose to make 
 it. We must take stars for our guide, and move steadily 
 back, keeping our course as well as we can." 
 
 " And what about the horses 1 " 
 
 " They must be left to their fate ; we should risk our lives, 
 and perhaps lose them, if we attracted notice now by trying 
 to catch them." 
 
 "Pacha and alii" asked Guy, incredulously. 
 
 " I believe I could almost suffer my hand to be hacked off 
 rather than lose him if it were optional," confessed Jack ; 
 " but we must choose between life and death : the time is 
 short." 
 
266 THE SQtTATTER'S BREAM >. [oSap. 
 
 Having communicated the decision to Doorival, and 
 pointed out the direction, that young person selected a star", 
 and, marching with eyeS steadfastly fixed upon it, the others 
 followed him. i 
 
 They were not pursued, probably because they Were Hear 
 the boundary of the tribe that had assailed them. No people 
 while unmolested are more punctilious in preserving a proper 
 attitude to friends and foes than the untaught aborigines. 
 They respect the hiinting'grounds of their neighbours in the 
 most conscientious manner, and are always ready to hunt up 
 an outlaw or criminal who has taken refuge in the territory 
 of a foreign tribe. Such was one element of safety upon 
 which the little party reckoned, and by great good fortune 
 it did not fail them. 
 
 By the merest chance it happened that the spot where the 
 unlucky camp-fire had been lighted Was within a short 
 distance of the ancient and scarcely-observed tribal boundary. 
 So that when John Eedgrave with his wounded comrade and 
 their henchman abandoned their position they were unwit- 
 tingly in perfect safety before they had left the scene of the 
 conflict three miles behind them. It afterwards transpired 
 that the second chief of the tribe had been mortally wounded 
 in the last volley. The excitement and grief caused by his 
 fall aided the retreating party in their silent flight. 
 
 AU the night through they travelled slowly but steadily 
 onward, having for their pilot the untiring Doorival, and 
 for their guidance one friendly star. 
 
 As day broke, and the red dawn stole soft and blushing 
 over the gray plain and duller foliage, they found themselves 
 upon a pine-clothed sand-hill, from whence they could survey 
 the landscape in all directions. By the clear dawn-light 
 each man was enabled to scan the face of his comrade. The 
 pale and changed countenance of the once gay and volatile 
 Guy Waldron struck Bedgrave with a feeling of wonder and 
 dread. 
 
 "Well, it seems that^we are clear of these highly patriotic 
 ' burghers of this desert city,' " said he, with an attempt at 
 his old manner, though the pained and fixed expression of 
 his features belied the jesting words. " Do you think there 
 is a medical practitioner within hail, Bedgrave] though I 
 fear me he would come late." 
 
3CXI.] A STORY 01? AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 28? 
 
 " Good God ! " said Jack, " you don't say — you can't think, 
 old man, you are really hurt. I thought it was a mere 
 scratch. Let us look and see ; surely something can be done." 
 
 " 'Tis not ' as deep as a draw-weU, or as wide as a church^ 
 door,' as Mercutio says, but I am really afraid that I shall see 
 the old hall no more, not even the modified home of a club 
 smoking-room. It's hard — deuced hard, isn't it, to die by the 
 hand of miserable savages, in a place only to be vaguely 
 guessed at as within certain parallels ; just when we had hit 
 the white too." 
 
 " Don't think of that, my dear old boy," said Jack, gently, 
 " you lie down and have a sleep, and perhaps we shaU find 
 that you have over-rated the damage." 
 
 They made a fire ; Jack and the boy Doorival kept watch, 
 while the sore-fatigued and wounded man slept. No sound 
 of fear or conflict smote upon their ears, as toil-worn and 
 saddened, they passed the mournful hours. Towards evening 
 Guy Waldron stirred, but moaned with fresh and increasing 
 pain. 
 
 " Where am I ? " he asked, as he looked around, with eyes 
 which incipient delirium had begun to brighten. " Oh, here, 
 on this miserable sand-hill — and dying^dying. Yes, I 
 know that I am going fast. Do you know, Kedgrave, that I 
 dreamed I was back in the old place in Oxfordshire, and I 
 saw my mother and the girls. I wish — I wish you could 
 have met my people, but that's over — as plain as I see you 
 and Doorival. Don't cry, you young scamp. Mr. Redgrave 
 will look after you, won't you 1 Well, I thought the governor 
 looked quite gracious, and said I was just in time for the 
 hunting season. Every one was so jolly glad to see me, 
 and then I woke and felt as if another spear was going 
 slap through me. Oh, how hard it is to die when a fellow 
 is young and has all the world before him I I don't want 
 to whine over it ; but it seems such awful bad luck, doesn't 
 it now?" 
 
 " I wish I had been hit instead," groaned Jack. " I'm used 
 to bad luck, and it seems only the order of nature with me. 
 Try and sleep again, there's a good fellow." 
 
 "I shall never sleep again — except the long sleep," 
 answered Guy, mournfully. "I feel my head going, and I 
 shall begin to rave before long. So we may as well have our 
 
268 THE SQUATTER'S DEEAM : [chap. 
 
 last talk. When I'm gone send my watch and these things — 
 they are not of any great value — to my agents in Sidney, and 
 ask them to send them to my people. They know my address 
 — and, Doorival, come here." 
 
 The boy came, with deepest sorrow in every feature, and 
 knelt down by his master's side. 
 
 " Will you go home to my father, my house across the big 
 sea, and teU them how I was struck with a spear in a fight, 
 and all about me." 
 
 " I go, Misser Walron," said the boy, cheerfully. " I tell 
 your people." 
 
 "You not afraid of big one water, and big canoe ? " 
 
 " Me not afraid," said the boy, proudly. " I go anywhere 
 for you — you always say, Doorival afraid of nothing." 
 
 " All right, Doorival ; you were always a game chicken. 
 I should have made a man of you if I had lived. Mr. 
 Redgrave will give you new clothes when you go down the 
 country, and put you on board ship. Mind you are a good 
 boy, and remember what I told you, when you go to my 
 country, and see father belonging to me. Now good-night." 
 
 The boy threw himself on his face beside the dying man, 
 and with many tears kissed his hand, and then, raising him- 
 self, walked to a tree at some distance and sat with his head 
 upon his knees, in an attitude of the deepest dejection. 
 
 " Look here, old fellow," continued Guy, " there's a 
 hundred or two to my credit at the agents'. I'll scrawl an 
 order in your favour. You take it and do what you can for 
 the honour of the firm, and my share of the profits, if there 
 be any, in time to come, can go to my sisters. It will remind 
 them of poor Guy. I shall die happier if I think they will 
 get something out of it when I'm gone. Let the boy take 
 aU my traps home in the ship with him. It wiU comfort the 
 girls and the old people at home, who have seen the last of 
 their troublesome Guy. I wish you all the luck going ; and 
 some day, when you are thinking of the first draft of fat cattle, 
 remember poor Guy Waldron, who would have rejoiced to 
 knock through all the rough work along with you ; but it 
 cannot be. Somebody gets knocked over in every battle, and 
 it's my luck, and that's all about it. Good-bye, Kedgrave, 
 old fellow. I'm done out of my share of hut-building, stock- 
 yard-making, and all the rest of it. I feel that as much 
 
XXI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 269 
 
 as anything. Give me your hand — my eyes are growing 
 dim." 
 
 All the long night John Redgrave and the boy watched 
 patiently and tenderly by the dying man. Shortly before 
 daylight there was a period of unusual stillness. Jack lighted 
 a torch and took one look at the still face which he had 
 learned to love. The features still wore the calm air habitual 
 to the man. The parted lips bore recent traces of a smile. 
 The square jaw was set and slightly fallen — Guy "Waldron 
 was dead ! — dead in this melancholy desert, thousands of 
 miles from any one of his own name or kindred. 
 
 John Redgrave closed the fearless blue eyes, which stUl 
 bore unchanged their steadfast look of truth or challenge. 
 He covered the still face, placed by his side the arm, care- 
 lessly thrown, as in life's repose, above the head, and, casting 
 himself on the sand beside the dead, was not ashamed to 
 weep aloud. 
 
 How well-nigh impossible to reahze was it that, but one 
 short night before, that clay-cold form had been full of 
 glowing life, high hope, and generous speech. A fitting 
 representative of the old land, which has sent forth so many 
 heroes, conquering and to conquer. The darling of an^old 
 ancestral home — the deeply-loved son of a gallant father. The 
 long-looked-f or, dreamed-of wanderer, a demi-god in the eyes 
 of his sisters. . And now, there lay all that was left of Guy 
 Waldron — lonely and unmarked in death amid that solitary 
 waste, as a crag fallen from the brow of their scarce-named 
 peak, as a tree that sways softly but heavily to its fall amid 
 the crashing undergrowth of the desert woodlands. 
 ****** 
 
 That night John Redgrave and the wailing Doorival buried 
 him at the foot of a mighty sighing pine, covering up their 
 traces as completely as the boy's woodcraft enabled them to 
 do, and markmg the spot in a sure but unobtrusive manner, 
 so that in days to come the burying-place of Guy Waldron 
 should not be suffered to remain undistinguished. This duty 
 beiag performed. Jack gathered up the small personal 
 treasures of the dead man, and long before dawn, steering 
 by the southern stars, they pursued their mournful progress 
 towards the settlements. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " I loved him well ; his gallant part, 
 His fearless leading, won my heart." — Scott. 
 
 Foe several days they had an average measure of privation 
 only. The resources of Doorival were found equal to sup- 
 plying them with food and water. From the course pointed 
 out to Tiim he had never varied, and Jack was, from obser- 
 vation and calculation, perfectly certain that it would bring 
 them, if carried out, well within the line of the settled 
 districts. 
 
 But as to one condition of success he felt undecided. For 
 some weeks there had been no rain, and a stretch of country 
 lay yet before them in which, according to the rainfall, they 
 might, or might not, find water ; in the language of ex- 
 plorers, signifying that they might, or might not, perish. 
 Desperate from the death of Guy Waldron, he had been too 
 reckless to take this risk into the accounts He would dare 
 the hazard, and put his last chance upon the die. 
 
 So it fared that, after leaving the last watercourse and 
 entering upon the wide untrodden system of plain, scrub, and 
 sand-hiU — scrub and sand-hUl and plain — which divided the 
 rivers, Jack was compelled to admit, after two days' short 
 allowance of water, and one with none at all, that he had 
 been foolhardy. The third day passed without the slightest 
 appearance of moisture. It was inexpedient to diverge from 
 the line for more than a short distance in search for fear of 
 wasting their failing strength. The boy, strong in passive 
 courage, held out unflinchingly. John Redgrave had the 
 fullest faith in the accuracy of his reckoning. They must, 
 without the shadow of a doubt, strike the waters of the 
 
CH. XXII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 271 
 
 Wondabyne, if they could hold out. But that was the vital 
 question. By his closely-examiaed and re-examined calcula- 
 tion they should sight the great eucalypti that towered above 
 those deep and gleaming waters (oh, thought of Paradise !) 
 hurrying beneath the carved limestone cliffs on the following 
 sunset, or: at least before midnight. Were but one day longer 
 necessary, then were they both lost. The boy was failing 
 now in spite of his courage. For himself, he would not, could 
 not, consciously yield as long as he could stand or crawl on 
 hands and knees. Yet a certain swelling of his parched 
 throat, a murmur in his ears, a disposition to talk aloud and 
 unbidden, all these signs announced to him, as a practised 
 bushman, that the fourth day, if passed without water, would 
 find them deUrious and dying. Shutting out these thoughts 
 as far as his volition availed, he strode on, followed feebly by 
 the boy, during the long terrible day. 
 
 At sunset they halted for a few minutes upon the inevit- 
 able sand-hill, with pine and shrub and long yellow grass, 
 the exact fac-simile of scores which they had crossed since 
 they had left Raak. Jack faced the west and gazed for a 
 few moments upon the gorgeous blazonry of scroU-like clouds, 
 the rolling wavelets of orange, splashed with crimson and 
 ruddy with burning gold, which rose and fell in shifting 
 masses, as if rent by Titans from the treasure-house of 
 Olympus. Far away northward, far as the eye could see, 
 lay the dim green desert, measureless, lifeless, and life- 
 denying. 
 
 " It is the last sunset that I shall see, possibly. It seems 
 hard, as poor Guy said ; but when he and better men had 
 gone on the battle-field and elsewhere with the sound of 
 victory in their ears, John Redgrave may well go too. It is 
 a fitting end of the melodrama of hfe. Doorival, shoot 
 that crow." 
 
 This highly inconsequent concluding remark was occasioned 
 by the alighting of the bird of iU-omen, which had been 
 following them since dawn with the strange instinct of its 
 kind, on a branch almost immediately above them. The 
 boy, wayworn almost to the death, and looking weU-nigh 
 lifeless as he lay at Jack's feet, could not resist the irony of 
 the situation, and, noiselessly sliding his carbine into aim, 
 sent a bullet through the breast of the unlucky " herald of 
 
272 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 the fiend," who dropped down before them, like the raven 
 at the feet of Lucy Ashton and her fateful, fascinating 
 companion. 
 
 " To tear the flesh of princes 
 And peck the eyes of kings.'' 
 
 Murmured Jack, " If one ever could smUe again, it would be 
 at this transposition of situations. A minute since this 
 unprejudiced fowl had a well-grounded expectation that he 
 was about to dine or sup upon us. Now we are going to 
 eat hn/my 
 
 " Stupid fellow this one waggan," said Doorival, taking a 
 long and apparently satisfactory suck at the life-blood of the 
 incautious one j " he think we close up dead." 
 
 " He wasn't far wrong either," answered Jack, grimly. 
 " Now light a fire, and let us roast him a little for the look 
 of the thing." 
 
 Stimulated by even this unwonted repast, the forlorn 
 creatures struggled on till midnight. The night was com- 
 paratively cool, and with parched throats and fevered brain 
 John Redgrave judged it better, in spite of the increasing 
 weakness of the boy, to press forward and make their last 
 effort before dawn. 
 
 The Southern Cross, burning in the cloudless azure, with, 
 as it appeared to the despairing wayfarer, a mocking radiance 
 and intensity of lustre, had shown by its apparent change of 
 position that the night was waning, when the boy, who had 
 been going for the last hour like an over-driven horse, fell 
 and lay insensible. Jack raised him, and after a few minutes 
 he opened his eyes and spoke feebly. 
 
 " Can't go no furder, not one blessed step. You go on, 
 Misser Redgrave, and leave me here. I go 'long a Misser 
 Waldron." Here his dark eyes gleamed. " He very glad to 
 see Doorival again. I believe Wondabyne ahead ; you make 
 haste." 
 
 Jack's only reply to this was to pick the boy up and to 
 stagger on with him across his shoulder. For some distance 
 he managed by frantic effort and sheer power of will to sup- 
 port the burden ; but his failing muscles all but brought him 
 heavily to the earth over every slight obstruction. He was 
 compelled to halt, and, placing the lad at the foot of a tree, 
 
XXII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 273 
 
 he extemporized a sort of couch for him of leaves and 
 branches. 
 
 " Now look here, Doorival," he said ; " you and I are not 
 dead yet, though close up, I know. I will go on, and if I 
 get to the water before daylight I will come back and bring 
 you on. I will keep the same track till I drop. I know the 
 river is ahead, perhaps not very far. I break the branches 
 and leave track. You come on to-morrow morning if you 
 don't see me. Now, good-night. I'll leave Help with 
 you." 
 
 The boy's dull eye glistened as he placed his arm round 
 the neck of the dog, who, with the wondrous sympathy of 
 his race, sat in front of the exhausted lad, looking wistfully 
 into his face. Famishing as was the brute himself, he had 
 made no independent excursions for the water he so sorely 
 needed, but had followed patiently the feeble steps of his 
 comrades in misfortune. At his master's word he lay down 
 in an attitude of watchfulness by the fainting boy, and 
 remained to share a lingering d,eath, as Jack's steps died 
 away in the distance. 
 
 John Redgrave shook the boy's hand, parting as those 
 who, in a common adventure, have been more closely knit 
 together by the presence of danger and of death. Then he 
 strode on — weak, weary, alone, but still defiant of Fate. 
 For more than two hours he pressed forward unwaveringly, 
 though conscious of increasing weakness of mind and body. 
 The timber became more dense, and his progress was retarded 
 by small obstacles which stiU. were sufficient to entangle his 
 feeble feet. Then his brain began to wander. Sometimes 
 he thought he was at Marshmead. He heard plainly the 
 musical cry of the swans in the great meres, and the shrill 
 call of the plover, circling and wheeling over the broad 
 marshes. If he could only get through this timber he 
 would see the reed-brake ahead, and, falling into the knee- 
 deep water, would lap and lave till his fevered soul was 
 cooled. Then a white shape walked beside him, and ex- 
 tended a hand pointing towards that bright star. It was 
 Maud Stangrove, though her face was turned away — and 
 the Shape was misty, transparent, indistinct — he knew 
 every curve and outline of that faultless figure, the poise 
 of her head, the swaying grace of her step. She had 
 come to tell him that her pure spirit had passed from 
 
 T 
 
274 THE SQUATTER'S DEEAM: [chap. 
 
 earth, that Ms hour was come — that they would be united 
 for ever beyond yon fair star — that toil and weariness, 
 hope, fear, and mordant anxiety, the fierce pangs, the 
 evil dreams of this vain life, were over. Be it so — he 
 was content. Let the end come. 
 
 Then the fair shape floated onward, gaziag on him with 
 sad, luminous eyes, as of farewell. The look of despair- 
 ing fondness, of unutterable pity, was more than his 
 overwrought senses could bear. He threw up his arms, 
 and calling on the name of his lost love dashed madly 
 through the dense undergrowth. Suddenly he was sen- 
 sible of a crushing blow, of intense pain, then of utter dark- 
 ness, and John Redgrave fell prone, and lay as one dead. 
 
 He awoke at length to full consciousness of his position 
 and surroundings, more clear, perhaps, from the loss of 
 blood which had followed the blow against his brow from 
 the jagged Hmb of a dead tree against which he had 
 Staggered and fallen. The moon shone clearly, the night 
 was cool almost to coldness. He felt revived, but full of 
 indignation. It was the ingenious cruelty which restores 
 the fainting man to the dire torments of the rack. His 
 swollen tongue, which all that day his mouth had been 
 unable to contain, was covered, as were his face and 
 throat, with ants. His throat was parched stUl, but his 
 brain was revived. He rose to his feet, sternly obstinate 
 while life yet flickered. Onward still. He would die with 
 his face to the river. He would crawl when he could no 
 longer walk. He would die as a man should die. 
 
 Onward — stUl onward j he remembered his course, and 
 the star which Doorival called Irara. Weak at first, 
 but gradually rallying, he walked steadily and more 
 cautiously forward. An hour passed. The temporary 
 feeling of excitement has subsided, and overpowering, 
 leaden drowsiness is pressing heavily upon his brain. Again 
 he sinks to the earth, half fearing, half wishing to rise 
 no more. Suddenly he hears the whistling wings of a 
 flight of birds which sweep overhead. His languid senses 
 are aroused ; he watches mechanically the dark, swift forms 
 cleave the air in relief against the clear sky. They are 
 wild-fowl, on their way, no doubt, to distant waters. His 
 gaze follows them as they glide forward in swaying file, 
 and suddenly, with the plummet-like fall, drop and disappear. 
 
XXII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 275 
 
 Merciful Heaven ! can it be 1 Versed in all the habits 
 of fur and feather, as becomes a sworn sportsman, well 
 he knows that when such birds drop they drop in water, 
 in water I He staggers to his feet, and stumbHng, reeling, 
 tottering like a drunken man, makes for the place where 
 they became invisible. One glance, one hoarse broken 
 cry of joy, pain, rapture mingled in one utterance, and he 
 is on his knees beside a gleaming, rushing stream. He 
 hears the gurgling, whistling note of the delighted birds 
 that are diving and splashing and chasing one another in 
 ecstasy of enjoyment. It is the "Wondabyne ! He remains 
 upon his knees looking for some seconds at the starry 
 heavens ; then, slowly and sparingly, he drinks at intervals ; 
 he laves his brow and parched and bleeding hps again and 
 again in the cool waters. Then Ae carefully fills the tin 
 cup which hangs from a leather strap at his waist, and 
 turns on his track to the boy Doorival. Him he finds 
 stm sleeping, with the dog beside him, who barks joyously 
 at his approach. He wakes him, and pointing to the tin 
 cup, of which the boy drinks eagerly, repeats but the 
 single word " Wondabyne." 
 
 ■ It is enough ; Doorival arises, staggers off with him, as 
 one risen from the dead. 
 
 Once more he sees the reedy shore — the gleaming riY&c 
 into which Help plunges incontinently. He has much 
 difficulty in preventing Doorival from " drinking himself 
 to death." Both assuage the fiery thirst which has been 
 burrdng up brain and marrow.. Both throw themselves 
 upon the warm sandy turf, and sleep tiU the sun is far on 
 his path on the morrow. 
 
 The battle is won — the standard is planted — all is 
 plain and easy journeying for the future. They are close 
 to the mail track ; another day's journey will bring them 
 to the actual settled country. 
 
 On the morrow, just before sunset, they reach The 
 Pioneers' Royal Hotel, a palatial weather-board edifice, 
 apparently dropped down like an aeroKte upon the bare 
 red sou of the plain. If it has no other advantages, it 
 possesses the inestimable one of being the mail depot. 
 That invaluable custodian of her Majesty's correspond- 
 
276 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM. [ch. xxii. 
 
 ence, tlie mailman, passes tlie door daily. To-morrow, 
 if need be, Joka Redgrave may put himself, his followers, 
 and his tenders " on board " of this unpretending express 
 waggon, which bears the fortunes, the passions, the 
 emotions, the whole abstract life of the interior, to the 
 metropolis. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 " I, the sport of Fortune. " — Stike Charles of Orleans. 
 
 Jack, " ragged and tanned," half-starved, and a " foot 
 man" (as a person not in possession of a horse is termed 
 in Australian provincial circles), was not for the moment 
 regarded with special favour by the landlord of the 
 Royal Pioneer. 
 
 However, the first few words led to immediate "class 
 legislation." The landlords of Australian inns, I may 
 observe, are tolerably good judges of "who's who," and, 
 to their honour, are more regardful of gentlemanlike 
 bearing than of money and good clothes. 
 
 So Jack was inducted into the front parlour, and in- 
 vited to repair the inroads upon his outward man in a 
 bedroom of comparative grandeur. He first of all arranged 
 for the purchase of an entirely new rig-out from the 
 affiliated store, also in possession of the landlord, and a 
 bath. After indulgence in the latter luxury, he made up 
 the whole of his former wearing apparel in a package, and 
 desired that they might be given to the poor, or other- 
 wise dsposed of. He then decided that he would transact 
 the imposing ceremony of dinner, and afterwards draw 
 up his tenders for twenty five-mile blocks on the River 
 Marion, and be ready for a start to the metropolis next 
 morning. 
 
 Entering the parlour in a suit of rough tweed, he felt 
 much more like a shepherd king of the future than the 
 death-doomed pioneer — half hunter, half savage — of the 
 preceding few days. As he came in, a well-dressed, strongly- 
 jewelled personage arose from the sofa on which he had 
 .been sitting, and greeted Jack with much cordiality. 
 
278 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM: [chap. 
 
 " Mr. Redgrave, I beKeve, I have the honour of address- 
 ing. I've heard of your heroic feats, sir. I hope you will 
 give me the pleasure of your company at dinner. Took 
 the liberty of ordering it the moment I heard of your 
 arrival. No denial, sir, if you please. You are Frank 
 Forestall's guest to-night, whatever happens." 
 
 There was no resisting the dash and pertinacity of his 
 entertainer, so Jack quietly subsided into the position, and 
 permitted the strange gentleman to make himseK happy 
 in his own way. The dinner, after a rather unreasonable 
 delay, arrived, by no means so indifferent as to cuisine 
 as might have been imagined. Mr. Forestall insisted on 
 "Piper, No. 2," and pressed Jack to do him justice in 
 huge glasses, which he seemed to have magical powers of 
 emptying. 
 
 It must be remembered that Jack had been many 
 months without the taste of spirits, much less of decent 
 wine. His recent experiences, the total change of scene, 
 the hope of a happy sequel, now near and tangible, to 
 the volume of his life, aU these things tended to produce 
 a general feeling of exhilaration, tending, as the evening 
 wore on, to entire loss of caution and self-control. Mr. 
 Forestall described himself as an extensive mail-contractor, 
 who visited the far interior from time to time with a 
 view to comprehensive contracts, in which he intended, 
 at no distant period, to rival, if not to overshadow, the 
 foreign element, as represented by the potentate Cobb. 
 He artfully led the conversation to explorations, priva- 
 tions, and the adventures of Jack and his hapless comrade, 
 iningling sympathetic flattery with acute inquiries, until, 
 after successive beakers of " hot stopping " and pipes of 
 negrohead. Jack was in no humour to conceal any por- 
 tion of his intentions and discoveries. How and when he 
 had retired for the night John Redgrave was, next morn- 
 ing, unable to remember ; but awaking, long after sunrise, 
 with a splitting headache and a disordered system, he had 
 a confused recollection of having imparted much information 
 which he had never intended to reveal except in the sealed 
 tenders of Redgrave and Waldron, passing in due course 
 through the Department of Lands, • 
 
 Dreasing ancl shaking himself together -ffith no incoji' 
 
XXIII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 279 
 
 siderable effort, he found by inquiring of the landlord that 
 the mail had come and gone, and that his genial host of 
 the preceding evening had departed with it. Wroth with 
 himself for the loss of even one day, he adhered sternly 
 to the drawing out of the tenders in proper form. 
 
 After a subdued and decorous meal, he retired early, 
 and at the appointed hour deposited himself, Doorival, 
 and Help in the unpretending conveyance which bore the 
 toilers of the midmost plateaux to the breeze-swept cities 
 of the " kingdom by the sea." 
 
 Here, in due time, he was deposited as one who re- 
 enters Paradise, after rejoicing in the as yet unforgiven 
 outer world, amid the rayless toil of ungrateful labour, 
 amid the briars and thorns of Earth — accursed and 
 unreclaimed. 
 
 He lost not an hour after his arrival in despatching 
 the inestimable "Tenders for (20) twenty five-mile blocks, 
 situated on the River Marion, west of Daar Creek, and 
 bearing south-west from the Camp No. XL. of Mr. 
 Surveyor Kennedy." 
 
 Having done this, Jack awaited impatiently the time 
 when a reply might reasonably be expected to arrive. He 
 sought the agents of Guy Waldron, and deposited with 
 them the relics and the few lines in which the dying man 
 had traced the record of his last wishes. He found these 
 gentlemen kindly disposed, and grateful to him for the 
 manifest sympathy which he exhibited. 
 
 " How the old squire will bear it I can't think," said 
 the senior partner. " I am the son of a tenant on his 
 estate, and I can remember him since I was that big. 
 He was a terrible man when he was crossed, and Mr. 
 Guy was always a wild youngster, but he was prouder of 
 him, I used to think, than of all the rest put together. 
 It will be a comfort to them all to see this lad here. I 
 dare say he wrote about him ; and as he saw him at the 
 very last, it may please them to hear of his last moments." 
 
 So the heroic Doorival was despatched, accompanied by 
 poor Guy's big outfit in a chest full of all his unused 
 property, books, papers, &c., and arriving safely in Oxford- 
 shire was installed as prime favourite, and second in command 
 to the butler. Let us hope that he behaved better than 
 
280 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [cHAr. 
 
 one anglicised aboriginal, who was for some slight offence 
 chastised by the butler. That official was solemn and awe- 
 inspiring of aspect. But the wolf-cub had grown and 
 strengthened ; he turned fiercely to bay, and smote suddenly 
 and so shrewdly his superior officer that a coroner's in- 
 quest appeared imminent. Sentence of deportation went 
 forth against him, afterwards commuted. But the son of 
 the waste was respected after this outbreak, and in the 
 servants' hall was permitted to possess his soul in peace. 
 
 There was a balance of something over £300 remain- 
 ing in the hands of Guy Waldron's agents, and this sum, 
 in the terms of his note, they paid over to Jack, as repre- 
 sentative of the firm of Redgrave and Waldron. He had 
 nothing now to look forward to but the acceptance of his 
 tenders. He found that with the weighty and responsible 
 task before him he was unable to interest himself in 
 the ordinary frivolities of town life. He was deeply anxious 
 to get his first lot of store cattle on the way ; and to this 
 end these tenders must be accepted and returned to him 
 with but little delay. 
 
 Day after day he haunted the Lands Office, and by 
 dint of pertinacity and daily application he managed to 
 get his papers "put through" that excellent and long- 
 suffering department. It is hinted that from press of 
 work or other causes delay has become chronic in that 
 much-mahgned, calm-judging branch of the public service. 
 Whether they pitied his manifest impatience, or whether 
 the lives of certain officials were made a burden to them 
 during the passage of the papers, certain it is that some 
 weeks before the ordina.ry routine Jack had reason to believe 
 that an acknowledgment of his communication would reach 
 him in advance of the ordinary official period. Before 
 the impatiently expected official communication arrived. 
 Jack had made several important arrangements depending 
 upon this contingency, so that no more time than was 
 absolutely necessary might be lost. He was feverishly 
 anxious to be again on the war-path. 
 
 He thought of joyous Guy Waldron lying beneath the 
 solitary pine-tree, on the far sand-hill, swept now in 
 the advanced season by the burning desert blast ; and he 
 pined for the moment when he could recommence his 
 
xxin.] A STORY OP AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 281 
 
 labour, and make some progress in fulfilment of his pledge 
 to his dead comrade. 
 
 He thought of fair Maud Stangrove, lonely, weary 
 with vigU and orison, enduring her prosaic, unrelieved 
 life at Juandah ; and his heart stirred with an unaccus- 
 tomed throb as he pictured her wild joy upon receiving 
 his letter, teUing of the acceptance of the tenders, and his 
 departure to stock the "Wonder-land so dearly-bought, 
 so hardly wrested from Nature and from man. He had 
 arranged with certain stock and station agents for the 
 placing of a certain number of the blocks in their hands 
 for sale, upon the receipt of which security they were 
 willing to advance the cash necessary for the purchase 
 of a couple of thousand head of cattle. 
 
 In pursuance of these plans he had determined, after 
 extracting a solemn pledge from one of the higher officials 
 that within a very short space of time he should receive 
 the necessary reply to his proposals, to proceed at once to 
 the station where the cattle were on approval. He author- 
 ized the momentous despatch to be delivered to his agents, 
 to be by them forwarded to him at the cattle-station. 
 
 The cattle were mustered, counted, and approved of. 
 The price was very low, the quality reasonable — it was not 
 necessary to be too fastidious under the circumstances. The 
 time Jack had calculated upon expending had just expired, 
 when lo ! the expected despatch, " On Her Majesty's 
 Service," with her Majesty's envelope and her Majesty's 
 Lion-and-TJnicorned seal, arrived. 
 
 " Just as I calculated, to a day," quoth Jack. " This 
 reminds one of old times, when I used to be rather proud 
 of ' fitting my connections ' in business matters, as 
 Americans phrase it. Now for the first Act of Victory 
 in Westminster Abbey ! " He opened the missive hastily. 
 How neat and decided were the characters of this long- 
 looked-for epistle ! Jack read it twice over, as his vision 
 after one glance was temporarily obscured. 
 
 This was the wording of the important document : — • 
 
 " Department op Lands, 
 
 " October 15, 186—. 
 « giR — X have the honour to acknowledge the receipt 
 
282 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM: [chap. 
 
 of tenders for imoccupied Crown lands, as noted in the 
 margin, bearing date September 10th vltimo, and to 
 inform you that tenders on the part of F. Forestall and 
 Co. and others, which would appear to be for the same 
 blocks, were received at this office upon the 9th September 
 vltimo. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, sir, 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 " J. M. Ingeam, 
 " Under Secretary. 
 " John Kedgrave, Esq., 
 
 " Care of Messrs. Thornbrook and Bayle, 
 " Stock and Station Agents." 
 
 Jack read more than once the fatally clear and concise 
 announcement, with the blank, expressionless countenance 
 of a man perusing his death-warrant, unexpectedly 
 received. "Was it- credible, possible, that an overruling 
 Providence could permit such hellish treachery ? ISaw he 
 understood all the artful inquiries, the feigned bonhomie 
 and hospitality, the sudden departure of the double-dyed 
 traitor Forestall. Was this to be the recompense for the 
 deadly perils, the hunger, the thirst, the blood of Guy 
 Waldron, his own passage through the Valley of the 
 Shadow ? It could not be ! Again and again he showered 
 wild curses upon his own weakness, on the heartless villain 
 who had taken advantage of him, the feeble survivor of 
 the desperate conflict waged with the malign powers of 
 the desert. 
 
 Again he assured himself that such monstrous injustice 
 before high Heaven could not be carried out. He would 
 return at once to the metropolis, and if such base theft, 
 worse a thousand times than the comparatively straight- 
 forward and manly robbery under arms by the wandering 
 outlaw, who risked his life upon the hazard, were confirmed, 
 he would shoot Forestall in midday, in the public streets, 
 before he would submit to be mocked and plundered of 
 the prize for which be and his dead comrade had shed their 
 blood. He felt compelled, to his deep mortification, to ex- 
 plain to the owner of the partly-purchased herd that un- 
 igreseea circumstances prevented bis completing his bargain, 
 
XXIII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 283 
 
 and necessitated his instant presence at head-quarters. 
 Deeply disappointed, and with a host of doubts bordering 
 upon despair preying upon his very vitals, he abjured rest 
 and sleep, almost food, until he once more found himself 
 in the streets of . 
 
 Without an instant's delay he presented himself at 
 the office of Messrs. Thornbrook and Bayle, to whom, 
 haggard and fierce of mien, he at once presented the 
 official letter. 
 
 " I see the whole thing," said the senior partner, " and 
 I feel as indignant as yourself at the vUe deception 
 which has been practised upon you. I know the scoundrel 
 well, and it is far from his first crime in the same direction. 
 I wUl go with you to the Minister for Lands, and we wUl 
 see what we can do. But first have some breakfast, and 
 calm down your excitement a little. We may manage to 
 arrange matters, surely." 
 
 Jack took the well-meant advice, and before long they 
 were in the ante-chamber of the Minister for Lands, the 
 arbiter of fate, he who gives or withholds fortune, decree- 
 ing affluence or ruin, " according to the Regulations under 
 the Land Act." 
 
 After waiting about an hour for the return of a glib 
 gentleman who went in just before them, with the as- 
 surance that his business could be settled in ten minutes, 
 they passed into the presence of the great man. They 
 found a quiet-looking personage seated before a very 
 comfortable writing-table, on which lay piles of official- 
 looking papers in envelopes of every gradation of size, 
 some of them apparently constructed to receive a quire 
 or two of foolscap without inconvenience. They were 
 received with politeness, and Mr. Thornbrook introduced 
 Jack, who at once stated his grievance. 
 
 " Your tenders were sent to this department on or 
 about the ? " 
 
 " The tenth of September," said Jack. " I came down at 
 once, after returning from the new country applied for." 
 
 The minister rang a bell, and a clerk appeared. 
 
 "Send up the tenders, signed John Redgrave for 
 Redgrave and Waldron, for unoccupied Crown lands, anc^ 
 e,uj others for tbe same blooks," 
 
284 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM: [chap. 
 
 In a few minutes several large envelopes were laid 
 upon the table, upon one of which was marked " Redgrave 
 and Waldron. — Tenders for Eaak new country." 
 
 " I understand you to complain," said the minister, 
 blandly, but not without a tone of sympathy, " tihat, 
 whereas you and your partner — since dead, I regret to 
 hear — were the actual discoverers and explorers of this 
 Eaak country, other persons have put in tenders for 
 apparently the same blocks." 
 
 " That is my complaint," said Jack ; " and not an un- 
 reasonable one either I should fancy. My partner and I, 
 at the risk of our lives, he, poor fellow, did lose his, 
 found and traversed this country, never seen or heard 
 of by white men, with the sole exception of the stockman 
 who told us. I came to town with hardly a day's loss of 
 time, put in formal tenders, and now, to my utter astonish- 
 ment, I find that tenders for the same country are in before 
 mine. I certainly did speak unguardedly about the affair 
 to a fellow named Forestall, and he, it appears, has planned 
 to rob me of my very hardly-earned right to the run." 
 
 "It appears to be a very bad case," answered the 
 minister ; " but you wiU, I am sure, concede that the 
 department can only deal with tenders or applications 
 for pastoral leases of unoccupied Crown lands as brought 
 before it, without reference to the characters or motives 
 of applicants. I may point out to you that these tenders 
 (here he gathered up a sheaf of the octavo envelopes) 
 appear to have been put in on the ninth of September, 
 one day before yours. You and your friend can examine 
 them." 
 
 Jack and Mr. Thornbrook did look over them. There 
 were a large number. They were prepared evidently by 
 skilled and experienced hands. Some were in the name of 
 Francis Forestall and Co., many in other names, of which 
 Jack had no knowledge. They offered a shade above the 
 yearly rental and premium which Jack had put down, 
 never dreaming of a competitor. Then, again, they were 
 geographically most accurate. Close calculations evidently 
 had been made, charts studied, and the nearest possible 
 approximation as to latitude and longitude around it. 
 Nor was this the worst. Every square mile of the Kaak 
 
xxm.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 285 
 
 country was of course included. But the tenders in the 
 strange names took in the whole available country above, 
 below, around that desirable oasis, so that there it was 
 hopeless, if the hostile tenders were accepted, to find even 
 a decent-sized run anywhere within a week's ride of 
 Mount Stangrove and Lake Maud. 
 
 Jack turned from the accursed papers to the minister 
 and demanded whether the mere accident of priority was 
 to override his unquestionable claims as discoverer. 
 
 "Did the matter rest whoUy with me," he replied 
 calmly — for hundreds of difficult cases, passionate appeals, 
 and wild entreaties had educated his mind, during his term 
 of office, to a judicial lucidity and decision — " I have no 
 hesitation in saying that I should at once direct that your 
 tenders be accepted ; but I am compelled to decide all cases 
 of this nature entirely by certain regulations made under 
 the Crown Lands Occupation Act. One of these specifically 
 states that the order of priority, other things being equal, 
 must rule the acceptance of tenders ; with no other fact 
 or consideration can I deal. The tenders of Forestall, 
 Robinson, Andrews, Johnson, and "Wade are apparently 
 for the identical and adjacent blocks. They were received 
 in this department twenty-four hours before yours." 
 
 " Of course, of course, we allow that," said Mr. Thorn- 
 brook. " But can nothing be done for my friend here ? 
 It is the hardest of all hard cases. It will ruin him. I 
 speak advisedly : he has already entered into engagements 
 that I fear, if this matter goes adversely, he cannot 
 meet. My dear sir," said Mr. Thornbrook, warming 
 with his client's wrongs, " pray consider the matter ; you 
 must see the equity of the case is with us ; try and prevent 
 such a palpable wrong-doing and perversion of justice." 
 
 " My dear sir," said the minister, rising, " the matter 
 shaU have the most serious and minute consideration of 
 myself and my colleagues. There will be a cabinet meet- 
 ing on Thursday, at which the afEair can be appropriately 
 brought up. I will order a letter, containing the final 
 decision of the Government, to be sent to Mr. Redgrave, 
 whom I now beg to assure of my deep sympathy. Good 
 morning, gentlemen." _ ^ . , 
 
 In the course of ten days Jack received another official 
 
286 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [ch. xxiii. 
 
 letter, in the handwriting which he had come to know, 
 and also to dread. He had passed a wretched, anxious 
 time, and now he was to know whether he was to be lifted 
 up afresh to the pinnacle of hope, or to be hurled down into 
 an inferno of despair, lower than he had ever yet, dark as 
 had been his experiences, immerciful his disasters, been 
 doomed to endure. He read as follows : — 
 
 " Depaetment of Lands, 
 
 " Octolefr 30, 186—. 
 " Sir — I have the honour to inform you, by direction 
 of the Minister for Lands, that, after the fullest con- 
 sideration of your case, it has been finally decided to 
 accept the tenders of Messrs. Forestall and others for the 
 blocks noted in margin, as having been received prior to 
 those of Messrs. Redgrave and Waldron. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, sir, 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 "J. M. Ingram, 
 
 " Under Secretary. 
 "John Redgrave, Esq." 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 De Peofundis 
 
 Jack hardly knew how and in what fashion he left 
 the city. Mechanically, and all aimlessly, as he steered 
 his course, some old memories helped to guide his foot- 
 steps towards the desert, towards the great waste amid 
 which he had joyed and sorrowed, toUed and endured, 
 in which the palm-fringed fountains had been so rare, 
 whence now the simoon had arisen which had whelmed 
 all the treasures of his existence. From time to time as 
 he wandered on, ever northward, and trending towards 
 the outer bush-world, he accepted the rudest labour, 
 working stolidly and desperately until the allotted task 
 was concluded. In truth his mind was stimned ; he had no 
 hope, no plan. What was the use of his trying anything 1 
 Was he not doomed 1 Did not Mr. Blockham warn poor 
 Guy against having anything to do with an imlucky man ? 
 He tried to forget the past and to avoid thoughts of the 
 future by hard work and continual exertion. When he 
 walked it was not in his accustomed leisurely pace, but 
 as if he were walking for a wager, trying to get away 
 from himself. 
 
 But this could not last long. One day, after he had 
 left a lonely bush inn, he felt attacked with dizziness, 
 which for a few moments would obscure his sight. Prom 
 time to time he felt as if a mortal sickness had seized 
 him, but he disregarded the warnings of Nature and 
 obstinately continued his course, until aU at once his 
 powers failed him, and, sick to death in body and in 
 mind, he flung himself down by the side of a sheltering 
 bush and scarcely cared whether he lived or died. Faith- 
 ful to the last, patient of hunger and of thirst, strong in the 
 
288 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 blind, unreasoning love of liis kind, with a fidelity that 
 exceeds the friendship of man, and equals the purest love of 
 woman, the dog Help, with silent sympathy, lay by his side. 
 The form of the wanderer lay beneath the forest tree, 
 which swayed and rocked beneath the rising blast. With the 
 moaning of the melancholy shrill-voiced wind, wailing aU 
 night as if in half -remembered dirges, mingled the cries of 
 a fever-stricken man. John Redgrave was delirious. 
 
 With recovered consciousness came a wondering gradual 
 perception of a hut, of the limited size and primitive 
 design ordinarily devoted to the accommodation of shepherds. 
 A fire burned in the large chimney ; and the small re- 
 sources of the building had been carefully utilized. By 
 the hearth, smoking on a small stool, sat an elderly man, 
 whose general appearance Jack seemed hazily to recall. 
 
 As Jack moved, the man turned round, with the watch- 
 ful air of one who tends the sick, and disclosed the white 
 locks and rugged lineaments of the old Scotch shepherd 
 whom he had relieved at Gondaree, and to whose gratitude 
 he had owed the gift of the dog Help. 
 
 " Eh ! mon ! " ejaculated the ancient Scot, " ye have 
 been mercifully spared to conseeder your ways. I dooted 
 ye were joost gane to yer accoont when I pickit ye up 
 yonder, with the doggie howlin' and greetin' o'er ye." 
 
 " I don't see much mercy in, the matter. Better far 
 that I were stiff and cold now under the yarran bush ; 
 but I am much obHged to you all the same." 
 
 " Kindly welcome ; ye're kindly welcome, young man : 
 ye've been on the spree, as they ca' it, I can tell that 
 weel, more by token I hae nae preevilege to school ye on 
 that heed, seeing that I, Jock Harlaw, am just as good 
 as ready money in the deel's purse from that self-same 
 inseedious, aU-devourin' vice." 
 
 "No, it's not that," said Jack, with a faint smile, 
 " but I don't wonder that you thought so. I'm very 
 tired, that's all, and there's something wrong with my 
 head, I think." 
 
 " The Lord be thankit ; I'm glad it's no that devil's 
 glamoxu- that's seized ye. But surely I ken the collie; 
 how did ye come by him, may I speer 1 " 
 
XXIV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 289 
 
 " So you don't remember me or the dog ; you came to 
 Gondaree with him and the other pups on your back." 
 
 " Lord save us 1 auld lassie wasna wrang, then ; it's just 
 fearsome," ejaculated the old man, in accents of the deepest 
 concern and wonder. " And do you tell me," continued he, 
 "that you're the weel-gained, prosperous, kind-spoken gentler 
 man that helped old Jock in his sair need yon time 1 Fortune's 
 given ye a downthraw ; but oh, hinny, however sair the burden 
 may be, or sharp the strokes of adversity, better a hunner 
 times to bear a thing than to sell your manhood to the enemy 
 of the flesh." 
 
 Jack saw there was still a suspicion in the old man's mind ; 
 it must have been hard for him to believe anything but drink 
 could have brought a man so low, but he did not resent the 
 mistake, and only closed his eyes wearily. 
 
 " If ye ask auld Jock Harlaw to tell you the truth," the 
 old man continued, " he'll say that of all the men he's had 
 ken of he never saw one that did not die in the wilderness 
 once he had bowed the knee to the Moloch of drink. Ye 
 may see the Promised Land, and the everlastin' hills glintin' 
 in the gold o' the new Jerusalem ; but ye maun see, like Moses 
 on the mountain top, or on the sands o' the desert, ye'll no 
 win oot, ance ye're like me, if the angels f rae heaven cam and 
 draggit ye by the hand." 
 
 " It's a bad look out, Jock, by your showing ; but how is it, 
 with your strong perception of the evils of the habit, and your 
 religious turn of mind, that you have not broken yourself of 
 it?" 
 
 ' ' Maister Redgrave, ' ' answered the old man, solemnly, "that 
 is one of the awful and inscrutable meesteries of the life of the 
 puir, conceited, doited crater that ca's himsel' man. My 
 forbears were godly, sober, self-denying Christian men and, 
 women. Till the day I left the bonny homes o' Ettrick, for 
 this far, sad, wearif u' land, nae living man had ever seen the 
 sign o' liquor upon me, or could hae charged me wi' the faintest 
 token of excess. I was shepherd for the Laird o' Hopedale, 
 and nae happier lad than Jock Harlaw ever listened to the 
 lilting o' the lasses on the Cowden Knowes." 
 
 " And what tempted you to emigrate, and better your 
 condition, as it is ironically termed? " 
 
 " Weel, aweel," pursued the old man, contemplatively, "my 
 
290 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : toHAP. 
 
 nature was aye deeply tinged wi' romance. I had heard tell 
 o' the grand plains and forests, and the great sheep farms of 
 Australia, with opportunities of makin' a poseetion just un- 
 common, and I was tempted, like anither fule, to quit the 
 hame of my fathers, and the bonny Ettrick-shaw, and Mary 
 Gilsland, that was bonnier than a', to mak' my fortune. And 
 a pretty like fortune I hae made o' it." 
 
 « "Well, but how did you come to grief 1 There must have 
 been so many people too glad to get a man like you among 
 their sheep." 
 
 " I had my chances, I'll no deny," said the old man. " Ilka 
 one o' us has ae guid chance in this life, f orbye a wheen sma' 
 opportunities o' weel-doin'. But though I wrocht, and toiled, 
 and scrapit for the day when I should write and bid Mary to 
 join me across the sea, I had nae great luck, and mair times 
 than one I coupit a' the siller just as I had filled the stock- 
 ing. At the lang end of a', just as things had mended, my puir 
 Mary died, and I had nae strength left to strive against the 
 evil one that came in the form of comfort to my sair heart 
 and broken speerit. Maybe I had learned to pass a wee 
 thing too near to the edge when I was working — there's a 
 deal too much of that amang men that would scorn the idea 
 of drunkenness." 
 
 "And the end?" 
 
 " And the end was that I was delivered over bound hand 
 and foot to a debasing habit, which has clung to me for thretty 
 years, in spite of prayers and resolutions, and tears of blood. 
 And so it wiU be, wae' s me, till the day when auld Jock Harlaw 
 dies in a ditch or under a tree like a gaberlunzie crater, or is 
 streekit in the dead-house o' a bush public. And which gate 
 are ye gangin' the noo?" demanded the old man with a 
 sudden change from his dolorous subject. 
 
 " Haven't an idea ; don't know, and don't care." 
 
 " That's bad," said the old shepherd, looking at him with 
 pained and earnest looks ; " but ye're looking no fit to leave 
 this. I misdoot that I wranged ye when I thocht it was the 
 drink. What will I do if it is the fever? " 
 
 " Let me rest here ; I dare say I shall soon get over it," said 
 Jack, with a gleam of his old hopefulness, but he was touched 
 with the anxious manner of the kind old man, and made the 
 best of what he was afraid would be a serious illness. 
 
XXIV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 291 
 
 But he was happily mistaken ; a few days' rest and thb 
 careful nursing of the shepherd, whose small stock of 
 medicine had never hefore been broken into, sufficed to 
 restore him, not to health, but to a state of convalescence 
 which permitted him to stroll a little way from the hut. 
 
 Jack had had many talks with the old man, whose 
 experience was worth something, although he had not been 
 able to avail himself of it, and the conclusion he arrived at 
 was that he would accompany Harlaw to Jimburah. 
 
 " I'm weel kenned there ; why suld ye no get a flock o' 
 sheep too 1 The doggie will do work fine for ye, and maybe 
 we'll get a hut together, and I'U cook for ye ; then when ye 
 get strong ye can look aboot and see what ye can do." 
 
 " Anything you like, Jock," said he, wearily ; " one thing 
 is much the same as another to me now." 
 
 " Weel a weel," said the old man, gratified at his acqui- 
 escence, " there's better lives than a herd's in Australia, and 
 there's waur. I wadna say but that after sax months or so, 
 with the labour and the calm, peaceful life where ye see 
 God's handiwork and nae ither thing spread out before ye, 
 after sax months ye might find your courage and your health 
 come back to ye, and gang on your way to seek your fortune." 
 
 " Didn't you find it dreadfully lonely at first ] " inquired 
 Jack. 
 
 " Weel, I canna in conscience deny that at first I thocht it 
 just being sold into slavery, but as time passed I found it 
 wasna sae devoid of rational satisfaction as might ha' been 
 supposed. Many a peacefu' day hae I walked ahint my 
 flock, sound in mind and body too. There's poseetions in 
 life, I'll no deny, that's mair dignified and pridefu', but on 
 a fine spring morning, when the grass is green, the birds a' 
 whistling and ca'ing to ither purr things, the face o' Nature 
 seems Hndly and gracious ; the vara sheep, puir dumb 
 beasties, seem to acknowledge the influence of the scene, 
 and there's a calm sense o' joy and peace unknown to the 
 dwellers in towns." 
 
 The old man warmed with his subject, and spoke with such 
 earnestness that Jack could not help smiling, far as his 
 thoughts were from anything like mirth. 
 
 " Well, Harlaw, man is a curious animal, not to be 
 accounted for on any reasonable plan or system. As you 
 
 u 2 
 
292 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. ; 
 
 and I have not managed to dispossess ourselves of the complex 
 functions chiefly exercised in the endurance of various, 
 degrees of pain which we know as life, we may as well wear 
 them out for a time in what men call shepherding as in any 
 other direction. They don't fence hereabout, then t " 
 
 " Not within years of it, sir ; and I'm thinkin' it's just as 
 well for puir bodies like you and me, if you'll excuse the 
 leeberty." 
 
 " Don't make any excuse, and get out of the way of saying 
 ' sir,' if we are to be mates. Call me Jack — Jack Smith. Mr. 
 Redgrave is dead and buried — fathoms deep. Would to God he 
 were, and past waking 1 " he added, with sudden earnestness, 
 
 " Diana say that ; oh, dinna cease to have faith in His 
 mercy and long-suffering," said the old man, beseechingly. 
 " I am old and fechless, and, as I hae told ye, a drunkard 
 neither mair nor less ; but I cling to the promises in this book 
 (here he took from his pocket an old, much-worn Bible), and 
 though the mortal pairt o' Jock Harlaw be stained wi' sin 
 and weakness and folly, I hae na abandoned the hope and 
 the teaching o' my youth, nor the trust that they may yet 
 gar me triumph over the Adversary. But we must be 
 ganging ; it's twenty miles, and lang anes too, to Jimburah." 
 
 There was nothing but to buckle to the journey. Jack was 
 weak after his illness, but he faced the road as the manifest 
 alternative, the old man's rations having been exhausted, and 
 further sojourn in the deserted hut being inexpedient. 
 
 He was thoroughly exhausted when the home-paddock of 
 Jimburah was sighted. He walked up with Jock Harlaw to 
 the overseer's cottage, the proprietor's house being 'un- 
 approachable by the "likes of them." Here he and his 
 companion stood for half an hour, waiting the arrival of 
 that important personage, the overseer, along with nearly a 
 dozen other tramps, candidates for work, or merely food 
 and shelter in the " travellers' hut," like themselves. A 
 stout, bushy-bearded man rode up at a hand-gallop in the 
 twilight, and spoke. 
 
 " Well, there seem plenty of you just now, a lazy lot of 
 beggars, I'll be bound ; looking for work and praying youi 
 mayn't get it, eh ? " 
 
 This was held to be very fair wit, and some of the hands 
 laughed appreciatingly at it. 
 
XXIV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 293 
 
 " Any shepherds among you ] You fellows with the dogs 
 I suppose have stolen them somewhere to look like the real 
 thing 1 Oh, it's you, old Jock, is it ? " he went on, with a 
 good-natured inflection, changing the hard tones of his voice. 
 " You're just in time j I've lost two rascally sweeps of shep- 
 herds at the dog-trap. Can you and your mate take two 
 flocks of wethers there 1 You know the place." 
 
 " Nae doot they'll be bad sheep to take," quoth old Jock, 
 with national caution. " Just fit to rin the legs off a man 
 with the way they've been handled ; but I'm no saying, if 
 ye're in deeficulty." 
 
 " Then you'll take them ? Well, you can come as early as 
 you like to-morrow morning. But stop ; is your mate any 
 good? You don't look as if you'd done mucja shepherding, 
 though you've got a fine dog, by the look of him." 
 
 " He's a friend of mine," affirmed Jock, with prompt 
 decision, " and I'll wager ye a pound o' 'bacco ye hav'na a 
 better shepherd on the whole of Jimburah." 
 
 " Humph ! " ejaculated the official, " he may be as good as 
 most of them, and be no great things either. However, I'm 
 hard up, and must risk it. What's your name ? " 
 
 "John Smith," said Jack, steadily. 
 
 " Uncommon fine name too. Well, Smith, you can go out 
 along with Scotch Jock to-morrow morning, and take the 
 1,800 flock ; he has 2,200 in his. I'll send your rations out 
 after you, and will come and count you to-morrow fortnight. 
 Come in now and take your pannikin of flour for to-night. 
 He knows the travellers' hut. Here, you other fellows, 
 come in and get your grub." 
 
 He who of old boasted himself equal to either fortune 
 enunciated a great idea. But how different, often, is the 
 practical application to the theory fresh from the philo- 
 sopher's workshop ! 
 
CHAPTEE XXV. 
 
 "There is a tide in the affairs of man 
 "Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune." — < 
 
 The "travellers' hut " is an institution peculiar to divers 
 of the outlying and interior districts of Australia. It is 
 the outcome of experience and cogitation, the final compro- 
 mise between the claims of labour and capital, as to the 
 measure of hospitality to be extended to workmen errant. 
 Given the fact that a certain number of labourers wiU 
 appear at the majority of stations, almost every day of the 
 year, demanding one night's food and lodging, how to 
 entertain them ? Were they suffered to eat and drink at 
 discretion of the food supplied the permanent employes, 
 abuses would arise. Said employes would be always requir-. 
 ing fresh supplies, hajving " just been eaten out " by the 
 wayfarers. Also disputes as to the labour of cooking. It 
 might happen that the more provident and unscrupulous 
 guests would occasionally carry away with them food 
 sufficient to place them " beyond the reach of want " on the 
 following day, or, so wayward is ungrateful man, might 
 levy upon the garments and personal property of the 
 station servants after they had gone forth to their work. 
 Such examples were not wholly wanting before the 
 establishment of that juste milieu, the " travellers' hut." 
 There, an iron pot, a kettle, a bucket, and firewood are 
 generally provided, Each traveller receives at the station 
 store a pint of flour and a pound of meat. These simple 
 but sufficing materials he may prepare for himself at the 
 travellers' hut in any fashion that commends itself to his 
 palate. On the following day, if not employed, it is incum- 
 bent upon bim to move on to the ne^t establishment, 
 
on. XXV.] A STOKY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 295 
 
 Jack smoked his pipe over the fire in the caravanserai 
 aforesaid, after a meal of fried meat and cakes browned, or 
 rather blacked, in the frying-pan which had previously pre- 
 pared the meat. Old Jock performed this duty cheerfully, 
 and not without a certain rude skill. He produced from 
 his kit a small bag containing a modicum of tea and sugar, 
 which just sufficed for a pint each of the universal and 
 precious bush beverage, causing them to be looked upon 
 with envy by their less fortunate companions. Tired out 
 by the day's journey. Jack had scarcely energy to consume 
 his share of the food, and but for the pannikin of tea, 
 indifferent enough, but still a wonderful restorative in all 
 " open air " life and labour, could not have essayed even so 
 much exertion. At another time he would have been 
 amused by the rude mirth and reckless jests of his associates. 
 But this night he sat silent and gloomy, hardly able to 
 realize his existence amid conditions so astonishingly altered. 
 
 " You're rather down on your luck, young man," observed 
 a stout but not athletic individual, smoking an exceedingly 
 black pipe, full of the worst possible tobacco ; " you've made 
 too long a stage, that's about it. I'm blowed if I'd knock 
 myself up, at this time of year, for all the squatters in the 
 blessed country." 
 
 " No fear of you doin' that, Towney," said a wiry-looking 
 young fellow with light hair and a brickdust complexion, 
 which defied the climate to change its colour by a single 
 shade, "at this time of year, or any other, /should say. 
 How fur have you come ] " 
 
 "A good five nule," quoth the unabashed Towney, "and 
 quite enough too. I walked a bit, and smoked a bit, you 
 see. Blest if I didn't think I should finish my baccy before 
 the blessed old sun went down." 
 
 " "Well, I'm full up of looking for work," said the younger 
 man, "There's no improvements goin' on in this slow 
 place, or I could soon get in hut-buildin', or dam-makin', or 
 diggin' post holes. I ain't like you, Towney, able to coast 
 about without a job of work from shearin' to shearin'. If 
 the coves knowed you as well as I do they'd let you starve 
 a bit, and try how you like that." 
 
 An ugly look came into the eyes of the man as he said 
 slowly, " There might be a shed burnt, accidental-like, if 
 
296 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 they tried that game. You remember Gondaree, Bill, and 
 the flash super ? I wonder how he and his boss looked that 
 Sunday mornin'." 
 
 Bill, an elderly, clean-shaved individual, the yellowness 
 of whose physiognomy favoured the hypothesis of prison 
 discipUne having been applied (ineffectually) for his refor- 
 mation, gave a chuckle of satisfaction as he replied — • 
 
 " "Well, it happened most unfortunate. I 'ope it didn't 
 ill- convenience 'em that shearin'. I hear as M'Nab (he's 
 boss now, and they've bought the nest run) has got the 
 best travellers' hut on the river. Anybody heard who 
 they've shopped for those hawkers at Bandra l " continued 
 Bill, who seemed to have got into a cheerful line of anecdote, 
 running parallel with the Police Gazette. 
 
 "Why, what happened them?" asked the fiery-faced 
 young man. 
 
 " Oh, not much," affably returned Bill ; " there wasn't 
 much of 'em found, only a heap of bones, about the size 
 of shillings. Some chaps had rubbed 'em out and burned 
 'em." 
 
 " "What for ? " inquired the sun-scorched proprietor of the 
 prize freckles. 
 
 " Well, they was supposed to be good for a hundred or so. 
 However, they put it away so artful that no one but the 
 police was able to collar it ; and the fellows got nothin' but a 
 trifle of slops and a fiver." 
 
 " It's my belief," asserted the young man with the high 
 colour, concluding the conversation, " that you and Towney 
 are a pair of scoundrels as would cut the throat of your 
 own father for a note. And for two pins I'd hammer the 
 pair of ye, and kick yer out of the hut to sleep under a gum- 
 tree. It's dogs like you, too, as give working-men a bad 
 name, and makes the squatters harder upon the lot of us 
 than they would be. I'm goin' to turn in." 
 
 The men thus discourteously entreated looked sullenly and 
 viciously at the speaker, but a low sound of approval from 
 the half-dozen other men showed that the house was with 
 him. Besides which, the wiry, athletic bushman was 
 evidently in good training, and had the great advantage of 
 youth and unbroken health on his side. So when he stepped 
 forward with his head up and a slight gesture of the left 
 
XXV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 297 
 
 hand, as of one not wholly devoid of scientific attainment, 
 the pair of ruffians turned off the affair with a forced laugh ; 
 after which the whole of the company sought their sleeping 
 compartments or bunks, with but little of the delay 
 resulting from an elaborate toilette de nuit. 
 
 The next day found Jack and his companion in possession 
 of the Dog-trap out-station hut, and of two flocks of sheep, 
 duly counted over to them by the overseer. Two brush- 
 yards constructed on the side of a rocky hill, and half fuU of 
 dry sheep manure, a guano-like accumulation of years, com- 
 pleted the improvements. 
 
 A month's ration for the two men (641bs. of flour, 161bs. 
 sugar, and 21bs. tea) was deposited upon the earthen floor by 
 the ration-carrier, who arrived in a spring-cart about the same 
 time as themselves. 
 
 " Now, my men," said the overseer, after counting the 
 sheep and entering them in his pocket-book, " you're all right 
 for a month. You can kill a sheep every other week, and 
 salt down what you can't keep fresh. Smith, you'll have to 
 stir them long legs of yours a.f ter your wethers ; they're only 
 four-tooth sheep, and devils to walk, I believe. Keep your 
 sheep-skins and send 'em in by the cart, or I'll charge you 
 half-a-crown apiece for 'em. You can settle among yourselves 
 which way you'll run your flocks ; though I suppose you'll 
 quarrel, and not speak to each other, like all the rest of the 
 shepherds, before half your time is out. If you lose any 
 sheep, one of you come in and report. Good-morning." 
 
 With which exhortation Mr. Hazeham rode off, either by 
 nature not " a man of much blandishment," or not oaring, on 
 principle, to waste courtesy on shepherds. 
 
 " So here we maun sojourn for sax months," remarked old 
 Jock, as they sat at their evening meal, after having yarded 
 their' flocks, killed a sheep, swept and garnished their hut, 
 and made such approximation to comfort as their means per- 
 mitted. " I dinna ken but what we may gang along ducely 
 and comfortably. Ye were wise to write and order the 
 weekly paper It will give us the haill news that's going 
 and many an hour's guid wholesome occupation, while the 
 sheep are in camp or at the water. We'll maybe get a book 
 or two from the station library." 
 
 " I expect you'll have most of the reading for a while," 
 
298 THE SQUATTER'S DEEAM : [chap. 
 
 answered ' Mr. Smith.' "What's the use of knowing that 
 eTery one is better ofE than one's self 1 One comfort is that 
 this flock keeps me going, and I shall sleep at night in 
 consequence." 
 
 " Ye'U no find them rin sae muckle after a week or twa's 
 gnid shepherding. There's a braw ' turn out ' here — both 
 sides frae the hut ; once ye get to ken the ways o' your 
 flock, ye'll be Uke the guid shepherd in the Holy Book, and 
 they'll be mair Hke to follow ye, man, than to keep rin-rinning 
 awa' after every bit of green feed." 
 
 In spite of Jack's gloomy air, and refusal to take comfort, 
 or acknowledge interest in life, matters slowly improved. The 
 hut was not so bad, clean-swept and daUy tended by the 
 neat-handed Harlaw, who had constituted himself cook, 
 steward, and butler to the establishment. The country was 
 open, thus minimizing the labour of looking after the flocks, 
 which, left a good deal to themselves, as is the fashion of 
 experienced shepherds, mended and fattened apace. The 
 atmosphere of the interior, cool and fresh, " a nipping and an 
 eager air," soon commenced to work improvement in the 
 general health of the two Arcadians. 
 
 John Redgrave had considerately written and ordered one 
 of the excellently conducted weekly papers of the colony, 
 which duly arrived, directed to " Mr. John Smith, Jimburah, 
 vid Walthamstowe," such being the imposing name of their 
 post town. The weekly journals of Australia, arranged some- 
 thing after the pattern of The Field, are, we may confi- 
 dently assert, in'certain respects the most creditable specimens 
 of newspaper literature known to the English-speakingworld. 
 Comprising, as they do, fairly-written leading articles, tales 
 and sketches, essays political, pastoral and agricultural in- 
 formation, travel, biography, records and descriptions of all 
 the nobler sports and athletic feats of communities hereditarily 
 addicted to such recreations, plus the ordinary news of the 
 day, they are hailed as a boon by all who have sufficient 
 intellectual development to feel the want of at least occasional 
 mental pabulum. Alike to the country gentleman and farmer, 
 the lonely stockman, the plodding drover, or the solitary 
 shepherd, they are at once a necessity and a benefit, occasion- 
 ally a priceless luxury. 
 
 So it came to pass that after a few weeks had glided on, 
 
XXV.] A STORY OF AITSTRALIAN' LIFE. 299 
 
 unmarked but by no means slowly, and tbe fate-guided com- 
 rades had settled down to a placid endurance bordering upon 
 enjoyment of their damper, mutton, quart-pot tea, and negro- 
 head, Jack began to look forward to his paper, and to 
 digest the contents of it, from the stock advertisements to 
 the list of new books, unattaiaable, alas ! with a relish which 
 surprised himself. The regular exercise, the healthful, pure 
 atmosphere, the absence of anxiety, the sound sleep, and 
 natural appetite had produced their ordinary effects, had 
 thoroughly recruited his bodily and mental powers. In 
 despite of himself, so to speak, and of the persistence with 
 which he would declare that he was irrevocably ruined, his 
 mental thermometer rose perceptibly. He experienced once 
 more a sensation (and there is no more complete test of high 
 bodily health) which he had rarely enjoyed since the blessed 
 days of Marshmead. He felt the childlike lightness of spirit, 
 on awakening with the dawn, which more than all things 
 denotes an uninjured and perfect physique, a nervous system 
 in normal and flawless condition. Wonderful is the self- 
 attuning power of the " harp of a thousand strings," the 
 divinely -fashioned instrument upon which, alas ! angelic 
 melodies alternate with demon wailings ; and the fiend- 
 chorus from the lowest inferno is mysteriously permitted to 
 drown the seraphic tones which would fain uplift the 
 
 aspirations of man to his celestial home. 
 
 * « * * * 
 
 With braced sinews, freshly-toned nerves, and veins refilled 
 with pure and unfevered blood, John Redgrave appeared so 
 manifestly an altered man that his humble mentor could 
 not refrain from approving comment. 
 
 "Eh, ma certie, but ye're just improvin' and gainin' 
 strength, like the vara sheep, the puir dumb craters, just 
 uncommon. There's a glint o' your e'e, and a lift o' yoxir 
 heed and a swing o' your walk that tell me ye're castin' awa' 
 the black shadow — the Lord be praised for it, and for a' 
 His mercies. I'll live to see you ance mair in your rightful 
 place amang men, and ye'U give old Jock a corner in your 
 kitchen, or a lodge gate to keep, when he's too auld and failed 
 to work, and hasna strength left for as much as to drink." 
 
 " You have a right to a share of whatever I may have in 
 time to come," said Jack, with comparative cheerfulness. 
 
300 THE SQtTATTEE'S DREAM. [chap. 
 
 " But I have lost the habit of hoping. I do feel wonderfully- 
 better ; and if I could look forward to anything but to some 
 fresh strange trick of destiny I should feel again like the man 
 I once was, who had the heart to dare and the hand to back 
 a bold adventure. But I doubt my luck, as I have had good 
 reason to do ; and I believe old Blockham was not far wrong 
 when he said that there were some men (and he took me to 
 be one of them) who, with whatever apparent prospects, 
 never did any good." 
 
 " He's an auld sneck-drawer. I kenned him weel »when 
 he hadna sae muckle as a guid pair o' boots. . I wadna gie a 
 foot-rot parin' for the opinion o' a hunner like him." 
 
 " He is a stupid old fellow enough," said Jack ; " but those 
 sort of people have an awkward knack of being right, especi- 
 ally where the making of money is concerned. A man can't 
 be too thick-headed to be a successful money-grubber." 
 
 " It gars one doot o' the wisdom and maircy of an over- 
 ruling Providence whiles," assented the old man ; " but I'll 
 no deny that siccan thoughts hae passed through my ain brain 
 when I hae seen the senseless, narrow, meeserable ceephers 
 that were permitted to gather up a' the guid things o' this 
 Hfe. But that's no to say that a man wi' understanding and 
 pairts suldna learn caution frae adversity, and pass all these 
 creeping tortoise-bodies in the race of life, like the hare, puir 
 beastie, if the auld story-book had given him anither heat." 
 
 " But the hare never gets a chance of a second heat, my 
 old friend," said Jack, ruefully j "that's the worst of it ; he 
 jumps into a gravel-pit, or a stray greyhound chops him. I 
 think I see my sheep drawing off." 
 
 So the colloquy ended for the time. But Jack doubtless 
 revolved the question suggested by his humble friend, and 
 asked himself whether the returning hope of which he was 
 conscious was the herald of a gleam of fickle Fortune's favour, 
 or whether it was an ignis fatwus, destined to lure him on to 
 yet more dire misfortune. 
 
 " That can hardly be," he concluded, in soliloquy. " I 
 can't well be lower, and he that is down need fear no fall, 
 as the old song says." 
 
 But Jack's hope this time was no ignis fatuus. He had 
 seen the lowest depths of his adversity, and though his spirit 
 had been crushed for awhile his moral nature had not suffered. 
 
XXV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 301' 
 
 And now that his health was restored he was ready to face 
 his fate as a man should, and struggle once more to get him- 
 self a place among other men as soon as he got the chance ; 
 and the chance came soon, and in a form which he had not 
 dared to hope. 
 
 As he sat one day under a tree watching the sheep which 
 were feeding on a wide spread of country before him, he took 
 a newspaper out of his pocket which had arrived at the hut 
 just as he was starting, and on looking down the column of 
 " local news " his eye met a paragraph which caused the 
 blood to leap in his veins, and filled his mind with a new 
 and sudden hope. It was this — 
 
 " We regret to hear that Mr. F. Forestall and his com- 
 panion, a stockman, name unknown, have been killed by the 
 blacks when they were on their way to take possession of 
 some new land which Mr. Forestall had purchased. The land 
 is again in the market." 
 
 Jack bounded from his seat in a state of feverish excite- 
 ment. " By Jove ! there's a chance for me yet, but I have 
 not a minute to lose." 
 
 He was impatient- to be off at once, but there were the 
 sheep to be driven in and a horse to be got. While he 
 stood thinking what was the best to be done he saw Mr. 
 Hazeham riding up, and suddenly resolved to tell him of his 
 predicament and appeal to him for help. 
 
 " Well, what do you want ? " said the overseer, " and what, 
 do you mean by sitting there reading the lies in that con- 
 founded paper and letting your sheep go all over the 
 country? " 
 
 " The sheep have rather a spread," said Jack, quietly, " but 
 you'll find them all right. They are feeding towards the 
 yard, and have a good way to go yet, but if you have a few 
 minutes to spare I want to speak to you, if you please, and 
 
 ask your help." . „ 
 
 Mr. Hazeham looked in surprise at " John Smith, and his 
 astonishment was considerably increased when he heard all 
 Jack had to say. He was good-natured in the main, and not 
 unwilling to help a man who had been a large landed pro- 
 prietor, and might be again ; besides, he was not a little 
 pleased at his own sagacity, for he remembered that he had 
 described Jack to Mr. Delmayne, the proprietor, as looking 
 
302 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 " like a swell out of luck," so he promptly replied, " Certainly 
 I will help you, Mr. " 
 
 " Redgrave," said Jack, reddening. 
 
 " Mr. Redgrave, I see there's no time to lose. You shall 
 have old Scamper, he's the best horse we've got, and never 
 mind about the sheep ; a fellow applied this morning, and 
 he's still at the huts. I shall be at my place in an hour, or 
 less ; you come up, and you shall have the horse and your 
 wages, John Smith," he added with a laugh. 
 
 Jack laughed too, and started off as fast as he could go 
 to find the old shepherd. 
 
 On his way his thoughts went back to Forestall whom 
 he had never forgiven for his treachery; but death does 
 away with offences, and he only felt pity towards the man 
 who had supplanted him, and who had not even entered 
 into possession of his ill-gotten lands. 
 
 " Puir fellow," said old Jock, when he heard the story, 
 "I expect it was the same black varmints that gave 
 Meester Waldron his death. There's naething in the way 
 of fichting so deeviHsh as thae wee pisoned arrows, but 
 I wadna hae ye too much set up. The land may be sold, 
 ye ken." 
 
 "True, but there is a chance, and luck may be in my 
 favour this time." 
 
 " Dinna talk o' luck, laddie ; the Lord has seen fit to 
 chastise your pride, for weel ye wot ye were high-minded 
 ance, and sin' ye've taken your punishment doucely I'm fain 
 to believe that He may see fit to reward you ; and," con- 
 tinued the old man, solemnly lifting his hands, " wherever 
 ye gang, and whatever happens, may the Lord bless ye, and 
 hae ye in His holy keepin'." 
 
 "Good-bye, old fellow," said Jack, wringing his hand, 
 while his eyes glistened with unwonted dew. " If I succeed 
 you shall hear of me, and you must come to me, and bring 
 the dogs with you." 
 
 Mounted on Scamper, which Jack had bought of Mr. 
 Hazeham, he made the best of his way to the town. His 
 first proceeding was to call at the office of the Minister for 
 Lands : it was possible they might be able to direct biTn to 
 the agents of Mr. Forestall. Jack was fortunate enough to 
 see the minister himself, who remembered biTn directly, for 
 
XXV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 30S 
 
 he had felt much sympathy with Jack, and had been indig- 
 nant at the way he had been treated. 
 
 " I suppose you are come about that land, Mr. Redgrave i " 
 
 " Yes, I am," said Jack, with a beating heart, and a 
 desperate attempt to speak calmly. " I hope I am not too 
 late. "Will you teU me, sir, whether the transfer was quite 
 completed ? " 
 
 " I am happy to tell you it was not, Mr. Bedgrave. The 
 papers were drawn up, but there has been some delay in 
 the office. Poor Forestall was eager to see his possessions, 
 and thought he would conclude the arrangements when he 
 came back. So I suppose we have but to transfer the names, 
 ehl" 
 
 " Thank God," said Jack, fervently, and the sudden revul- 
 sion from fear and uncertainty to assurance sent a sudden 
 choke into his throat which prevented his saying any more. 
 
 The minister saw his agitation, and talked on in a kindly 
 way, giving him time to recover. 
 
 From the minister's office Jack went to the cattle agents 
 he had seen before, and made the same arrangements as 
 formerly. He had not touched poor Guy's £300, and that 
 would be enough to get stores, pay wages, and so on. 
 
 There was no delay anywhere. Every one in the office knew 
 how Jack had been cheated, and was ready to oblige him ; 
 so the papers were ready for him in a very short time, and 
 once more he set out on his travels. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 " Time and Tide had thus their ^way, 
 Yielding, like an April day, 
 Smiling morn for sullen morrow. 
 Years of joy for hours of sorrow." — Scott. 
 
 Theee is no need to write John Redgrave's history for 
 the next three years. It was a time of hard and continuous 
 struggle, large successes and exasperating failures ; his stock 
 increased largely, but there was great diflSculty in trans- 
 porting droves of cattle to the nearest market ; plenty of 
 water for sheep, and no danger of floods or droughts, but it 
 was not easy at such an out-station as this to get sufficient 
 labour in shearing-time, and the great distance the wool 
 had to be conveyed took ofE much of the profits. Moreover, 
 Jack could not make up his mind that it would be right 
 to bring Maud into such a wilderness, with no neighbours 
 but the blacks, who, though they had shown no hostility to 
 Jack, were not to be trusted. He had written to Maud 
 at first, full of hope and confident of success, and she, dear 
 girl, had been willing to share with him the rudest log hut ; 
 but as time went on he felt how impossible it was that he 
 should bring her to be the light of his home before he had 
 made that home fit to receive her. 
 
 In his solitary hours, in the silence of his small dwelling- 
 place, he bitterly regretted having left Marshmead. It was 
 possible that he might become a very rich man if he lived to 
 be old, but meantime his youth was going by, and happiness 
 along with it. 
 
 But time had good things in store yet for the brave man 
 whose courageous spirit had never suffered more than a tem- 
 porary depression. On one of his visits to the town of to 
 
CH. XXVI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 305 
 
 buy some of the multitudinous articles required on a large 
 station, lie learnt from an old acquaintance who was there 
 on the same errand that Donald McDonald, who had bought 
 Marshmead, had expressed a very strong determination to 
 sell Marshmead and go back to Scotland. His nephew, Mr. 
 Angus McTavish, had long ago bought a very large sheep 
 run, and was reported to be doing wonders. Jack's heart 
 leaped at the thought of getting back Marshmead, where he 
 had been so happy, so undisturbed by car king care. With a 
 thoughtful brow he began to consider the ways and means. 
 By strict economy and careful management, added to two 
 fairly good years, he had paid off the greater part of the 
 purchase-money, and his sheep had increased so much that, 
 after all his losses, he calculated upon being able to buy 
 Marshmead if only he could get a purchaser for Wondega. 
 
 He wrote, accordingly, to Bertie Tunstall, asking him to 
 make inquiries about Marshmead, and authorizing him to 
 buy it if Mr. McDonald was really going to sell. 
 
 Pending these negotiations. Jack was restless and excited. 
 The thought of Maud was ever uppermost ; she had expressed 
 her willingness to wait, for years if it was necessary. At the 
 same time, rightly judging her love by his own, he felt that 
 she would be happier, as she frankly said, helping to make 
 his home happy than in waiting until everything should be 
 put in order for herself. Yet, again, how could he bring her 
 to Wondega ? 
 
 An answer came in due time : McDonald would sell, but 
 he considered the improvements he had made on the estate, 
 which turned out to be very slight, and the increase in the 
 cattle would make it worth a great deal more than he had 
 given for it. 
 
 However, he was willing to sell the place on the same con- 
 ditions on which he had bought it— namely, half the money in 
 cash, and the rest in bills at short date. Despatching another 
 letter to Tunstall, directing him to close with the off er, Jack 
 bade adieu to Wondega, a place endeared by no memories of 
 love and friendship, as had been Gondaree and Marshmead, 
 but, on the contrary, made gloomy by having been the scene 
 of Guy Waldron's death, and his own solitary and uncheered 
 abode during the time of great anxiety and unceasing effort. 
 
 X 
 
306 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 There was no difficulty in selling the place ; it was different 
 now from the time when the two adventurers first stood on 
 the hiU and caught sight of Lake Maud ; great droves of sheep 
 pastured on the slopes, a large but rude wool-shed stood in 
 the shelter of some trees, and a modest cottage waj buUt in 
 the open, loop-holed at certain heights in case of an attack 
 from the natives. Some of the land had been fenced in, but 
 there had been no money to spare for rail-fencing, and the 
 rails and posts were of wood, mostly cut, shaped, and put 
 down by Jack himself. 
 
 The land sold well, and Jack was enabled to buy back his 
 own old place. On his way back he passed by Gondaree, and 
 could not refrain from stopping and making some inquiries 
 about M'Nab, who happened to be absent from the station. 
 
 The year succeeding his downfall had been unusually 
 favourable to the pastoral interests. High prices for wool 
 and stock, steady rainfall, new country opening, a Cessation of 
 wars and rumours of war — all these circumstances had com- 
 bined to produce and sustain for squatters the most protracted 
 term of triumphant success ever known in the AustraUas. 
 Those who, without skill or energy, had by good luck pur- 
 chased when stock were at their lowest, had of course been 
 floated out on the ever-deepening tide into undreamed-of 
 fortune and success. Those who, like Alexander M'Nab, 
 possessed both, had gone on from one successful enterprise 
 to another with astonishing rapidity. His name, as the 
 managing partner in this district for the great firm of Bag- 
 email Brothers, was constantly quoted as the exemplar of first- 
 class management, luck in speculation, successful shrewdness, 
 and well-deserved advancement. A magistrate, an exhibitor 
 of prize stock, an inventor of improvements in machinery as 
 applied to station uses, a co-proprietor of several of the largest 
 properties in the district, a power in the state, his name was 
 in every man's mouth. Time and prosperity had mellowed 
 his perhaps originally aggressive propensities, and now he was 
 popular, respected among all classes of men. 
 
 John was glad to hear of the prosperity of his old overseer, 
 and pushed on with a light heart to Juandah. He was met 
 with a warm welcome. Mark Stangrove looked more pros- 
 perous, a trifle stouter and nierrier ; the good years had told in 
 
XXVI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 307 
 
 his favour. Maud was lovelier than ever, though she was 
 certainly thinner and paler, so John Redgrave thought at 
 first, with a pang of compunction, but after he had been 
 there two or three days he fancied that he must have been 
 mistaken, for the bloom on her cheek and the sparkle in her 
 eye were as beautiful as ever. 
 
 " Oh, Maud, my darling," said Jack, as they stood together 
 in the veranda the evening of his arrival, "what time I 
 have wasted ! I go back to Marshmead a poorer man than 
 when I left it, for I am burdened with a debt, and what years 
 I have lost ! " 
 
 " Don't regret the past, dear Jack," said Maud, sHding her 
 little hand into his ; " perhaps if you had never left Marsh- 
 mead you would always have been a Uttle dissatisfied with 
 it ; besides, if you had never left it we should not have met." 
 
 " I would bear it all over again if you were the prize at 
 the end, Maud." 
 
 " Once is enough," said Maud, with an arch glance from 
 her bright eyes. 
 
 " And I may have my prize 1 " 
 
 " Yes, when you are ready," replied Maud, demurely. 
 
 "I'm ready now, you saucy girl," said Jack, laughing, 
 though he winced at the implied reproach in her words, 
 " and I have a great mind to take you at your word, and 
 carry you off to Marshmead at once." 
 
 " Come back when you like, my dear fellow," said Mark 
 Stangrove, who had just joined them, " and then we'U see 
 about it." 
 
 The week passed aU too quickly, but Jack resolved that 
 it should not be very long before he returned, and certain 
 whispered conferences with Maud settled the time. 
 
 As John Redgrave at length reached the homestead, 
 certain changes were strongly apparent. The once trim, 
 orderly, and pleasant place was weed-grown and melancholy of 
 aspect. The stables were tenantless, and bore traces of long 
 disuse. Many of the buildings were roofless, while the 
 materials of others had been used up for the formation of 
 out-houses. Mr. McDonald did not " believe," as he expressed 
 it, in improvements, nor in having one man or boy about his 
 establishment who could possibly be done without ; for this 
 
308 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 reason probably he made use of the garden as a calf paddock, 
 and Jack's heart felt acute misery when he saw the trampled 
 flower-beds, the broken fruit-trees, the mutilated shrubs ; but 
 McDonald was not a man whom this sort of thing troubled. 
 To have lived in sight of such a daily desecration would have 
 been to some men an intolerable annoyance. He did not care 
 a jot, when duly satisfied by careful inspection that his bank 
 balance was on the right side, that his daily steak and glass 
 of grog were attainable, if every garden in the land had been 
 uprooted. In other than these convictions and satisfactions 
 he had no interest. He rarely rode over the run. He never 
 helped to bring in the calves to brand, or the fat bullocks for 
 market. He was by no means particular about keeping up 
 the purity of the carefully-bred herd. He often permitted 
 his calves to be past the proper age before they were branded, 
 probably by the aid of his neighbour's stockmen. But with 
 all this apparent neglect, and his whisky-drinking to boot, he 
 kept steadily to his principle of having as little labour to pay 
 and feed as was possible. He did not mind a few strayed or 
 even lost cattle. If a few calves were branded by others he 
 troubled not his head ; and yet this obese, unintelligent block 
 made more money than the cleverest man in the whole dis- 
 trict. His secret was this, and I present it to aspiring 
 pastoralists : he had no personal expense ; he had no debts ; 
 therefore he was able to weather out the terrible financial 
 gales when the failure of clever, hard-working men was of 
 daily occurrence. 
 
 As Jack got off his horse at the house, Elsie came to the 
 door. 
 
 " Eh ! but it's Maister John, it's my ain bairn," she cried, 
 " come to bless my auld e'en before I dee ; oh, thank the 
 Lord that I hae lived to see this day." 
 
 The old woman flung her arms round his neck and burst 
 into tears. 
 
 "My dear old Elsie," said Jack, kissing her, "I am as 
 glad to be here as you are to see me ; and where's 
 Geordie?" 
 
 " Geordie is awa looking after the cattle in the stock, but 
 he'U be here the nicht. And oh, Maister John, is it you 
 ihat's bought the place 1 " 
 
XXVI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 309 
 
 " Indeed it is, Elsie, and you must tell me what has been 
 done since I left." 
 
 " Eh, but ye must hae your dinner first, my bonny man, 
 and I must see aboot the getting o't ; but bide a wee, I'll send 
 for Geordie ; he'll tell ye a'." 
 
 Later in the evening John heard from the lips of his two 
 faithful friends what had been done in his absence. Whatever 
 improvements had been made, and they were very few, were 
 in the direction of the cattle-yards. They were larger than 
 formerly, and that was all ; but the stock had increased 
 largely, and were in good condition. As to the lost garden. 
 Jack thought that Maud might like to watch the gradual 
 formation of a new one. He had got out of the habit of 
 thinking that everything should be complete and perfect 
 before Maud came. 
 
 After setting men to work at repairs in the stables to begin 
 with. Jack in a few days' time rode over to pay a visit to his 
 old friend Bertie TunstaU, who could hardly do enough to 
 show his gladness. Jack had so much to say that the two 
 days of his stay hardly sufficed for a recountal of all he had 
 seen, felt, and suffered, since leaving Marshmead. In old 
 times they used to enjoy the circulation of ideas produced 
 and quickened by the mutual intercourse of persons who 
 read habitually and did not permit the wondrous faculty of 
 thought to be entirely absorbed by the cares of every-day 
 life, by the claims of business, by plans and actions tend- 
 ing directly or indirectly to the acqiiisition and invest- 
 ment of money. It is given to few active professions to 
 afford and to justify as great a degree of leisure for 
 realizing an abstract thought as to that of the Australian 
 squatter. He may manage his property shrewdly and suc- 
 cessfully, and stiU utilize a portion, at either end of the day, 
 for history and chronicle of old, for poetry and politics, for 
 rhyme and reason. He can vary intellectual exercise with 
 hard bodily labour. He may possess, at small additional 
 cost, the latest literary products of the old and new world. 
 He may, after the arrival of each mail-steamer, revel in 
 masterpieces of the thought-giants, fresh from the workshop. 
 When kindred spirits are available within meeting distance, 
 great is the joy of the pioneers, what time the half-wUd 
 
310 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. 
 
 herds are gathered ; the tender oxlets seared with the in- 
 delible cipher. Then arises the bustle of the body as each 
 man lauds a favourite author or decries a pet aversion. 
 
 Life again flowed on for Jack with the peaceful security 
 and round of accustomed duties which had filled up the days 
 of long ago happUy and so completely. Spring ripened into 
 glowing summ.er with stores of fruit and flowers ; with long 
 dreamy days of sunshine tempered by breezes which wandered 
 over marsh and mere, fresh from gentle murmurings with 
 the wandering ocean wave. Again he saw the wild swan 
 lead her brood of cygnets through the deep reed-bordered 
 meres. Again he leaned from his saddle at midday and dipped 
 his broad-leafed hat in the cool marsh waters which plashed 
 pleasantly around his horse's feet. Once more he rose at 
 dawn to feel the thrice-blessed sense of safety and untroubled 
 possession of the land. Again he mingled with his fellows 
 on terms of absolute equality ; nay, more, of slight but 
 acknowledged superiority, as of one who had bought experi- 
 ence, who had struggled with fate and overcome. And 
 in the midst of the priceless sensation of contentment and 
 repose came a fuller tide of thankfulness, a savour of keener 
 relish, born of the unf orgotten hardships of the past. Before 
 the summer days had reached their longest John Redgrave 
 brought home his bride. 
 
 What need to say that they were happy 1 The union of 
 two such loving hearts and two such perfect tempers is sure 
 to bring happiness. At the sight of his friend's lovely wife, 
 and Jack's perfect delight in her, Bertie Tunstall suddenly 
 found himself a lonely and miserable man. He said his health 
 needed a change, and went ofE to town, from whence he 
 returned in a few weeks an engaged man, and in due time 
 made another visit to the same place, and brought back a 
 pretty, amiable, loving little wife, who proved to be a great 
 favourite of Maud's. 
 
 According to John Redgrave's promise, old Jock Harley 
 was not forgotten j a place by the "ingle neuk" was offered 
 him, but he preferred a hut of his own, and a comfortable 
 one was bmlt for him on the Mil-Bide, far away from the 
 house, where he could have his eye on the cattle, though he 
 never took the interest in them which he did in sheep, giving 
 
xxvi.] A STORY OF ATTSTRALIAN LIFE. 311 
 
 It as his opinion that they were "purr doited beasties, and 
 unco hard to unnerstan'." The dog Help came with him, 
 and was made a great pet of by all the household. 
 
 When John grew prosperous and wealthy he sent home a 
 considerable sum to Guy "Waldron's sisters, the increase of 
 the £300 which had come to him so opportunely when he was 
 in his direst need. 
 
 As years passed on, as the clover and rye-grass matted in 
 thick sward over the fens and flats of Marshmead, Jack found 
 his thoughts running much upon the education of the steadily 
 increasing olive-branches that came, and grew, and flourished 
 in that cool, breezy clime. 
 
 To the alarm of old Elsie and Geordie, who spoiled the 
 rosy boys and girls to their hearts' content, Mrs. Redgrave 
 already begins to hint at a residence in the metropolis, solely, 
 of course, for the sake of masters and so on for dear Bertie 
 and Maud. 
 
 For many a year John Redgrave's life and opinions have 
 been before his countrymen and close neighbours, great and 
 small, poor and rich. His active principles have been plain 
 for all men to see. If he buys a thousand acres of the 
 Marshmead Crown lands, he employs no agent, but stands up 
 like a man and bids in person. His motto is " fair and above 
 board." What he thinks right to do he will perform if he 
 can, maugre land-sharks, agitators, or even his very respect- 
 able and sKghtly democratic farmer neighbours. Every one 
 in the district knows, or beHeves he knows, nearly every 
 thought of the heart of that transparent kindly natiure — of 
 that hearty, joUy and benevolent Squire of Marshmead. But 
 two of his opinions have ever excited remark or called forth 
 curiosity. One is an intense dislike to sheep, under any and 
 aU forms of management. The other is a furious and un- 
 reasonable hostnity to the extensive pastoral region which 
 lies north of the Murray. 
 
 His tale is told. I hold it expedient in common fairness 
 to inform my confidential friend, the reader, that the writer 
 is acquainted with more than one Jack who abandoned the 
 substance for the shadow ; with more — many more, alas ! — 
 than one or two young, brilliant, brave, and beautiful Jacks, 
 who, enthralled by the Circe of new worlds, served henceforth 
 
312 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM. [ch. xxvi. 
 
 to fill her dungeon-sties, or to wander aimlessly from land to 
 land, tUl kindly death released from union wasted body and 
 ruined soul. But, alas ! not with many who, like John 
 Kedgrave, fought their way back to comfort and aiBuence, 
 after having gone down into the depths of misfortune, — not 
 with many who " suffered and were strong." 
 
 THE END. 
 
 KICHAKD CLAY AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON A:SD BUNGAY. 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR 9598.B88S7 1899 
 
 The squatter's dream; a story of Austral! 
 
 3 1924 013 247 493