that Pat could hit his five horses in more places at once than any other man on the face of the earth. His coach was horsed by the neighbouring squatters, through whose sta

s that would do anything but go straight, but under his handling they we

-full of luggage-solid leather portmanteaux, canvas-covered bags, iron boxes, and so on-which produced a great sensation among the rustics. She was handsome enough to be called

rying a small handbag. Three commercial travellers, who had come up by the same train, followed her off the platform, and the most gallant of the three winked at his friends, and then stepped up and offered to carry her bag. The young lady gave him a pleasant smile, and handed him the bag; together they crossed the street, while the other commercials marched disconsolately behind. At the door of the hot

young lady, "and I expected to m

ng ago. It was against Mrs. Connellan's instincts of hospitality to charge anyone for a meal or a bed, and when any great rush of bar trade took place it generally turned out to be "Connellan's shout," so the hotel was not exactly a goldmine. In fact, Mrs. Connellan had decided that the less business she did, the more money she would make; and she

(creeks) is all up. The coach is going down to Kil

does the c

, has got a horse shod. Come in and have a wash, and fi

s at the rail

over for it.

, where, with the wild-eyed servant-girl, h

and git this lady's bag.

ags, and two boxes and a hat-box, and a roll

er git the

; and foreseeing something to talk about for the next three months. "She must ha' come up to start

face; the broken window through which she could hear herself being discussed by loafers in the yard; all these things are matters of course in bush townships, for the Australian, having a soul above details, does not shine at ho

vilet

there's chops, steaks, and ba

nues.) "Saint

a or coffee"-

inishes.)

ated more excitement than she did at Tarrong. After breakfast she walked out on the verandah that ran round the little one-story weatherboard hotel, and looked down the mile and a-half of road, with little galvanised-iron-roofed cottages at intervals of a quarter of a mile or so, that constituted the township. She watched Conroy, the policeman, resplendent in breeches and polished boots, swagger out from the court-house yard, leading his horse to

is no such word as hurry. Tracey, the blacksmith, had not by any means finished shoeing the coach-h

ch," she said. "Lier (lawyer) Blake

es

, too. He's g

es

aying long

ime, I

ng to teach

re. My father owns Kuryong

m Heaven. Mr. Grant's daughter! Going out to Kuryong! What a piece of news! Hardly knowing what she did, she shuffled out of the room,

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

told three teamsters, an inspector of selections, and a black boy belonging to Mylong station, whom he happened to meet on the road. Each of them told everybody that they met, pulling up and standing in their stirrups to discuss the matter in all its bearings, in the leisurely style of the bush; and wondering what she had come out for, whether the Gordons would get the sack from Kuryong, whether she would marry Hugh Gordon, whether she was engaged already, whether she was good-looking, how

ully-built man of about five-and-twenty. He looked and talked like a gentleman, and she heard the coachman address him as "Mr. Blake." She and he shared the box-seat with the driver, and just at the

s the coach bumped along its monotonous road-up one hill, through an avenue of dusty, tired-looking gum-tre

s. "Not much to be seen on this sor

e said, "we've only seen two houses since we left the to

of a boy from Maynooth, just the man to h

t all wid all the good land locked up? There's Kuryong on ahead here would support two hundthr

," said the girl; and

melting snow. The coachman pulled his horses up on the bank, and took a good, long look at

hink he'll try it. I reckon it's a trifle deep for

artin Donohoe to meet me down here with s

t you, Fat

dyin' bed. Put 'em into the w

ut, it's up to you to say so. The coach might wash over. There's a settler's place up the river

l go on," sa

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

r crossing, and he knew almost to an inch at what height it was safe to go into the river. But this time, as ill-luck would have it, the off-side leader was a young, vicious, thorough-bred colt, who had been handed over to him to be cured of a propensity for striking people with his fore-feet. As the horses worked their way into the river, the colt, with the courage of his breeding, pulled manfully, and breasted the current fearlessly. But suddenly a floating log drifted down, and struck him on the f

the girl. "Can you swim?" he said. And s

verything to me." Just then the coach settled over

helplessness, she felt herself torn from him, and whirled away like a leaf. The rank smell of the muddy water was in her nostrils, the fear of death in her heart. She struggled to keep afloat. Suddenly a blood-streaked face appeared, and Blake, bleeding from a cut on the

een battling in the water, the priest had stayed with the coachman to cut the horses free, till at last all four got clear of the w

me gear out of the wreck, so that he could ride one of them. The priest, his broad Irish face ornamented by a black clay pipe, was tramping up and down in his wet clothes. Blake was helping Miss Grant to wring the water out of her clothes, and she was som

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

, "I can ride one of the mail horses.

her hand into Blake's, and s

can tell you. You have saved my life. If

ter of dodging the stumps. You'd better get on now to Donohoe'

ty between himself and Hugh Gordon; but the priest, who had climbed int

What's the use for two of ye to ride the mail hor

n, and let us get away before you all get colds. Wha

. Bedad, some o' that luggage 'll be washed down to the Murrumbidgee before night; b

rom Mrs. Donohoe's best clothes-a pale-green linsey bodice and purple skirt-everything, including Mrs. Donohoe's boots, being about four sizes

t, sat down, and drank scalding tea, and ate Mrs. Donohoe's cakes,

and waved good-bye to the priest and Blake and Mrs. Donohoe, as though t