‘Did I do well?’ she asked.

Lambert seized her hand and pressed it warmly.  ‘Splendidly, my girl,’ he said.  ’A man couldn’t want a better audience.  Like a true Irishwoman, you’re the twin sister of Liberty, Miss Aurora.’

Done drew Aurora to his side a few minutes later.  ‘So,’ he said lightly, ‘my Joy is a conspiratress.’  ‘It’s the hard name, me darlin’,’ she answered, taking his hand between hers.  ’I just promised Lambert to have the half of Jim Crow here to hear him an’ I’m afther keepin’ me word.’

XIV

The rising Lambert had anticipated in August did not come off.  For a few days the country trembled on the verge of civil war, but the blow did not fall.  The trouble was averted; the anger remained in men’s hearts.  During the lovely spring weather that followed Done saw much of the Bush.  He and Mike spent weeks prospecting about the Jim Crow district.  They loitered away a few restful days among the ranges, and for the first time Jim saw a wattle-gully in full blaze, a stream of golden bloom sweeping along the course of a little mountain creek as far as the eye could see, each tree a huge bouquet, the whole mass foaming in the gentle breeze, a rich feast of colour, lit up by a glowing noonday sun, and bordered by the subdued green of the mountain gums.  The delicate perfume stole up to where the mates lay on the side of the range in peaceful enjoyment of the scene, and Done, looking with half-closed eyes, day-dreaming, felt the inspiration that has since driven about twenty-five per cent of the native-born population of Australia desperately to poesy.

Beyond and below them stretched the Bush, an ocean of tree-tops, as level as the windless sea, and over this green expanse shadows of fleecy clouds chased each other.  Presently Jim discovered a brown space in the distance, and detected a thin column of smoke rising on occasions between the vagrant winds.  He called Burton’s attention, and Mike turned experienced eyes in that direction.

‘A settler’s clearing,’ he said.  ’No; by Jove, it’s Macdougal’s homestead!’

‘What!’ cried Done, sitting up with a jerk.  ‘Donald Macdougal’s station?’

‘Yes, Monkey Mack’s.’  Burton rose to his feet and looked about him.  ‘There isn’t a doubt,’ he continued.  ’That’s Boobyalla all right.  I was over the country to the west once with cattle.’

‘And since we came to Jim Crow I have been so near.’

’’Bout twenty mile as the crow flies.  Why, old man, you look all caved in.’

‘I’m greatly surprised.  I thought Boobyalla was right away in the wilds.’

A pity this isn’t wild enough for you.’

‘Yes; but cut off completely from the people.’

‘The people have been distributin’ themselves a good deal o’ late.  Boobyalla was far enough out o’ the runnin’ till the rushes broke out at Forest Creek an’ Jim Crow.  As ’tis, I’ll bet my boots the Macdougal’s as lonesome down there as a sick sheep.’