not look even him in the face. Was it possible
that he had been wrong, and that Heathcote, though
he had expressed himself badly, was entitled to some
sympathy in his fear of what might be done to him
by an enemy? Medlicot also desired to be just,
being more rational, more logical, and less impulsive
than the other, being also somewhat too conscious
of his own superior intelligence. He knew that
Heathcote had gone away in great dudgeon, and he almost
feared that he had been harsh and unneighborly.
After a while he stood opposite Nokes and addressed
him.
“Do the squatters suffer much from fires?”
he said.
“Heathcote has been talking to you about that,”
said the man.
“Can’t you say Mr. Heathcote when you
speak of a gentleman whose bread you have eaten?”
“Mr. Heathcote, if you like it. We ain’t
particular to a shade out here as you are at home.
He has been telling you about fires, has he?”
“Well, he has.”
“And talking of me, I suppose?”
“You were talking of having a turn at mining
some day. How would it be with you if you were
to be off to Gympie?”
“You mean to say I’m to go, Mr. Medlicot?”
“I don’t say that at all.”
“Look here, Mr. Medlicot. My going or staying
won’t make any difference to Heathcote.
There’s a lot of ’em about here hates him
that much that he is never to be allowed to rest in
peace. I tell you that fairly. It ain’t
any thing as I shall do. Them’s not my ways,
Mr. Medlicot. But he has enemies here as’ll
never let him rest.”
“Who are they?”
“Pretty nigh every body round. He has carried
himself that high they won’t stand him.
Who’s Heathcote?”
“Name some who are his enemies.”
“There’s the Brownbies.”
“Oh, the Brownbies. Well, it’s a
bad thing to have enemies.” After that
he left the sugar-house and went across to the cottage.
Boscobel.
Two days and two nights passed without fear of fire,
and then Harry Heathcote was again on the alert.
The earth was parched as though no drop of rain had
fallen. The fences were dry as tinder, and the
ground was strewed with broken atoms of timber from
the trees, each of which a spark would ignite.
Two nights Harry slept in his bed, but on the third
he was on horseback about the run, watching, thinking,
endeavoring to make provision, directing others, and
hoping to make it believed that his eyes were every
where. In this way an entire week was passed,
and now it wanted but four days to Christmas.
He would come home to breakfast about seven in the
morning, very tired, but never owning that he was
tired, and then sleep heavily for an hour or two in
a chair. After that he would go out again on the
run, would sleep perhaps for another hour after dinner,
and then would start for his night’s patrol.
During this week he saw nothing of Medlicot, and never
mentioned his name but once. On that occasion
his wife told him that during his absence Medlicot
had been at the station.
