“Well, I never!  Hie, Carlo!  Carlo!”

Up came Carlo full pelt.  George patted him, and Carlo wagged his tail and pranced about in the shape of a reaping-hook.  Jacky came instantly down, showed his ivories, and admitted his friend’s existence on the word of the dog.  “Jacky a good deal glad because you not dead now.  When black fellow die he never live any more.  Black fellow stupid fellow.  I tink I like white fellow a good deal bigger than black fellow.  Now I stay with you a good while.”

George’s hands thus strengthened he wrote and told Mr. Winchester he would go to the new ground, which, as far as he could remember, was very good, and would inspect it, and probably make the exchange with thanks.  It was arranged that in two days’ time the three friends should go together, inspect the new ground and build a temporary hut there.

Meantime Robinson and Jacky make great friends.  Robinson showed him one or two sleight-of-hand tricks that stamped him at once a superior being in Jacky’s eyes, and Jacky showed Robinson a thing or two He threw his boomerang and made it travel a couple of hundred yards, and return and hover over his head like a bird and settle at his feet; but he was shy of throwing his spear.  “Keep spear for when um angry, not throw him straight now.

“Don’t you believe that, Tom,” said George.  “Fact is the little varmint can’t hit anything with ’em.  Now look at that piece of bark leaning against that tree.  You don’t hit it.  Come, try, Jacky.”  Jacky yawned and threw a spear carelessly.  It went close by but did not hit it.

“Didn’t I tell you so?” said George.  “I’d stand before him and his spears all day with nothing but a cricket-stump in my hand, and never be hit, and never brag, neither.”  Jacky showed his ivories.  “When I down at Sydney white man put up a little wood and a bit of white money for Jacky.  Then Jacky throw straight a good deal.”

“Now hark to that! black skin or white skin ’tis all the same; we can’t do our best till we are paid for it.  Don’t you encourage him, Tom, I won’t have it.”

The two started early one fine morning for the new ground, distant full thirty miles.  At first starting Robinson was in high glee; his nature delighted in change; but George was sad and silent.  Three times he had changed his ground and always for the better.  But to what end.  These starts in early morning for fresh places used once to make him buoyant, but not now.  All that was over.  He persisted doggedly, and did his best like a man, but in his secret heart not one grain of hope was left.  Indeed it was but the other day he had written to Susan and told her it was not possible he could make a thousand pounds.  The difficulties were too many, and then his losses had been too great.  And he told her he felt it was scarcely fair to keep her to her promise.  “You would waste all your youth, Susan, dear, waiting for me.”  And he told her how he loved her and never should love another; but left her free.