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Title: Jean, Our Little Australian Cousin

Author: Mary F. Nixon-Roulet

Illustrator: Diantha W. Horne

Release date: August 9, 2013 [eBook #43425]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Emmy, Beth Baran and the Online Distributed
        Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
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produced from images generously made available by The
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Our Little Australian Cousin





THE

Little Cousin Series

(TRADE MARK)

    Each volume illustrated with six or more full-page plates in
    tint. Cloth, 12mo, with decorative cover,
    per volume, 60 cents


LIST OF TITLES

BY MARY HAZELTON WADE

(unless otherwise indicated)

    =Our Little African Cousin=
    =Our Little Alaskan Cousin=
        By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
    =Our Little Arabian Cousin=
        By Blanche McManus
    =Our Little Armenian Cousin=
    =Our Little Australian Cousin=
        By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
    =Our Little Brazilian Cousin=
        By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
    =Our Little Brown Cousin=
    =Our Little Canadian Cousin=
        By Elizabeth R. MacDonald
    =Our Little Chinese Cousin=
        By Isaac Taylor Headland
    =Our Little Cuban Cousin=
    =Our Little Dutch Cousin=
        By Blanche McManus
    =Our Little Egyptian Cousin=
        By Blanche McManus
    =Our Little English Cousin=
        By Blanche McManus
    =Our Little Eskimo Cousin=
    =Our Little French Cousin=
        By Blanche McManus
    =Our Little German Cousin=
    =Our Little Greek Cousin=
        By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
    =Our Little Hawaiian Cousin=
    =Our Little Hindu Cousin=
        By Blanche McManus
    =Our Little Hungarian Cousin=
        By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
    =Our Little Indian Cousin=
    =Our Little Irish Cousin=
    =Our Little Italian Cousin=
    =Our Little Japanese Cousin=
    =Our Little Jewish Cousin=
    =Our Little Korean Cousin=
        By H. Lee M. Pike
    =Our Little Mexican Cousin=
        By Edward C. Butler
    =Our Little Norwegian Cousin=
    =Our Little Panama Cousin=
        By H. Lee M. Pike
    =Our Little Persian Cousin=
        By E. C. Shedd
    =Our Little Philippine Cousin=
    =Our Little Porto Rican Cousin=
    =Our Little Russian Cousin=
    =Our Little Scotch Cousin=
        By Blanche McManus
    =Our Little Siamese Cousin=
    =Our Little Spanish Cousin=
        By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
    =Our Little Swedish Cousin=
        By Claire M. Coburn
    =Our Little Swiss Cousin=
    =Our Little Turkish Cousin=

    L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
    New England Building,
    Boston, Mass.

[Illustration: JEAN.]




JEAN

Our Little Australian Cousin

By

Mary F. Nixon-Roulet

    _Author of "God, the King, My Brother," "Our
    Little Spanish Cousin," "Our Little Alaskan
    Cousin," "Our Little Grecian Cousin,"
    "Our Little Brazilian Cousin," etc._


    _Illustrated by_
    Diantha W. Horne

[Illustration]


    Boston
    L. C. Page & Company
    Publishers




    _Copyright, 1908_
    BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
    (INCORPORATED)

    Entered at Stationers' Hall, London

    _All rights reserved_


    First Impression, September, 1908
    Second Impression, October, 1909




    TO
    Kirby McDonough
    _A Little Texas Friend_




Preface


Australia, though a continent, is a part of the Empire of Great Britain.
A few years ago it was a wild country, where no white people lived,
filled with Blacks, who were man-eating savages. These are fast dying
out, but in this story you will learn something about them, and of the
lives of your Australian Cousins.




Contents


    CHAPTER                          PAGE
       I. "LAND!"                      1
      II. SAILING TO SYDNEY            8
     III. A DRIVE                     20
      IV. ON THE WAY TO THE "RUN"     32
       V. LIFE AT DJERINALLUM         47
      VI. "LOST!"                     60
     VII. JEAN FINDS A FRIEND         76
    VIII. IN THE BUSH                 90
      IX. HOUSEKEEPING IN A CAVE     101
       X. DANDY SAVES THE DAY        117




List of Illustrations


                                                              PAGE
    JEAN                                                _Frontispiece_
    "'I THOUGHT PACIFIC MEANT PEACEFUL,' SAID FERGUS"          11
    "'THAT IS THE LYRE BIRD, ISN'T HE A HANDSOME FELLOW?'"     58
    "'THAT WAS A PLATYPUS, OR WATER MOLE,' SAID MR.
          MCDONALD"                                            66
    "THE LEAVES PARTED AND A BLACK FACE PEERED THROUGH
          THE BUSHES"                                          99
    "THE BLACK BOY ON A PONY LED BY A WHITE CHILD"            128




Our Little Australian Cousin




CHAPTER I

"LAND"


FERGUS and Jean were very tired of the long voyage. They stood at the
taffrail looking over the dancing waves, longing for the sight of land.

"It seems as if we would never get there, Father," said Fergus. "How
long it is since we left home!"

"And how far away Scotland seems," sighed his mother, as she took little
Jean on her lap and stroked her fair hair.

"But Australia is to be our home now," said Mr. Hume cheerfully. "See,
there is the very first glimpse of it," and he pointed across the water
to a dim line, as the look-out called "Land!"

"We are passing Port Phillip's Head," he said presently. "See the
lighthouse! Soon we shall land and you will see a beautiful city."

"Beautiful!" Fergus said in surprise. "Why, I thought Melbourne was a
wild sort of a place. You have told us about the time you were here long
ago, before you married my mother, and you had floods in the streets and
had to climb up on top of some one's porch for fear of being drowned."

"That was fifteen years ago, my son," said Mr. Hume with a smile.
"Melbourne is very different now from what it was then, and then it was
not at all like it was when its first settlers saw it.

"It was in 1836 that Robert Russell came here to survey the shore near
Port Phillip and find out whether boats could go up the River Yana. He
felt this to be just the place for a city, planned Melbourne and laid
out the streets. It seems strange to think that then the blacks owned
all this land and the Wawoorong, Boonoorong, and Wautourong tribes
roamed these shores, and that when Russell laid out his city there were
native huts standing. The place was called Bear Grass, and in 1837 there
were thirteen buildings, eight of which were turf huts. Now Melbourne is
seven miles square and the principal street is a mile long. You will
soon see how handsome the buildings are, for we are now making ready to
land after our long journey."

Fergus and Jean Hume had come from Scotland to live in Australia. Their
father had been a farmer, but he had lost all his little fortune through
the rascality of a friend, and had determined to try again in the
colony.

Australia is a colony of Great Britain just as Canada is, and though it
is at the other side of the world, still it is British.

Mrs. Hume had a sister in Sydney and they were to visit her before going
to the Gold Country, where Mr. Hume intended to try his fortune.

Fergus was a fine boy of twelve and Jean was eight, and both were much
excited at the trip, while Mrs. Hume's sadness at leaving her old home
was mixed with joy at the idea of seeing again the sister from whom she
had been separated for years.

The landing on the Melbourne quay proved interesting for the children,
and they were very much impressed with their first glimpse of the city.

"Why, Father," exclaimed Fergus, as they drove in a cab up Flinders
Street, "Melbourne streets seem as busy as those of Glasgow!"

"Indeed they are, my son," said his father, smiling. "Perhaps they are
busier. You see Victoria is the busiest part of this country, although
the people of New South Wales will tell you that their district is far
superior and Sydney a much handsomer city than Melbourne."

"If the wares one sees in the streets are any sign, Victoria must have a
great variety of products," said Mrs. Hume. "The shops have all manner
of things in the windows, and besides there are great drays of wood,
coal and timber."

"Victoria is called the Garden of Australia," said Mr. Hume. "You will
see considerable of it if we go up to Sydney by rail instead of by sea."

"Oh, Father!" cried Fergus, who loved the water, "are we going to do
that?"

"I haven't decided yet which would be the better plan," Mr. Hume
answered. "I had thought of going by steamer and stopping at Hobart in
Tasmania, but it will take a great deal longer and you will miss the
trip through Victoria, which is said to be the prettiest part of this
great continent."

"I think the sooner we reach Aunt Mildred the better for all of us,"
said Mrs. Hume. "The children are tired with the long voyage and winter
will soon be here."

"Winter!" exclaimed Jean.

"Winter, why, Mother!" cried Fergus. "This is June!"

"Yes, I know that," said his mother. "But don't you know that in the
Southern Hemisphere, winter and summer change places? In Victoria,
midwinter comes in July."

"Will it be cold?" asked Jean.

"No, dear, winter here is not like our nipping Scotch frost. It is not
very cold here, and it rains in winter instead of snowing."

"I don't think that is nice at all," said Fergus. "We'll have no
sleighing."

"There are many things we will miss here," said his mother sadly, but
his father said cheerfully,

"There are many things here we can't have at home, also. When I get to
the Gold Fields you shall have all the gold you want, and that is
something you never had in Scotland. Now, our fine drive is over and
here we are at the hotel, where we shall have some luncheon. How have
you enjoyed your first drive in an Australian city?"

"Very much," cried both of the children.

"It will be some time before you take another one, for I believe after
all that we shall go by boat to Sydney. I understand that the sea trip
is very pleasant and it is less expensive."

"I am glad," said Fergus.

"A boat sails this afternoon and there is nothing for us to do but have
our luggage transferred from one boat to the other," said Mr. Hume, as
they all went in to luncheon.




CHAPTER II

SAILING TO SYDNEY


THE travellers set sail for Sydney in a calm and beautiful afternoon
when earth and sea seemed at peace. The sea sparkled in the sunlight as
if set in diamonds and the vessel fairly danced over the waters as it
sailed out of Bass Strait into the dark waters of the blue Pacific. The
afternoon passed quietly and toward evening all gathered on deck to see
the sunset, for Australia is noted as the land of wonderful sunsets, and
from the sea these can be viewed in all their splendour.

Gold, crimson, yellow, pink, from brilliant to soft, from light to dark,
the clouds changed in countless colour schemes, bewilderingly beautiful.
The whole sky was a dome of softest rose, then a flaming crimson, then
pearly-tinted heliotrope; the sea, too, shone in varying shades of
beauty, until all melted and blended into one exquisitely soft shade of
deep-toned purple, and into this the smiling stars stole one by one, the
countless stars of the southern night, and above all shone the glory of
the Southern Cross.

"Oh, Father," whispered Jean, "I have never seen anything so beautiful!
Is the sunset always like this in Australia?"

"This was a particularly fine one, daughter, but whenever the sun sets
it is a thing worth looking at."

"How quickly it has grown dark after all that splendour," said Mrs.
Hume, looking at the sky over which the clouds were passing.

"I don't like the look of the sky," said Mr. Hume. "I'm afraid there is
a squall coming."

"Worse than a squall, sir," said a sailor, hurrying by. "It looks to me
like a hurricane."

The air had grown suddenly warm and the sky was overhung with heavy
clouds, while flashes of lightning blazed across the sky. Suddenly a
great waterspout seemed to rise up like an inky-black pillar from sea to
sky. The ship tossed about and pitched so badly that it was impossible
to keep one's feet and Mr. Hume led his little party to the cabin.

[Illustration: "'I THOUGHT PACIFIC MEANT PEACEFUL,' SAID FERGUS."]

"Oh, Father! what shall we do?" cried Jean, frightened.

"Go to sleep is the best thing to do if you can," he said, and the
children were put to bed in their berths, in which they could hardly
stay, so violent was the pitching of the ship.

The wind howled and roared and, as the storm kept up all night, there
was little sleep in the cabin. When the morning came it was little
better. Sea and sky were dull gray, save where the foam-crested waves
broke in sheets of spray against the sides of the vessel, sending the
foam high into the air.

"It is a cross sea," said the sailor on the look-out and the captain
shook his head. "It's a bad outlook," he said. "I don't like the gray
water."

"I thought Pacific meant peaceful," said Fergus, who stood clinging to
his father on deck, looking at the wonderful scene. "It doesn't seem
peaceful to me," as a great wave broke over the deck and drenched him to
the skin.

"Like most peaceful things, it is terrible when it is roused," said Mr.
Hume. "There is a strong current running up and down this eastern shore
of Australia and it often sets vessels quite out of their course.
Sometimes they are washed miles out of their way, and occasionally, in
the darkness, run upon one of the little islands which dot this sea."

"Is Tasmania one of them?" asked Fergus.

"We have long since passed Tasmania," said his father. "But there are
many little islands between here and Sydney. There! What is that?" he
exclaimed. Suddenly it seemed as if land sprang at them through the fog
and they were almost upon a rocky shore. So near to it was their steamer
that there was barely time to put about and it was only by the quickest
action that they escaped the rocks. The steamer lurched and rolled,
pitched and tossed in the gale, but she passed the rocks in safety, and
as afternoon waned and night drew on, the storm grew less, until by
midnight the sea was quiet. The morning of the third day broke in a
golden splendour, the air was fresh and cool, the sky and the sea were
as blue as a sapphire, the children glad to be out of the stuffy cabin
and up on deck.

"If the weather continues like this we shall not be long in reaching
Sydney," said Mr. Hume. "And I am sure we shall all be glad to get
there."

"What kind of a place is Sydney?" asked Fergus.

"It is a fine city, my boy, and very different from what it was when
Botany Bay was peopled with felons."

"What are felons?" asked Jean.

"Felons are people who have done wrong and must be kept in prison for
punishment in the hope that they will learn to do right," answered Mr.
Hume. "Botany Bay was named by the botanist Joseph Banks who was with
Cook when he made his first voyage in 1770. It is an inlet near Sydney
and the English sent their criminals there until 1840. Such men as
behaved well when they reached the colony were allowed to leave the
penal settlement upon tickets, and were called 'ticket of leave men.'
They could be followed up and brought back if they misbehaved in any
way. Many of them were good men who had been led into wrongdoing and
were glad to have a chance to be good again. They went out into the
'bush,' cleared farms or sheep stations, and many of them grew rich.
Quite a number of the good citizens of Australia to-day, could, if they
would, trace their descent back to 'ticket of leave' men."

"I shouldn't think they would like to do that," said Fergus. "I wouldn't
like any one to know that my people had done wrong."

"Everybody does wrong," said Jean sagely.

"Yes, but every one isn't found out," her brother answered. "When they
are, it hurts."

"But if it's found out that they're sorry and are going to do good for
ever and ever," the little girl looked puzzled, "then does it matter?"

"Dear little childish point of view," said her mother, with a smile, and
her father added,

"It would be a good thing if older people felt so."

Sydney looked beautiful enough as their ship steamed into the bay to pay
them for their troublesome voyage. The harbour is one of the handsomest
in the world. The city is picturesquely situated upon the bold and
rocky slopes which rise from the water's edge and is defended from any
possible attack by bristling forts and batteries.

"This narrow entrance to the harbour is called 'the Heads,'" said Mr.
Hume to the children, who were dancing about asking a thousand
questions, of which their father answered the most important. "The
lighthouse is a guide to all storm-driven sailors, and also a good
lookout, should any enemies of England hope to steal upon Australia
unawares. I think Sydney one of the most delightfully situated cities I
have ever visited. It is surrounded by parks and groves where grow
bananas, orange trees, palms and all manner of tropical plants. Its
climate is healthful and life here easy and pleasant."

"The buildings seem very handsome," said Mrs. Hume, as the city came
into view, gleaming white and beautiful in the morning sun.

"The sandstone upon which the town is built gives fine building
material," said her husband, "and while, in the older part of the city,
streets are narrow and houses old-fashioned, the newer portion compares
favourably with almost any of the modern European cities.

"We are just about in now; the sailors are making ready to cast the
hawser."

"Oh, Fergus! There is Mildred!" cried Mrs. Hume to her husband, pointing
to a sweet-faced little woman who stood beside a large, burly-looking
man upon the wharf. "It is worth almost the long journey from home just
to see her again!" and she stretched out her hands to the sister whom
she had not seen for ten years.

Soon they were landed and the two sisters greeted each other joyfully.

"Elsie! How glad I am to welcome you to Australia," cried Mrs. McDonald,
while her sister said,

"Mildred, you don't look a day older than when you left Scotland!"

"Life is easy out here," said Mr. McDonald genially. "Come, all of you.
The carriage is waiting. We are glad to have a visit from you and want
it to be as long a visit as possible. We have planned all manner of
things to do during your stay."

As they drove through the handsome streets, Mrs. McDonald said,

"It is nearly time we went into the country, and after you are well
rested and have seen Sydney, Angus is going to take us up to the station
so you can see just what life is on an Australian 'run.'"[1]

"I am sure we shall enjoy it," said Mrs. Hume. "But just now I can think
of nothing to do but getting rested. The sea motion is still in my head,
and I believe that if I could go to bed and think that Jean could sleep
without danger of falling out of bed, I could sleep for two or three
days without waking up."

"We'll take care of the wee lassie and of this big boy, too," said Mr.
McDonald kindly, laying an arm about Fergus' shoulder. "Sandy is up at
the run and you will have fine times with him there, and your mother
shall rest as long as she wants to.

"But you are not seeing the sights as we pass. We think Sydney about the
finest thing on this side of the world. These buildings are a part of
the University. The College of St. Paul's there belongs to the Church of
England, and St. John's is Roman Catholic."

"It is all very handsome," said Mrs. Hume.

"How Sydney has changed since I was here," said Mr. Hume. "It is not
like the same place."

"Its growth is simply wonderful," said Mr. McDonald. "We have now all
manner of manufactories. Wagons are made here and sold all over
Australia and New Zealand. There are fine glass and pottery works, boot
and shoe factories, besides stove foundries and carriage works. Tobacco
and fine liquors are manufactured here and Sydney is really the center
of the British colonies in the South."

"Here we are at home," said his wife. "So your interesting lecture must
cease. I am sure Elsie would rather see a good cup of tea and a
comfortable bed than hear your discourse on the beauties of Sydney when
she's homesick for dear little Glasgow."

"Tea and bed will do much to do away with homesickness, and the sight of
you will do more," said her sister as they alighted from the carriage
and went up the steps of a handsome house surrounded by fine trees and a
garden radiant with flowers.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] Run is the name given to a ranch in Australia.




CHAPTER III

A DRIVE


A FEW days' rest made the travellers as good as new and Fergus and Jean
were ready for any kind of an adventure. They went about the city
interested in each and everything they saw, for they were bright little
children, full of spirits to the brim.

"We are to take a drive this afternoon," said Mrs. McDonald one morning.
"Your Uncle Angus is going to show you Wuurna-wee-weetch, which means
'home of the swallow.' It is the largest squatter station anywhere about
here, and it is as handsome as any noble estate at home."

"That will be jolly, Aunt Mildred," said Fergus, who loved driving.

When luncheon was over they all seated themselves in Mr. McDonald's
comfortable road-cart, and his fine span of horses pranced along the
Sydney streets.

"We are passing St. Andrew's Cathedral now," said Mrs. McDonald. "And
there is St. Mary's Cathedral, which is equally fine. There is the
Governor's Mansion, the Museum, the Art Gallery, and now we are entering
Hyde Park. Isn't it beautiful? The water works of Sydney are excellent
and the water supply never fails. It comes sixty-three miles from the
Nepean River and is stored in a huge reservoir. Even in the hottest
weather there is enough water to keep our parks green and beautiful."

"You are very enthusiastic over your adopted country," said her sister,
teasingly.

"Indeed I am. I have learned to love Australia, the rural life better
than the urban. You wait until we go up to the 'run' and see if the
charm of the Bush country life doesn't hold you." Mrs. McDonald smiled.
"Now we are entering the grounds of Wuurna-wee-weetch. Tell me, is the
Duke of Argyle's place finer?"

They drove over the estate, which was surpassingly beautiful.

"I have heard so much of the Australian Bush and how wild and bare it
is," said Fergus, "that I had no idea that there was anything here so
fine as this."

"What magnificent trees," said his mother.

"Those are the eucalyptus, the gum trees for which Australia is famous,"
said Mr. McDonald. "The eucalyptus grows to an enormous height, many of
the trees are 150 feet high and eleven feet around the trunk. In some
places they grow to be twenty feet in diameter. They are not good shade
trees because the leaves, which are shaped like little lances, grow
straight up and down, that is, with one edge toward the sun. But in
spite of that, the tree is one of the most useful in the world. There
are nearly 150 varieties of eucalyptus, and most of these are found in
Australia. The lumber is used for all kinds of building purposes. Many
of the trees contain a hard substance, 'manna,' from which we get a kind
of sugar called _melitose_. Others give us _kino_, a resin used in
medicine. The bark yields tannin, and from one variety with 'stringy
bark' we get a fibre used for making rope, the manufacture of paper and
for thatching roofs. From the leaves an oil is distilled which is much
used in medicine, being particularly good to dress wounds and for the
treatment of fevers."

"It seems to me that these trees furnish almost everything you need,"
said Mr. Hume.

"If you include the birds who nest in them and the animals who climb in
the branches," replied his brother-in-law, "I fancy the Blacks did not
need to look beyond the eucalyptus for a living. The wood built their
huts, and the bark thatched them. From the fibre they made mats for
their floors and hats to keep off the sun, and clothes, which consisted
of waist cloth and sandals. The leaves gave them medicine for the fever
and salve for their wounds. The cockatoos nesting in the branches
furnished them delicious food, while of the feathers the gins[2] made
boas for their necks and wonderful Easter bonnets. It really would seem
as if the gum trees were all they really needed. They have another use
not to be slighted, for they take up the moisture rapidly and dry the
soil in rainy seasons, thus reducing the malaria always found in such
climates as these."

"They are certainly useful," said Mrs. Hume. "Is this the station to
which we are going?" as they drove through a fine gateway.

"Yes," said Mrs. McDonald. "Wuurna-wee-weetch is quite up to date in
every way. The house cost £30,000 to build and the ranch has every
modern improvement. The grazing land hereabouts is perfectly adapted to
sheep raising. It is so rich that you may dig ten feet down and still
find rich black dirt. The owner of this ranch has been most successful.
He has recently put in new wool sheds, sheep pens, washing ponds, and
the like, and you may, if you wish, see the whole process of sheep
raising, shearing, pressing, packing and transporting the wool. You will
see it at our station on a smaller scale." They drove for an hour about
the magnificent place, and over all the estate was an air of wealth and
prosperity.

The gardens were blooming with gay, tropical flowers, and the songs of
the birds were in the air, as they flitted hither and yon through the
branches of the magnificent trees.

"What is that noise, Aunt Mildred?" asked Jean as they drove through a
beautiful grove of pines which scented the air deliciously. "It sounds
like a far away church bell."

"It is the bell bird, dear, one of the curiosities of Australia,"
replied her Aunt. "Long, long before there was a church bell of any
kind in Australia, this little, lonely bird made its curious bell-like
note. There are some pretty verses by one of our poets about it."

"Can you say them to us, Aunty?"

"I will try,--they are really beautiful," she said.

    "'Tis the bell bird sweetly singing,
     The sad, strange, small-voiced bird,
     His low sweet carol ringing,
     While scarce a sound is heard,
     Save topmost sprays aflutter,
     And withered leaflets fall,
     And the wistful oaks that utter
     Their eerie, drearie, call.

    "What may be the bell bird saying,
     In that silvery, tuneful note?
     Like a holy hermit's praying
     His devotions seem to float
     From a cavern dark and lonely,
     Where, apart from worldly men,
     He repeats one dear word only,
     Fondly o'er and o'er again."

"Is not that pretty?" said Mrs. Hume, as her sister's musical voice
ceased. "I did not know you had such poets in Australia."

"Indeed we have a literature of our own," said Mrs. McDonald, "and very
beautiful things are written by Australians. You have much to learn
about this great island continent of ours."

"Now we must turn toward home," said Mr. McDonald, and his wife said,
"Drive back past Tarnpin, it is so beautiful about there. Tarnpin, or
Flowing Water, is a favourite spot hereabouts. The Blacks have a quaint
story about its origin, and I will tell it to you as old Tepal, a black
chief, told it to me.

"It was the day time, and all the animals died of thirst. So many died
that the Magpie, the Lark, and the Crane talked together, and tried to
find water to drink.

"'It is very strange,' said the Magpie, 'that the Turkey Buzzard is
never hungry.'

"'He must, then, have water to drink,' said the wise Crane.

"'He flies away every morning, very early,' said the Lark.

"'Let us rise before the sun and watch him,' said the Magpie, and they
agreed.

"Next morning the Turkey Buzzard rose early and crept from his
wuurie.[3] He looked this way and that and saw no one. Then he flew
away. He knew not that two bright eyes peeped at him through the leaves
of the great gum tree. He did not hear the 'peep, peep' with which the
Lark awoke his friends. The Lark, the Magpie and the Crane flew high to
the sky. They flew so high that they looked as specks on the sun. The
Turkey Buzzard saw them but thought they were small, dark clouds. He
flew to a flat stone and lifted it up. And the water gushed from a
spring in the rock and he drank and was satisfied. Then he put back the
stone and flew away.

"The three friends laughed and were glad. Quickly they flew to the
stone, singing, 'We have caught him!' and drank of the fresh water.
They bathed in the pool and flapped their wings until the waters rose
and became a lake of clear water. Then they spread their wings and flew
over the earth, and the waters dropped from their wings and fell to the
thirsty earth. They made there water holes, and ever since there have
been drinking places all over the land."

"My but that's a jolly story," said Fergus, the irrepressible. "Did you
really know the Blacks, Aunt Mildred? Are there any around here?"

"None very near," said his aunt. "Indeed, they are mostly dying out.
People who have lived here a long time used to know them and say they
were a kindly people. They were very fond of children and I do not think
they were cruel or quarrelsome unless roused to anger. They have nearly
all buried themselves in the Bush, but you will be likely to see some of
them at our station. There used to be a number around the 'run,' and
when we first came out we had some rather curious experiences with
them. We do not see many now, their experiences with white people were
not always pleasant, I am sorry to say."

"I hope we shall see some of them," said Fergus.

"I like black people," said little Jean.

"What does she know of Blacks?" asked her aunt, smiling, and her mother
replied,

"Some people from the States came to our farm one fall for the shooting
and they had a black nurse for the baby. Jean took a great fancy to her,
and we simply couldn't keep her from toddling after Dinah. She was a
faithful soul, so good and kind."

"Those who have lived here for many years say that if you once make a
friend of a Black he will do anything for you," said Mr. McDonald. "I
never had any trouble with them around my station, though other
squatters did."

"I think it's all in the way you treat them," said his wife. "Of course
the Blacks near the 'run' are not the wild Blacks from the interior, the
man-eating kind, but a gentler race."

"Well, I hope we shall see some of them," said Fergus. "But I shouldn't
care for cannibals."

FOOTNOTES:

[2] Black women.

[3] Hut.




CHAPTER IV

ON THE WAY TO THE "RUN"


IT was a bright morning when they left Sydney to go to the station,
taking the train early in the day, for there was a railway ride of
several hours before them, as well as a long drive.

"Now you are going to see something of Australian life," said Mr.
McDonald. "Life in Sydney or Melbourne is very little different from
that in Liverpool or Glasgow. On the big stations it is much the same as
on the country places at home, but my station is typical of Australia."

"Is it in the Bush, Uncle?" asked Fergus.

"Hear the laddie talking like an old squatter," laughed Mr. McDonald.
"Yes and no. You see the Australians who live in the cities consider all
the rest of the continent the Bush, but to those who live in the
grazing and farming districts the country inland is the Bush or the
'Back Country.' Our run is beautifully situated just on the edge of the
Dividing Range, and we are lucky enough to have a river running through
one side, so that the run is seldom dry."

"What is the Dividing Range?" asked Fergus, who was determined to
understand everything he heard. If he did not, it was not because he did
not ask questions enough about it.

"The Dividing Range is the high land which separates the east and west
of the continent and runs from north to south along the coast. It is
sometimes called the Australian Alps, and some of the peaks are 7,000
feet high. The eastern part of Australia runs in a long strip of fertile
ground along the coast. West of this are the mountains and beyond them
is a high plateau which slopes down to the plains of Central Australia.
This central portion is an almost unknown country. There are no great
rivers and little rain. The land is terribly dry and very hot. Many who
have gone to explore it have never returned and no one knows their fate.
Perhaps they have died of thirst, perhaps they have been killed by the
Blacks. This part of the country is called 'Never, Never Land.'"

"Uncle Angus," asked Fergus, as his uncle paused. "When you came to your
station were you a squatter?"

His uncle's hearty laugh rang out. "No, my boy, but I bought my run from
a squatter," he answered. "The days of squatters were about over when I
came out. What do you know about squatters?"

"I don't know anything," answered Fergus. "Only I have heard the name
and thought maybe you would tell us about them."

"In the old times, before Australia had started in the trade, the wool
from the sheep on the runs was very important to her," said Mr.
McDonald. "Men would come out to the country, and, not having very much
money, they could perhaps buy a small homestead and stock it, but little
more. They would have to have large tracts of land to pasture their
sheep, but had not money enough to buy the land. They therefore settled
down and took what they needed without permission, and so were called
'squatters.' The Government did not interfere with them, because the
wool from their sheep was needed and because the country was so big
there seemed land enough for everyone. In time the matter was arranged
by the Government's dividing the back country into grazing districts,
which all the squatters might use by paying a yearly rent."

"How did the squatters keep their sheep from other people?" Fergus
inquired.

"Every flock had its shepherd, who led it wherever food and water were
to be found," was the answer. "The life of a shepherd was a lonely one.
He had to watch the sheep and lambs and see that the dingoes[4] did not
get at them. The shepherd never saw any other people except the man who
brought his supplies from the station. His dogs were his only friends,
and often these shepherd dogs are marvels of intelligence and loyalty.
For a time the squatters prospered and some of them grew immensely
wealthy. These were called 'Wool Kings' and lived on their stations
extravagantly, building houses such as you saw at Wuurna-wee-weetch.

"But sheep raising is not all plain sailing in Australia. Rabbits were
brought into the country, and these proved to be a regular plague,
destroying the grass, so that the Government passed a law that squatters
must help to exterminate them, which put them to a great expense.

"When I came here twenty years ago, I got my station from a squatter who
had worked it for years and had made enough to sell out and go to
Sydney, where it had always been his ambition to live. I have worked
hard and been successful. When you see our station I think you will want
to stay in this country instead of trying to find gold in 'Never, Never
Land,'" he said to his brother-in-law.

"Perhaps I shall, but I have no money to buy a station and I can't be a
squatter now," said Mr. Hume.

Their way lay through a beautiful semi-tropical country. The train moved
through fertile valleys, fine woodland and green vales, and bridged cool
mountain streams. When their stopping place was reached and they
alighted from the train to find a comfortable cart and good horses
awaiting them, Fergus exclaimed, "It doesn't seem to me that travelling
in Australia is very hard work."

"Wait till you get to the Bush," said his uncle. "And have to tramp it
with your swag[5] upon your back, make your own supper over a twig
fire, stir your tea in a billy[6] with a eucalyptus twig, and roll up in
a blanket to sleep, waking up to find a dukite snake taking a nap on
your breast,--that's real Australia for you."

"I like your kind better," said Jean with a shudder, but Fergus said
boastingly,

"Well, I'm not afraid of the Bush."

"Wait and see," said his father as they drove through the gate which led
into Mr. McDonald's run.

It was a beautiful station and well suited for the sheep farming from
which the owner had made his money. The land lay in a triangle, on two
sides of which was a considerable stream while the main road formed the
third boundary. The land was fenced with stout rail fences while the
paddocks were fenced with wire.

The house was built of stone, of one story, with a broad veranda running
around all four sides, shaded in vines and looking on a garden in which
gorgeous-hued flowers bloomed in brilliant beauty. There was an air of
great comfort about the place. Hammocks were slung in the porches and
easy chairs were placed invitingly about.

Long windows clear to the floor opened into the living rooms and a wide
hallway ran through the middle of the house. On one side was a drawing
room, at the other, dining room and living room. The guests caught
glimpses of books and music as they were ushered into their cool
bedrooms. These opened on to the veranda and were cool and pleasant,
with gay chintz and white hangings. What a delightful visit the children
had at the run! It was perhaps pleasanter for them than for the grown
folk, for Sandy, Mr. and Mrs. McDonald's only child, a boy of ten, was a
perfect imp of mischief, and he led his two cousins into everything that
he could think of. Fergus was not far behind, and Jean trudged after
the boys, growing strong and rosy in the Australian sunshine.

"Australia is making the greatest change in Jean," said her mother to
Mrs. McDonald one day, as they sat upon the veranda. "At home she was so
shy she would scarcely look at any one. She seemed delicate and I was
worried for fear she would never learn to take care of herself in this
world."

"She will grow up into the most self-reliant kind of a girl in the
Bush," said her sister. "She is a dear little girl and I think there is
plenty of strength of character under her shy little ways."

"I wonder what the three are doing now," said Jean's mother. "It has
been some time since we heard a shriek of any kind--oh--what is that?"
for as she spoke there came a scream so loud and piercing from the
shrubbery that both women sprang to their feet and rushed across the
lawn.

Midway between the house and the garden they met the three children,
both boys holding Jean's hands and helping her to run to the house,
while the little girl, her face covered with blood and tears, was trying
not to cry.

"Jean's hurt," cried Sandy.

"So I should judge," said his mother, trying to keep calm, while both
boys began to talk at once, so that no one could understand a word they
said.

Mrs. Hume gathered Jean in her arms and carried her quickly to the
house, where she washed the little, tear-stained face. The child's lip
was terribly cut and she was badly frightened, but not seriously hurt,
and as she cuddled down in her mother's arms she sighed,

"Nice mother! I don't mind being hurt when you are here to fix me up."

"Tell me what happened, dear," said her mother, as she stroked the fair
hair.

"We were playing," Jean said. "The boys had sticks and we heard a queer
rustle in the bushes. Sandy said it was a snake and beat the bushes to
drive him out. It ran out just in front of Fergus and I thought it would
bite him, and I didn't want anything to happen to my brother so I ran up
behind him just as he swung his stick over his shoulder to hit the
snake. He hit me in the mouth, but of course he didn't mean to, Mother.
I screamed because it hurt me so, and then I tried not to cry because I
knew it would worry you. It doesn't hurt so badly now, Mother."

"I'm sorry it hurts at all, darling," her mother held her close. "You
were a good child and brave not to cry. Crawl up in the hammock now and
take a nap, and you will feel better when you wake up."

"I hope Fergus and Sandy won't do anything very interesting while I am
asleep," the little girl murmured drowsily, as she dropped off to
sleep.

Fergus and Sandy undoubtedly would. They were very kind to Jean, but
there was no doubt that they found the little girl a clog upon their
movements. Fergus was used to taking care of her, but Sandy had no
sisters and he sometimes wished the little cousin would not tag quite so
much.

"You can't really do anything much when a girl is tagging around," he
said to his mother, but that long-suffering woman proved strangely
unsympathetic.

"I think I shall keep Jean always if her being here keeps you out of
mischief," she said with a smile, and Sandy answered,

"Well, keep Fergus too, then."

No sooner was Jean asleep than the boys decided the time had come for
them to carry out a plan long since formed, but laid aside for a
convenient season. At one side of the run was a little lake, formed
where one of the boundary streams was dammed. A windmill carried water
from this to a platform and upon this were iron tanks from which pipes
carried water through the house. The boys had decided to climb to the
top of the reservoir and slide down the pipes, which seemed to them
would be an exciting performance. The climbing up was not difficult and
Sandy took the first slide.

"It's great fun," he shouted. "Let me have another!" as he clambered up
again.

"It's my turn," cried Fergus, astride of the pipe.

"Let me. You wait," said Sandy, who was used to playing alone and not to
having any-one dispute with him.

"I tell you it's my turn!" Fergus' temper rose. "You don't play fair."

There was a scramble and a cry, both boys lost their balance and fell,
and the sound of breaking glass crashed through the air.

Both mothers rushed to the scene to find two pairs of arms and legs
waving wildly from the hot-bed, while broken glass was scattered hither
and yon.

"You dreadful boys, you have fallen right into the flower beds and
broken the glass! Are you badly hurt?" cried Mrs. McDonald, as each
mother dragged out a son.

Very crestfallen were the boys as they stood up, their faces covered
with scratches and Sandy's hand badly cut.

"What were you doing?" asked both mothers sternly.

"Sliding down the water pipe," said Sandy.

"Quarrelling," said Fergus.

"Nice way to spend the morning," said Mr. McDonald, who appeared at that
moment from the stables. "Go and get washed up and we'll see if you have
any broken glass in your cuts."

When the damages were repaired neither boy was found to be much hurt,
but Jean begged so hard that they should not be punished, that the two
were let off for that time.

"The next piece of mischief you get into you'll be sent to bed for a day
to rest up and think it over," said Sandy's father, and the boys assured
him that they would never, never do anything again as long as they
lived.

FOOTNOTES:

[4] Wild dogs.

[5] Name given to the pack carried on the back.

[6] Bucket for water, carried by Australians.




CHAPTER V

LIFE AT DJERINALLUM


WHILE the children played happily together the grown folk had many an
anxious consultation as to ways and means.

"I wish I could persuade you to stay with us, Elsie," said her sister.
"Let your husband go by himself, on his wild goose chase after gold."

"Oh, I can't do that," said Mrs. Hume. "I can rough it, and it will do
Fergus good, but I am afraid of it for Jeanie."

"Let me keep her," said Mrs. McDonald eagerly. "Oh, do, Elsie! I have
always wanted a little girl to pet and take care of and Jean will be
ever so much safer with me than travelling through the wild country you
are going into on your way to the Gold Fields."

"It might be best," Mrs. Hume said thoughtfully. "I will talk it over
with Fergus and leave Jean in your care, going with him, if he agrees."

Mr. Hume, however, had very decided ideas as to what was best to be
done.

"Since your sister and her husband are so anxious to keep you, my dear,
I am sure it will be best for you and Jean to stay here at the run. My
trip to the Gold Fields is only an experiment. It will be a long, hard
journey and an expensive one, and I may not find anything worth doing
when I get there, and in that case will return and take up stock
farming. McDonald offers me a chance now, but I feel as though I ought
to make the trial before accepting help.

"I will take Fergus with me. The trip will not hurt him and he would
drive you distracted if left here with Sandy. I shall do better work
feeling that you and the lassie are safe and well cared for here."

"I hate to have you go without me, but I must do as you think best,"
said his wife. So it was arranged, and with a heavy heart Jean saw her
father and brother drive away from the run, starting on their long trip
to the Gold Fields.

"Why does father have to go away?" she asked her uncle, who had taken
her before him for a ride on his big, black horse, "The Bruce."

"He has gone to hunt for gold, lassie, so you can have fine clothes to
wear," he answered.

"I'd rather have father here and not have fine clothes," she said, her
lip quivering. "How do they get gold in fields, Uncle? I didn't know it
grew like flowers and grass."

"It doesn't, lassie," he answered. "They just call the place they find
it the Gold Fields. It is dug out of the earth, where it is found mixed
with sand and stone."

"Well, where are the Gold Fields and who found there was gold there?"
asked Jean. She liked her burly uncle, who was always ready to talk to
her and who explained everything about the run so pleasantly.

"The Gold Fields extend all over Western Australia," said Mr. McDonald.
"Gold was first discovered here in 1823 and people have gone mad with
gold fever ever since. The precious metal has been found in Victoria,
New South Wales and Queensland, but recently it has been discovered in
Western Australia. The miners often strike a good lead and grow very
rich, but it is a hard life and especially so in the districts where
there is little water. In the old days men often died of thirst, but now
they have ways of storing the rain which falls in the wet season so that
they do not suffer much.

"There are many interesting things about the gold regions if the life
there is hard. Trains of camels carry the swag of the miners across the
sandy deserts. These beasts were imported especially for this work,
since they can go longer without water than any other animals, and
often it is a long ways from one good water hole to another. The miners
'peg out' their claims in the new places and set to work sifting the
sands in which are found the grains of gold, sometimes as large as nuts.
Soon there is a camp started. Little canvas huts dot the country. Then
if the camp proves successful, houses are built and finally a city will
grow up, almost as if by magic. One city, that of Ballarat, has grown in
twenty-five years to be one of the handsomest in Australia. It has broad
streets, fine houses, and a beautiful park. The swamp land near by has
been made into a lake surrounded by velvet-turfed pleasure grounds,
planted with wonderful trees and flowers. Kalgoorlie, in only ten years,
is almost a golden city, to which water is brought two hundred miles in
pipes, to drive the engines which extract the gold from the quartz."

"Thank you, Uncle, for telling me all about it," said Jeanie. "I hope
father will find a good mine and then sell it out quickly and come back
to buy a run near you. That is what I should like best of anything."

"So should I, child," her uncle smiled at her. "Here we are at the
stables. Jump down and run and call Sandy for me and I'll take you both
with me while I go over the sheds."

"I've always wanted to know about these queer looking sheds," said Jean
as she and Sandy trudged after her uncle.

"This long building is the wool shed," he said. "Now it is empty and
quiet, but when it is shearing time there is noise enough. At this end
is the wool press, and the shearing board runs along the sides of the
shed. Sheep used to be sheared by hand, but Lord Wesley's brother
invented a machine for shearing which is a wonderful thing. Would you
two youngsters like to ride around the run with me? I have to go over to
the paddocks to-day."

"Oh, Uncle, may I ride?" exclaimed Jean. "I had a little Shetland pony
at home and I have missed him so much."

"You may ride Sandy's pony, and he will take Wallace, while I will ride
'The Bruce,'" said Mr. McDonald, and both the children fairly jumped
with delight. They rode around the run, the master looking everything
over carefully.

"Every paddock has its own flock," he explained to Jean. "In one the
ewes are kept, in another the wethers, and then there is a paddock for
the horses and another for the cows."

"How do you get so many animals fed," asked Jean.

"They graze on the grass, and those great fields of alfalfa over there
are grown to use as food. It has to be irrigated and is quite a little
trouble, but it pays in the end. That house is where the manager lives,
with his family and the jackaroos."

"What is a jackaroo? Some kind of a bird?" asked Jean. Sandy shouted
with laughter and his uncle smiled as he answered,

"No, child, jackaroo is the name given to the young fellows who are new
at the station and just learning Australian customs. All kinds of jokes
are played on them by the old hands and they have a hard time at first.
A story is told of some Englishmen who had just come out and were going
hunting. They hadn't found any game and so they asked some station hands
if they had seen any. 'There's a jackaroo down near the water hole,'
said the cook, wickedly, so the two men hurried away to shoot the
strange animal, and lo! it was a young man like themselves."

"What do jackaroos do, Uncle?" asked Jean.

"Well, they have to learn to do all the work there is to do at a
station, so that some day they may get to be managers or even run
stations of their own. They have to ride the boundary every day to see
that there are not holes in the fences, and that the water holes are
full. Only one man is needed to look after 7,500 sheep, so he is kept
pretty busy."

"There are so many buildings somebody must have to look after them. Do
the jackaroos do that?" asked Jean.

"No, all the repair work on the station is given to a set of men who dig
water holes, build fences, and do any necessary carpenter work. These
draw their groceries, meat, and so forth from the stores, but do not eat
at our tables. I don't believe Wu Ling would stand it if he had to cook
for them."

"Isn't he funny?" said Jean, laughing. "He lets me come in the kitchen
and watch him bake brownie, but he won't allow Fergus or Sandy there at
all. Do all stations have Chinese cooks?"

"Not all, but a great many do. The Chinese are the best cooks we can
get. A great many people hate the yellow-skinned Celestials and raise a
hue and cry about a 'White Australia,' but I don't know what we of the
far stations would do without them."

"Wu Ling cooks very good things," said Sandy. "But he got very angry
when Fergus called him 'pig tail.'"

"That wasn't nice of Fergus," said Jean. "What beautiful thistles and
sweet briar, Uncle."

"Not beautiful in our eyes," said her uncle, as they rode by a
magnificent clump of sweet briar, the pink blossoms making a lovely spot
of colour against the purple of the thistles. "Some patriotic Scot
brought the first thistles to Australia, and an English family the
roses, and many's the day I have wished they never came. The soil here
is so rich that everything grows fast, and the thorny plants have spread
all over the land, in some places growing so thick that they have
ruined whole tracts of grazing land. They are nearly as bad as the
foxes. These were brought to destroy the rabbits which ate up the crops,
but Mr. Reynard likes chicken far better than hare, and he has increased
so rapidly that it is almost impossible to get rid of him, though
rewards are offered for his scalp and in one year over thirty thousand
skins were brought in."

"Do they scalp rabbits, too?" asked Jean.

"Trapping rabbits is a regular Australian business," said her uncle. "A
good trapper can make £4 a week catching them, and the fur is used to
make felt hats."

"There are lots and lots of interesting things in your country," said
Jean brightly.

"But shearing time will be the fun," said Sandy.

"Oh, I'd like to see them shear. May I, Uncle?" cried Jean.

"Yes, indeed, you may see anything you like. We'll make a regular
station-hand of you before you are done," he laughed.

"I'm only a little jackaroo now," she said. "What is that queer noise?
It seemed to come from under those trees."

[Illustration: "'THAT IS THE LYRE BIRD, ISN'T HE A HANDSOME FELLOW?'"]

"That is the lyre bird, isn't he a handsome fellow? See, there he is
beneath that bottle tree. We have a pair of them and never allow them to
be touched, as they are quite rare in this part of the country, though
found quite frequently in the scrub.

"The tail of the male is just like an old-fashioned lyre, and it is one
of the most interesting of our birds."

"Did you say that was a bottle tree?" asked Jean.

"Yes. Don't you see it is shaped just like a huge bottle, the branches
growing out of the mouth? The stems have water in them, and if you are
ever lost in the Bush and thirsty, find a bottle tree and get a drink.
The Blacks eat the roots, which are full of a kind of gum."

"I never heard of such a place as this," said Jean. "It seems as if
everything in Australia was useful. Everything but little girls," she
added.

"Little girls are very useful in making other people happy," said her
uncle kindly.

"But I'd like to be really useful and learn to do something," said Jean.

"You will when you are bigger," he answered. "You must get well and
strong before you can do very much, lassie. But you will be useful
enough as you grow older."

"I don't see why you are in such a hurry to go to work," said Sandy. "I
think you have a pretty fine time!"




CHAPTER VI

"LOST!"


LIFE at the run proved pleasant to Jean and full of interesting
happenings. She missed her father and Fergus, but she and Sandy soon
grew to be great friends, and many were the thrilling bits of mischief
into which he dragged her, sure that he would escape punishment if Jean
were only to say, "Don't punish Sandy, Uncle Angus, I did it too."

The little girl loved her Aunt Mildred, but more than any one at the
station her uncle had won her heart. She grew to be his little shadow,
driving and riding with him, sun-tanned and rosy, growing strong and
healthy in the free Australian life.

"You are getting as fat as a Chinaman's horse, lassie," said her uncle
as they rode to the river one day.

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"The Chinese are always very kind to their horses and keep them fat and
slick, so that has grown to be a proverb, though some people say as 'fat
as a larrikin's dog,' instead."

"What is a larrikin?" Jean was growing as full of questions as Fergus.

"Larrikin is a slang term applied to the idlers who lounge about the
cities, a dog at their heels, like the 'Enery 'Awkins of London or
Glasgow. There are many of them in Australia and they have formed a kind
of secret society among themselves, which is not a very good thing. Here
is a fine bit for a canter, Jeanie. I'll beat you to the big
eucalyptus."

"No, you won't." Jean chirruped to her pony and was off like a shot
through the open paddock, jumping a fence as if on wings. She loved to
gallop when the air was filled with the fragrance of the wattle and the
gum, and she had grown to ride like a little centaur.

"Well done," cried her uncle as she drew up at the gate, laughing and
breathless, her horse half a head in advance of his. "We are so near to
'Mason's run,' I think we'll have time to stop there. I want to see him
about several things, so we'll ride on."

"Very well, Uncle. Is it a sheep run?"

"No, cattle. You have not seen one yet, so keep your eyes open and learn
all you can. Mason breeds the long horns, sullen beasts, but good
stock."

"I shall be glad to see them," she said, and they cantered up to the
homestead, which was very unlike her uncle's station.

Built of wood, with a galvanized-iron roof, the house stood on piles,
but between each pile and the house was a tin plate to keep the white
ants from climbing into the rooms. Several gins[7] came out to see who
the strangers were, the first that Jean had seen, and she looked at
them curiously. Not more so, however, than they looked at her, for they
stared at her and whispered together.

"They don't know what to make of you, 'Lassie with the lint white
locks,'" her uncle laughed. "The young gin wants to know if you are
Great Baiame's golden child. It's your fair hair, I suppose."

Jean's hair was light golden and floated all about her face like a halo.

"Great Baiame is their god, good spirit, and they think you are a
goddess. That gin wants to touch your hair. Better let her, she won't
hurt you."

Jean smilingly bent her head and let the black woman run her fingers
over her shining tresses. The gin smiled and, seized by a sudden
impulse, Jean said,

"She may have a curl if she wants it, Uncle. I have plenty and mother
won't care." He handed her his knife and she snipped off a silken
strand, which the gin took with many expressions of delight.

"You have certainly made a hit among the Blacks," said her uncle
teasingly. "She will wear that as a charm and be the envy of all the
tribe. Your hair is pretty.

    "'The world to me knows no fairer sight
    Than your long hair veiling your shoulders white,
    As I tangle my hand in your hair my pet.'"

he quoted as he stroked the shining mane.

"Uncle, I don't think cattle runs are as nice as sheep runs. There
aren't any wool sheds, but just open yards."

"These are the stock and branding yards. You see the cattle roam the
hills, some of the runs being as large as five thousand square miles, on
which the cattle find their own food and water."

"If they wander over all that distance, how do the owners ever tell
their own cattle?" asked Jean.

"Every beast is branded, that is, he has his owner's mark burnt into his
hide," said her uncle. "So it is easy to draft out of the mobs the
cattle which belong to other ranchmen. The young oxen are sent to the
coast to be fattened for market, while the old cattle are sent to the
rendering works, where they are made into tallow and beef extract. The
stockman's life is harder than that of the shepherd, and dangerous
because of the bullocks' stampedes, when they break loose and often run
down horses and men in their frantic rush for freedom."

"I like the sheep run much better," said Jean. "See that flying
squirrel, Uncle! I think they are the cunningest little things. Who do
you suppose is hiding behind that tree? I heard some one laughing."

"Look and see," her uncle smiled. Jean jumped down from her horse and
peered behind the tree. There she saw a little bird perched on one leg
which sang a pretty little song, always breaking off with "H-ah-ha!
Hoo-hoo-hoo!"

"That's a laughing jackass, Jeanie," said her uncle. "He's a funny
little fellow, isn't he?"

"He isn't a bit pretty," said Jean.

[Illustration: "'THAT WAS A PLATYPUS, OR WATER MOLE,' SAID MR.
McDONALD."]

"No, but he's very useful, for he eats snakes and lizards and all kinds
of things, and there is a law forbidding any one to kill him."

"You have so many queer things in Australia," said Jean. "Down by the
river Sandy and I found the queerest thing. It looked part animal and
part bird. It had a big flat bill like a duck and fur on its body like a
rat, and it had webbed feet and a long bushy tail. Sandy said it was a
beastie and was called a water mole, but we found its nest in a kind of
tunnel running from the water's edge under ground, and in the nest were
eggs."

"That was a platypus, or water mole," said Mr. McDonald. "He is an
animal but lays eggs like the birds. There is another animal in
Australia which does too, the spiny ant-eater. He looks like a hedgehog
but has a queer, long bill with a long tongue covered with sticky stuff
with which he licks up the ants off the ground. He hasn't a nest, but
carries his eggs around in a kind of a pocket until they are hatched."

"It certainly is a queer place, with trees that shed their bark every
year, pears that have hard wooden rinds, cherries with the stones
outside, trees with flowers and seeds growing in the leaves and animals
that lay eggs," said Jean.

"And little girls that chatter and ride like monkeys," cried Sandy's
teasing voice, as he rode up behind them. "I can pass you!"

"No, you can't!" cried Jean, and she galloped off, her cousin after her,
though he did not catch up with her till she rode up to the veranda and
jumped off her pony, laughing heartily.

Some weeks later all was hurry and bustle at the station. Shearing was
to begin the next day and there was a great deal to be done to make
ready for the great event. Shearers were coming in, some riding, some
trudging along on foot, carrying their swags. There were huts for them
to sleep in, and tents were being spread in the open. Mr. McDonald left
all the details of this work to his manager, a young Australian who had
been born and raised on a sheep run.

At first Jean was much interested in seeing the shearing and stood in
the shed watching, as the engine whistled to begin. The pens were full
of sheep who did not at all know what they were there for, but who did
know that they did not like it. They baa-ed and bawled, and with the
noise of the machinery it was deafening in the sheds. As the machine
starts every shearer grabs a sheep from the pen, choosing the one that
looks the easiest to shear, he throws it with his knee and rapidly
guides the little knife-like cutters of the machine over the fleece,
which falls from the animal in one huge piece. The sheep is then
released to run, pink and shivering, to the yard again. The "picker up"
catches up the fleece and takes it to the wool bin, while the shearer
turns to the pen to catch another victim. He has to be quick because the
sharp eye of the overseer is upon him. He walks up and down, watching
every one. The "penners-up" must not let a single pen be empty, "the
pickers-up" must keep the floor clean, the shearers must shear evenly as
well as closely. If they cut a ragged fleece the wool will grow badly
the next year and some of it will be wasted.

The shearers are paid by the number of sheep they shear, and they work
very fast, every man trying to see if he cannot be the "ringer," as they
call the man who has sheared the greatest number of sheep at the close
of the shearing.

The shearers earn five dollars for every hundred sheep sheared, and an
ordinarily good workman will shear a hundred sheep in a day, while
extra good ones have sheared three hundred in a day. As the shearers
have no expenses, their food and lodging being given them, they can make
a good deal of money during the season.

The picker-up takes the fleece to the wool roller, who trims it and
rolls it up to be inspected by the classer. He decides as to its quality
and puts it in the proper bin. It is then baled, marked with the quality
and the owner's brand, and taken by wagon to the nearest shipping
station.

The sheep are counted, branded and dipped to prevent their being covered
with wood ticks, which bite so fiercely, and then are returned to their
paddocks. There is no more attractive sight in the world than an immense
flock of the long-wooled Australian sheep, and none more forlorn than
the shivering droves of freshly-sheared animals.

Jean watched until she was tired. The smell of the wool, the noise, the
heat, the cries of the tormented sheep, all turned her sick, and she
fled to the house. There things were little better. Everybody was busy.
Aunt Mildred had no time to notice a little girl. Sandy was away, no one
knew where, and, worst of all, her mother was laid low with one of her
terrible headaches. Jean knew these of old, and that it was no use to
expect to even speak to her mother before night. She felt forlorn and
lonely and decided to take a ride.

No one was at the stable to saddle Dandy, but she had learned to ride as
well without a saddle as with, so she got on the pony's back and rode
toward the river.

Away from the noise of the shearing shed, how quiet and lovely it all
seemed. The wind swayed gently the branches of the great she-oaks as a
mopoke's mournful note came from the gum trees. Flying foxes flapped
their wings and she came upon the playground of a satin-bower[8] bird,
the first she had ever seen, although her uncle had told her about them.
She rode farther into the wood than she intended and, feeling tired, she
got off Dandy and, throwing the reins over a bush, sat down under a tree
to rest.

"I'm so tired," she said to herself, "I think I will take a little nap.
This looks just the place for a fairy ring and perhaps the elves will
come to dance while I am asleep."

She lay down under the huge tree about which ferns grew so thickly as to
form a green curtain. Dandy browsed in the grass near by, every now and
then pricking up his dainty ears and working his velvety nose as if
something he did not like was near. Then his reins pulled loose from the
bush and he wandered away to nibble at a tempting bit of turf a little
distance away. Another tempted him and he was soon out of sight, hidden
by the great ferns which grew up above his pretty head.

As he disappeared there was a little rustle in the bushes and two eyes
peered at the sleeping child. Then a hand reached out and warily touched
a fold of her little blue gingham frock. Jean stirred in her sleep and
smiled. She was dreaming that her father had come back and that he took
her in his strong arms and carried her away, away, and she never wanted
him to put her down. The scent of the wild blooms was in her nostrils,
and she did not wake when two arms cautiously raised her from the ground
and holding her lightly yet carefully, so that no branch might brush
against her, carried her far into the deep and lonely wood. It was
perhaps an hour that the man carried her and she did not wake. Then she
opened her eyes to find herself in the arms of a big Black. She screamed
in fright, but he spoke gently to her.

"Missa not 'fraid. Me not bad Black. Take Missa home."

"Where is my pony. I would rather ride him," she cried, struggling, and
the Black put her down.

"Pony all gone," he said. "Missa very tired, me show Missa my gin. She
very sick, want to see white baby, with gold for hair. Hear all about
her from other gin. Then carry home. Black very much like Missa." He
smiled again and his face looked kind. "Let me carry Missa or we not get
there soon," he said coaxingly, and not knowing what else to do Jean
allowed him to pick her up and carry her again. He walked fast, but she
did not see the river or the house and she began to grow frightened. It
grew dark and the air was full of flying things, so large as to seem
like birds and so small as to seem like baby mice with wings. The bird
songs were stilled; only the soft chirping of the tree insects were
heard. Then those ceased and all was still and dark, and the silent
forest so terrified the child that she began to cry.

"No good for Missa to cry, Missa must go see gin," said the Black, and
as he spoke they came in sight of a little group of native huts,
bark-thatched and dimly seen through the darkness. Into the smallest of
these the Black stumbled and set his burden before a couch on which lay
a black woman wasted with fever.

"Brought you white child," he said. The hut was full of Blacks, but Jean
was too frightened and tired to think of any of them, and she covered
her face with her hands and sobbed as if her heart would break.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] Black women.

[8] This bird makes a play-ground before the tree in which it builds its
nest. It has a floor of sticks, and over this is built a little bower
into which are woven bright feathers, white shells, etc.




CHAPTER VII

JEAN FINDS A FRIEND


JEAN stopped crying, for she found that it did no good. She curled up in
the corner of the dark hut and waited to see what would happen. The
Blacks talked and jabbered around her, but she could not at all
understand what they said, and she was too little to understand that she
was in any danger. She only wished with all her heart that she might see
her mother. The Blacks talked together, and Jean at last was so tired
that she curled up on the floor and went to sleep. When she awoke and
opened her eyes she was surprised to find that the sun was shining.

She was lying on the ground under a huge gum tree. A fire of the dry
twigs of the gum tree burned brightly, as a young black boy whom she
had seen the night before fanned it with a huge fern leaf.

"Little Missa hungry," he said, smiling kindly down at her. "Kadok make
eat. Be good little girl and lie still."

He took a hatchet which hung on the belt around his waist and quickly
cut off a piece of bark from the gum tree, then took some flour from a
bag and piled it on the bark. Water from the water-hole he dipped up
with a leaf cup and mixed with the flour, baking it on the bark over the
fire. Kadok then dipped fresh water from the water-hole, around which
ferns grew as high as Jean's head, and turned over the ashes of the fire
to roast in them a turkey's egg which he had found in the bracken.

"Now Missa eat," he said, giving Jean a piece of damper[9] and the egg,
with a cup of water. "Little Missa not be afraid. Kadok take her to see
Mother."

The boy's face was kind and Jean tried to smile at him in return,
finding courage to say,

"Are you Kadok? How did I get here?"

"I am Kadok, _yoia_.[10] Black man found little Missa asleep by the
corral. Want to show her to his woman who had no girl, all die. He take
little Missa and mean to bring her back. Then white police ride and
hunt. Black man scared, hide Missa, hide selves. Some black men say kill
little Missa. Kadok say 'No.' His father chief, and chief say, 'Take
back white Missa to mother.' So Kadok will take."

"Thank you, Kadok," said Jean simply, accepting all that he said. "How
soon will I see my mother?"

"Don't know. Missa come long way on man's back. Must go back on two
feet. Take days and nights. Not cry," he said as her face clouded.
"Kadok take one good care of little Missa. Eat plenty meal, then we
start walk."

Jean was a quiet child. Fergus had always been the talker and she had
been content to listen to the big brother whom she thought the most
wonderful boy in the world. So she did not say much in reply to Kadok,
but obediently ate her queer breakfast, which tasted very good to the
hungry little girl. When she had finished she said timidly to Kadok,

"May I wash my hands and face at the water-hole?"

"Come with me. I go see," said Kadok. She followed him to the water,
always a precious thing in Australia, where the dry season makes it
scarce. "Step right behind Kadok, maybe snakes," said the black boy, and
she followed him close.

Trees had been cut down and many lay about in the scrub, which grew
thick and higher than Jean's head, so that Kadok had to hold it aside in
many places for her to pass. The water-hole was clogged with weeds and
leaves, but Kadok dug about under the ferns until he found a clean
pool, then filled his flask with water, saying,

"Little Missa wash quick." Jean dipped up the cool water in her hands,
splashing it on her face. As she dried herself as best she could with
her handkerchief, Kadok cried,

"Jump back, Missa, quick! into the scrub!" She obeyed without stopping
to ask why and stood trembling, as Kadok came hurriedly after her.

"Missa one good little girl," he said. "Mind what Kadok say always so
quick, then Missa get safe home. See there!" pointing as he spoke to
something on the other side of the water-hole where Jean had just been
washing. "What Missa see?"

"I see a big black log," answered Jean.

"What Missa see now," said Kadok, throwing a stick at the log. To the
child's astonishment and horror the log rolled on its side, turned over
and opened a huge pair of jaws, closing them again with a cruel snap.

"_Yamin_,"[11] said Kadok briefly. He seldom wasted words. "Eat little
Missa if she not jumped. Now we start take you home. Little Missa mind
Kadok and she go long home all right. You not afraid?"

"I will mind," said Jean, "and I am not very much afraid."

"We go," said the boy, and he flung over his shoulder a bag in which he
had put his water bottle and provisions and started through the scrub.
"Come after me and tell Kadok when you too tired to walk," he said to
the child, and she followed him obediently.

She did not know why, but she was not at all afraid of Kadok. She felt
he was telling her the truth when he said he would take her home if she
was a good girl, and she put her whole mind upon following the difficult
trail. The way at first led through a tangle of tropical vegetation,
then the two struck into a forest of huge gum trees. Overhead the limbs
made a lattice-work of interlacing boughs which gave no shade, as the
leaves were vertical instead of horizontal.

The sun grew hot and beat down upon Jean's bare head, for she had lost
her hat. Her fair hair caught on the long festoons of gray moss which
hung from the trees, the flying golden fleece stuck to the rough bark,
which was red with gum and very sticky. Her tangled matted curls, which
had been her mother's joy, hung about her face and into her eyes so that
she could scarcely see where she was going. The spinifex prickles stuck
her ankles and legs, and at last she stumbled over a hidden tree root
and fell in a heap upon the ground. At her cry Kadok turned quickly,

"Missa hurt," he said, coming back and helping her to her feet. "Not
cry."

"I won't," she said, choking back her sobs. "Please let me rest awhile."

"Must go fast to get to water-hole for dinner," said Kadok. "Missa rest
a little and then try go again."

She lay down on the grass and shut her eyes. Some parrots chattered and
screamed in the trees above her, but the sun was hot and most of the
forest birds were still, except for little twitterings among the
branches. Kadok sat silent beside her. Much was passing in the black
boy's mind. He knew too well the need for haste. The trip was dangerous
for him as well as for his little white friend; he understood the danger
and she did not. She felt only the danger of the forest, reptiles,
hunger, cold and thirst. But Kadok had to fear both Blacks and Whites.
Should the two fugitives run into unfriendly Blacks they would be
captured, and if the little girl was not killed by them she would be
taken far inland, where as yet white people did not rule, and all hope
of restoring her to her people would be at an end. On the other hand,
were they to fall in with any of the mounted police or squatters, Kadok
knew that his story would never be believed, and that he would be
punished for stealing a white child. All this he knew, that Jean could
not understand, but he felt that he must make her see the need for
hurrying if possible.

"Kadok," she spoke first. "How many miles is it to my mother?"

"It is many hours," answered Kadok. "We must go fast."

"I will go now," she said, getting up. "I can walk."

"Why you hurry?" asked Kadok, surprised.

"I want my mother," she answered. "She will be afraid for me. My father
has gone away to find gold and she will be frightened for me." She spoke
like a little old woman and the black boy's eyes shone. He saw that he
had the way to manage her without frightening her with the dangers he
dreaded.

"We must go fast so little Missa's mother not get sick without her," he
said, and the two started on again.

By noon, slow as the little steps were, they had covered considerable
ground, and they sat down near a tiny water-hole to eat and rest.

"Missa wash feet and rest while I make eat," said Kadok, and Jean bathed
her bruised feet, wrapping them in wet leaves, which Kadok told her
would take out the pain. "Little Missa sit very still while I find eat,"
he said. "I not go away." She was terribly frightened when he
disappeared between the trees, but in a few minutes she heard the sound
of chopping near by, and in a few moments more, Kadok returned carrying
a dead bandicoot.

"Me chop him out of hole in foot of tree," he said, grinning broadly.
"Him make fine eat."

He quickly made a fire, and cutting up the meat in pieces, put some of
them on sharpened twigs, and held them over the fire to roast.

"Eat plenty much," he said to Jean as he handed her several pieces. "We
not know when we find another."

She ate and found the meat very good. Some of it Kadok had rubbed with a
little salt which he took from his provision bag, and a few bits he held
over the smoke to dry. All this he wrapped in green leaves and put
carefully with his provisions, getting Jean water in a leaf cup and
making ready to start again.

"You good little _wirawi_,"[12] he said approvingly. "We soon bring to
Mother her good luck."

The afternoon's walk was not quite so bad as the morning's had been.
Kadok struck into a track which led through the Bush to the main road.
Walking here was not so troublesome and Jean managed fairly well, though
her feet hurt her cruelly and toward the last Kadok had to help her
along.

"Little more walk, Missa," he said encouragingly. "We find good camp for
night. To-morrow we get long way to home."

But Jean was almost past thinking of the morrow, almost past thinking of
home. Her poor little body ached in every muscle, her face and hands
were scratched and bleeding, and she was faint with hunger and fatigue.
She stumbled on, Kadok holding her arm, until at last she could go no
longer and would have fallen, had not the black boy picked her up and
carried her. Laden as he was with his heavy swag, it was no easy task to
carry a heavy child of eight, but he was a strong, muscular fellow, used
to Bush life, and not tired as was his white charge. He carried her
along the track some twenty rods, then paused and looked closely into
the forest. It seemed a great wall to shut them off, but the keen eye of
the Black caught an almost imperceptible opening amongst the leaves and
he left the path once more to tread the mazes of the wood. Only a
little distance and he came to a ruined hut overgrown with moss and
creeping plants. It had once been a shepherd's hut and was a poor place,
but at any rate it would serve as a shelter from the night and Kadok
carried Jean within and laid her down on the floor.

"Little Missa tired out," he said, pitying the child's white face, which
looked unearthly in the light of the sunset which streamed through the
open doorway. Jean was too tired to speak. She looked at him wearily for
a moment and then closed her eyes. "Missa must eat. Not good to sleep
too quick," he said.

He made a fire at the door of the hut, partly for warmth, for with the
sun's going down came the cool night dews, and partly to drive away
mosquitoes, as well as to cook their supper. He then brought water from
the trough, and made damper and forced bits of it between the child's
teeth and gave her a drink of water. Little pieces of roasted meat he
added to her meal, and at last she sat up and smiled her thanks at him.

"Good Kadok," she said, "eat some yourself. You are tired too."

"Not tired like little Missa," he said, showing his even white teeth in
a smile. "Now must rub feet with wet leaves so they not be sore
to-morrow."

Jean bathed her feet and bound them up in cool green leaves, tying them
on with long grasses which Kadok brought her. Then she wrapped herself
in the blanket the black boy took from the swag and, lying down, was
soon sound asleep. Kadok sat for some time at the door of the hut,
feeding the fire, then he too rolled up in a blanket, and lying across
the doorway, so that no one could come in without his knowledge, he too
fell asleep.

FOOTNOTES:

[9] Kind of native bread made of flour and water.

[10] Yes.

[11] Crocodile.

[12] Woman.




CHAPTER VIII

IN THE BUSH


THE sun was high in the heavens when Jean awoke and at first she did not
know where she was. Then she sat and looked about her, calling "Kadok!"
but there was no answer. She went to the door of the hut and looked
about. The fire was still burning, but there was no sign of the black
boy. Before she had time to be frightened, however, Kadok's black face
peered from between the trees, across the little clearing which lay in
front of the hut. He smiled when he caught sight of her.

"Little Missa sleep good, feel good this morning," he said.
"_Bujeri_,[13] Kadok make breakfast."

"What have you for breakfast," she asked, hungry as she had never been
at home.

"Fine fruit, got it top of tree," he said, handing her a large purple,
plum-like fruit which she ate and thought delicious. Kadok then roasted
in the ashes some scrub turkey eggs he had found, and these too tasted
good, and there was damper and cool water.

"Missa must hurry start now," said Kadok. "We long way to go to-day to
get to Mother."

"First I must try to fix my hair," she said. "It catches in the branches
so that it hurts."

"Kadok help," he said briefly. He caught the golden mass in his hand and
screwed it up in bunches on either side of her head, pinning it tight
with some long thorns. Then he tied about her head a bright handkerchief
which he had worn knotted around the open neck of his shirt, and rolling
up the blankets and packing up the ration bag, he shouldered his swag,
gave her a hand, and they were off for the day.

As they walked Jean noticed that Kadok looked always to the right and
left and that whenever they came near a hill or a hummock, he would go
ahead before telling her to follow him.

"Why do you always look around, Kadok," she asked curiously.

"'Fraid Debil-debil get little Missa or _Buba_ or maybe _Yo-wi_ or
_Ya-wi_," he answered briefly.

"Who are they?" she asked.

"Debil-debil bad god, enemy of _Baiame_,"[14] he said. "_Buba_ big
kangaroo, very bad father of kangaroos, _Yo-wi_ is fever god, and
_Ya-wi_ is snake god. All very bad for little Missa," and he shook his
black head. He did not tell her there were others more to be feared than
these monsters of the Blacks' demonology, but he was worried by tracks
he saw in the sand, tracks of both Blacks and Whites. "Mounted police,
been here," he muttered to himself. "Look for little Missa. See horse's
tracks plain. Here black man's tracks. Think bad Blacks," and he knit
his brows.

Kadok was at a loss to know what to do. He did not want to take Jean
into the Bush again, fearing that hard walking such as they had had the
day before would make her too sick to go on, yet he was afraid to keep
on the beaten track. They kept on till noon, however, and he drew her
aside into the woods to rest and eat her dinner.

He gave her damper, of which she began to be tired, bits of smoked meat,
and some of the white larvae to be found in quantities on the tree
roots, and which she thought delicious. She was hungry, but Kadok gave
her some roots to chew as they walked, saying, "We eat 'gain before
long, must walk some now. 'Fraid we have big storm," and he looked
anxiously at the sky, over which heavy clouds were passing.

Obediently she followed him again, and he walked quickly, peering
through the bushes as if looking for something. The wind was so fierce
that they made slow progress. It blew so that Jean was terribly
frightened and at last Kadok stopped in his quick walk and took her
hand.

"Missa 'fraid Storm debil," he said. "I find place to hide from him.
Come!" and he pulled her into the bushes which covered a high hill.
Skirting round the hill, he pushed through a thicket which seemed almost
like a wall, dragging Jean along as the storm broke with a sudden crash
of thunder which frightened the child terribly.

"Quick!" Kadok cried to her, "We find cave now!" and he pushed aside
some close growing tree branches and showed her the entrance of a little
cave hollowed out of the rock. "Here we be safe till storm go over," he
said, and Jean gladly crouched in the shelter, watching with frightened
eyes the play of the lightning. Kadok gave her more roots to chew and
talked kindly to her to soothe her fears.

"This not much storm," he said. "See many worse than this. Soon over and
we go on. Think Missa see Mother to-morrow. Not many hours far now."

"Kadok," said Jean, "why are you so good to me?"

"What you mean?" asked Kadok.

"Why do you take me home?" she asked.

"Black boy not forget friend," he said. "Not forget enemy. Do mean to
Kadok, Kadok do mean to you, if he has to wait five, ten years. Do Kadok
good, he do good to you when he make chance."

"But I never did you any good," said Jean, puzzled.

"No, little Missa not. Missa McDonald do me heap good.[15] There was bad
man at Station. He no like Blacks near his cattle camp. Blacks not bad,
not hurt white man. White man very bad. He make feast and tell Blacks to
eat. Black men all eat. Next day all black men dead, all but Kadok and
his father, great Chief. They very sick, but they not had eat much of
white man's pudding. Chief tell Missa McDonald they very sick
here,"--putting his hand on his stomach--"She look very sorry and give
them hot drink. It make them very sick and all white man's pudding come
up. Think very strange that Kadok and Chief only ones not die, but like
Missa McDonald very well for hot drink. Chief father say to me, 'Some
day do kind to Missa McDonald,' and I say 'Yes.' When little Missa taken
by bad Blacks, Chief say to me, 'Now time to pay Missa McDonald, take
little Missa home!' I go, take," and the boy nodded his head.

Jean did not understand all of his story, but she could take in enough
to know that her Aunt Mildred had saved the life of Kadok and his
father, and she felt that the boy would do all he could for her.

The storm had ceased and the rain lay in sparkling drops upon bush and
leaf.

"Very wet," said Kadok as he peered out. "Missa sit here very still
while Kadok go and see. Maybe we go on, maybe not." Jean did not want to
stay alone in the cave. "Let me go with you," she said pleadingly, but
Kadok shook his head.

"Not good for Missa. Big snakes come out of holes. Too many. Kadok not
go far away. Missa not come out of cave till Kadok come back. Missa
'fraid, say prayers to white people's _Baiame_."

[Illustration: "THE LEAVES PARTED AND A BLACK FACE PEERED THROUGH THE
BUSHES."]

Jean thought his advice good and said her prayers, sitting quietly for a
time, looking through the cave door, though she could see but little,
the screen of vines and bushes was so thick. She grew tired of sitting
still, and moved about the little cave, finding little to interest her,
however. It was hollowed out like a tunnel deep into the cliff, but was
so dark, except right at the mouth, that she was afraid to explore it.
She took off her shoes, washed her aching feet, and reaching to the
bushes around the cave, pulled leaves to bind on them as Kadok had
taught her to do. Then she took off the handkerchief he had tied about
her head, let down her long hair and tried to smooth out the tangles
with her fingers. It was no easy task, for the hair was long, fine and
curly, and it was terribly matted down and snarled. She took a long
thorn and tried to use it for a comb, and after working a long time had
the locks smoothed out into a fluffy mass of gold on either side her
face. She had been so interested in her work that she had not noticed
how late it was getting until suddenly it seemed to be growing dark. She
looked out of the cave and saw the gleams of the golden sunset through
the leaves. She felt hungry. "Where can Kadok be?" she thought to
herself. "He has been gone a long, long time. Oh, supposing something
has happened to him! What shall I do?" But there was nothing for her to
do but wait, and she sat at the door of the cave, too frightened to cry,
fearing a thousand dangers the worse because they were imaginary. Then
she heard a crackling of the branches near the cave and sprang to her
feet joyfully, expecting to see Kadok's black face through the bushes.

"Kadok!" she cried eagerly. The leaves parted and a black face peered
through the bushes, fierce black eyes gazed at the child, as she stood
speechless with astonishment, gazing at a perfectly strange Black. She
did not speak, she was too frightened to scream, and the Black too was
silent. With her floating, golden hair, her wide blue eyes, her fair
cheek turned to gold by the rays of the setting sun, which shone full
upon her, the rest of her body concealed by the branches with which
Kadok had filled the mouth of the cave, she looked like a creature of
air rather than earth, and so the Black thought her. With a wild cry of
"_Kurru! Kurru!_"[16] he let go his hold of the branches, and Jean could
hear him crashing through the bushes in mad haste to get away.

FOOTNOTES:

[13] Expression of satisfaction.

[14] Baiame is the chief god of the Blacks.

[15] This story of the poisoning of nearly a whole tribe of Blacks at a
Christmas feast is vouched for on good authority.

[16] Kurru-kurru is the Dew Dropper or Mist Gatherer, Goddess of the
Blacks and wife of Munuala, the water god.




CHAPTER IX

HOUSEKEEPING IN A CAVE


SHE heard Kadok's voice and called to him excitedly, "Oh, Kadok, come
quick! I am so frightened!"

"What matter, little Missa?" asked Kadok as he parted the bushes and
looked at her with anxious face.

"Oh, a strange Black looked at me and ran away!" she said, bursting into
tears.

"Little Missa not cry," said Kadok. "Brought little Missa meat for
supper. What did black man say?"

"A strange word something like curry curry," she said. "He looked
frightened too."

"That good," said Kadok. "He think little Missa not real child. Golden
child. Think him not come again. Kadok glad, for we must stay here one,
two days."

"Oh, Kadok, why? Can't we go to Mother to-morrow?" her voice was full of
tears and the boy's face clouded.

"Kadok very sorry for little Missa," he said. "But no can help. Kadok
got bad hurt on foot. No can walk one, two days. Little Missa help Kadok
get well?"

"Oh, Kadok, how did you hurt yourself?" she asked, as she saw that his
foot was covered with blood.

"Hurt in the scrub," said Kadok, who did not want to tell her the truth,
that he had met a Black who had thrown his _nulla-nulla_[17] and struck
him on the foot, though the boy had managed to get away from him.

"Let me tie it up for you," said Jean. "I've often seen mother dress
Fergus' wounds, for he was always doing things to himself. He always had
at least one finger tied up in a rag."

"Little Missa good," said Kadok as he sat wearily down beside her. He
was worn out and even his brave spirit sank at this new trouble. It
would be several days before he could walk well, he knew, and if the
Black who had wounded him had discovered Jean he would certainly come
back. Would they be safe even for a few hours, he wondered? His chief
hope lay in the fact that if the Black had thought her a vision, he
would fear to return.

Jean scooped up water which stood in a pool at the door of the cave,
washed her pocket-handkerchief and tore it into strips, then bathed
Kadok's foot and tied it up as she had seen her mother do.

"Thank little Missa," said Kadok. "Feel better, make eat now."

"No, I shall make supper to-night," said Jean. "It is time I tried to do
something for you."

She gathered up sticks and bits of bark and laid the fire, which Kadok
carefully lighted, taking one from a box of matches which he had in his
swag, and which he kept tied up in the skin of an animal to keep them
from getting damp. He had brought back a _yopolo_[18] from his hunt in
the forest, and wild bee's honey, and he said to Jean,

"Better not make damper to-night. Save meal for some day we have not
meat."

"I am tired of damper anyway," said Jean. "How shall I cook the meat?"

"Put leaves over hot stones, set yopolo on, all in his skin, cover him
over with earth and he cook very tender," said Kadok, and she followed
his receipt. There was only a little water left in the water-hole, and
that not fresh.

"Where do you get water, Kadok?" asked Jean.

"From the spring," he answered. "Not far, just ten steps in the bushes,
straight ahead from cave, but not safe for little Missa go."

"Why not? We are both so thirsty," she pleaded.

"Little Missa's shoes make tracks. Bad Black come long, see tracks, know
white child here, steal little Missa away."

"Oh, if that's the trouble I can take my shoes off," she said, laughing,
as she pulled off shoes and stockings. "I will be right back. I can find
it, for you said it was only ten steps away," and she picked up the
billy and hurried out of the cave in spite of Kadok's "Little Missa not
go. Debil-debil get her!"

She was back before Kadok thought she could have found the spring,
saying brightly,

"Now we have fresh water for our supper, afterwards I can tie up your
foot again."

"Kadok found cup for little Missa," he said, pulling from his belt a
battered tin cup. "Think white man drop it, little Missa can have
honey-water to drink." He cut a piece of the honeycomb and put it in the
cup of water. Jean drank the sweet drink and almost smacked her lips.

"It is ever so nice, Kadok," she said. "It tastes like the sugar-water
the American children's black mammy used to give us."

"Who was that?" he asked curiously.

"There were three children of America came to stay at my uncle's place,
oh, a long time ago before we came to Australia. They had a nurse, a
black woman. She was ever so black, not brown like you, Kadok, and so
good and nice. I used to like her very much. That was the reason I was
not afraid, when the black man told me to come and see the gin who was
sick. I thought he would be good like Dinah and bring me right back."

"Black people very much like white people," said Kadok. "Some black face
white heart, some black all way through. Some white face very black
heart," and the boy shook his head.

"Think yopolo cooked. Him smell fine," he said, sniffing the scent
which came from the fire.

The yopolo was indeed done and delicious. It was very tender and tasted
like spring chicken. It was a queer supper for the little Scotch girl,
seated cross-legged on the floor of the cave, as she drank honey-water
and cut off bits of meat for herself and Kadok.

The little housekeeper enjoyed her supper thoroughly. Having finished,
she put fresh green wood on the fire that the smoke might keep off the
mosquitos, and wrapped the rest of the meat in leaves to keep for
breakfast. She bathed Kadok's foot, which was swollen and painful, and
tied it up, and then, under the boy's directions, cut down some leafy
branches and moss to make herself a bed, and wrapped herself in her
blanket to sleep.

When morning came it seemed as if the mother's desire that the little
girl should have experiences to make her less childish was to be
fulfilled, for Kadok's foot was so painful that he could not even drag
himself about the cave and Jean had to wait on him as well as to care
for herself. She made breakfast and gathered fresh leaves and branches
and brought water enough to last all day. Then she made fresh damper and
cut strips of the yopolo meat, drying it in the sun and smoke under
Kadok's directions. There were provisions enough to last a day or two
and she tried not to worry about things, but she wished she had
something else to do.

Kadok saw she was growing restless and tried to talk to her, afraid that
she would cry. "Little Missa not see cave before, not have at home. Tell
about home."

"Oh, it's not at all like this," she said. "It's very cold, and the
mountains are high and beautiful and there are no snakes nor wild
things. It's all farms and sheep and not wild like Australia. And in the
winter the snow is lovely."

"What is snow?" asked Kadok.

"Don't you know what snow is?" she laughed. "I hardly know how to tell
you. It looks like soft, white feathers and it floats down from the sky
when it's very cold and covers up the ground like a white blanket. Then
it is lovely, but when the sun comes out and melts it, it's not nice.
Didn't you ever see snow?"

"Never did," said Kadok.

"Oh, Kadok, what's that?" exclaimed Jean, as a mournful sound came
through the forest.

"That messenger of Muuruup, _Debill-debill_," said Kadok with a frown.
"Muuruup lives under the ground. He make evil. He makes lightning and
spoils trees and kills people. No like hear owl bird. Bring bad storm or
bad luck."

"Oh, I hope he won't bring a storm," said Jean. "We had storm enough
yesterday to last for awhile. How does _Debil-debil_ make lightning?"

"Don't know," said Kadok. "Old chief say he not make. Say Great Baiame
make. He want to smoke big pipe up in sky, strike match to light pipe,
throw match down to earth, while smoke--match make lightning."

"If we are going to have another storm I am going to bring water from
the spring while I can go out of the cave." She was getting very tired
of sitting still.

"Kadok not like little Missa to run round by herself," said Kadok, but
Jean said wilfully,

"I must go by myself if there is no one to go with me, mustn't I? We've
got to have water," and she picked up the billy and started for the
spring.

It was cool and pleasant in the woods. She filled her billy and stopped
to gather a handful of leaves which grew near-by and looked shiny and
pretty, then went back to Kadok.

"You see nothing happens to me," she said.

"You go once too often. You not good little Missa. You not mind Kadok,"
he grumbled.

"I will be good, but really I can't sit still all day," she said. "See
what pretty leaves."

"Very good leaves," said Kadok. "When little Missa have no water, chew
these, not be thirsty. White men call them hibiscus."

"I'll remember that," said Jean. "Kadok, tell me a story about when you
were a little boy. What did you used to do at home?"

"Not do very much in wuuries,"[19] he said with a broad grin. "Blacks
not have much home like white people. Like woods better than wuuries.
Like hunt. Make many fine hunt, sometimes hunt animals, sometimes hunt
other Blacks. Very good eat, before white man comes," he hastened to add
as he saw Jean's expression of terror. "Not eat people now."

"I should hope not," cried the child.

"Little Missa keep quiet," said Kadok, raising himself on his elbow,
grasping a stick he had and peering through the bushes. "Something
coming. Think not black man. Don't move!" They sat so quiet it seemed to
Jean that she could hear her heart beat, but heard nothing more. Just as
she was about to speak, Kadok raised his stick quickly and brought it
down with great force and Jean saw something black whirl and twist at
the opening of the cave.

"Missa help quick. This hard to hold," cried Kadok. "Take stick, hold
very tight here," and he gave her the handle of the forked stick which,
to her horror, she saw held down by its neck a large snake. She shut her
eyes tight, but held the stick bearing down with all her might while
Kadok struck the snake over and over with his stick.

"Good Missa, let go stick, snake very dead now," and she looked with a
shudder at the dead body of the serpent.

"Him tree-python," said Kadok, calmly. "Him make very good supper for
Missa."

"Oh, I couldn't eat snake, really, I couldn't," she said, but Kadok
laughed.

"Make very good eat for black boy, save yopolo for Missa," he said.
"Think dinner time now, Missa eat meat, Kadok eat snake."

It made Jean feel very queer to see him cut off a piece of the tail,
roast it and eat with great enjoyment, but before night she was to look
upon the snake as her greatest friend.

She dropped asleep after eating and did not waken until almost time for
supper, when she found that Kadok had been sleeping too.

"Foot very much better, think we go find Mother to-morrow," he said, as
she sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Little Missa not cry, be good Missa. We
be all right. Time to eat again."

"I'm not very hungry," she said, "but I want some fresh water to drink."

"Little Missa not go to the spring. Kadok not like," he said so
earnestly that she said,

"Well, never mind, I can drink the old water and chew some hibiscus
leaves."

"Think I can go for Missa," said Kadok as he rose and tried his foot.
"Not very bad."

"Oh, never mind," she said, but he took the billy and his stick and
limped through the bushes. He was gone only a moment or two when she
felt a strange feeling as of some one looking at her, and she raised her
head to see, staring through the bushes, the same savage eyes which had
frightened her the day before.

"Kadok!" she screamed, but the Black reached forth a long arm and tried
to catch her. She drew back into the cave and screamed again. She had no
weapon, but she grasped the dead snake by the tail and with all the
strength she could muster threw it straight into the Black's face. The
man gave a loud "Wouf!" as the reptile struck his face, and darted back
just as Kadok came up behind and struck him on the head with his waddy.
Attacked before and behind, the black man thought his enemies were many
and he fled through the bushes as fast as he could go. Fear lent him
wings and he did not stop until far from the scene of his terror. Kadok
limped into the cave.

"Little Missa hurt?" he asked anxiously.

"No, but I was dreadfully frightened. It was the same Black I saw
yesterday."

"What little Missa do?" asked the boy.

"I hadn't anything else, so I hit him with your snake and he ran away,"
she said simply. The boy looked at her in astonishment and then laughed
loud and long.

"Baiame teach little Missa to be good Bush girl," he said. "One thing
very much scare Black is snake in the face. Missa do just right thing."

"I didn't know just what to do, but I had to do something," she said.
"What shall we do now, Kadok?"

"Not know," he said, frowning. "Think best eat, rest to-night. Go long
early in morning before Black come back. Missa make eat, then sleep. Not
be afraid. Kadok watch."

FOOTNOTES:

[17] Big stick, like a shillalah.

[18] Small animal.

[19] Huts.




CHAPTER X

DANDY SAVES THE DAY


IT was early in the morning when the two set out and the stars were
still shining.

"I never saw so many stars in all my life," said Jean. "It seems to me
there are more in Australia than I ever saw in Scotland."

"Think great plenty, maybe eighty-eight,"[20] said Kadok.

Their way lay through a less beautiful part of the country than any Jean
had seen before. It was a wild and lonely land, close to the edge of the
scrub, beyond them only sand and spinifex. A fire had swept over the
wood and left the trees gaunt and bare. They waved and tossed their
gray branches like demons, and Jean shuddered, as on every side the
ghostly trees seemed to hem her in.

They came to a clearing where the trees had been cut down, and these,
bleached and white, lay on the ground in a thousand gnarled and twisted
shapes, their interlacing branches seeming like writhing serpents. Many
of the gum trees had been killed, for the cuts in the bark had been made
too deep, and the bark hung down in long strips.

No friendly animals or piping forest songsters chirruped a cheerful
welcome to this scene of desolation. Only the solitary "widow bird"
hopped about hunting for insects and piping her mournful little note.
Then the sound of a curlew, like the gasp of a dying child, came to them
through the dawn, as the sun rose, red and pitiless, over the sands.
Beyond these were the mountains, rising straight up against the sky.
Huge gray boulders made a wall at the base of the ridge and the whole
place seemed so strange and eerie that Jean cried out,

"Oh, Kadok, we don't have to cross these sands, do we? I'm afraid."

"No, Missa," said Kadok wearily. His foot was hurting him cruelly and he
felt discouraged. "We go another way, all through the wood. Missa not
feel 'fraid. Where Missa's Baiame? Take care of black boy, not take care
of white child?"

"Yes, indeed He will," said Jean, feeling ashamed that the black boy
should preach to her. "But I can't help being afraid. It seems as if we
would never get to mother."

"Little Missa get there some day, but Kadok not know how soon. Think
best way now to hunt for road and Missa go long quick for herself. Kadok
foot not let him go very fast."

"Well, I think I won't," said Jean indignantly. "Do you suppose I'd do
that when you have been so good to me? We'll go as slowly as you have
to and I'll take care of your foot. I'm terribly hungry, Kadok, can we
eat now?"

"Not eat here," said Kadok, who liked the place as little as she did.
"Walk little more round edge of sand, there find water-hole in the woods
and eat."

So they trudged on in silence for another hour, gradually leaving behind
them the sandy scrub and coming to a pleasant wood where a carpet of
maiden-hair and coral fern reached knee-deep in tenderest green.
Velvet-brown tree ferns rose in the air, wearing a feathery coronet of
fronds, and above them grew the sassafras and the myrtle. A thousand
sweet scents were wafted through the air and a bubbling stream surprised
them by gushing forth from a clump of bushes.

"Little Missa rest and eat here," said Kadok. "Plenty water," as he
explored the banks.

"Oh, Kadok, how lovely it looks," she cried. "I'd like to bathe in that
water, it's so clear and nice."

"Very good thing," said the boy. "Kadok make eat, Little Missa go to the
bushes let water run all over self. Keep her from being thirsty all day
while we walk."

So Jean splashed in the cool water and enjoyed her bath like a little
nymph behind the thick screen of bushes. She smoothed up her hair and
came forth refreshed and rested to find Kadok had made fresh damper and
toasted some bits of meat, gathering also some of the sassafras leaves,
making a kind of tea which was very good. She ate and rested while Kadok
bathed his foot and filled his water bottle, and then they started off
again, tramping this time over a hilly country. They had to take a long
rest in the middle of the day while the sun was hot and both were very
tired. There was nothing to eat but damper and some roots Kadok had
found, and the delay and the scanty meal did not make Jean feel any more
cheerful. The day seemed the longest she had ever spent and when
twilight fell and they found no shelter, no friendly cave nor deserted
hut, the little girl felt more forlorn than she had ever felt in her
life. She tried hard not to show Kadok for she saw that the boy was
suffering far worse than he would admit.

"What are we going to have for supper?" she asked.

"Not much eat," said he. "Damper all gone, no more flour. No meat."

"There's plenty of water, anyway," said Jean, for they had followed the
course of the stream all day and now camped beside its silvery ripples.
As she spoke, a stir in the water caught her eye.

"Oh, Kadok," she exclaimed, "why can't we have fish?"

"No can catch," said the boy wearily. "Too bad foot to go hunt."

"Watch me catch a fish," said Jean sturdily. "I used to catch trout at
home. Let me see, what can I use for a line?" She thought a minute,
then clapped her hands. "I know, you just rest, Kadok, and see what a
good fisherman I am!"

She took a pin from her belt, bent it and tied to it a strip of cotton
torn from her skirt. This line she tied to a branch from which she
stripped the leaves; on them she found some fuzzy caterpillars, one of
which she used for bait. Then she threw her line and sat down where the
stream turned at right angles and made a deep, quiet pool. She waited a
long time. Three or four times she had a bite and failed to land her
fish, but just as she was growing discouraged there was a jerk, then a
long, steady pull at her line.

"Come help me land him," she called to Kadok, and the boy hastened to
her aid. Between them they pulled in their fish, a fine, speckled fellow
which Kadok cleaned and roasted on a flat stone heated red hot. The fish
was delicious, and there was plenty for both of them, so that they felt
far more cheerful as they rolled up their blankets to sleep.

It was Jean's first trial of sleeping in the open, and it was long
before she could rest. She lay and watched the stars, of only a few of
which she knew the names, though Orion seemed like an old friend and the
cloudy path of the Milky Way a broad road to Heaven.

"Little Missa not sleep," said Kadok. "Her 'fraid Debill-debill?"

"No, Kadok, I'm not afraid," she answered.

"Peruna heeal very good spirit, he big man spirit, lives 'bove clouds.
He not let Debil-debil loose to-night. Too many twinkle lights.
Debil-debil likes darkness. Missa try sleep."

Toward morning Jean was awakened by a crackling in the bushes. "Kadok,"
she whispered. "Wake up."

"Kadok not asleep, little Missa," he whispered in return.

"I hear something in the bushes," she said. "Is it one of those bad
Blacks like I saw at the cave?"

"Too far away for bad Black, think ghost, maybe," said the black boy,
who, with all his courage, had the Black's fear of ghosts.

"I don't think there are such things as ghosts," said Jean steadily.

"Plenty ghosts," said Kadok. "One man of my tribe go to near tribe and
he saw wuurie left alone with no life in it. Over door was crooked stick
pointing to where family had gone. On ground were pieces of bark covered
with white clay, so he knew some one dead. He follow tracks and found
dead body in tree. It was bound with knees to chest, tied with cord made
from acacia bark and was wrapped in rug of opossum skins. He turn back
rug and saw face of friend. Then he wept and went away. He walked from
place of death and heard a great chattering of magpies. He turned to see
what made magpies make so much noise--saw ghost of dead friend. It had
followed him from the tree. So I know there are ghosts, little Missa."

"This ghost sounds to me as if it went on four feet," said Jean. "And as
I don't hear it any more I'm going to sleep."

She listened for awhile, but heard no more.

In the early morning she was awakened by feeling something cool on her
face. She sprang up with a cry of terror which promptly turned to one of
delight.

"Dandy, my own Dandy!" she cried, throwing her arms around the pony's
neck.

"Oh, Kadok, here is my pony. He has wandered away and we must be not far
from Djerinallum!"

The little pony seemed as pleased as she, and Kadok's face lighted up,

"Little Missa take road with pony and ride safe now. Say good-bye to
Kadok and run 'long home."

Jean stamped her foot she was so angry.

"You make me angry, Kadok," she cried. "Here you've taken care of me all
these days and now you want me to run off and leave you! I don't think
you're nice at all. You shall come with me to the run. You can ride when
your foot is tired and I'll ride part of the time. It can't be far now.
You go catch a fish and we'll have breakfast, then we'll start."

Kadok looked astonished as the little fury scolded, but he obeyed, and
soon a fine fish sizzled on the fire stone.

They started off for the main road, which Kadok said was not far away
through the bushes, Jean riding her pony and feeling bright and
cheerful. When they reached the road after several hours riding, she saw
that Kadok was limping painfully. She jumped off the pony and said,

"You must ride now. I know your foot hurts and I'm tired of riding and
want to walk awhile. Get on and I will walk along and hold Dandy's
rein."

[Illustration: "THE BLACK BOY ON A PONY LED BY A WHITE CHILD."]

"Little Missa get very boss. Time Missa get back to white folks," he
grumbled, as he climbed slowly on the horse's back. "Gin never say 'do'
to Kadok," but Jean only laughed at him and trudged along.

It was an odd picture on which the Australian sun shone, the black boy
on a pony led by a white child in tattered gingham, and two travellers
scanned the couple curiously as they urged their horses along. Catching
up with the children they would have passed, but Jean suddenly cried,

"Father! Fergus!"

"Jeanie! What on earth!" but the rest of her father's sentence was lost
as he clasped the child in his arms and Jean knew that her troubles were
over.

       *       *       *       *       *

"There was a terrible hue and cry, lassie, when it was discovered that
Dandy and you were lost," said her uncle that night as she lay, tired
but happy, her mother beside her, in a corner of the big couch in the
morning room at Djerinallum. "Scouts were sent everywhere, but you
seemed to have dropped off the earth. Parties have been searching ever
since, but no one has been successful in finding even a trail. We traced
you to the place in the woods where you got off your pony, but beyond
that there were no tracks. Kadok says that the Black who took you did
not mean any harm. His gin was nearly crazy over the death of her child,
a little girl younger than you, and he wanted to take you to her to see.
They had heard of you from the gin to whom you gave a curl. The Blacks
think that when a Black dies he returns to the earth as a white, and he
wanted his gin to see you, thinking that you might be his own child come
back."

"Poor child, you have had a dreadful time," said her Aunt Mildred.

"Oh, no, except that I was worried about Mother, because I knew she'd
think I was killed," she said. Her mother held her close. "I would have
been if it hadn't been for Kadok."

"Good Kadok," said Mr. Hume. "His foot is being taken care of now and he
shall have a good home for the rest of his life on our run--"

"Oh Father, are you going to have a sheep run! I'm so glad!" cried Jean.

"Yes, we got back from the Gold Country just in time to meet you. I made
some money, but I am never going back there. Fergus has no end of
adventures to tell you, but it is no place to take you and your mother,
and I don't want to leave you again."

"Oh, I'm so glad, we'll be near Uncle and Aunt Mildred," said Jean.

"Not me?" asked Sandy mischievously.

"Oh, you, of course," said Jean. "We are going to be Australians
ourselves, now, and of course we won't forget our Little Australian
Cousin."


THE END.

FOOTNOTE:

[20] The Blacks can count only as high as their ten fingers. Anything
above this they call always "eighty-eight," though no one knows why.




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these six stories, which were originally included in six of the "Little
Colonel" books.


=JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE=: By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON. Illustrated by L.
J. Bridgman.

    New illustrated edition, uniform with the Little Colonel
    Books, 1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative      $1.50

A story of the time of Christ, which is one of the author's best-known
books.


=THE LITTLE COLONEL GOOD TIMES BOOK=

    Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series      $1.50
    Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold                3.00

Cover design and decorations by Amy Carol Rand.

The publishers have had many inquiries from readers of the Little
Colonel books as to where they could obtain a "Good Times Book" such as
Betty kept. Mrs. Johnston, who has for years kept such a book herself,
has gone enthusiastically into the matter of the material and format for
a similar book for her young readers. Every girl will want to possess a
"Good Times Book."


=ASA HOLMES=: OR, AT THE CROSS-ROADS. A sketch of Country Life and
Country Humor. By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.

With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery.

    Large 16mo, cloth, gilt top      $1.00

"'Asa Holmes; or, At the Cross-Roads' is the most delightful, most
sympathetic and wholesome book that has been published in a long
while."--_Boston Times._


=THE RIVAL CAMPERS=: OR, THE ADVENTURES OF HENRY BURNS. By RUEL PERLEY
SMITH.

    Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

A story of a party of typical American lads, courageous, alert, and
athletic, who spend a summer camping on an island off the Maine coast.


=THE RIVAL CAMPERS AFLOAT=: OR, THE PRIZE YACHT VIKING. By RUEL PERLEY
SMITH.

    Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

This book is a continuation of the adventures of "The Rival Campers" on
their prize yacht _Viking_.


=THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE=

By RUEL PERLEY SMITH.

    Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

"As interesting ashore as when afloat."--_The Interior._


=JACK HARVEY'S ADVENTURES=: OR, THE RIVAL CAMPERS AMONG THE OYSTER
PIRATES. By RUEL PERLEY SMITH.

    Illustrated         $1.50

"Just the type of book which is most popular with lads who are in their
early teens."--_The Philadelphia Item._


=PRISONERS OF FORTUNE=: A TALE OF THE MASSACHUSETTS BAY COLONY. By RUEL
PERLEY SMITH.

    Cloth decorative, with a colored frontispiece      $1.50

"There is an atmosphere of old New England in the book, the humor of the
born raconteur about the hero, who tells his story with the gravity of a
preacher, but with a solemn humor that is irresistible."--_Courier-Journal._


=FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS.= By CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON.

    Large 12mo. With 24 illustrations      $1.50

Biographical sketches, with interesting anecdotes and reminiscences of
the heroes of history who were leaders of cavalry.

"More of such books should be written, books that acquaint young readers
with historical personages in a pleasant informal way."--_N. Y. Sun._


=FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS.= By CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON.

    Large 12mo, illustrated      $1.50

In this book Mr. Johnston gives interesting sketches of the Indian
braves who have figured with prominence in the history of our own land,
including Powhatan, the Indian Cæsar; Massasoit, the friend of the
Puritans; Pontiac, the red Napoleon; Tecumseh, the famous war chief of
the Shawnees; Sitting Bull, the famous war chief of the Sioux; Geronimo,
the renowned Apache Chief, etc., etc.


=BILLY'S PRINCESS.= By HELEN EGGLESTON HASKELL.

    Cloth decorative, illustrated by Helen McCormick
    Kennedy      $1.25

Billy Lewis was a small boy of energy and ambition, so when he was left
alone and unprotected, he simply started out to take care of himself.


=TENANTS OF THE TREES.= By CLARENCE HAWKES.

    Cloth decorative, illustrated in colors      $1.50

"A book which will appeal to all who care for the hearty, healthy,
outdoor life of the country. The illustrations are particularly
attractive."--_Boston Herald._


=BEAUTIFUL JOE'S PARADISE=: OR, THE ISLAND OF BROTHERLY LOVE. A sequel
to "Beautiful Joe." By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of "Beautiful Joe."

    One vol., library 12mo, cloth, illustrated      $1.50

"This book revives the spirit of 'Beautiful Joe' capitally. It is fairly
riotous with fun, and is about as unusual as anything in the animal book
line that has seen the light."--_Philadelphia Item._


='TILDA JANE.= By MARSHALL SAUNDERS.

    One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth decorative, $1.50

"I cannot think of any better book for children than this. I commend it
unreservedly."--_Cyrus Townsend Brady._


='TILDA JANE'S ORPHANS.= A sequel to 'Tilda Jane. By MARSHALL SAUNDERS.

    One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth decorative, $1.50

'Tilda Jane is the same original, delightful girl, and as fond of her
animal pets as ever.


=THE STORY OF THE GRAVELEYS.= By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of "Beautiful
Joe's Paradise," "'Tilda Jane," etc.

    Library 12mo, cloth decorative. Illustrated by E. B.
    Barry      $1.50

Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and triumphs, of a
delightful New England family, of whose devotion and sturdiness it will
do the reader good to hear.


=BORN TO THE BLUE.= By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL.

    12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.25

The atmosphere of army life on the plains breathes on every page of this
delightful tale. The boy is the son of a captain of U. S. cavalry
stationed at a frontier post in the days when our regulars earned the
gratitude of a nation.


=IN WEST POINT GRAY=

By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL.

    12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

"Singularly enough one of the best books of the year for boys is written
by a woman and deals with life at West Point. The presentment of life in
the famous military academy whence so many heroes have graduated is
realistic and enjoyable."--_New York Sun._


=FROM CHEVRONS TO SHOULDER STRAPS=

By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL.

    12mo, cloth, illustrated, decorative      $1.50

West Point again forms the background of a new volume in this popular
series, and relates the experience of Jack Stirling during his junior
and senior years.


=THE SANDMAN: HIS FARM STORIES=

By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS. With fifty illustrations by Ada Clendenin
Williamson.

    Large 12mo, decorative cover      $1.50

"An amusing, original book, written for the benefit of very small
children. It should be one of the most popular of the year's books for
reading to small children."--_Buffalo Express._


=THE SANDMAN: MORE FARM STORIES=

By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS.

    Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated      $1.50

Mr. Hopkins's first essay at bedtime stories met with such approval that
this second book of "Sandman" tales was issued for scores of eager
children. Life on the farm, and out-of-doors, is portrayed in his
inimitable manner.


=THE SANDMAN: HIS SHIP STORIES=

By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS, author of "The Sandman: His Farm Stories," etc.

    Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated      $1.50

"Children call for these stories over and over again."--_Chicago Evening
Post._


=THE SANDMAN, HIS SEA STORIES=

By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS.

    Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated      $1.50

Each year adds to the popularity of this unique series of stories to be
read to the little ones at bed time and at other times.


=THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL=

By MARION AMES TAGGART, author of "Pussy-Cat Town," etc.

    One vol., library 12mo, illustrated      $1.50

A thoroughly enjoyable tale of a little girl and her comrade father,
written in a delightful vein of sympathetic comprehension of the child's
point of view.


=SWEET NANCY=

THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL. By MARION AMES
TAGGART.

    One vol., library, 12mo, illustrated      $1.50

In the new book, the author tells how Nancy becomes in fact "the
doctor's assistant," and continues to shed happiness around her.


=THE CHRISTMAS-MAKERS' CLUB=

By EDITH A. SAWYER.

    12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

A delightful story for girls, full of the real spirit of Christmas. It
abounds in merrymaking and the right kind of fun.


=CARLOTA=

A STORY OF THE SAN GABRIEL MISSION. By FRANCES MARGARET FOX.

    Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated
    in colors by Ethelind Ridgway      $1.00

"It is a pleasure to recommend this little story as an entertaining
contribution to juvenile literature."--_The New York Sun._


=THE SEVEN CHRISTMAS CANDLES=

By FRANCES MARGARET FOX.

    Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated
    in colors by Ethelind Ridgway      $1.00

Miss Fox's new book deals with the fortunes of the delightful Mulvaney
children.


=PUSSY-CAT TOWN=

By MARION AMES TAGGART.

    Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated
    in colors      $1.00

"Anything more interesting than the doings of the cats in this story,
their humor, their wisdom, their patriotism, would be hard to
imagine."--_Chicago Post._


=THE ROSES OF SAINT ELIZABETH=

By JANE SCOTT WOODRUFF.

    Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated
    in colors by Adelaide Everhart      $1.00

This is a charming little story of a child whose father was caretaker of
the great castle of the Wartburg, where Saint Elizabeth once had her
home.


=GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK=

By EVALEEN STEIN.

    Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated
    in colors by Adelaide Everhart      $1.00

Gabriel was a loving, patient, little French lad, who assisted the monks
in the long ago days, when all the books were written and illuminated by
hand, in the monasteries.


=THE ENCHANTED AUTOMOBILE=

Translated from the French by MARY J. SAFFORD

    Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated
    in colors by Edna M. Sawyer      $1.00

"An up-to-date French fairy-tale which fairly radiates the spirit of the
hour,--unceasing diligence."--_Chicago Record-Herald._


=O-HEART-SAN=

THE STORY OF A JAPANESE GIRL. By HELEN EGGLESTON HASKELL.

    Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated
    in colors by Frank P. Fairbanks      $1.00

"The story comes straight from the heart of Japan. The shadow of
Fujiyama lies across it and from every page breathes the fragrance of
tea leaves, cherry blossoms and chrysanthemums."--_The Chicago
Inter-Ocean._


=THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND=: OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALLAN WEST. By BURTON E.
STEVENSON.

    Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

Mr. Stevenson's hero is a manly lad of sixteen, who is given a chance as
a section-hand on a big Western railroad, and whose experiences are as
real as they are thrilling.


=THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER.= By BURTON E. STEVENSON.

    Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

"A better book for boys has never left an American press."--_Springfield
Union._


=THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER.= By BURTON E. STEVENSON.

    Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

"Nothing better in the way of a book of adventure for boys in which the
actualities of life are set forth in a practical way could be devised or
written."--_Boston Herald._


=CAPTAIN JACK LORIMER.= By WINN STANDISH.

    Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

Jack is a fine example of the all-around American high-school boy.


=JACK LORIMER'S CHAMPIONS=: OR, SPORTS ON LAND AND LAKE. By WINN
STANDISH.

    Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

"It is exactly the sort of book to give a boy interested in athletics,
for it shows him what it means to always 'play fair.'"--_Chicago
Tribune._


=JACK LORIMER'S HOLIDAYS=: OR, MILLVALE HIGH IN CAMP. By WINN STANDISH.

    Illustrated      $1.50

Full of just the kind of fun, sports and adventure to excite the healthy
minded youngster to emulation.


=JACK LORIMER'S SUBSTITUTE=: OR, THE ACTING CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM. By WINN
STANDISH.

    Illustrated      $1.50

On the sporting side, this book takes up football, wrestling,
tobogganing, but it is more of a _school_ story perhaps than any of its
predecessors.


=CAPTAIN JINKS=: THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SHETLAND PONY. By FRANCES HODGES
WHITE.

    Cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

The story of Captain Jinks and his faithful dog friend Billy, their
quaint conversations and their exciting adventures, will be eagerly read
by thousands of boys and girls. The story is beautifully written and
will take its place alongside of "Black Beauty" and "Beautiful Joe."


=THE RED FEATHERS.= By THEODORE ROBERTS.

    Cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

"The Red Feathers" tells of the remarkable adventures of an Indian boy
who lived in the Stone Age, many years ago, when the world was young.


=FLYING PLOVER.= By THEODORE ROBERTS.

    Cloth decorative. Illustrated by Charles Livingston
    Bull      $1.00

Squat-By-The-Fire is a very old and wise Indian who lives alone with her
grandson, "Flying Plover," to whom she tells the stories each evening.


=THE WRECK OF THE OCEAN QUEEN.= By JAMES OTIS, author of "Larry Hudson's
Ambition," etc.

    Cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

"A stirring story of wreck and mutiny, which boys will find especially
absorbing. The many young admirers of James Otis will not let this book
escape them, for it fully equals its many predecessors in excitement and
sustained interest."--_Chicago Evening Post._


=LITTLE WHITE INDIANS.= By FANNIE E. OSTRANDER.

    Cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.25

"A bright, interesting story which will appeal strongly to the
'make-believe' instinct in children, and will give them a healthy,
active interest in 'the simple life.'"


=MARCHING WITH MORGAN.= HOW DONALD LOVELL BECAME A SOLDIER OF THE
REVOLUTION. By JOHN L. VEASY.

    Cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

This is a splendid boy's story of the expedition of Montgomery and
Arnold against Quebec.





COSY CORNER SERIES


It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall contain
only the very highest and purest literature,--stories that shall not
only appeal to the children themselves, but be appreciated by all those
who feel with them in their joys and sorrows.

      The numerous illustrations in each book are by
      well-known artists, and each volume has a separate
      attractive cover design.

    Each 1 vol., 16mo, cloth      $0.50


_By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_


=THE LITTLE COLONEL= (Trade Mark.)

The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine is a small
girl, who is known as the Little Colonel, on account of her fancied
resemblance to an old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and
old family are famous in the region.


=THE GIANT SCISSORS=

This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in France. Joyce is a
great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes shares with her
the delightful experiences of the "House Party" and the "Holidays."


=TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY=

WHO WERE THE LITTLE COLONEL'S NEIGHBORS.

In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an old friend, but
with added grace and charm. She is not, however, the central figure of
the story, that place being taken by the "two little knights."


=MILDRED'S INHERITANCE=

A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who comes to America
and is befriended by a sympathetic American family who are attracted by
her beautiful speaking voice. By means of this one gift she is enabled
to help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her eyes, and
thus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one.


=CICELY AND OTHER STORIES FOR GIRLS=

The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles will be glad to learn
of the issue of this volume for young people.


=AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO AND OTHER STORIES=

A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to all boys
and most girls.


=BIG BROTHER=

A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Stephen, himself a small
boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale.


=OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT=

"Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly called "a classic of Southern
life." It relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tells
how he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right.


=THE STORY OF DAGO=

In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a pet monkey,
owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells his own story, and the account
of his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing.


=THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT=

A pleasant little story of a boy's labor of love, and how it changed the
course of his life many years after it was accomplished.


=FLIP'S ISLANDS OF PROVIDENCE=

A story of a boy's life battle, his early defeat, and his final triumph,
well worth the reading.


_By EDITH ROBINSON_


=A LITTLE PURITAN'S FIRST CHRISTMAS=

A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christmas was invented
by Betty Sewall, a typical child of the Puritans, aided by her brother
Sam.


=A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY=

The author introduces this story as follows:

"One ride is memorable in the early history of the American Revolution,
the well-known ride of Paul Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is
another ride,--the ride of Anthony Severn,--which was no less historic
in its action or memorable in its consequences."


=A LOYAL LITTLE MAID=

A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, in which the
child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important services to George
Washington.


=A LITTLE PURITAN REBEL=

This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the
gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.


=A LITTLE PURITAN PIONEER=

The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement at
Charlestown.


=A LITTLE PURITAN BOUND GIRL=

A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great interest to
youthful readers.


=A LITTLE PURITAN CAVALIER=

The story of a "Little Puritan Cavalier" who tried with all his boyish
enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and ideals of the dead Crusaders.


=A PURITAN KNIGHT ERRANT=

The story tells of a young lad in Colonial times who endeavored to carry
out the high ideals of the knights of olden days.


_By OUIDA (Louise de la Ramée)_


=A DOG OF FLANDERS=

A CHRISTMAS STORY

Too well and favorably known to require description.


=THE NURNBERG STOVE=

This beautiful story has never before been published at a popular price.


_By FRANCES MARGARET FOX_


=THE LITTLE GIANT'S NEIGHBOURS=

A charming nature story of a "little giant" whose neighbors were the
creatures of the field and garden.


=FARMER BROWN AND THE BIRDS=

A little story which teaches children that the birds are man's best
friends.


=BETTY OF OLD MACKINAW=

A charming story of child life.


=BROTHER BILLY=

The story of Betty's brother, and some further adventures of Betty
herself.


=MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES=

Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or "childhood,"
of the little creatures out-of-doors.


=HOW CHRISTMAS CAME TO THE MULVANEYS=

A bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children with an
unlimited capacity for fun and mischief.


=THE COUNTRY CHRISTMAS=

Miss Fox has vividly described the happy surprises that made the
occasion so memorable to the Mulvaneys, and the funny things the
children did in their new environment.


_By MISS MULOCK_


=THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE=

A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures by means of
the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.


=ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE=

The story of a household elf who torments the cook and gardener, but is
a constant joy and delight to the children who love and trust him.


=HIS LITTLE MOTHER=

Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant source of
delight to them, and "His Little Mother," in this new and attractive
dress, will be welcomed by hosts of youthful readers.


=LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY=

An attractive story of a summer outing. "Little Sunshine" is another of
those beautiful child-characters for which Miss Mulock is so justly
famous.


_By MARSHALL SAUNDERS_


=FOR HIS COUNTRY=

A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved his country;
written with that charm which has endeared Miss Saunders to hosts of
readers.


=NITA, THE STORY OF AN IRISH SETTER=

In this touching little book, Miss Saunders shows how dear to her heart
are all of God's dumb creatures.


=ALPATOK, THE STORY OF AN ESKIMO DOG=

Alpatok, an Eskimo dog from the far north, was stolen from his master
and left to starve in a strange city, but was befriended and cared for,
until he was able to return to his owner.


_By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE_


=THE FARRIER'S DOG AND HIS FELLOW=

This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman, will appeal to
all that is best in the natures of the many admirers of her graceful and
piquant style.


=THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW=

Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm of "The Farrier's Dog
and His Fellow" will welcome the further account of the adventures of
Baydaw and the Fellow at the home of the kindly smith.


=THE BEST OF FRIENDS=

This continues the experiences of the Farrier's dog and his Fellow,
written in Mr. Dromgoole's well-known charming style.


=DOWN IN DIXIE=

A fascinating story for boys and girls, of a family of Alabama children
who move to Florida and grow up in the South.


_By MARIAN W. WILDMAN_


=LOYALTY ISLAND=

An account of the adventures of four children and their pet dog on an
island, and how they cleared their brother from the suspicion of
dishonesty.


=THEODORE AND THEODORA=

This is a story of the exploits and mishaps of two mischievous twins,
and continues the adventures of the interesting group of children in
"Loyalty Island."

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation repaired.

Advertising page 15, "Ramee" changed to "Ramée" (Louise de la Ramée)








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