CHAPTER I

The evening air was hot and oppressive. Whisperings of a north wind came over the hills. The old gum-tree, which grew over the homestead, quivered, and turned the edges of its leaves to catch the silvery light of a new moon, which cut its way across the sky. The swish-swish of wild cats and the cries of opossums were heard. A weird boom, from bittern or bunyip, came from the swamp, and the curlew's solemn call echoed in the ranges.

"Just the time for love!" So thought Lanky Tim, who stood leaning against the doorpost of the kitchen. He seemed to be holding it up with the angle of his left shoulder. The light of a great, blazing fire fell upon his sharp, handsome face.

Annie Coonie, the cook, was bending over a large basin into which honey was dripping from a sack hanging by a hook over the mantelpiece. Two of the station hands had cut down a "bee-tree" on Vinegar Hill, and had brought home the contents of the hive. The honey was coming from the sack as clear as amber and smelling of wattle-blossom.

"Now, listen to me, Annie," said Tim; "you're as sweet as honey, by a deal: that's the blasted truth, an' no mistake about it."

"Oh, go away, Tim! you'll not earn your pound a week, an' found, by holdin' up that post—chances are you'll carry it away like as Samson carried off the gates of Gaza."

"Who's he, Annie? Seems I've heard o' him. I'd more likely carry you off. I'll make a lady of you if you'll only say yes. You'll have a silk dress, a diamond ring, an' servants to wait on you. I've got 640 acres of good land, two houses in Melbourne, an' money in the bank. Just say you'll be mine, and they are yours!"

"Nonsense! Rich men don't work for twenty shillin' a week, an' live in a slab-hut."

"I only do it, Annie, to be near you, an' that's no lie."

"'Near, an' yet so far,' as the dog said to the 'possum up the gum-tree."

"If you'll only marry me, you'll never need to work another stroke, Annie. We'll go to the theayter every night, an' be as happy as the day is long."

"Samson carried the jawbone of the ass in his hand; you carry it in your head. Clear out! If Alec comes he'll give you a good hiding."

Alec was Annie's sweetheart, and she expected him any moment. She was loyal to him, never allowing her thoughts to wander to any of the many suitors for her hand. She was a selector's daughter, and the belle of all the Broken River district.

"Alec's a poor sort of chap for a handsome girl like you to marry," said Jim.

Annie's face was aflame in a moment. Before a rough sarcasm could rattle out of her mouth, a big figure darted across the open door. An arm shot out and gave Lanky Tim a clout in the ear, which sent him sprawling on the ground. He scrambled up in a hurry, and disappeared behind the projecting stone chimney.

Alec, for it was he, went into the kitchen laughing, and rubbing his knuckles, which had been jarred by coming in contact with Tim's ear.

"I saw Tim making love to you, Annie," said Alec.

"What did you say to him?"

"Not a word; but he'll hear my reply tingling in his ear for a long time."

"I told him you would give him a good hiding. He said he had 640 acres of land, two houses in Melbourne, an' money in the bank. He offered to give me all if I would marry him."

"The hound!" said Alec; "he hasn't 640 pence to bless himself with. He's the greatest bragger in Australia. When the boss took him on he had hardly a shirt to his back. He hadn't been a week on the station when he made out as how he was a nobleman's son in disguise, an' that his uncle had left him a stack of money, but he wouldn't take it yet, as he wanted to get Colonial experience."

"It's my opinion," said Annie, "that he left the shirt you speak of with his uncle, to raise the wind which blew him up here. It's all blow with him!"

"Blowed if I can make him out," said Alec. "Last week he said he had found a gold-mine. Yesterday he bragged he had discovered diamonds. The more a man brags the less in his bags. The less a man knows the more he blows."

"That basin is about full of honey, Alec. Reach down another, an' put it under the bag while I take the full one away. So, that will do."

Alec seated himself on a chair, as far from the fire as he could, and mopped his brow with a whitey-brown handkerchief. The heat of the kitchen was stifling. It was hot enough outside; here it was almost unbearable. Annie was as cool as a cucumber. She was accustomed to a roaring fire, even when the thermometer stood at a hundred degrees in the shade.

A fit of silence came over Alec. He knitted his brows, and looked thoughtful. Jealousy was creeping into his heart, although he did all he could to shut it out. There it was, however, and had taken possession.

Annie took a wicked delight in his misery. She saw what was the matter with him.

"Lanky Tim said I was as sweet as honey."

"Blast Lanky!" said Alec, scowling.

"You can't brag like Lanky Tim!" retorted Annie.

"No, I give him best at that! Dang him, if I don't give him pepper before I go to bed this night."

"Or mustard," said Annie.

"He may need a poultice."

Silence reigned for awhile, broken only by the loud tick of the clock on the mantelpiece and the drip of the honey. How long this state of things would have lasted no one knows. Just at this acute stage a loud scream was heard from the front of the homestead. A rushing of feet and banging of doors followed. Annie and Alec jumped up, made for the door, ran round the dwelling-house to the end of the verandah, and listened.

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CHAPTER II

Woorong station was owned by an old Scotchman named McKeel. He was of medium height, red-haired, somewhat bald, with blue eyes, aquiline nose, large mouth, and an inquiring face, sprinkled with freckles, like patches of clay on a ploughed field; wrinkled with the chiselling of many years and the rubs of fortune.

He was standing in one of the front rooms, speaking to Mrs. McKeel, and David, his son.

"Ma dears, this wee eenstrument ye see in ma han' is desteened to save the lives o' mony o' the sons o' Adam wha may be bruised i' the heel, as the Scripture has it, by the serpent; which I tak' to mean ony beast o' the breed, either whip snake, black snake, brown snake, or tiger snake. If a man or woman, or bairn for that matter, is bitten by a snake, let them be brocht to me, as quick as may be, an' I'll inject into their foreairm a drap or twa o' ammonia, which I hae got frae Melbourne this vera day, alang wi' this eenstrument, by post."

"How wonderful, papa!" said Mrs. McKeel.

"I don't believe it," said David.

"What can ye expec' frae a pig but a grunt," said his father, turning savagely round; "ye are sceptical, Daavid, in things above an' things beneath. Ye dinna follow the sayings o' ye'r namesake the sweet singer o' Israel. A greater than him said, 'Ye will not believe.'"

"Well, father, I wasn't meaning to say I did not believe you; but what I wanted to say was I did not think this hypodermic injection of ammonia, by the instrument you speak of, will cure snake-bite."

"Weel, weel, seein's beleevin'! The proof o' the pudden is the preein' o't. When ye'r opeenion is asked ye may speak; no till then!"

"I am sorry, father."

"Sorry here, sorry there, will never cure a man who is bitten by a snake, or by the Auld Serpent himsel', wha is the Deevil. Pit that in ye'r pipe an' smoke it!"

This was a knock-down blow from which David could not come up smiling. He raked the ashes of the fire smouldering within him, and smothered it. He had to let off the smoke by breathing hard.

His father looked at him and said, "Ye'r namesake says, 'he puffeth at them.' My advice is keep ye'r breath to cool ye'r porridge."

David was about to reply, but a warning touch, under the table, from his mother's foot, made him pause.

A piercing scream was heard outside, and a rushing of feet. The old man looked over his spectacles towards the door in momentary fright. David stood up waiting. Mrs. McKeel said, in a low voice, "Papa! what's that?"

They had not long to wait. A man bounded over the low fence which enclosed the verandah, then ran to the door and opened it with a loud bang. It was Lanky Tim. His eyes were starting from their sockets. He had no hat. His hair hung in a dishevelled mass over his forehead, like an inverted last year's nest. He had the look of a madman. He sank on the sofa and moaned.

"What is the maiter wi' ye, Lanky?" said old McKeel, now thoroughly alarmed.

"I have been bitten by a snake," groaned Lanky, through his set teeth.

"Ma sang!" said McKeel, "ye've come to the richt shop. Whaur's the bite?"

"Here," said Lanky, pointing to the calf of his left leg. Then he curved his body like a bent bow, and made the most hideous grimaces, lapsing into an idiotic stare.

"Jist the seemptoms," said McKeel, as he quietly filled the little instrument, which he still held in his hand, with a drop of liquid ammonia.

"Noo, Daavid," he said, "rax me the brandy bottle, an' pit it doon beside me; then hold Lanky's leg while I mak' the injection."

David did as he was told. His father pinched the leg, just above the marks of the snake-bite; then he inserted the point of the instrument into the flesh.

Lanky jumped as if he had been shot, and capered about the room. The injector fell from the old man's hand. An oath nearly slipped off his tongue, but he caught it back just in time, and said:

"Dog-on it, man! you're deed as a sheep in a butcher's shop if ye'll no be still till I get the ammonia inside o' ye!"

"Brandy," said Lanky faintly, sinking again on the sofa.

Mrs. McKeel poured out a tumblerful, and handed it to David, who put it to Lanky's lips. The liquor went down his throat with a gurgle like storm-water into a culvert.

"I feel better," he said faintly; "that did me good!"

"Don't you lippen to brandy," said McKeel, "it never cured a true case o' snake-bite. You jist let me inject a drop o' ammonia into ye, there's a good fallow! It's the new pan-a-kee."

"Panacea! father," said David.

"Pan-a-fiddlestick," said the old man.

"If that's it, fire away!" said Lanky.

Old Mr. McKeel filled the injector again, and inserted it in the puncture he had already made, then squirted its full contents in the flesh, with a force that sent the needle-point nearly to the bone.

The effect was magical. Lanky roared like a bull, and threw up his legs, knocking old McKeel head-over-heels. In the fall he struck the ammonia bottle, which was standing on a chair, and tipped it over, spilling the contents.

"That was the effec' o' the mediceen! It was instantaneous! He got the strength o' three men in a meenit. He's a'richt; he's cured!" said McKeel.

Lanky fell back on the sofa, writhing and wriggling like one possessed.

Alec and Annie Coonie, who had heard and seen everything through the window, which had no curtain, now opened the door and came in.

"Can we do anything?" they said.

"Yes, Alec," said old McKeel; "you tak' a horse an' ride across the range to the mine for Max Hicsh. He's a sort o' doctor body, who was a student at Gott-again."

"GÖttingen, father," said David.

"I have na time to argal-bargle wi' ye," said his father, "but I say it's Gott-again. Weel! he has a decree, I believe."

"Degree, father," said David.

"Losh! I'm no sayin' there is na degrees among doctors; some wise an' some foolish, jist the same as sons. Ye mind me o' a preacher, servin' what he calls the gospel frae an empty spoon oot o' a hogshead fou o' naething. Howsoever, it's life an' death noo! Sa, bring Max as quick as ye can, Alec."

Alec ran to do the old man's bidding, with Annie at his heels.

"Tell my mother to come," she said; "she knows as much about snake-bite as any doctor."

When she had given him this message she went back to the room where Lanky was lying.

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CHAPTER III

A great change had now taken place in the patient's condition. Convulsive movements of a violent kind had set in. Old McKeel was alarmed. David was cynical, and doubted the symptoms.

"Brandy," said Lanky, in a whisper.

He gulped a tumblerful down, smacked his lips, and stared around.

"Where am I?" he said; "oh! I see."

"That's a guid sign!" said old McKeel. "The ammonia's workin'."

"Mr. McKeel," said Lanky very feebly, "I'm goin' to die, an' I want to make my will."

"Vera weel; I'm a magistrate, an' I'll attest it. Ma wife an' son will be witnesses."

Mrs. McKeel, with tears in her eyes, placed pens, ink, and paper on the table. The old man seated himself, and adjusted his spectacles. He looked over them and said, "What d'ye want me to say?"

"I leave everything I have to Annie Coonie."

"My!" said Annie, in a whisper.

McKeel scribbled away as fast as he could, shedding ink all around him. After writing for a few minutes he turned to his son and said, "Give him mair brandy, and don't let him sleep."

"Can ye gi' me some parteeclars o' what ye want to leave Annie Coonie?" McKeel said to Lanky.

"Yes; £500 in the Savings Bank, £750 in the Union Bank, and £1000 in the Bank of Australasia."

"Gosh!" ejaculated McKeel.

"O my!" said Annie, as she threw her apron over her head.

"Ony other parteeclars?"

"Yes, six hundred and forty acres of land."

"The man's cracked!" muttered McKeel to himself. "It's the ammonia makin' his heed licht. They a' get crazy on land."

"Ony other parteeclars?"

"Yes, two houses in Melbourne."

"Ony other?" said McKeel, looking dubiously at Lanky.

"Yes, £15,000 left me by my Uncle Tom."

McKeel looked up in astonishment. Seeing Annie at the door he could not help saying, "I congratulate you, Annie."

"Is Annie here?" whispered the patient.

"Step forrit, Annie," said McKeel.

Lanky took her hand. She was crying.

"Don't cry for me," he said; "only say you love me. It will be a great consolation to me. You see how I love you."

"Oh yes," she sobbed; "I hope you will not die. You'll soon be better."

"Never! but I die happy with your hand in mine."

At this moment Mrs. Coonie, Annie's mother, came in. She was a little woman, with a clay-coloured face, and dressed in the same hue.

She took possession of the case at once with a business-like air.

"Plenty of brandy," she said; "then march him up and down. If he is allowed to sleep, he is a dead man. Black snake, or tiger?"

"Tiger," whispered Lanky.

"Then there's no hope," she said, turning to McKeel; "he'll die when the moon goes down. That's the time they die when bitten by a tiger-snake. At the sea it's when the tide goes out."

"Then there's nae time to lose," said the old man; "I'll read the will in the hearin' o' ye a'. Attend to what I say, Lanky."

"I'm listenin'," he whispered.

McKeel pulled the lamp nearer, adjusted his spectacles, and read as follows:—

"This is the last Will and Testament of me, Timothy Wilber, at present residing at Woorong Station in the Colony of Victoria. I hereby revoke all Wills by me at any time heretofore made. I appoint——"

"Timothy Wilber, who do you appoint your executor?" said the old man.

"I appoint you, Mr. McKeel."

McKeel wrote his own name, and continued to read:—

"I appoint Dugald McKeel, of Woorong Station, in the Colony of Victoria aforesaid, to be my Executor; and direct that all my just debts and funeral and testamentary expenses shall be paid as soon as conveniently may be after my decease. I give, devise, and bequeath unto Annie Coonie, Spinster: £500 in the Savings Bank, £750 in the Union Bank, £1000 in the Bank of Australasia, 640 acres of land——"

"What parish?" said McKeel.

"Parish of Ayre."

"Parish of Air," wrote McKeel.

"Parish of Air, two houses in Melbourne, also £15,000 left to me by my Uncle Thomas. In witness whereof, I, the said Timothy Wilber, have, to this, my last Will and Testament, set my name, this fifteenth day of November, one thousand eight hundred and sixty-six."

Then came the attestation clause. Lanky signed the Will with much effort. The two witnesses signed, and the document was complete.

When Mrs. Coonie heard in the reading of the will that her daughter was left a legacy of £500 she clucked her tongue in astonishment. The next item of £750 made her start. The £1000 one caused her face to glow like fire, and her eye to sparkle like a diamond.

"You are a rich woman, Annie," she said, nudging the girl; "but where in thunder did he get the money?"

"I don't believe a word he says," Annie replied.

"Do you think," said her mother indignantly, "that a man standing at Death's door is going to stagger in with a pack of lies on his back?"

When McKeel read about the six hundred and forty acres of land, Mrs. Coonie jumped up, and looked over his shoulder to make quite sure the words were written down. When he came to the £15,000 she rushed out, and danced a jig on the verandah to relieve her feelings. When she was sufficiently calm she went back to the room. The will was now signed.

"There is only one thing to be done," said Lanky very feebly and with great difficulty. "I want Annie to say she loves me."

"Oh no, no!" she said, bursting into a fit of crying.

"Say it to please him!" said her mother. "Don't you see he's dying?"

Before Annie knew what she was doing she said, "I am sorry for you, and love you."

"More brandy," said Lanky; "I feel the poison working."

"Poor fellow! poor fellow!" said Mrs. Coonie, rubbing her eyes.

"It does me good to hear that Annie loves me. I want her to say if I live she will marry me."

Her mother touched her, and said, "Say yes, you little fool! Don't you see he's going out with the moon?"

"Yes," said Annie, in a hysterical fit of weeping, adding under her breath, "Oh, Alec! it's for your sake."

Lanky fell back, and shut his eyes, muttering, "That's all right."

They stood round him, watching and waiting. McKeel was confident his patient would pull through, for he was sure he got a full dose of ammonia.

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CHAPTER IV

A big man, with a broad face and yellow beard, came in. This was Max Hicsh, the mine manager, and sometime medical student of GÖttingen.

"Vell, Mr. McKeel, how vas you now?" he said, in his bustling way. Seeing Lanky, breathing hard, on the sofa, he added, "Mine Gott! vat is dis?"

McKeel told him, in a few words, what had been done, and that he had successfully injected the ammonia.

"Dat is good, mine friend! dat is good. You haf safe his life."

"I thocht," said McKeel, "that it wad be mair satisfactory to hae a medical man here to gae the poor fallow every chance."

Max drew up his coat sleeves, turned back his shirt cuffs, gave a tug at his collar, put one hand over Lanky's heart and the other on his pulse. He wore a serious look, then a puzzled one: his lip curled, and a smile danced over his face.

"Heart goot; ferry goot! poolse goot; ferry goot!! preething goot; ferry goot!!!"

McKeel jumped up and skipped about, snapping his fingers. He was jubilant at the effect of the ammonia.

"What de ye think o' the heap-odermic injection o' ammonia noo, Daavid? I'll write to the Argus aboot this won'erfu' escape frae the grave, or the bottomless pit for that maiter. Lanky may tak' a thocht an' mend frae the error o' his ways after this meeracle."

"All right, father, all right!" said David.

"'A' richt, a' richt!' ye say. I should say it's a' richt! Here am I, fechtin' wi' the case, an' ye havena lifted a han' to help me. I'm thinkin', but for me, Death wad hae his dart or his scythe into him by noo, an' whar wad his soul be, I should like to ken?"

Max stood up, and began to laugh. "Donner und blitzen! I haf not look at de pite of the snake. Vare is him?"

"On the calf o' his left leg," said McKeel.

Max peered at the place for a few minutes.

"Dat is no more like de pite of a snake dan it is like de pite of a flea!"

"I tell ye," said McKeel, "it was a tiger-snake that bit him. Your remarks are clipped o' common sense."

"Mine friend, Mr. McKeel, I do not pelieve, I say, I do not pelieve he has been pitten at all!"

"What! Do you mean to tell me that he's no been bitten by a snake, when I ken better?"

"No, mine friend! He is dronk! dronk as a man who the fiddle plays."

"Drunk as a fiddler, you mean," said David.

"Ya! dronk as two fiddlers!"

"Ma sang! I hae a verra sma' opeenion o' the University o' Got-again, if that's a' ye ken aboot snake-bite!" said McKeel.

"Mine friend, he is what you call sham."

"Do you think a man would sham," said Mrs. Coonie indignantly, "when he is dying?"

"Mine goot friend, Mrs. Coonie, he has not grappled mit de King of Terrors yet. It's King Alcohol dat's got hold of him."

"Don't you tell me! I've lived in the bush, maid and wife, twenty years, and know snakebite. Besides, hasn't he settled his affairs—made his will, in fact, most sensibly, and left all he has to my Annie."

"She vill not haf a heavy boondle to carry; dat is what I say."

"Indeed! You know nothing about it. It turns out, as I always said, that he is a rich man in disguise, and fell in love with my daughter and wanted to marry her. Now he has left her all he has."

"How much?" said Max.

"Six hundred and forty acres of land, two houses in Melbourne, £15,000, besides other sums in the bank."

Max laughed loud and long, bursting out again and again. David joined in the fun, to the disgust of his father and the indignation of Mrs. Coonie. Annie wept bitterly, with compensations for her grief floating before her of untold wealth.

"Dis is goot fun," said Max; "goot fun! plain as blitzen. Lanky wanted to marry Annie. He pricks himself mit a pin, shams he has got a snake-pite up his legs, flams he is going to kick de pucket, makes his will, leaves £15,000, two houses, and six hundred and forty acres of land to her mit his great love. He vill recover. Oh yes! Annie vill marry him to-morrow. Do you all tvig?"

"For shame, man!" said Mrs. Coonie.

Annie shed floods of tears, and wrung her hands. McKeel glowered over his spectacles, darting fiery glances at Max from his ferret-like eyes.

"I tell ye, Max, ye are jist jealous o' the new cure for snake-bite. The honour an' glory of savin' his life is mine; for the poison was workin' in him like yeast when I tackled him. It was gallopin' through his veins, like a wild horse fleein' up the hills."

"Mine friend! if he had any poison in his insides, he must haf svallowed some of his own venom; or maybe it vas de brandy?"

"Hoot, toot! what's a spoonful' o' brandy here or there! Nae mair than a grain o' common sense in a hogshead o' wishy-washy Got-again University stuff!"

Lanky stretched himself, opened his eyes, yawned, and looked round in a dazed sort of way. All eyes were turned to him.

"Where am I?" said he; "I thought I was dead. Oh! I remember; I was bitten by a snake. I feel better. I think I'll get over it."

"Give God the thanks, Lanky!" said McKeel solemnly, "an' me, as the humble eenstrument."

"I'll never forget your kindness, Mr. McKeel, never!"

"I'll tak' a little brandy, jist to steady ma nerves after this excitin' nicht," said McKeel. He reached over for the bottle. "Losh! it's empty. It's as toom as a whistle!"

"Has he dronk de whole bottle?" Max asked.

"Every drap!" McKeel replied; "so, if he's drunk, nae wonder, but that does not dimeenish the vertues o' the ammonia."

Lanky staggered to his feet, and tottered to Annie. When he reached her his legs became entangled and gave way. He sank into a chair beside her. His mind and tongue were sober, but his legs were intoxicated.

"You are mine now, Annie! You said you loved me, and you promised to marry me."

"Yes, Tim," said Annie, with a simper.

"Then we'll get out o' this. When I'm in the open air, an' souse my head in a bucket of water, I'll be all right. That ammonia did the trick, Mr. McKeel!"

"I declare!" said Mr. McKeel, "the feelin's o' the patient is mair tae be relied on than a' the opeenions o' the doctors."

Lanky rose to his feet, supported by Mrs. Coonie and Annie. They went away, by the back door, to the kitchen, saying as they were going, "Thank you, Mr. McKeel."

"Weel, it's pleasant," said he, "to meet wi' thankfu' folks, no like some I could name, wha are no far aff but winna."

"Good-bye, Mr. McKeel," said Max; "I must be what you call toddling. You haf your opinion, I haf mine. You'll see all I haf said vill come true."

"Good-bye, Max," Mr. McKeel said. "But I say it was a genuine case of snake-bite, for I saw the patient frae the first, an' you didna; but thank ye a' the same for comin', though we'll differ aboot some things tae the end o' the chapter."

Max shook hands with Mrs. McKeel and David, and then went home.

In about an hour after this McKeel went to the kitchen to see how Lanky was getting on. He found him as sober as a judge. In the meantime he had soused his head in a bucket, and had drunk a pint of water.

"Ma sang!" said the old man, as he went to his bedroom, "that fallow had a near shave! But for me he wad be a corp!"

Lanky went to the men's hut, and Mrs. Coonie shared Annie's bed for the night.

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CHAPTER V

Mother and daughter lay for hours talking about the wonderful change that had come over their lives, like shadows changing into gold on the mountains. It was a fairy tale, full of romance. A prince had come, in a golden coach, to carry Cinderella away.

"What a blessing, Annie, that I came and ordered brandy. That's what saved him! As for ammonia, it's the first time I ever heard of it for snake-bite. When I was a girl it was used as smelling-salts. If old McKeel had put it to Mr. Wilber's nose, it might have done him good."

"He drank an awful lot of brandy, mother."

"Yes; in cases of snake-bite they can take bucketsful and not be drunk."

"But he was drunk, mother!"

"No, only his legs, and no wonder, after being bitten by a tiger-snake. However, it's a good thing for you he got over it."

"I don't see that, mother. If he hadn't got over it, I would have got the money, land, and houses all the same."

"And marry a low fellow like Alec! Fancy him riding in a carriage beside you!"

"I would rather marry Alec, an' sit beside him in a kitchen, than marry Lanky, an' drive in a carriage."

"Well, I am astonished at you! Where is your thankfulness to your Maker for pitchforking you into a silk gown and carriage?"

Annie began to cry. Misery was creeping in. Happiness was melting away like sugar in a teacup.

She fell asleep, and forgot her troubles. Mrs. Coonie kept awake all night, turning over in her mind Annie's fortune on one side, and her love to Alec on the other. Her thoughts were bright, or dark, at intervals, like the revolving lantern on a lighthouse.

The sun rose like a red-hot cannon-ball, hitting the bull's-eye in the window pane, and splintering fragments of light over Mrs. Coonie's face.

"This is no time to lie in bed," she said to herself; "I'll get up, for I've much to say and do. I must go home and tell him" (meaning her husband). "I'll be bound he's snoring in bed, and knowing no more about all this than a sucking baby."

Suiting action to words, she jumped out of bed and dressed herself.

Annie awoke from a troubled dream. Tears stuck in her eyelashes like dewdrops in the grass. She wiped them away, and looked up with a woebegone face.

"Annie," said her mother, "I am going home to tell your father. We'll come over by ten o'clock with the buggy. Dress yourself in your best frock. We'll all go to Benalla, and if Mr. Wilber wants to marry you off-hand, he can, this very day. The sooner the better. He won't want to see you work as a servant another minute, I'm sure."

Annie looked through the window. In a moment she was out of bed, and had thrown her clothes on, anyhow; then she ran into the kitchen, opened the door, and stared out. A horse, with a saddle on, was cropping the short, yellow grass. The bridle was muddy, and trailing on the ground.

"Mother," she said, "that's Alec's horse. He must have been thrown off, perhaps killed."

A man was chopping wood about a hundred yards away. Running up to him, she said, "Where is Alec?"

"'Spose he stayed at the mine all night. Never saw him after he went away to fetch Max Hicsh."

"But there's his horse saddled an' bridled!" said Annie.

"That's nothing," said the man. "Like's not he hitched up the horse at the mine, and it broke away. Do you think Alec would walk home on a dark night? 'Not if I knows it,' says he."

"I know Alec better than that," said Annie. "He must have been thrown off. Is there a horse in?"

"Yes, Brownie and Whalebone."

Annie ran to the stable, shot the wooden bolt, and went in. She put Mrs. McKeel's saddle on Brownie, slipped a headstall and bridle on, then led him out. Jumping on his back, she galloped away, across the creek, and along the track she knew Alec must have taken when he went on his last night's ride. In half an hour she drew up at Max Hicsh's door.

"Coo-ee!"

"Vat is dis?" said Max, putting his head out of a window, a long pipe in his mouth, his blue eyes staring in wonder.

"Where is Alec?" said Annie, her face flushing red.

"Vare is Lanky Tim, I say! He had a fine hand of trumps last night, and von de game. Has he revoke? I mean de vill."

"Is Alec here? Answer me that!"

"No, he is not."

"Where did he go when he was here last night?"

"He said he would go home by de short cut."

She turned her horse's head without another word, and rode up the hill, taking a bee-line for the homestead. After riding for five minutes she heard some one "coo-ee." Her heart beat wildly! She knew the voice! A short search resulted in finding Alec lying in a clump of ferns.

"Oh, Annie, how I have been longing for you! I knew you would come."

"What is the matter with you, Alec? Are you hurt?"

"I was thrown last night, and my ankle's broke."

She jumped off Brownie and was down among the ferns in a moment.

"My poor Alec! Oh, how sorry I am! I'll help you on the horse, an' Max will set the bone."

She raised him up and managed to put him on Brownie; then led the horse down hill to the mine.

Max set the bone and put the leg in splints, then drove the patient to the homestead, Annie following on Brownie. Alec was lifted out by David and Max. He was placed in a spare room at the back of the house.

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CHAPTER VI

Mr. and Mrs. Coonie came up in their buggy, and were joined by Lanky Tim. He proposed that he should marry Annie at once. The nearest clergyman lived at Benalla.

"We give our consent," said Mrs. Coonie.

"Sure-lye!" said her husband, who usually said "ditto," and played second fiddle.

"I'll go and see if Annie is ready," said her mother.

Annie was in the kitchen. Mrs. McKeel was there also, having been obliged to prepare breakfast. She was standing over a tub washing dishes.

"Good morning, Mrs. McKeel," said Mrs. Coonie; "I hope it won't inconvenience you if Annie leaves at once. She is to be married to-day."

"To Lanky?" said Mrs. McKeel.

"Yes! She's the luckiest girl in the world."

Annie began to cry. Alec's accident had brought on qualms of conscience. She had been led into promising to marry Lanky, on the spur of the moment, for the sake of his wealth, believing he was going to die. She could not tell what to do. She was sitting on the middle of a see-saw, and did not know which end to slide to.

"Come, Annie! don't be a fool!" said her mother; "you'll have a carriage to ride in, silks and satins to wear, a fine house; and you'll hobnob with the Governor's Lady."

"Mrs. Coonie," said Mrs. McKeel, "I think you are too hasty. Annie does not know her own mind. Give her time. Max Hicsh and David believe that Lanky has not a penny to bless himself with. Don't you think the account of his wealth is only a made-up affair—a cock-and-bull story?"

"I believe every word he says. You can see he is a gentleman in disguise," said Mrs. Coonie.

"Better sure than sorry. Make inquiries first."

"No," said Mrs. Coonie; "delays are dangerous. Come, Annie, you promised before witnesses to marry him. Don't perjure yourself!"

The girl rose very reluctantly, and was pushed by her mother towards the buggy, which was standing a few yards away. She was crying bitterly.

"What's all this, I would like to know?" roared Alec, who had thrust his head out of the spare bedroom window.

No one replied. Lanky became white as a sheet, and trembled like an aspen-leaf.

Alec, by the aid of a stick, came hopping out at the back door. He held on by a water-butt, and said, "Annie, what's the matter with you? What's the meaning of all this?"

"They want to force me to marry Lanky."

"And you don't want to?"

"No," she said faintly.

Hearing the hubbub, David and his father came out, and were told what was going on. David laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks.

"You mak' the maist solemn occasions a target for ye'r mockery, Daavid. Hold ye'r whisht!"

"I can't, father. It's as good as a play. It's a comedy of the first water. Ha, ha!"

"To hear a son o' mine talk o' play-actin'! If I thocht ye had ever been in a playhouse, or theatre, as ye ca' it, I'd strike ye off wi' a shillin'.'

"Listen to me, father, and all you people," said David, pulling a sheet of paper out of his pocket. "I found this behind the sofa where Lanky lay last night. It must have fallen out of his pocket as he wriggled about. I did not know what it was till I read it, and, as the reading will do much good, I don't think I ought to consider it a private or privileged document. It's a letter from Lanky's mother to him. Here goes:—

"'13, Furze Street, Collingwood.

"'My Dear Son Tim,—

"'This is to say as how my rheumatics is very bad an I done not a days washin for a month every stick of furniture is sold I have not a shillin Send me som money for the love of God at wanct.

"'Your pore old mother
"'Bridget Wilber.'"

Tim looked as if he would gladly have sunk into the earth. He was taken aback, and said nothing.

"I think, father," said David, "I have run a coach and six horses through the will; I think I have scotched this snake, this colossus of wealth! Saul slew his thousands, but David has slain his ten thousands."

Mrs. Coonie went up to Lanky, with her double fists on her hips, her face the colour of a red brick, and opened fire.

"You viper! you toad! you snake! What have you got to say for yourself? To think that I should swallow your story as easy as you swallowed the brandy. I'll horsewhip you, you hound!"

She was about to seize the whip from Coonie's hand to carry her threat into execution, when old McKeel stepped forward, and said,—

"You dodrotted heepocrite, that I snatched frae the jaws o' death! To think ye should be sa near ye'r end, an' tell a pack o' lees—red-hot lees, I may say! Won'ner they didna burn ye'r tongue. You'll be ca'in on Lazarus to dip the tip o' his finger yet to cool it. You seasoned leear! I tell ye tae ye'r face that Ananias was struck deed for a hantle less than ye hae done. An' tae think that my ammonia should be slopped like a cup o' tea ower my carpet, insteed o' savin' the lives o' them that's mair deservin'. Blast ye! Tak' that!"

He struck Lanky with a heavy stock-whip, which made him jump.

"It's a pack of lies!" he roared, turned round, and fled.

Max Hicsh came up at this moment, and took in the situation at once. He, David, and Alec laughed like to split their sides. Old McKeel was livid with rage. Coonie was in his buggy, as stolid as a native bear, trying to light his pipe. His wife turned to him, having no other vent for her anger.

"You old fool! is this a time to smoke like a chimney, when you ought to be down on your knees asking all our pardons for nearly leading Annie into a terrible scrape?"

"My word!" was all Coonie said, as he thrust pipe and tobacco into his pocket.

"I'll send a pound to old Mrs. Wilber by to-day's post," said David.

"Deduct a half-croon frae it to pay for my ammonia," said his father.

"I'll let her starve!" said Mrs. Coonie, as she mounted the buggy, took the whip out of her husband's hand, and drove away without saying another word. She looked upon them all as conspirators who had been plotting to marry Annie against the will of her mother.

"He never vas pitten at all!" said Max. "De marks vas made by a pin vich I found in his coat mit de plood on it."

Annie went into the kitchen, and took off her best frock, then put on her working dress, and resumed her duties as cook.

Max helped Alec to his room, telling him to lie down, and give his leg a rest.

"A word with you, Mr. Hicsh."

"Vat is it, Alec?"

"When I was thrown off my horse, I waited anxiously for daylight. The time passed heavily on my hands. I looked about me, and used my eyes. I saw a reef cropping up among the ferns, and chipped off some of the stone. It was full of gold. What do you think of that specimen?"

He had taken from his pocket a lump of quartz studded with gold. Placing it in Max's hand, he waited for his opinion.

"My gootness! dat is de richest bit of quartz ever seen on this place! Your fortune is made!"

"What I propose," said Alec, "is that you go an' peg out the ground, an' apply for a claim in your name and mine. I'll go half-shares with you."

"Mine goot friend! many tousand tanks. Do you tink I would set your ankle's bone, and take advantages of you vile you are hopping apout on one leg? No, no! mine friend. It is your reef. If you make me de manager of de mine dat is all right!"

It was so arranged. Max found the reef by tracking Annie's horse from his own door. He pegged the ground, and applied for a lease. The first ton of quartz yielded 50 ounces of gold. The first six months' work produced 2721 ounces.

Alec Smith was a rich man. He married Annie. They live in a comfortable house adjoining the mine, and are very happy.

No one on the station ever heard of Lanky Tim again.

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