e could
scarcely unharness the horse, and wondered if Andy had got a touch of
the sun, and went in and sat down and cried again; and pride came to her
aid and she hated Andy; thought of her big brother, away droving, and
made a cup of tea. She shed tears over the tea, and went through it all
again.

Meanwhile Andy was suffering a reaction. He started to fill the hole
before he put the post in; then to ram the post before the rails were
in position. Dubbing off the ends of the rails, he was in danger of
amputating a toe or a foot with every stroke of the adze. And, at last,
trying to squint along the little lumps of clay which he had placed in
the centre of the top of each post for several panels back--to assist
him to take a line--he found that they swam and doubled, and ran off in
watery angles, for his eyes were too moist to see straight and single.

Then he threw down the tools hopelessly, and was standing helplessly
undecided whether to go home or go down to the creek and drown himself,
when Dave turned up again.

"Seen her?" asked Dave.

"Yes," said Andy.

"Did you chuck her?"

"Look here, Dave; are you sure the feller was Mick Kelly?"

"I never said I was. How was I to know? It was dark. You don't expect
I'd 'fox' a feller I see doing a bit of a bear-up to a girl, do you? It
might have been you, for all I knowed. I suppose she's been talking you
round?"

"No, she ain't," said Andy. "But, look here, Dave; I was properly gone
on that girl, I was, and--and I want to be sure I'm right."

The business was getting altogether too psychological for Dave Bentley.
"You might as well," he rapped out, "call me a liar at once!"

"'Taint that at all, Dave. I want to get at who the feller is; that's
what I want to get at now. Where did you see them, and when?"

"I seen them Anniversary night, along the road, near Ross' farm; and
I seen 'em Sunday night afore that--in the trees near the old
culvert--near Porter's sliprails; and I seen 'em one night outside
Porter's, on a log near the woodheap. They was thick that time, and
bearin' up proper, and no mistake. So I can swear to her. Now, are you
satisfied about her?"

But Andy was wildly pitchforking his thatch under his hat with all ten
fingers and staring at Dave, who began to regard him uneasily; then
there came to Andy's eyes an awful glare, which caused Dave to step back
hastily.

"Good God, Andy! Are yer goin' ratty?"

"No!" cried Andy, wildly.

"Then what