could not make the doctor budge. But for all
this he was very generous--a fact that could, no doubt, be testified to
by many a grateful sojourner in the lonely bush.

II.

The Only Hope

Night came on, and still there was no change in the condition of
the young wife, and no sign of the doctor. Several stockmen from
the neighbouring stations, hearing that there was trouble at Joe
Middleton's, had ridden over, and had galloped off on long, hopeless
rides in search of a doctor. Being generally free from sickness
themselves, these bushmen look upon it as a serious business even in its
mildest form; what is more, their sympathy is always practical where
it is possible for it to be so. One day, while out on the run after
an "outlaw", Joe Middleton was badly thrown from his horse, and the
break-neck riding that was done on that occasion from the time the horse
came home with empty saddle until the rider was safe in bed and attended
by a doctor was something extraordinary, even for the bush.

Before the time arrived when Dave Middleton might reasonably have been
expected to return, the station people were anxiously watching for him,
all except the old blackfellow and the two boys, who had gone to yard
the sheep.

The party had been increased by Jimmy Nowlett, the bullocky, who had
just arrived with a load of fencing wire and provisions for Middleton.
Jimmy was standing in the moonlight, whip in hand, looking as anxious as
the husband himself, and endeavouring to calculate by mental arithmetic
the exact time it ought to take Dave to complete his double journey,
taking into consideration the distance, the obstacles in the way, and
the chances of horse-flesh.

But the time which Jimmy fixed for the arrival came without Dave.

Old Peter (as he was generally called, though he was not really old)
stood aside in his usual sullen manner, his hat drawn down over his
brow and eyes, and nothing visible but a thick and very horizontal
black beard, from the depth of which emerged large clouds of very strong
tobacco smoke, the product of a short, black, clay pipe.

They had almost given up all hope of seeing Dave return that night, when
Peter slowly and deliberately removed his pipe and grunted:

"He's a-comin'."

He then replaced the pipe, and smoked on as before.

All listened, but not one of them could hear a sound.

"Yer ears must be pretty sharp for yer age, Peter. We can't hear him,"
remarked Jimmy Nowlett.