bitterly remarked one of his fellow-boarders one day. "It's a small
country when all's said and done, and there's too many of us already,
besides all these Hindian coolie-niggers they're a importin' of by
shiploads."

In the extremity of his strait, Gerard bethought himself of Mr
Kingsland. Should he write and endeavour to bespeak the latter's aid,
telling all the circumstances of his evil fortune and the cruel swindle
which had left him penniless? He remembered the hearty kindness of the
old settler's tone, and assurances of friendship. Surely he was
justified in asking for a helping hand towards some means of gaining his
own livelihood! But no sooner had he taken pen in hand to do so than he
flung that redoubtable implement to the other end of the room. He could
not do it. It was too much like writing a begging letter. Besides,
what claim had he upon anybody? So, instead of writing the letter, he
took a hurried survey of his possessions, and then strolled round to an
auctioneer's sale-rooms, to see whether the chances were good in favour
of obtaining a reasonable price for his new saddle at the next morning's
sale.

Turning the street corner he ran right against Harry Maitland, or rather
against the latter's horse, for Harry himself was in the act of
dismounting.

"Hallo, Ridgeley! Where've you dropped from?" said Harry. "Still
counter-jumping with that distinguished-looking relation of yours?"

"No such luck," replied Gerard, with a rueful laugh. And he told him
what had happened. "And here I am nearly stumped, and see no way of
getting up again," he concluded.

"Stumped, eh? That's devilish awkward," quoth Harry. "You would go
counter-jumping, you see, instead of going to work in the right way.
Look at me now. I know shoals of people already, and am having a right
good time. There's nothing like looking about one first for a bit,
depend upon it. Well, ta-ta. See you again. Here--hallo, Warner!" he
sang out to a man who had just passed them. "Hold on, can't you!"

And, leaving Gerard standing there, he went after the new-comer.

"Who's that fellow you were yarning to?" said the latter. "A devilish
decent-looking chap, whoever he is."

"That! Oh, he's a poor devil I used sometimes to talk to on board ship.
And, I say, Warner, you turned up in the very nick of time. He was
just going to try and borrow a five-pound note from me. I'll swear he
was. I could see it in his eye. Let's go a