ated Lucy, nodding.

"Yes."

"And where do you come from?"

"From America."

"Isn't that a long way off?"

"Yes, thousands of miles off; seven or eight, I think."

"You are very young to walk so far," said Lucy, "but perhaps you rode.
Did the bushrangers steal your horses?"

"We came over the sea," said Harry. "Jack is a sailor."

Lucy looked at Jack curiously, as if a sailor were a strange species of
animal.

At this point Bruno raised his head, looked toward the door, and began
to bark.

"I think my father must be close by," said Lucy. "Bruno is always the
first to hear him."

CHAPTER XVII.

A WELCOME IN THE WILDS.

Before Lucy could reach the door, it was opened, and a stalwart man of
middle age paused on the threshold, in evident surprise.

"Whom have you here, Lucy?" he asked in a tone of displeasure.

"Two boys, papa, who came here in distress, having lost their way."

"Did I not caution you against admitting strangers?" continued her
father with a slight frown.

"Yes, but these are boys, not men."

Harry Vane thought it was time to start.

"I hope, sir," he said, "you won't blame your daughter for her kindness
to us. We stood greatly in need of friendly help, having been robbed of
everything by the bushrangers, from whom we managed by good luck to
escape some hours since."

The shepherd regarded Harry keenly, and proceeded to cross-examine him.

"You say you were captured by the bushrangers?" he said.

"Yes, sir."

"When was this?"

"This morning, just after breakfast."

"Where did it happen?"

Harry told him.

"Where were you going?"

"To the mines at Bendigo."

"How large was your party?"

"There were only three of us--a countryman of ours and ourselves."

"Where is he?"

"The bushrangers robbed him and let him go."

"Why did they not release you and your friend?"

"Because, as a young member of the band told us, the captain meant to
spare us to join the band."

"You are young to be travelling to the mines. What countrymen are you?"

"We are Americans."

"Humph! your story sounds well enough, but how do I know that you are
not spies of the bushrangers?"

Harry Vane's eyes flashed indignantly.

"I hope you won't think so badly of us," he said.

The shepherd seemed somewhat impressed by his indignant denial, which
certainly seemed genuine enough, but wanted information on one point.

"How did you manage to escape? That doesn't seem very probable, at a