off, Joe had disappeared in the corn.

"Quick!" Dad shouted, and the trio followed the patient. They hunted
through the corn from end to end, but found no trace of him. Night
came. The search continued. They called, and called, but nothing
answered save the ghostly echoes, the rustling of leaves, the slow,
sonorous notes of a distant bear, or the neighing of a horse in the
grass-paddock.

At midnight they gave up, and went home, and sat inside and listened,
and looked distracted.

While they sat, "Whisky," a blackfellow from Billson's station, dropped
in. He was taking a horse down to town for his boss, and asked Dad if
he could stay till morning. Dad said he could. He slept in Dave's
bed; Dave slept on the sofa.

"If Joe ain't dead, and wuz t' come in before mornin'," Dave said,
"there won't be room for us all."

And before morning Joe DID come in. He entered stealthily by the
back-door, and crawled quietly into bed.

At daybreak Joe awoke, and nudged his bed-mate and said:

"Dave, the cocks has crowed!" No answer. He nudged him again.

"Dave, the hens is all off the roost!" Still no reply.

Daylight streamed in through the cracks. Joe sat up--he was at the
back--and stared about. He glanced at the face of his bed-mate and
chuckled and said:

"Who's been blackenin' y', Dave?"

He sat grinning awhile, then stood up, and started pulling on his
trousers, which he drew from under his pillow. He had put one leg into
them when his eyes rested on a pair of black feet uncovered at the foot
of the bed. He stared at them and the black face again--then plunged
for the door and fell. Whisky was awake and grinned over the side of
the bed at him.

"Wot makit you so fritent like that?" he said, grinning more.

Joe ran into Mother's room and dived in behind her and Dad. Dad swore,
and kicked Joe and jammed him against the slabs with his heels, saying:

"My GAWD! You DEVIL of a feller, how (KICK) dare you (KICK) run (KICK)
run (KICK, KICK, KICK) away yesterday, eh?" (KICK).

But he was very glad to see Joe all the same; we all felt that Shingle
Hut would not have been the same place at all without Joe.

It was when Dad and Dave were away after kangaroo-scalps that Joe was
most appreciated. Mother and Sal felt it such a comfort to have a man
in the house--even if it was only Joe.

Joe was proud of his male prerogatives. He looked after the selection,
minded the corn, kept Anderson's and Dwyer's