se for contemning the
daughter. He had seen Chris once since Sunday, and then only from the
recesses of a clump of scrub into which he had retreated on seeing her
approach; but he felt, without admitting the knowledge even to himself,
that he would need all the excuses he could find, just or unjust,
reasonable or otherwise, to battle with something that was rising up
within him to drive him on his knees to the feet of this grey-eyed girl,
a humble and abject penitent.

For an hour or two each day Harry was fossicking in the creek on the spot
where Frank had been working, with the idea of satisfying himself whether
or not such gold as Frank had sold was obtainable there; and here the
searcher's daughter came upon him one morning shortly after the incident
of the Sunday School. Harry had his cradle pitched near the crossing, and
to ignore the young woman would be an avowal of enmity. Here was his
opportunity. Harry set his face over the hopper and cradled
industriously. He thought he was displaying proper firmness, but his hand
trembled, his heart beat like a plunger, and he was the victim of an
ignoble bashfulness. Chris approached with some timidity; but Maori
bounded up to the young man, making elephantine overtures of
friendliness, which were resented by Harry's cattle-dog Cop, who walked
round and round the mastiff in narrowing circles, bristling like a cat
and snarling hoarsely. Maori treated the challenge with a lordly
indulgence. Cop went further, he snapped and brought blood. There were
some things Maori could not stand: this was one. Out of a small storm of
pebbles, chips, leaves, and dust, the two dogs presently came into view
again, Cop on his back, pawing wildly at the unresisting air, and Maori
at his throat, pinning him with a vice-like grip.

Harry rushed to the rescue, tore his dog free, and held back the furious
animal up-reared and exposing vicious fangs. Chris laid a trembling hand
on the collar of the penitent Maori, and in this way the young people
faced each other. Their eyes met for a moment, Harry's frowning blackly,
hers anxious and beseeching.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'Is he hurt?'

'No,' replied Harry sulkily. 'No thanks to that brute of yours, though.'

'Oh!' This very reproachfully.

Harry looked up and encountered her eyes again, and they shattered him,
as they had done in chapel, giving him a sense of having exerted his
strength to hurt something sweet and tender as a flower; and yet t