re their grandfather's gates and peered up
the long drive. It was an old habit of theirs, varied for instance by
challenges of who dared to walk the furthest distance up the drive.
Betty had once advanced just beyond that mysterious bend, but she had
scudded back again soon, declaring her grandfather had a gun and was
coming after them, with it aimed at her head. Oh, how they had run home
that day!

Another time she had climbed upon the topmost rail of the gate and,
scrambling down quickly, had set off madly for home, followed
breathlessly by the others who were afraid even to look over their
shoulders. "He's set the emus loose," Betty told them as they ran, "and
emus are like bloodhounds for scenting you out. And besides, they can
fly."

But that was fully a year ago now, and much of the terror had departed
from their grandfather's gates for the two elder ones. It was only Nancy
who had cold thrills down her back and shudderings at passing the dread
gates.

To-day Betty did no more than peep through the railing, declare there
was nobody about, and swing off again with her long pole. "Nobody there
to-day," she said, and Nancy breathed easier and ran after her.

They were on the well-trodden bush-track now, the track that led home
between great gums and slim saplings. The iron roof of the cottage came
into view and the row of tall pines that stood like grim sentinels
between the two-rail fence and the sweet-scented garden. A small wicket
gate stood invitingly ajar, and a black dog, lying meditatively outside
it, pricked up his ears and raised his head as the trio came into sight.

They took a cross-track, however, and disappeared into the bush again,
and the dog shook off his thoughtful mood and ran gleefully after them.

For he had not grown up from puppyhood to doghood with these children
without knowing what tracks led to school and home, and what to the
wonderful realm of play and fancy. Moreover, his anticipations were
always aroused when Elizabeth changed her habit, and he had seen in the
twinkling of his eye that she was bare-legged and bare-headed and
provided with a pole. So he barked joyously and scampered away upon that
cross-track too.

Down in the gully where the growth was thicker, and where the wattles
and willows made many a fairy grove, a small creek ran. The widest end
of it ran into their grandfather's grounds, and had at one time in its
career broken down the two-rail dividing fence, which now