zed and thrown bottom upwards on the
beach. So that, before the brown flocks began to be spotted with white
lambs, all alarm had gone by.

Only four persons, besides Mary Hawker herself, were conversant of the
fact that the Bushranger and George Hawker were the same man. Of these
only three, the Doctor, Major Buckley, and Captain Brentwood, knew of
his more recent appearance on the shore, and they, after due
consultation, took honest Tom Troubridge into their confidence.

But, as I said, all things went so quietly for two months, that at the
end of that time no one thought any more of bushrangers than they would
of tigers. And just about this time, I, Geoffry Hamlyn, having finished
my last consignment of novels from England, and having nothing to do,
determined to ride over, and spend a day or two with Major Buckley.

But when I rode up to the door at Baroona, having pulled my shirt
collar up, and rapped at the door with my whip, out came the
housekeeper to inform me there was not a soul at home. This was deeply
provoking, for I had got on a new pair of riding trousers, which had
cost money, and a new white hat with a blue net veil (rather a neat
thing too), and I had ridden up to the house under the idea that
fourteen or fifteen persons were looking at me out of window. I had
also tickled my old horse, Chanticleer, to make him caper and show the
excellency of my seat. But when I came to remember that the old horse
had nearly bucked me over his head instead of capering, and to find
that my hat was garnished with a large cobweb of what is called by
courtesy native silk, with half-a-dozen dead leaves sticking in it, I
felt consoled that no one had seen me approach, and asked the
housekeeper, with tolerable equanimity, where they were all gone.

They were all gone, she said, over to Captain Brentwood's, and goodness
gracious knew when they would be back again. Mrs. Hawker and Mr.
Charles were gone with them. For her part, she should not be sorry when
Mr. Sam brought Miss Brentwood over for good and all. The house was
terrible lonesome when they were all away.

I remarked, "Oho!" and asked whether she knew if Mr. Troubridge was at
Toonarbin.

No, she said; he was away again at Port Phillip with store cattle;
making a deal of money, she understood, and laying out a deal for the
Major in land. She wished he would marry Mrs. Hawker and settle down,
for he was a pleasant gentleman, and fine company in a house. Wouldn't