. Pinnock taking charge of
affairs; am making arrangements funeral. Better come down at once."

Her father dead! The question of Red Mick and his prosecution became
at once a matter of no moment. How absurd his worry and vexation now
seemed. On the other hand, what new complications might arise? All
these years the Gordons had lived on the assumption that Mr. Grant would
provide for them, without having any promise or agreement from him; and,
owing to the old man's violent temper, they had been in daily risk of
being ordered off the place. They had got used to this as people get
used to living on the side of a volcano. But now--?

Her father dead! He could not bear to see her grief, and the thought of
it made him determined to get away as quickly as possible. Quietly he
awoke his mother, and told her what had happened, and by dawn was well
on his way to Tarrong to catch the train to Sydney.

CHAPTER XVI. THE ROAD TO NO MAN'S LAND.

Now we must follow for a time the adventures of Charlie Gordon and the
new chum, whom we left just starting out for 'far back', Charlie to take
over a cattle-station for Old Man Grant, and Carew to search for Patrick
Henry Considine. After a short sea-journey they took train to a dusty
back-blocks township, where Gordon picked up one of the many outfits
which he had scattered over the country, and which in this case
consisted of a vehicle, a dozen or so of horses, and a black boy named
Frying Pan.

Thy drove four horses in a low, American-made buggy, and travelled
about fifty miles a day. Frying Pan was invaluable. He seemed to have
a natural affinity for horses. He could catch them anywhere, and track
them if they got lost. Carew tried to talk to him, but could get little
out of him, for he knew only the pidgin English, which is in use in
those parts, and said "No more" to nearly every question. He rode
along behind the loose horses, apparently quite satisfied with his own
company. Every now and then he came alongside the vehicle, and said
"Terbacker." Charlie threw him a stick of the blackest, rankest tobacco
known to the trade, and off he went again.

Once they saw him get off his horse near a lagoon, plunge his arm into a
hole, and pull out a mud-turtle, an evil-smelling beast; this he carried
for several miles over his shoulder, holding its head, and letting the
body swing at the end of the long neck--a proceeding which must have
caused the turtle intense suffering. After