s dashed in the sunlight like so many opals.

In some parts of Australia it is difficult to tell summer from winter;
but up in this mountain-country each season had its own attractions.
In the spring the flats were green with lush grass, speckled with
buttercups and bachelors' buttons, and the willows put out their new
leaves, and all manner of shy dry-scented bush flowers bloomed on the
ranges; and the air was full of the song of birds and the calling of
animals. Then came summer, when never a cloud decked the arch of blue
sky, and all animated nature drew into the shade of big trees until the
evening breeze sprang up, bringing sweet scents of the dry grass and
ripening grain. In autumn, the leaves of the English trees turned all
tints of yellow and crimson, and the grass in the paddocks went brown;
and the big bullock teams worked from dawn till dark, hauling in their
loads of hay from the cultivation paddocks.

But most beautiful of all was winter, when logs blazed in the huge
fireplaces, and frosts made the ground crisp, and the stock, long-haired
and shaggy, came snuffling round the stables, picking up odds and ends
of straw; when the grey, snow-clad mountains looked but a stone's throw
away in the intensely clear air, and the wind brought a colour to the
cheeks and a tingling to the blood that made life worth living.

Such was Kuryong homestead, where lived Charlie Gordon's mother and his
brother Hugh, with a lot of children left by another brother who, like
many others, had gone up to Queensland to make his fortune, and had left
his bones there instead; and to look after these young folk there was a
governess, Miss Harriott.

CHAPTER V. THE COMING OF THE HEIRESS.

The spring--the glorious hill-country spring--was down on Kuryong.
All the flats along Kiley's River were knee-deep in green grass. The
wattle-trees were out in golden bloom, and the snow-water from the
mountains set the river running white with foam, fighting its way over
bars of granite into big pools where the platypus dived, and the wild
ducks--busy with the cares of nesting--just settled occasionally to
snatch a hasty meal and then hurried off, with a whistle of strong
wings, back to their little ones. The breeze brought down from the
hills a scent of grass and bush flowers. There was life and movement
everywhere. The little foals raced and played all day in the sunshine
round their big sleepy mothers; the cattle bellowed to each othe