he dark mountain gorges which gave it
birth. A hut near by was the residence of an old native who had been
the owner's only servant, and a few cattle grazing in the meadow behind
the house were tended by him with as much solicitude as though his late
master had been still alive. The only cheering point in the scene was a
gleam of ruddy light which shot from a window of the house and lost
itself in the deepening gloom of evening.

"A most lugubrious spot," said Will, surveying it sadly as he rode
forward.

"Faix, I'd recommend ye to sell it to the miners for whativer it'll
fetch," said Larry, in a disappointed tone.

"They're a jovial set of squatters, whatever else they may be," said Big
Ben, as an uproarious chorus issued from the house. "Hallo! Bunco,
what d'ye hear, lad?"

Bunco's visage displayed at that moment a compound expression of
surprise and deep attention. Again the chorus swelled out and came down
on the breeze, inducing Bunco to mutter a few words to Big Ben in his
native tongue.

"What is it?" inquired Will, eagerly, on beholding the huge frame of the
trapper quivering with suppressed laughter.

"Nothin', nothin'," said Ben, dismounting, "only the redskin's ears are
sharp, and he has heard surprisin' sounds. Go with him on foot. I'll
hold the horses."

"Come 'long, foller me quick as you can," said Bunco, in a whisper--"no
take gum?--no use for dem."

Filled with surprise and curiosity, Will and Larry followed their
comrade, who went straight towards the window from which the light
streamed. A voice was heard singing within, but it was not loud, and
the air could not be distinguished until the chorus burst forth from, a
number of powerful lungs:--

"Hearts of oak are our ships, Jolly tars are our men--"

At the first note, Larry sprang past his companions, and peeped into the
room. The sight that met his gaze was indeed well calculated to strike
him dumb, for there, in a circle on the floor, with the remains of a
roast of beef in the centre--red-shirted, long-booted, uncombed, and
deeply bronzed--sat six old comrades, whom they had not seen for such a
length of time that they had almost forgotten their existence--namely,
Captain Dall, long David Cupples, old Peter, Captain Blathers, Muggins,
and Buckawanga! They were seated, in every variety of attitude, round a
packing-box, which did duty for a table, and each held in his hand a tin
mug, from which he drained a long draught at the