wn hands and, aided by Bob, made "flap-jacks" in the
frying-pan; they might have been indigestible for delicately-constituted
people, but at least they had the merit of being hot and comforting on a
biting winter night. Old Joe growled under his breath at the "softness"
of people who required "cocking up with fal-lals." But he ate the
flap-jacks.

After tea the "hands" divided the duties of the evening; taking it in
turn, one to wash up, while the other "set" bread. Joe's only baking
implement was a camp-oven, which resembles a large saucepan on three
legs; it could hold just enough for a day's supply, so that it was
necessary to set bread every night, and bake every morning. This wounded
their employer, who never failed to tell them, with some bitterness,
that when alone he had to bake only twice a week. However, he knew all
that there was to know about camp-oven baking, and taught them the art
thoroughly, as well as that of making yeast from potatoes. "That's an
extry," he remarked thoughtfully, "but I won't charge yer for it, yous
'avin' bin soldiers!"

With the bread set, and rising pleasantly before the fire, under a bit
of old blanket, and the kitchen tidy, a period of rest ensued, when
"Major" and "Captin" were free to draw up chairs--seated with greenhide
with the hair left on, and very comfortable--and smoke their pipes. This
was the only time of the day when old Joe unbent. At first silent, he
would presently shift his pipe to the corner of his mouth and spin them
yarns of the early days, told with a queer, dry humour that kept his
hearers in a simmer of laughter. It was always a matter of regret to
poor "Captin" that he used to be the one to end the telling, since no
story on earth could keep him, after a while, from nodding off to sleep.
He would drag himself away to his blankets in the next room, hearing,
as sleep fully descended upon him, the droning voice still entertaining
Jim--whose powers of keeping awake seemed more than human!

Saturday brought no slackening of work. Whatever his previous hired
men had done, old Joe was evidently determined that his present
"parlour-boarders" should not abate their efforts, and even kept them
a little later than usual in the paddocks, remarking that "ter-morrer
bein' Sunday, yous might as well cut a bit more scrub." The next morning
broke fine and clear, and he looked at them a little doubtfully after
breakfast.

"Well, there ain't no work doin' on Sunday, I reck