m a solitary fellow, Miss Norah, and prefer, as a rule,
to keep to myself. Apart from that, I often leave camp for the greater
part of the day when I'm fishing or hunting, and I've no wish to point
out the way to my domain to any wanderers. Not that I've much to lose,
still there are some things. Picture my harrowed feelings were I to
return some evening and find my beloved frying-pan gone!"

Norah laughed.

"It would be awful," she said.

"So I planned my camp very cunningly," continued the Hermit, "and I can
tell you it took some planning to contrive it so that it shouldn't be
too easily visible."

"Well, it isn't from the side I came on it," Norah put in; "I never
dreamed of anything being there until I was right on the camp. It did
surprise me!"

"And me," said the Hermit drily. "Well that is how I tried to arrange
camp, and you could be within a dozen yards of it on any side without
imagining that any was near."

"But surely you must have made some sort of a track leading away from
it," said Jim, "unless you fly out!"

The Hermit laughed.

"I'll show you later how I manage that," he said.

The bush grew denser as the little party, led by the Hermit, pushed
along, and Jim was somewhat surprised at the easy certainty with which
their guide led the way, since there was no sign of a track. Being a
silent youth, he held his tongue on the matter; but Wally was not so
reserved.

"However d'you find your way along here?" he asked. "I don't even know
whether we're near the creek or not."

"If we kept still a moment you'd know," the Hermit said. "Listen!" He
held up his hand and they all stood still. There came faintly to their
ears a musical splash of water.

"There's a little waterfall just in there," the Hermit said, "nothing
much, unless the creek is very low, and then there is a greater drop for
the water. So you see we haven't got far from the creek. How do I know
the way? Why, I feel it mostly, and if I couldn't feel it, there are
plenty of landmarks. Every big tree is as good as a signpost once you
know the way a bit, and I've been along here pretty often, so there's
nothing in it, you see, Wally."

"Do you like the bush, Mr. Hermit?" Norah asked.

The Hermit hesitated.

"Sometimes I hate it, I think, Miss Norah," he said, "when the
loneliness of it comes over me, and all the queer sounds of it bother me
and keep me awake. Then I realise that I'm really a good way from
anywhere, and I get what ar