low it up."

"That's what I thought," the Hermit said; "and very awkward it would
have been for me, seeing that one can't very well put a padlock on a
tent, and that all my belongings are portable. Not that there's anything
of great value. I have a few papers I wouldn't care to lose, a watch and
a little money--but they're all safely buried in a cashbox with a good
lock. The rest I have to chance, and, as I told you, I've so far been
pretty lucky in repelling invaders. There's not much traffic round here,
you know!"

Jim and Norah laughed. "Not much," they said, nodding.

"My tent's not large," the Hermit said, leading the way to that
erection, which was securely and snugly pitched with its back door (had
there been one) against the trunk of a huge dead tree. It was a
comparatively new tent, with a good fly, and was watertight, its owner
explained, in all weathers. The flap was elaborately secured by many
strings, tied with wonderful and fearful knots.

"It must take you a long time to untie those chaps every day," said
Wally.

"It would," said the Hermit, "if I did untie them. They're only part of
my poor little scheme for discouraging intruders, Master Wally." He
slipped his fingers inside the flap and undid a hidden fastening, which
opened the tent without disarranging the array of intricate knots.

"A fellow without a knife might spend quite a while in untying all
those," said the Hermit. "He'd be rather disgusted, on completing the
job, to find they had no bearing on the real fastening of the tent. And
perhaps by that time I might be home!"

The interior of the tent was scrupulously tidy and very plain. A hastily
put up bunk was covered with blue blankets, and boasted a sacking
pillow. From the ridge-pole hung a candlestick, roughly fashioned from a
knot of wood, and the furniture was completed by a rustic table and
chair, made from branches, and showing considerable ingenuity in their
fashioning. Wallaby skins thrown over the chair and upon the floor lent
a look of comfort to the tiny dwelling; and a further touch of
homeliness was given by many pictures cut from illustrated papers and
fastened to the canvas walls. The fly of the tent projected some
distance in front, and formed a kind of verandah, beneath which a second
rustic seat stood, as well as a block of wood that bore a tin dish, and
evidently did duty as a washstand. Several blackened billies hung about
the camp, with a frying-pan that bore marks