big wallaby showed for an instant, and there
was a general outcry and a plunge in pursuit, but the wallaby was too
quick for them, and found a safe hiding-place in the thickest of the
scrub, where the ponies could not follow.

"We cross the creek up here," Jim said, "and make 'cross country a bit.
It saves several miles."

"How do you cross? Bridge?" queried Wally.

"Bridge!--don't grow such things in this part of the world," laughed
Jim. "No, there's a place where it's easy enough to ford, a little way
up. There are plenty of places fordable, if you only know them, on this
creek; but a number of them are dangerous, because of deep holes and
boggy places. Father lost a good horse in one of those bogs, and to look
at the place you'd only have thought it a nice level bit of grassy
ground."

"My word!" Wally whistled. "What a bit of hard luck!"

"Yes, it was, rather," Jim said. "It made us careful about crossing, I
can tell you. Even the men look out since Harry Wilson got bogged
another time, trying to get over after a bullock. Of course he wouldn't
wait to go round, and he had an awful job to get his horse out of the
mud--it's something like a quicksand. After that father had two or three
good crossings made very plain and clear, and whenever a new man is put
on they're explained to him. See, there's one now."

They came suddenly on a gap in the scrub, leading directly to the creek,
which was, indeed, more of a river than a creek, and in winter ran in a
broad, rapid stream. Even in summer it ran always, though the full
current dwindled to a trickling, sluggish streamlet, with here and
there a deep, quiet pool, where the fish lay hidden through the long hot
days.

All the brushwood and trees had been cleared away, leaving a broad
pathway to the creek. At the edge of the gap a big board, nailed to a
tall tree, bore the word FORD in large letters. Farther on, between the
trees, a glimpse of shining water caught the eye.

"That's the way father's had all the fords marked," Norah said. "He says
it's no good running risks for the sake of a little trouble."

"Dad's always preaching that," Jim observed. "He says people are too
fond of putting up with makeshifts, that cost ever so much more time and
trouble than it does to do a thing thoroughly at the start. So he always
makes us do a thing just as well as we know how, and there's no end of
rows if he finds any one 'half doing' a job. 'Begin well and finish
better,' he