f white wood-ash which had floated up from
the fire smouldering on the hearth in spite of the heat of the day.

"Hallo, boys!" he said; "back again?" and without waiting for an answer,
he continued, "What have you for dinner to-day, Lee?"

"Potatoes--damper--"

"Hang it all, man! There's a tin or two of preserved meat. One wasn't
finished."

"No," said the doctor; "I looked at it this morning, and it had gone
bad."

"Too bad to eat--for a hungry man?"

"Yes," said the doctor; "unless he wants to poison himself."

"This sounds cheerful, Bourne."

"Horrible! There, it's of no use to save up," said the gentleman
addressed. "You must give us the last tin of bouille beef."

"Gone bad too," said the doctor gruffly.

"What, have you opened it to see?"

"No; the top and bottom are both blown up in a curve with the bad gas
generated."

"Well, upon my word! Hear this, Wilton! Can anything be worse?"

"No. Who says home--Eastward Ho!" replied the gentleman addressed.
"Look here, Lee; we've been talking it all over as we went well over the
plantation this morning. Everything has gone wrong, and it's madness to
try any longer. Why, it's five years since we agreed to join hands and
lands and to work the fruit-farm into a success."

"Yes," said the doctor sadly; "and we've worked like slaves."

"I'm afraid," said the gentleman addressed as Bourne, "that no slaves
would have worked half so hard."

"That they would not," cried Wilton. "There, it's a failure, and we'd
better get to 'Frisco and take passage by a sailing-vessel while we have
the money. The plantation is going back to a state of nature, and we
shall waste time by trying any more."

"We ought to stay on for a bit," said the doctor, as the two boys stood
listening eagerly and forgetting all about the poor dinner to come.

"What!" cried Wilton, with a bitter laugh. "Who'd buy it?"

"Oh, we shouldn't make much; only enough to pay our passages back to
Liverpool. Some newcomer would be glad to have a place fenced in and
planted, and with all the improvements we have made."

"I, for one," said Mr Bourne firmly, "will not be a party to selling
such a miserable failure to a stranger."

"Nor I," cried Wilton angrily. "It wouldn't be honest."

"Well, I suppose not," said the doctor sadly. "I'm afraid--no matter
how little we obtained--I should feel as if I had swindled my
brother-seeker for prosperity. There, I'll join with you in what you
s