got up to them they would look green
and grey and gravelly red. It's the distance, I suppose."

He was quite right: the lovely hues came from seeing the mountains in
the distance through the layers of pure air; and after satiating himself
for the moment, he strode on, keeping a sharp look-out for snakes and
for the animals he was most anxious to see--kangaroos.

But he could only see sheep dotted about in plenty, and farther afield
ruddy-looking oxen grazing on the rich grass, and after a time he began
to feel a little disappointed, for, let alone wild animals, he did not
see so much as a bird.

He kept on, though, with his eyes wandering in all directions, calling
to mind all the different creatures which inhabited the land, and making
up his mind that his next walk should be along the riverside.

"There'll be birds in plenty there, and fish; and I may see the curious
otter rat sort of thing, with its duck-like bill. If I could only find
its nest of eggs!"

He laughed at the absurdity, as it seemed to him, of an animal having so
strange a nature, and then began noting how different the trees were
from those at home, so many being covered with a greyish-green and pinky
foliage, while others seemed to have their leaves stuck on edgewise
instead of lying flat, the consequence being that the shade they gave
was rather thin.

"A mile north-west," he thought: "I must have come as far as that, but I
can see no precipices--only a hill or two yonder. There are some sheep
grazing, though, over there. Father's, of course. What a lot he must
have!"

He went on in the supposed direction for another five minutes, noticing
that the trees were closer together, and that there was more
undergrowth, amongst which the creamy-fleeced sheep were wandering; and
before entering this undergrowth he took a look round and behind to see
that his way home was unmistakable.

"That can't be the bush," he said, with a laugh, as he threaded his way
among the trees, and directly after caught sight of a man walking slowly
along, evidently inspecting the sheep.

"Hi! Ahoy!" cried Nic; and the man turned. "Why, it's Leather!"

He started off at a trot to join the man, who stood stock still awaiting
his approach.

"'Morning, Mr Leather," he cried, as he joined the man, who faced him
with his brows knit, and a bitter, sour look in his countenance, as he
said morosely:

"'Morning, sir. My name's not Leather."

"Oh! I beg your pardo