he won't now I'm here."

Nic smiled, for the man screwed one side of his face as he passed,
thinking that the chief warder would not see, but he did.

"You, Twenty-five! How dare you? Extra punishment for that. Pass by,
sir."

"No, no, don't punish him," whispered Nic. "He did not mean any harm."

"Not going to, sir," said the warder drily; "but one must keep them in
their places. He's a comic sort of blackguard. Not much harm in him."

"I thought not," said Nic eagerly.

"And precious little good, sir," added the warder. "But he may turn out
right. Housebreaking, I think, was his offence. When he gets out to
the convict lines they'll teach him to know better; and some day he'll
have a house of his own, if it's only a bark hut--gunyah they call 'em
out there--and then he'll know the value of it, and be ready to upset
any one who tries to break in."

"Then you have been out before?"

"Oh yes, sir. I know the country pretty well, specially the part where
your father is. I've been there."

"And you know my father?"

"Oh no, sir. I never saw him. But it's a fine place, and you'll like
it. I wish I was you, and going to begin life out there in the new
land."

"Then you think I shall like it?" said Nic.

"You can't help it, sir. But if I was you I should be careful. You'll
have a deal to do with the convicts."

"Oh no," cried Nic. "I am going straight up the country to my father's
place."

"Yes, sir, I know; and that's why I was presuming to give you a bit of
advice--that is, as a man who has had twenty years' experience."

"I don't understand you."

The warder laughed.

"I suppose not, sir. Well, it's like this. Your father has taken up
land, and keeps sheep and cattle, I suppose?"

"Yes, thousands."

"And employs men?"

"Of course. He has said so in his letters. He is obliged to have
several."

"And if he was in England he could engage farm labourers easily enough."

"Yes."

"How's he going to engage them out there, sir?"

"The same as he would in England."

"When there are none, or only a few, and they all want to be masters
themselves? No, sir; you'll find there--with perhaps a black or two who
can't be trusted to work, only to do a bit of cattle driving or hunting
up strayed stock--that your father's men are mostly convicts, 'signed
servants, we call them--that is, assigned servants."

"What?"

"That's it, sir: men who are assigned by the prison authorities to