me and the children all
put together,' says Joe Moreton.

'And why shouldn't I?' says Maddie, facing round at him just the old
way. 'Isn't he the finest horse that ever stood on legs, and didn't he
belong to the finest gentleman that you or any one else looked at? Don't
say a word against him, for I can't stand it. I believe if you was to
lay a whip across that old horse in anger I'd go away and leave you,
Joe Moreton, just as if you was a regular black stranger. Poor Rainbow!
Isn't he a darling?' Here she stroked the old horse's neck. He was
rolling fat, and had a coat like satin. His legs were just as clean as
ever, and he stood there as if he heard everything, moving his old head
up and down the way he always did--never still a moment. It brought
back old times, and I felt soft enough, I tell you. Maddie's lips were
trembling again, too, and her eyes like two coals of fire. As for Joe,
he said nothing more, and the best thing too. The boy led Rainbow over
to the fence, and old George walked us all into the church, and that
settled things.

After the words were said we all went back to George's together, and
Maddie and her husband drank a glass of wine to our health, and wished
us luck. They rode as far as the turn off to Rocky Flat with us, and
then took the Turon road.

'Good-bye, Dick,' says Maddie, bending down over the old horse's neck.
'You've got a stunning good wife now, if ever any man had in the whole
world. Mind you're an A1 husband, or we'll all round on you, and your
life won't be worth having; and I've got the best horse in the country,
haven't I? See where the bullet went through his poor neck. There's no
lady in the land got one that's a patch on him. Steady, now, Rainbow,
we'll be off in a minute. You shall see my little Jim there take him
over a hurdle yard. He can ride a bit, as young as he is. Pity poor old
Jim ain't here to-day, isn't it, Dick? Think of him being cold in his
grave now, and we here. Well, it's no use crying, is it?'

And off went Maddie at a pace that gave Joe and the boy all they knew to
catch her.

. . . . .

We're to live here for a month or two till I get used to outdoor work
and the regular old bush life again. There's no life like it, to my
fancy. Then we start, bag and baggage, for one of George's Queensland
stations, right away up on the Barcoo, that I'm to manage and have a
share in.

It freshens me up to think of making a start in a new country. It's