rboard. Then he, Coristine, interposed, and the captain fell upon
him. "And you know, Wilks, he's a heavy man."

"Well, I am heartily glad it is no worse. Get a wash and get your
clothes on, and come down to breakfast, like a good boy, for I hear the
bell ringing."

Over their coffee and toast, eggs and sausages, the two were as kind and
attentive to one another's wants, as if no dispute had ever marred their
friendship. The dominie got out his sketch map of a route and opened it
between them. "We shall start straight for the bush road into the north,
if that suits you," he said, "and travel by easy stages towards
Collingwood, where we shall again behold one of our inland seas. But, as
it may be sometime before we reach a house of entertainment, it may be
as well to fill the odd corners of our knapsacks with provisions for the
way."

"I say amen to that idea," replied the lawyer, and the travellers arose,
paid their bill, including the price of the door-lock, seized their
knapsacks by the straps and sallied forth. They laid in a small stock of
captain's biscuits, a piece of good cheese, and some gingersnaps for
Wilkinson's sweet tooth; they also had their flask refilled, and
Coristine invested in some pipe-lights. Then they sallied forth, not
into the north as Wilkinson had said, it being a phrase he was fond of,
but, at first, in a westerly, and, on the whole, in a north-westerly
direction.

When the last house on the outskirts was left behind them, they helped
each other on with their knapsacks, and felt like real pedestrians. The
bush enclosed them on either side of the sandy road, so that they had
shade whenever they wanted it. Occasionally a wayfarer would pass them
with a curt "good morning," or a team would rattle by, its driver
bestowing a similar salutation. The surface of the country was flat, but
this did not hinder Wilkinson reciting:--

Mount slowly, sun! and may our journey lie
Awhile within the shadow of this hill,
This friendly hill, a shelter from thy beams!

"That reminds me," said Coristine, "of a fellow we had in the office
once, whose name was Hill. He was a black-faced, solemn-looking genius,
and the look of him would sink the spirits of a skylark down to zero.
'What's come over you?' said Woodruff to me one fine afternoon, when I
was feeling a bit bilious. 'Oh,' said I, 'I've been within the shadow of
this Hill,' and he laughed till he was black in the face."

"Corry, if I