nervous boy.
Tears of alarm and pity were in his eyes. He felt about in the
heather till he reached the infant. It was lying under a bush.
He took the poor little creature up, and the babe, as though
content to feel itself with strong arms under it, ceased to cry.

"What shall I do, Bideabout?"

"Do--cut along and raise the Boxalls and the Snellings, and bid
them come and remove the body, and get someone to take the child.
Confound the whole concern. I wish they'd done it elsewhere--or I
hadn't come on it. But it's like my ill-luck."

CHAPTER IV.

WITHOUT A ROOF.

The boy, Iver, trudged along carrying the infant in his arms. The
little face was against his cheek, and the warm breath played over
it. Whenever the child cried, he spoke, and his voice reassured
the babe, and it was quiet again. He walked cautiously, as the
path was narrow and the night dark. A false step might send him
rolling down the steep slope with his burden.

Iver had often been to the squatters' quarters, and he knew very
well his direction; but he was now agitated and alarmed.

After a while he reached bushes and could see trees standing
black against the sky, and caught the twinkling of lights. Before
him was a cottage, and a little garden in front. He opened a
wicket and went up to the door and rapped. A call of "Who is
there?" in response. The boy raised the latch and entered.

A red peat fire was burning on the hearth, and a man sat by it.
A woman was engaged at needlework by the light of a tallow candle.

"Tom Rocliffe!" exclaimed the boy. "There's been a murder. A
sailor--he's dead on the path--there's Bideabout Kink standing
by and wants you all to come and help and--here's the baby."

The man sprang to his feet. "A murder! Who's dead?"

"There was a sailor came to our place, it's he."

"Who killed him?"

"Some chaps as was drinking with him, so Bideabout says. They've
robbed him--he had a lot of brass."

"Dead--is he?" The man ran out.

"And what have you got there?" asked the woman.

"It's his baby."

"How came he by the baby?"

"I heard him say his wife was dead, and he were going to carry
the child to his wife's sister."

"What's the man's name?"

"I don't know."

"Where did he come from?"

"He was a seaman."

"Where was he going to put the baby?"

"I don't know 'xactly--somewhere Portsmouth way."

"What's the man's name?"

"I don't know."

"How'll you find her?"

"I don't know."

"Ports