n to-day. I know that
for a cert. You'd better come over to the hotel and let me fix you up
for the night. My name's Archer--Joe Archer. I've got a store here
and manage your father's business at this end."

The kind-hearted storekeeper handed the boys over to the care of the
hotel-keeper's wife, who soon set a meal of boiled goat and potatoes
before them. Their intense disappointment at not meeting Mr. Stobart
had not lessened their appetites, and they assured one another that
they would see him in a few days, probably on the very next morning.

After their tea they went straight to their room, a little box of a
place with a window looking out over a yard where a horse was standing
perfectly still and breathing heavily, fast asleep. The friends talked
for a time and then blew out the candle.

Scarcely had they done so, when they heard a tapping on the window.
They took no notice. It came again. Tap--tap--tap. It could not
possibly have been an accident.

"What's that, Sax?" whispered Vaughan.

"Blest if I know," answered his companion from the other bed. "Shall I
light the candle again?"

"Let's wait a bit and see," suggested Boof.

The taps came again, this time louder, and were followed by a cough.

Sax struck a match. His hand shook so much that he could hardly light
the candle, but whether it was from fear or from excitement cannot be
told. The light flared up, went down again, and then burned bright and
steady.

Suddenly a man's head and shoulders appeared at the window. It was a
nigger. For a moment both lads stared at the apparition with startled
eyes. But the man did not do anything. He was just waiting till their
surprise died down. His face was not at all as forbidding as the one
they had seen at Coward Springs. He was wearing an old felt hat and a
dirty shirt, and though he had hair all over his face, there was
something about him which proclaimed him to be a young man.

After a few moments of absolute stillness and silence, they saw the
hair on his face move, and a row of beautiful white teeth showed in a
most engaging smile. Then came the words: "Which one Stobart?"

The lads had never heard an aboriginal speak before. The sound was
guttural, but there was no mistaking the words: "Which one Stobart?"

Sax started forward and the black seemed to scrutinize his features
intently. "You Stobart?" he asked.

"Yes. My name's Stobart," answered Sax. "What d'you want?"

The