ace, as
he read the following in the Rockhampton _Bulletin_:

"The Bowen _Clarion_ is making a game effort to bolster up that little
tin-pot township with its _coterie_ of highly-paid, useless officials,
who for six years past have battened on the public revenues. It was the
misfortune of a representative of this journal to be obliged to spend
two weeks in Port Denison not long since, and his terse description of
the spot and its inhabitants deserves a place in the guide book of the
colony which has yet to be written. Bowen is a delightfully laid-out
town on the shores of Port Denison. It is inhabited by some six hundred
people--mostly official loafers and spongers of the worst type. The
community consists of boozy squatters, snobbish wives of snobbish
officials, anaemic old maids, obsequious tradesmen on the verge of
insolvency, and two respectable and hard-working persons--the latter are
Chinamen. The 'tony' society of Bowen is about as lively and intelligent
as that of a decaying Cathedral town in the old country. The atmosphere
of matchless snobbery and vulgarity that pervades Bowen can be perceived
by the passing voyager many miles out at sea."

"By Jove! he's not far wrong," commented the editor, as putting down the
paper he took up another, and had just ripped off the the cover, when
the chambermaid tapped at the door, then entered with a card.

"The gentleman wishes to see you particularly, sir."

He took the card from the tray, and read,

THOMAS GERRARD. Ocho Rios.

beneath was written, "Urgently desires to see the editor of the
_Clarion_ on business of importance."

"Ask him to come in, Milly," he said as he kicked a chair into position.

CHAPTER VII.

"How do you do, Mr Gerrard?" he said, as with outstretched hand he
met his visitor at the door. "I am glad to meet Ted Westonley's
brother-in-law at last. How is he?"

"Very well, indeed, when I last saw him," replied Gerrard, as he sat
down, and Lacey rang the bell.

"I have not seen him for ten years," said the editor. "Ah, here you are,
M illy! What will you take, Mr Gerrard? You must excuse my rig" (he
was in his pyjamas); "but it's so infernally hot that I always get into
these the minute I'm back in my room. When did you arrive?"

"Only an hour ago, in the _Tinonee_."

"Going back to your station, I suppose? By the way, aren't you--or is it
Jardine?--who is the 'furthest north' cattle man?"

"Jardine; but his station is on the east s