may put them in the pot now. I want them, and I think our young
friends will be able to eat them later."

"You are very kind, sir, but I am afraid Jack and I will not be able to
compensate you. The bushrangers took all we had, and left us
penniless."

"I don't want your money, boy. You are welcome to all you get in this
house. We don't have visitors very often. When they do come, they have
no bills to pay."

"Unless they are bushrangers, father!" said Lucy with a smile.

"If they are bushrangers, they will meet with a still warmer reception,"
said the shepherd grimly. "And now, daughter, hurry up supper, for I
have a very fair appetite myself."

Lucy moved about quietly but actively in obedience to her father's
directions. An hour later, or perhaps less, the table was spread once
more, and all got up to it. The boys, though the edge of their appetite
was taken away, managed to eat the vegetables with a relish, not having
had a chance to eat any for a considerable time, except at their hotel
in Melbourne.

After supper they sat down beside the fire and talked. Living so much
alone, the shepherd and his daughter were anxious to hear all that the
boys could tell them of the great world from which they lived aloof.
Later in the evening, the shepherd, whose name, by the way, was Andrew
Campbell, said, "Now, let us have a little music. Lucy, bring me the
bagpipe."

His daughter went into an adjoining room, and brought out a Highland
bagpipe, which Campbell received, and straightway began to play upon it
some characteristic Scotch tunes. It was loud and harsh, but the boys
enjoyed it for want of better.

"Don't you sing, Miss Lucy?" asked Harry, when her father laid down the
instrument.

"No," answered the girl, smiling. "I wish I did. Father is very fond of
singing."

"Aye, am I; Lucy's mother sang, but the gift has not descended to her."

"Harry is a professional singer," said Jack. "He sings in public."

"Please sing something, then," pleaded Lucy.

"If you really wish it," answered Harry.

"I shall be glad to hear you, young sir," said the shepherd.

Harry hesitated no longer, but sang at once, choosing such Scotch
melodies as he knew in preference. The shepherd's eyes glistened, and he
was evidently much moved.

"It calls back my early days, when as a lad I trod the heath in
Scotland," he said. "You are a fine singer. I don't mind when I have
enjoyed an evening as much."

"I am very glad, sir, if I