tep, and touched Mr. Clinton on the shoulder.

Clinton turned languidly, but when he saw who it was his face expressed
undisguised pleasure.

"Mr. Vane!" he exclaimed. "I'm awfully glad to see you, don't you
know?"

"You haven't forgotten my friend Jack, I hope," said Harry, indicating
the young sailor.

"I am glad to see him, too," said Mr. Clinton, with modified pleasure,
offering two fingers for Jack to shake, for he had not forgotten that
Jack had been a sailor.

"When did you come from Australia?" asked Clinton.

"We only arrived day before yesterday."

"And what luck did you have at the mines?"

"We struck it rich. We are all capitalists, Jack and all."

"You don't say so! I wish I had gone with you, really now."

"I don't think you'd have liked it, Mr. Clinton. We had a hard time. We
had to wade through mud and mire, and sleep on the ground, and twice we
were captured by bushrangers. They wanted Jack and myself to join the
band."

"You don't say so--really?"

"They might have made you a bushranger, Mr. Clinton, if they had caught
you."

"I never would consent, never!" said Mr. Clinton, with emphasis.

Jack smiled at the idea of the elegant Mr. Clinton being transformed
into an outlaw and bushranger.

"I am awfully glad I did not go with you," he said, shuddering.

"Let me make you acquainted with my friend, Mr. Obed Stackpole, Mr.
Clinton," said Harry. "He was with us in all our trials and dangers."

Montgomery Clinton surveyed Obed with evident curiosity. The long gaunt
figure of the Yankee was clad in a loose rough suit which was too large
for him, and Clinton shuddered at the barbarous way in which he was
attired.

"Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Stackpole," he said politely.

"_Stackpole_, if it's all the same to you, friend Clinton," corrected
Obed. "Glad to see any friend of Harry's and Jack's. You look as if you
had just come out of a bandbox."

"Ob, thank you," said the gratified dude. "You're awfully kind. My
friends think I have a little taste in dress."

"My friends never paid me that compliment," said Obed. "Say, how do you
like my fit out?"

"I--I don't think they have very good tailors in Australia," said
Clinton hesitatingly.

"Have you as many pairs of trousers as ever, Mr. Clinton?" asked Harry.

"I have only nineteen, Mr. Vane, but I shall order some more soon."

"Nineteen pairs of breeches!" ejaculated Obed in amazement. "What in the
name of Jehoshaphat do