ble till Dwyer asked Dad to give
him a hand to put up a milking-yard. Then Dad's chance came, and he
seized it.

Dwyer, in return for Dad's labour, carted in the corn and took it to
the railway-station when it was shelled. Yes, when it WAS shelled! We
had to shell it with our hands, and what a time we had! For the first
half-hour we did n't mind it at all, and shelled cob after cob as
though we liked it; but next day, talk about blisters! we could n't
close our hands for them, and our faces had to go without a wash for a
fortnight.

Fifteen bags we got off the four acres, and the storekeeper undertook
to sell it. Corn was then at 12 shillings and 14 shillings per
bushel, and Dad expected a big cheque.

Every day for nearly three weeks he trudged over to the store (five
miles) and I went with him. Each time the storekeeper would shake his
head and say "No word yet."

Dad could n't understand. At last word did come. The storekeeper was
busy serving a customer when we went in, so he told Dad to "hold on a
bit".

Dad felt very pleased--so did I.

The customer left. The storekeeper looked at Dad and twirled a piece
of string round his first finger, then said--"Twelve pounds your corn
cleared, Mr. Rudd; but, of course" (going to a desk) "there's that
account of yours which I have credited with the amount of the
cheque--that brings it down now to just three pound, as you will see by
the account."

Dad was speechless, and looked sick.

He went home and sat on a block and stared into the fire with his chin
resting in his hands, till Mother laid her hand upon his shoulder and
asked him kindly what was the matter. Then he drew the storekeeper's
bill from his pocket, and handed it to her, and she too sat down and
gazed into the fire.

That was OUR first harvest.

Chapter III.

Before We Got The Deeds

Our selection adjoined a sheep-run on the Darling Downs, and boasted of
few and scant improvements, though things had gradually got a little
better than when we started. A verandahless four-roomed slab-hut now
standing out from a forest of box-trees, a stock-yard, and six acres
under barley were the only evidence of settlement. A few horses--not
ours--sometimes grazed about; and occasionally a mob of cattle--also
not ours--cows with young calves, steers, and an old bull or two, would
stroll around, chew the best legs of any trousers that might be hanging
on the log reserved as a clothes-line, th