able swindler--or something like that. Smith smiled. Dad
put one leg through the slip-rails and promised Smith, if he'd only
come along, to split palings out of him. But Smith did n't. The
instinct of self-preservation must have been deep in that man Smith.
Then Dad went home and said he would shoot the ---- horse there and
then, and went looking for the gun. The horse died in the paddock of
old age, but Dad never ploughed with him again.

Dad followed the plough early and late. One day he was giving the
horses a spell after some hours' work, when Joe came to say that a
policeman was at the house wanting to see him. Dad thought of the roan
mare, and Smith, and turned very pale. Joe said: "There's "Q.P." on
his saddle-cloth; what's that for, Dad?" But he did n't answer--he was
thinking hard. "And," Joe went on, "there's somethin' sticking out of
his pocket--Dave thinks it'll be 'ancuffs." Dad shuddered. On the way
to the house Joe wished to speak about the policeman, but Dad seemed to
have lock-jaw. When he found the officer of the law only wanted to know
the number of stock he owned, he talked freely--he was delighted. He
said, "Yes, sir," and "No, sir," and "Jusso, sir," to everything the
policeman said.

Dad wished to learn some law. He said: "Now, tell me this: supposing
a horse gets into my paddock--or into your paddock--and I advertise
that horse and nobody claims him, can't I put my brand on him?" The
policeman jerked back his head and stared at the shingles long enough
to recall all the robberies he had committed, and said: "Ye
can--that's so--ye can."

"I knew it," answered Dad; "but a lawyer in town told Maloney, over
there, y' could n't."

"COULD N'T?" And the policeman laughed till he nearly had the house
down, only stopping to ask, while the tears ran over his well-fed
cheeks, "Did he charge him forrit?" and laughed again. He went away
laughing, and for all I know the wooden-head may be laughing yet.

Everything was favourable to a good harvest. The rain fell just when
it was wanted, and one could almost see the corn growing. How it
encouraged Dad, and what new life it seemed to give him! In the cool
of the evenings he would walk along the headlands and admire the
forming cobs, and listen to the rustling of the rows of drooping blades
as they swayed and beat against each other in the breeze. Then he
would go home filled with fresh hopes and talk of nothing but the good
prospect of