of the song, who was he"? asked the Honourable.

"A gentleman after God's own heart. Heaven rest his soul, if he's dead,
which I'm thinkin' is so, and give him the luck of the world if he's
livin', say I. But it's little I know what's come to him. In the heart
of Australia I saw him last; and mates we were together after gold. And
little gold did we get but what was in the heart of him. And we parted
one day, I carryin' the song that he wrote for me of Farcalladen Rise,
and the memory of him; and him givin' me the word,'I'll not forget you,
Shon, me boy, whatever comes; remember that. And a short pull of the
Three-Star together for the partin' salute,' says he. And the Three-Star
in one sup each we took, as solemn as the Mass, and he went away towards
Cloncurry and I to the coast; and that's the last that I saw of him, now
three years gone. And here I am, and I wish I was with him wherever he
is."

"What was his name"? said the Honourable.

"Lawless."

The fingers of the Honourable trembled on his cigar. "Very interesting,
Shon," he said, as he rose, puffing hard till his face was in a cloud of
smoke. "You had many adventures together, I suppose," he continued.

"Adventures we had and sufferin' bewhiles, and fun, too, to the neck and
flowin' over."

"You'll spin us a long yarn about them another night, Shon"? said the
Honourable.

"I'll do it now--a yarn as long as the lies of the Government; and proud
of the chance."

"Not to-night, Shon" (there was a kind of huskiness in the voice of the
Honourable); "it's time to turn in. We've a long tramp over the glacier
to-morrow, and we must start at sunrise."

The Honourable was in command of the party, though Jo Gordineer was
the guide, and all were, for the moment, miners, making for the little
Goshen Field over in Pipi Valley.--At least Pretty Pierre said he was a
miner.

No one thought of disputing the authority of the Honourable, and they
all rose.

In a few minutes there was silence in the hut, save for the oracular
breathing of Prince Levis and the sparks from the fire. But the
Honourable did not sleep well; he lay and watched the fire through most
of the night.

The day was clear, glowing, decisive. Not a cloud in the curve of azure,
not a shiver of wind down the canon, not a frown in Nature, if we except
the lowering shadows from the shoulders of the giants of the range.
Crowning the shadows was a splendid helmet of light, rich with the
dyes of the mor