dinner that day, and intoxicate
myself with Ted upon sandwiches and cakes and ginger-beer. That was a
banquet, if you like!

It seemed that Father O'Malley was quite well disposed toward Ted, and
had even allowed him to make a little contribution (which he could ill
spare) to the Orphanage funds. With what seemed to me transcendent
audacity Ted had actually tried to adopt me, to take me into his
service, as neighbouring farmers took other orphans from St. Peter's.
This had been firmly but quite pleasantly declined; but Ted had been
given permission to come and see me whenever he liked, on Sundays--upon
any Sunday. I could have hugged the man. His achievement seemed
to me little short of miraculous. I figured Ted manipulating threads
by which nations are governed. To be able to bend to one's will august
administrators, people like Father O'Malley! Truly, the world outside
St. Peter's was a wondrous place, and the life of its free citizens a
thing most delectable.

We talked, but how we did talk, all through that sunny, windy Sunday!
(A bright, dry westerly had been blowing for several days.) I gathered
that Ted was in his customary condition of impecuniosity, and that,
much against his inclination, it would be necessary for him to take a
job somewhere before many days had passed; or else--and I saw, with a
pang of desolate regret, that his own feeling favoured the
alternative--to pack his swag and be off 'on the wallaby'; on the
tramp, that is, putting in an occasional day's work, where this might
offer, and sleeping in the bush. He was a born nomad. Even I had
realised this. And he liked no other life so well as that of the
'traveller,' which, in Australia, does not mean either a bagman or a
tourist, but rather one who strolls through life carrying all his
belongings on his back, working but very occasionally, and camping in
a fresh spot every night.

It required no great penetration upon Ted's part to see that I was
weary of St. Peter's. (My first day at the Orphanage had brought me to
that stage.)

'Look here, mate,' he said, late in the afternoon. 'I've got pretty
near thirty bob left, and a real good swag. Why not come with me, an'
we'll swag it outer this into Queensland?'

I drew a quick breath. It was an attractive offer for a boy in my
position. But even then there was more of prudence and foresight in
me, or possibly less of reckless courage and less of the born nomad,
than Ted had.

'But how could I