thoughts; the old lady was trying to
comfort her, and Ellen Harriott, with sorrow always at her heart, went
about the household work like an automaton. No wonder that as soon as
breakfast was over all the men cleared out to work on the run. But one
day it so happened that Carew did not go out with the others. The young
Englishman was a poor correspondent, and had promised himself a whole
quiet day to be spent in explaining by letter to his people at home the
mysterious circumstances under which he had found and lost Patrick Henry
Considine. Ellen Harriott found him in the office manfully wrestling
with some extra long words, and stopped for a few minutes' talk. She had
a liking for the young Englishman, and any talk was better than to be
left alone with her thoughts.

"These are bad times for the old station, Mr. Carew," she said. "We
don't know what is going to happen next."

Carew was not going to haul down the flag just yet. "I believe
everything 'll come all right in the long run, don't you know," he said.
"Never give up first hit, you know; see it out--eh, what?"

"I want to get away out of this for a while," she said. "I am run down.
I think the bush monotony tells on women. I don't want anyone to fall
sick, but I do wish I could get a little nursing to do again--just for a
change. I would nurse Red Mick himself."

Is there anything in telepathy? Do coming events sometimes send warnings
on ahead? Certain it is that, even as she spoke, a rider on a sweating
horse was seen coming at full speed up the flat; he put his horse over
the sliprails that led into the house paddock without any hesitation,
and came on at a swinging gallop.

"What is this?" said Ellen Harriott, "more trouble? It is only trouble
that comes so fast. Why, it is one of Red Mick's nephews!" By this
time the rider was up to them; without dismounting he called out Miss!
Please, Miss! There's been an accident. My uncle got run agin a tree and
he's all smashed in the head. I'm off to the Doctor now; I'll get the
Doctor here by to-morrow night, and would you go out and do aught
you can for Mick? There's no one out there but old Granny, and she's
helpless like. Will you go?"

"Is he much hurt?"

"I'm afraid he's killed, Miss. I found him, He'd been out all night
and the side of his head all busted. After a dingo he was--I seen the
tracks. Coming back from Gavan Blake's he must 'a' seen the dorg off the
track, and the colt he was on was orkard lik