said, "only--his mother was one
of the Donohoes--not a lady, you know--and he always goes with those
people; and, of course, that means he doesn't go much with us."

"Why not?"

"Well, you see, they're selectors, and they look on the station people
as--well, rather against them, you know--sort of enemies--and he has
never come to the station. But there is no reason why he shouldn't."

"He saved my life," said Mary Grant.

"Certainly he did," said Hugh. "I'll say that for Blake, he fears
nothing. One of the pluckiest men alive. And how did you feel? Were you
much frightened?"

"Yes, horribly. I have often wondered whether I should be brave, you
know, and now I don't think I am. Not the least bit. But Mr. Blake
seemed so strong--directly he caught hold of me I felt quite safe,
somehow. If you don't mind, I would like to ask him out to the station."

"Certainly, Miss Grant. My mother will only be too glad. She was sorry
that we did not get down to meet you. The letter was delayed."

Mary Grant laughed as she looked down at Mrs. Donohoe's clothes. "What a
sight I am!" she said.

"But, after all, it's Australia, isn't it? And I have had such
adventures already! You know you will have to show me all about the
station and the sheep and cattle. Will you do that?"

Hugh thought there was nothing in the world he would like better, but
contented himself with a formal offer to teach her the noble art of
squatting.

"You must begin at once and tell me things. What estate are we on now?"
she asked.

"This is your father's station. All you can see around belongs to him;
but after the next gate we come on some land held by selectors."

"Who are they?"

"Well," said Hugh, a little awkwardly, "they are relations of Mr.
Blake's. You'll see what an Australian farmer's homestead is like."

They drove through a rickety wire-and-sapling gate and across about a
mile of bush, and suddenly came on a little slab house nestling under
the side of a hill. At the back were the stockyards and the killing-pen,
where a contrivance for raising dead cattle--called a gallows--waved its
arms to the sky. In front of the house there was rather a nice little
garden. At the back were a lot of dilapidated sheds, leaning in all
directions. A mob of sheep was penned in a yard outside one of the
sheds; and in the garden an old woman, white-haired and wrinkled, with
a very short dress showing a lot of dirty stocking and slipshod
elastic-sided boot