eved by the ghostly patch of light, far ahead, where the bordering
tree-walls came together in perspective and framed the ether. We were
down in the bed of the bush.

We pictured a haven of rest with a suspended lamp burning in the frosty
air outside and a big log fire in a cosy parlour off the bar, and a
long table set for supper. But this is a land of contradictions; wayside
shanties turn up unexpectedly and in the most unreasonable places, and
are, as likely as not, prepared for a banquet when you are not hungry
and can't wait, and as cold and dark as a bushman's grave when you are
and can.

Suddenly the driver said: "We're there now." He said this as if he had
driven us to the scaffold to be hanged, and was fiercely glad that he'd
got us there safely at last. We looked but saw nothing; then a light
appeared ahead and seemed to come towards us; and presently we saw that
it was a lantern held up by a man in a slouch hat, with a dark bushy
beard, and a three-bushel bag around his shoulders. He held up his other
hand, and said something to the driver in a tone that might have been
used by the leader of a search party who had just found the body. The
driver stopped and then went on slowly.

"What's up?" we asked. "What's the trouble?"

"Oh, it's all right," said the driver.

"The publican's wife is sick," somebody said, "and he wants us to come
quietly."

The usual little slab and bark shanty was suggested in the gloom, with a
big bark stable looming in the background. We climbed down like so many
cripples. As soon as we began to feel our legs and be sure we had the
right ones and the proper allowance of feet, we helped, as quietly as
possible, to take the horses out and round to the stable.

"Is she very bad?" we asked the publican, showing as much concern as we
could.

"Yes," he said, in a subdued voice of a rough man who had spent several
anxious, sleepless nights by the sick bed of a dear one. "But, God
willing, I think we'll pull her through."

Thus encouraged we said, sympathetically: "We're very sorry to trouble
you, but I suppose we could manage to get a drink and a bit to eat?"

"Well," he said, "there's nothing to eat in the house, and I've only got
rum and milk. You can have that if you like."

One of the pilgrims broke out here.

"Well of all the pubs," he began, "that I've ever--"

"Hush-sh-sh!" said the publican.

The pilgrim scowled and retired to the rear. You can't express your
feelings