the railings,
and a larger number who could not, but contented themselves with
shouting sweet nothings from behind their comrades. A lean youngster
near Jim Linton looked down enviously at the retreating boat.

"If I could only slide down into her, an' nick off to the old Alvina
over there, I'd be home before breakfast," he said. "Me people live at
Queenscliff--don't it seem a fair cow to have to go past 'em, right up
to Melbourne?"

The pilot's head appeared above on the bridge, beside the captain's, and
presently the Nauru gathered way, and, slowly turning, forged through
the tossing waters of the Rip. Before her the twin lights of the Heads
opened out; soon she was gliding between them, and under the silent guns
of the Queenscliff forts, and past the twinkling house lights of the
little seaside town. There were long coo-ees from the diggers, with
shrill, piercing whistles of greeting for Victoria; from ashore came
faint answering echoes. But the four people from Billabong stood
silently, glad of each other's nearness, but with no words, and in David
Linton's heart and Norah's was a great surge of thankfulness that, out
of many perils, they were bringing their boys safely home.

The Nauru turned across Port Phillip Bay, and presently they felt the
engines cease, and there came the rattle of the chain as the anchor shot
into the sea.

"As the captain thought," said Jim. "He fancied they'd anchor us off
Portsea for the night and bring us up to Port Melbourne in the morning,
after we'd been inspected. Wouldn't it be the limit if some one
developed measles now, and they quarantined us!"

"You deserve quarantining, if ever anyone did," said Norah, indignantly.
"Why do you have such horrible ideas?"

"I don't know--they just seem to waft themselves to me," said Jim
modestly. "Anyhow, the quarantine station is a jolly little place for
a holiday, and the sea view is delightful." He broke off, laughing, and
suddenly flung his arm round her shoulders in the dusk of the deck. "I
think I'm just about insane at getting home," he said. "Don't mind me,
old kiddie--and you'd better go to bed, or you'll be a ghost in the
morning."

They weighed anchor after breakfast, following a perfunctory medical
inspection--so perfunctory that one youth who, having been a medical
student, and knowing well that he had a finely-developed feverish
cold, with a high temperature, and not wishing to embarrass his
fellow-passengers, placed in h