eyes that were
fixed so frankly upon his own.

"I can only answer for myself," he said, catching her mood. "I shall
love you till I die."

"Whatever I do?"

"Even if you give me up."

"That's the one thing I shall never do, dearest."

"God bless you for saying it, Moya. If I knew what I have ever done or
can do to deserve you!"

"Don't, dear ... you little dream ... but you will know me by and by."

"Please Heaven!"

And he leant and kissed her with all his might.

"Meanwhile--let us promise each other--there shall be no clouds between
us while I am up here this week!"

"I'll kiss the Book on that."

"No shadows!"

"My dear child, why should there be?"

"There's Theodore----"

"Bother Theodore!"

"And then there are all those faults of mine."

"I don't believe in them. But if I did it would make no difference. It's
not your qualities I'm in love with, Moya. It's yourself--so there's an
end of it."

And an end there was, for about Rigden there was a crisp decisiveness
which had the eventual advantage of a nature only less decided than his
own. But it was strange that those should have been the last words.

Still stranger was it, as they sat together in a silence happier than
their happiest speech, and as the lowering sun laid long shadows at
their feet, that one of these came suddenly between them, and that it
was not the shadow of pine-tree or verandah-post, but of a man.

II

INJURY

It was not Theodore, however. It was a man whom Moya was thankful not to
have seen before. Nor was the face more familiar to Rigden himself, or
less unlovely between the iron-grey bristles that wove a wiry mat from
ear to ear, over a small head and massive jaws. For on attracting their
attention the man lifted his wideawake, a trick so foreign to the normal
bushman that Rigden's eyebrows were up from the beginning; yet he
carried his swag as a swag should be carried; the outer blanket was the
orthodox "bluey," duly faded; and the long and lazy stride that of the
inveterate "sundowner."

"Eureka Station, I believe?" said the fellow, halting.

"That's the name," said Rigden.

"And are you the boss?"

"I am."

"Then Eureka it is!" cried the swagman, relieving himself of his swag,
and heartily kicking it as it lay where he let it fall.

"But," said Rigden, smiling, "I didn't say I had any work for you, did
I?"

"And I didn't ask for any work."

"Travellers' rations, eh? You'll have to wait til