egrees in the shade. It was a
Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that
evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung
about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to
arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to
his home next day.

My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat
horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid
kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden
held the reins and waited for me.

I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and
pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me,
saying:

"The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm
sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them."

I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself
into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My
beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just
one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet.

Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front
seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of
dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat!

We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of
blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of
magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer
air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and
dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then
good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within
eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid
music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of
life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more
station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his
bidding, hailing him boss?

It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past,
fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of
blue.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

My Journey

The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt
and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a
door