the diggings where he was born. He had entered William Standerton's service at the age of twelve, as horse-boy, and for upwards of thirty years had remained his faithful henchman. In every respect he was a typical Bushman. He could track like a blackfellow, ride any horse that was ever foaled, find his way in the thickest country with unerring skill, was a first-class rifle shot, an unequalled judge of cattle, a trifle pugnacious at certain seasons, but, and this seems an anomaly, at other times he possessed a heart as tender as a little child. When William Standerton and his family had left Australia, his grief had been sincere. For weeks he had been inconsolable, and it meant a sure thrashing for any man who dared to mention James' name in his hearing.

"What on earth does this mean, Terence?" asked Jim, who could scarcely believe that it was their old servant who stood before him.

"It means a good many things, Master Jim," said Terence, with the drawl in his voice peculiar to Australian Bushmen. "It's a longish yarn, but, my word, I am just glad to see you again, and, bless me, there's Miss Alice too, looking as pretty as a grass parrot on a gum log."

With a smile of happiness on her face, that had certainly not been there since her father's death, Alice came forward and gave Terence her hand. He took it in his great palm, and I think, but am not quite sure, that there were tears in his eyes.

"Come in at once," said Jim. "You must tell us your tale from beginning to end. Even now I can scarcely realise that it is you. Every moment I expect to see you vanish into mid-air. If I had been asked where you were at this moment, I should have said 'out in one of the back paddocks, say the Bald Mountain, riding along the fence on old Smoker, with Dingo trotting at his heels.'"

"No, sir," Terence answered, looking round the great hall as he spoke, "I sold Smoker at Bourke before I came away, and one of the overseers has Dingo, poor old dog. The fact of the matter was, sir, after you left I got a bit lonesome, and the old place didn't seem like the same. I had put by a matter of between four and five hundred pounds, and, thinks I to myself, there's the Old Country, that they say is so beautiful, and to think that I've never set eyes on it. Why shouldn't I make the trip, and just drop in and see the Boss, and Master Jim, and Miss Alice in their new home. Who knows but that they might want a colt broken for them. As soon as I made up my mind, I packed my bag and set off for Melbourne, took a passage on board a ship that 

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