“Yes, sir. I expected you; and I’ve got a grilled pheasant, and fish besides.”
“Ah, capital! But what made you expect me to-day?”
“The dog Roup, sir. He was constantly going to the door to look out, so I could have sworn you would come.”
The evening passed away quietly enough.
Dwelling in this remote region, and liable at any time to be attacked, Gentleman Craig had thought it right to almost make a fort of his little slab hut. He had two black fellows who worked for him, and with their assistance a rampart of stones, earth, and wood was thrown up, although these men had often assured him that “he,” Craig, “was ‘corton budgery,’ and that there was no fear of the black fellows ‘mumkill’ him.”
“I’m not so very sure about it,” thought Craig; “and it is best to be on the safe side.”
They retired to-night early, having seen to the sheep and set a black to watch, for the dingoes were very destructive.
Both Craig and Archie slept in the same room, and they hardly undressed, merely taking off their coats, and lying down on the rough bed of sacking, with collie near the door to do sentry.
They had not long turned in when the dog began to growl low.
“Down charge, Roup,” said Craig.