It is owing to such earnest men as Rupert that so great a change has come over the black population, and that so many of them, even as I write, sit humbly at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in their right mind. To quote the words of a recent writer: "The war-paints and weapons for fights are seen no more, the awful heathen corroborees have ceased, the females are treated with kindness, and the lamentable cries, accompanied by bodily injuries, when death occurred, have given place to Christian sorrow and quiet tears for their departed friends."
It came to pass one day that Etheldene and Archie, towards the end of the year, found themselves riding alone, through scrub and over plain, just as they were that day they were lost. The conversation turned round to Rupert's mission.
"What a dear, good, young man your brother is, Archie!" said the girl.
"Do you really love him?"
"As a brother, yes."
"Etheldene, have him for a brother, will you?"
The rich blood mounted to her cheeks and brow. She cast one half-shy, half-joyful look at Archie, and simply murmured, "Yes."
It was all over in a moment then. Etheldene struck her horse lightly across the crest with the handle of her stock-whip, and next minute both horses were galloping as if for dear life.
When Archie told Rupert how things had turned out, he only smiled in his quiet manner.
"It is a queer way of wooing," he said; "but then you were always a queer fellow, Archie, and Etheldene is a regular Bush baby, as Craig calls her. Oh, I knew long ago she loved you!"