‘But Fairleigh’s never to say held up his head sence that night.
‘A week after we buried the child we carried the mother to rest beside him.
‘Fairleigh must be a rich man now. Everythin’ he touches, as the sayin’ is, seems to turn to gold. He can’t go wrong. But he seldom comes a-nigh the place. One of the first things he done when “Dot’s” turned up such trumps, was to put five thousand pounds to mine and Bill’s credit in the A—— bank. But we never touched it. Ever sence that night our luck’s been right in. First we sells out No. 1 North to the Company [276] ]at a pretty stiff figure. Then we buys out No. 2 South an’ seemingly we’ve struck it again, an’ rich.’
‘And, now,’ I remark as my friend, his yarn finished, sits gazing meditatively at the glowing logs,—‘and, now, all you want is a wife. Follow your mate’s example, and make a home where you’re making your money.’
Ward shook his head, smiling doubtfully, and, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, rose to go.
Just then Gretchen, buxom, and smiling also, appeared bearing a huge back-log in her arms. And when I saw the way my companion sprang up and rushed to meet and relieve her of the burden, and heard the guttural whispering that took place before the lump of timber reached its destination, I thought that, ere very long, all doubts would be dissipated, and that, even then, I sat within measurable distance of the future Mrs Ward.
[277]
]A CAPE HORN CHRISTMAS.
All hands in Yamba hut had turned in, except a couple at the end of the long rough table.
These late birds were playing euchre by the flickering light of an evil-smelling slush lamp. The cook had banked up the fire for the night, but the myall ashes still glowed redly and cast heat around. On the stone hearth stewed a bucket of tea. But for the snores of the men in the double tier of bunks ranged ship-fashion along both sides of the big hut, the frizzling of the grease in the lamp, and the muttered exclamations of the players, everything was very quiet.
‘Pass me!’