"He's a nice sort of chap," remarked Ned, referring to George.
"Yes, he's a great oarsman. He rows over to see Josie. Mrs. Stratton calls them Hero and Leander."
"Why? Who were they?"
"Oh! Leander was Hero's sweetheart and used to swim across the water to her so that nobody should see him."
"They're to be married, I suppose?"
"Yes, next month."
"Those Strattons are immense—what's that noise, Nellie?" he interrupted himself. A strange groaning from close at hand had startled him.
"Somebody asleep, I suppose," she answered, more accustomed to the Sydney parks. But she stopped while, under the umbrella, he struck a match with a bushman's craft.
By the light of the match they saw a great hollow in the rocks that bordered on one side the gravelled footway. The rocks leaned out and took in part of the path, which widened underneath. Sheltered thus from the rain and wind a number of men were sleeping, outcast, some in blankets, some lying on the bare ground. The sound they had beard was a medley of deep breathing and snoring. It was but a glimpse they caught as the match flared up for a minute. It went out and they could see nothing, only the faint outline of path and rock. They could hear still the moaning sound that had attracted them.
They walked on without speaking for a time.