“Down here, Miss Norah.”
In a moment they were all on the ground beside him—Wally, disdaining the steps, having sprung down, and unexpectedly measured his length on the earth, to the accompaniment of much chaff. He picked himself up, laughing more than any of them, just as Norah popped her head through the scrub that surrounded them, and exclaimed delightedly—.
“Why, here’s the camp.”
“I say,” Jim said, following the Hermit into the little clearing, “you’re well planted here!”
The space was not very large—a roughly circular piece of ground, ringed round with scrub, in which big gum trees reared their lofty heads. A wattle tree stood in the centre, from its boughs dangling a rough hammock, made of sacking, while a water bag hung from another convenient branch. The Hermit’s little tent was pitched at one side; across the clearing was the rude fireplace that Norah had seen in the morning. Everything, though tough enough, was very clean and tidy, with a certain attempt at comfort.
The Hermit laughed.
“Yes, I’m pretty well concealed,” he agreed. “You might be quite close to the camp and never dream that it existed. Only bold explorers like Miss Norah would have hit upon it from the side where she appeared to me this morning, and my big log saves me the necessity of having a beaten track home. I try, by getting on it at different points, to avoid a track to the log, although, should a footmark lead anyone to it, the intruder would never take the trouble to walk down an old bushhung tree-trunk, apparently for no reason. So that I feel fairly secure about my home and my belongings when I plan a fishing expedition or an excursion that takes me any distance away.”
“Well, it’s a great idea,” Jim said. “Of course, a beaten track to your camp would be nothing more or less than an invitation to any swaggie or black fellow to follow it up.”
“That’s what I thought,” the Hermit said; “and very awkward it would have been for me, seeing that one can’t very well put a padlock on a tent, and that all my belongings are portable. Not that there’s anything of great value. I have a few papers I wouldn’t care to lose, a watch and a little money—but they’re all safely buried in a cashbox with a good lock. The rest I have to chance, and, as I told you, I’ve so far been pretty lucky in repelling invaders. There’s not much traffic round here, you know!”
Jim and Norah laughed. “Not much,” they said, nodding.