“That can hardly be,” he concluded, in soliloquy. “I can’t well be lower, and he that is down need fear no fall, as the old song says.”
But Jack’s hope this time was no ignis fatuus. He had seen the lowest depths of his adversity, and though his spirit had been crushed for a while his moral nature had not suffered. And now that his health was restored he was ready to face his fate as a man should, and struggle once more to get himself a place among other men as soon as he got the chance; and the chance came soon, and in a form which he had not dared to hope.
As he sat one day under a tree watching the sheep which were feeding on a wide spread of country before him, he took a newspaper out of his pocket which had arrived at the hut just as he was starting, and on looking down the column of “local news” his eye met a paragraph which caused the blood to leap in his veins, and filled his mind with a new and sudden hope. It was this—
“We regret to hear that Mr. F. Forestall and his companion, a stockman, name unknown, have been killed by the blacks when they were on their way to take possession of some new land which Mr. Forestall had purchased. The land is again in the market.”
Jack bounded from his seat in a state of feverish excitement. “By Jove! there’s a chance for me yet, but I have not a minute to lose.”
He was impatient to be off at once, but there were the sheep to be driven in and a horse to be got. While he stood thinking what was the best to be done he saw Mr. Hazeham riding up, and suddenly resolved to tell him of his predicament and appeal to him for help.
“Well, what do you want?” said the overseer, “and what do you mean by sitting there reading the lies in that confounded paper and letting your sheep go all over the country?”
“The sheep have rather a spread,” said Jack, quietly, “but you’ll find them all right. They are feeding towards the yard, and have a good way to go yet, but if you have a few minutes to spare I want to speak to you, if you please, and ask your help.”
Mr. Hazeham looked in surprise at “John Smith,” and his astonishment was considerably increased when he heard all Jack had to say. He was good-natured in the main, and not unwilling to help a man who had been a large landed proprietor, and might be again; besides, he was not a little pleased at his own sagacity, for he remembered that he had described Jack to Mr. Delmayne, the proprietor, as looking “like a swell out of luck,” so he promptly replied, “Certainly I will help you, Mr. ——”
“Redgrave,” said Jack, reddening.