Saturday morning, and a fine favourable wind. Up comes the anchor—the Sabrina bends to the breeze—away they go! Kangaroo Island is reached and passed. Then emerges Juniper Graves from his cabin between decks, and smiles as he looks around him. All is safe now.
The Sabrina had been gone ten days, when a weary, downcast-looking man entered Mr Abraham Oliphant’s office.
“Your name ain’t Oliphant, is it?” he asked, doggedly.
“Yes, it is,” said Hubert, whom he was addressing.
The man got up, and stared steadily at him for a minute.
“It ain’t him!” he muttered to himself.
Hubert was inclined at first to be amused; but there was something in the man’s manner that checked his merriment.
“You want my uncle, perhaps,” he said.
Mr Abraham Oliphant came at his nephew’s summons. The man, who had all the appearance of a returned digger, shook his head.
“You’ve neither on you been to the diggings, I reckon?”