town pump. The only man that ever goes up is the minister, and he goes
because they send down and get him whenever there's any of them dies.
They think a lot of Christian burial on the Mountain--but I never heard
of their having the minister up to marry them. And they never trouble
the Justice of the Peace either. They just herd together like the
heathen."

He went on, explaining in somewhat technical language how the little
colony of squatters had contrived to keep the law at bay, and Charity,
with burning eagerness, awaited young Harney's comment; but the young
man seemed more concerned to hear Mr. Royall's views than to express his
own.

"I suppose you've never been up there yourself?" he presently asked.

"Yes, I have," said Mr. Royall with a contemptuous laugh. "The wiseacres
down here told me I'd be done for before I got back; but nobody lifted a
finger to hurt me. And I'd just had one of their gang sent up for seven
years too."

"You went up after that?"

"Yes, sir: right after it. The fellow came down to Nettleton and ran
amuck, the way they sometimes do. After they've done a wood-cutting
job they come down and blow the money in; and this man ended up with
manslaughter. I got him convicted, though they were scared of the
Mountain even at Nettleton; and then a queer thing happened. The fellow
sent for me to go and see him in gaol. I went, and this is what he says:
'The fool that defended me is a chicken-livered son of a--and all
the rest of it,' he says. 'I've got a job to be done for me up on the