world he would not have fretted himself in this fashion because of
the malice of any man. But how would it be with her should he be
forced to move her from Gangoil? And yet, with all his love, they had
parted almost in anger. Surely she would understand the tenderness of
the message he had just sent her.

Of a sudden, as he was riding, he stopped his horse and listened
attentively. From a great distance there fell upon his accustomed ear
a sound which he recognized, though he was aware that the place from
whence it came was at least two miles distant. It was the thud of an
axe against a tree. He listened still, and was sure that it was so,
and turned at once toward the sound, though in doing so he left his
course at a right angle. He had been going directly away from the
river, with his back to the wool-shed; but now he changed his
course, riding in the direction of the spot at which Jacko had nearly
fallen in jumping over the fence. As he continued on, the sounds
became plainer, till at last, reining in his horse, he could see the
form of the woodman, who was still at work ringing the trees. This
was a job which the man did by contract, receiving so much an acre
for the depopulation of the timber. It was now bright moonlight,
almost as clear as day--a very different night, indeed, from that on
which the rain had come--and Harry could see at a glance that it was
the man called Boscobel still at work. Now there were, as he thought,
very good reasons why Boscobel at the present moment should not be so
employed. Boscobel was receiving wages for work of another kind.

"Bos," said the squatter, riding up, and addressing the man by the
customary abbreviation of his nickname, "I thought you were watching
at Brownbie's boundary?" Boscobel lowered his axe, and stood for a
while contemplating the proposition made to him. "You are drawing