for this one had no door at all—Ted’s head was inside, and he was gesticulating and enforcing silence on someone within. I heard the words “Lady, Shush—hush!” repeated many times, so I forebore to go on. Presently Ted’s head was withdrawn, and an elderly man came out half-dressed, who gave me a scanty greeting, and disappeared round the hut. I dismounted, wishing Transome was not so far behind. There was still somebody else inside, and that hut could not hold five—at least I hoped I should not be one of them if it did! And now the second occupant came out. He was attired in riding breeches and an old Norfolk jacket, and carried his stockings in his hand; he was completely stuck over with “biddies”—the hateful little hooked seeds of a species of acæna, that cling so persistently nothing but scraping with a knife will dislodge them. He greeted me cheerily in a broad Scotch voice, and held up his stockings for my inspection. They were a veritable mat—he said he was thinking of hanging them in the sun for a fortnight, perhaps then he might get the biddies out of them! His great solicitude was to give me tea. Soon he and his man had the billy boiling and had foraged out some mugs, and when Transome rode up we were drinking tea, and chatting on most friendly terms.
We had chanced on the chief surveyor going down to join his camp. He was travelling light with only a swag of blankets and very little food. He and his man had had a hard day: they had
