"I wish Mike would come and open it," said Marjory. "Shall I go and hurry him up?"
The missing member of the family entered as she spoke.
"Buck up, Mike," she shouted. "There's a letter from Wyatt. He's been wounded in a duel."
"With a bushranger," added Phyllls.
"Bush-ray," explained Gladys Maud.
"Is there?" said Mike. "Sorry I'm late."
He opened the letter and began to read.
"What does he say?" inquired Marjory. "Who was the duel with?"
"How many bushrangers were there?" asked Phyllls.
Mike read on.
"Good old Wyatt! He's shot a man."
"Killed him?" asked Marjory excitedly.
"No. Only potted him in the leg. This is what he says. First page is mostly about the Ripton match and so on. Here you are. 'I'm dictating this to a sportsman of the name of Danvers, a good chap who can't help being ugly, so excuse bad writing. The fact is we've been having a bust-up here, and I've come out of it with a bullet in the shoulder, which has crocked me for the time being. It happened like this. An ass of a Gaucho had gone into the town and got jolly tight, and coming back, he wanted to ride through our place. The old woman who keeps the lodge wouldn't have it at any price. Gave him the absolute miss-in-baulk. So this rotter, instead of shifting off, proceeded to cut the fence, and go through that way. All the farms out here have their boundaries marked by wire fences, and it is supposed to be a deadly sin to cut these. Well, the lodge-keeper's son dashed off in search of help. A chap called Chester, an Old Wykehamist, and I were dipping sheep close by, so he came to us and told us what had happened. We nipped on to a couple of horses, pulled out our revolvers, and tooled after him. After a bit we overtook him, and that's when the trouble began. The johnny had dis-
