had been making himself agreeable to the wives of the diggers and settlers, and of the bush balls, at which he had been assisting; of how the men had openly derided him for being a Lord, and of how he had entertained and impressed the ladies by his answers to their questions concerning aristocratic life in England. "Lord! I have crammed them," he said confidentially, "but I think we are doin' it, though it'll be a close shave. Puts me in mind of Waveryng's election—I fetched 'em last night, I can tell you, by describin' all that, and singing 'em the war-cry—I composed it myself—a sort of hash of the Marseillaise, the Star-spangled Banner, and Tommy Dodd. The worst of it is that fellow Trant has got a voice that takes the wind out of our sails, and then he appeals to their feelin's. Blest if he didn't give 'em 'The Wearing of the Green' last night—struck up when Blake began about the Irish wrongs—he's a Fenian is that fellow Blake, but he is not a bad sort for all that—and I really felt inclined to blubber, it was so pathetic."
Hallett came towards them. They were in the entrance hall, and he was coming down the stairs. From the other side of the hotel floated sounds of the mob he had been addressing. He too looked excited, and a little nervous. He went straight to Elsie, just shaking hands with Lady Horace as he passed.
"You see I said I would come," she said.
"I'm afraid you've come to see me beaten," he answered in a low voice. "I mustn't confess to defeat now, but I feel pretty sure of it."
"But he is a stranger," said Elsie. "What has he done? How has he got over the district?"
"The man has power," said Hallett bluntly, "and I haven't."
"Yes, he has power," said Elsie dreamily ; "I can see that."
"You've seen him then?" said Hallett surprised. He had not heard of that meeting by the creek. Elsie had not even told her sister. "Take care," he added in a low voice, "there he is." Aloud he said, "I think we had better go up
