"I say," Jim said, following the Hermit into the little clearing, "you're well planted here!"

The s.p.a.ce was not very large--a roughly circular piece of ground, ringed round with scrub, in which big gum trees reared their lofty heads. A wattle tree stood in the centre, from its boughs dangling a rough hammock, made of sacking, while a water bag hung from another convenient branch. The Hermit's little tent was pitched at one side; across the clearing was the rude fireplace that Norah had seen in the morning.

Everything, though tough enough, was very clean and tidy, with a certain attempt at comfort.

The Hermit laughed.

"Yes, I'm pretty well concealed," he agreed. "You might be quite close to the camp and never dream that it existed. Only bold explorers like Miss Norah would have hit upon it from the side where she appeared to me this morning, and my big log saves me the necessity of having a beaten track home. I try, by getting on it at different points, to avoid a track to the log, although, should a footmark lead anyone to it, the intruder would never take the trouble to walk down an old bushhung tree-trunk, apparently for no reason. So that I feel fairly secure about my home and my belongings when I plan a fishing expedition or an excursion that takes me any distance away."

"Well, it's a great idea," Jim said. "Of course, a beaten track to your camp would be nothing more or less than an invitation to any swaggie or black fellow to follow it up."

"That's what I thought," the Hermit said; "and very awkward it would have been for me, seeing that one can't very well put a padlock on a tent, and that all my belongings are portable. Not that there's anything of great value. I have a few papers I wouldn't care to lose, a watch and a little money--but they're all safely buried in a cashbox with a good lock. The rest I have to chance, and, as I told you, I've so far been pretty lucky in repelling invaders. There's not much traffic round here, you know!"

Jim and Norah laughed. "Not much," they said, nodding.

"My tent's not large," the Hermit said, leading the way to that erection, which was securely and snugly pitched with its back door (had there been one) against the trunk of a huge dead tree. It was a comparatively new tent, with a good fly, and was watertight, its owner explained, in all weathers. The flap was elaborately secured by many strings, tied with wonderful and fearful knots.

"It must take you a long time to untie those chaps every day," said Wally.

"It would," said the Hermit, "if I did untie them. They're only part of my poor little scheme for discouraging intruders, Master Wally." He slipped his fingers inside the flap and undid a hidden fastening, which opened the tent without disarranging the array of intricate knots.

"A fellow without a knife might spend quite a while in untying all those," said the Hermit. "He'd be rather disgusted, on completing the job, to find they had no bearing on the real fastening of the tent. And perhaps by that time I might be home!"

The interior of the tent was scrupulously tidy and very plain. A hastily put up bunk was covered with blue blankets, and boasted a sacking pillow. From the ridge-pole hung a candlestick, roughly fashioned from a knot of wood, and the furniture was completed by a rustic table and chair, made from branches, and showing considerable ingenuity in their fashioning. Wallaby skins thrown over the chair and upon the floor lent a look of comfort to the tiny dwelling; and a further touch of homeliness was given by many pictures cut from ill.u.s.trated papers and fastened to the canvas walls. The fly of the tent projected some distance in front, and formed a kind of verandah, beneath which a second rustic seat stood, as well as a block of wood that bore a tin dish, and evidently did duty as a washstand. Several blackened billies hung about the camp, with a frying-pan that bore marks of long and honourable use.

The children surveyed this unusual home with much curiosity and interest, and the boys were loud in their praises of the chairs and tables. The Hermit listened to their outspoken comments with a benevolent look, evidently pleased with their approval, and soon Jim and he were deep in a discussion of bush carpentry--Jim, as Wally said, reckoning himself something of an artist in that line, and being eager for hints. Meanwhile the other boys and Norah wandered about the camp, wondering at the completeness that had been arrived at with so little material, and at its utter loneliness and isolation.

"A man might die here half a dozen times, and no one be any the wiser,"

Wally said. "I wouldn't like it myself."

"Once would be enough for most chaps." Harry grinned.

"Oh, get out! you know what I mean," retorted Wally. "You chaps are never satisfied unless you're pulling my leg--it's a wonder I don't limp! But seriously, what a jolly rum life for a man to choose."

"He's an educated chap, too," Harry said--"talks like a book when he likes. I wonder what on earth he's doing it for?"

They had dropped their voices instinctively, and had moved away from the tent.

"He's certainly not the ordinary swaggie," Norah said slowly.

"Not by a good bit," Wally agreed. "Why, he can talk like our English master at school! Perhaps he's hiding."

"Might be," Harry said. "You never can tell--he's certainly keen enough on getting away from people."

"He's chosen a good place, then."

"Couldn't be better. I wonder if there's anything in it--if he really has done anything and doesn't want to be found?"

"I never heard such bosh!" said Norah indignantly. "One would think he really looked wicked, instead of being such a kind old chap. D'you think he's gone and committed a murder, or robbed a bank, or something like that? I wonder you're not afraid to be in his camp!"

The boys stared in amazement.

"Whew-w-w!" whistled Wally.

Harry flushed a little.

"Oh steady, Norah!" he protested--"we really didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It was only an idea. I'll admit be doesn't look a hardened sinner."

"Well, you shouldn't have such ideas," Norah said stoutly; "he's a great deal too nice, and look how kind he's been to us! If he chooses to plant himself in the bush, it's no one's business but his own."

"I suppose not," Harry began. He pulled up shortly as the Hermit, followed by Jim, emerged from the tent.

The Hermit had a queer smile in his eyes, but Jim looked desperately uncomfortable.

Jim favoured the others with a heavy scowl as he came out of the tent, slipping behind the Hermit in order that he might deliver it un.o.bserved.

It was plain enough to fill them with considerable discomfort. They exchanged glances of bewilderment.

"I wonder what's up now?" Wally whispered.

Jim strolled over to them as the Hermit, without saying anything, crossed to his fireplace, and began to put some sticks together.

"You're bright objects!" he whispered wrathfully. "Why can't you speak softly if you must go gabbling about other people?"

"You don't mean to say he heard us?" Harry said, colouring.

"I do, then! We could hear every word you said, and it was jolly awkward for me. I didn't know which way to look."

"Was he wild?" whispered Wally.

"Blessed if I know. He just laughed in a queer way, until Norah stuck up for him, and then he looked grave. 'I'm lucky to have one friend,' he said, and walked out of the tent. You're a set of goats!" finished Jim comprehensively.

"Well, I'm not ashamed of what I said, anyhow!" Norah answered indignantly. She elevated her tip-tilted nose, and walked away to where the Hermit was gathering sticks, into which occupation she promptly entered. The boys looked at each other.

"Well, I am--rather," Harry said. He disappeared into the scrub, returning presently with a log of wood as heavy as he could drag. Wally, seeing his idea, speedily followed suit, and Jim, after a stare, copied their example. They worked so hard that by the time the Hermit and Norah had the fire alight, quite a respectable stack of wood greeted the eye of the master of the camp. He looked genuinely pleased.

"Well, you are kind chaps," he said. "That will save me wood-carting for many a day, and it is a job that bothers my old back."

"We're very glad to get it for you, sir," Jim blurted, a trifle shamefacedly. A twinkle came into the Hermit's eyes as he looked at him.

"That's all square, Jim," he said quietly, and without any more being said the boys felt relieved. Evidently this Hermit was not a man to bear malice, even if he did overhear talk that wasn't meant for him.

"Well," said the Hermit, breaking a somewhat awkward silence, "it's about time we heard the dusky Billy, isn't it?"

"Quite time, I reckon," Jim replied. "Lazy young beggar!"

"Well, the billy's not boiling yet, although it's not far off it."

"There he is," Norah said quickly, as a long shout sounded near at hand.

The Hermit quickly went off in its direction, and presently returned, followed by Billy, whose eyes were round as he glanced about the strange place in which he found himself, although otherwise no sign of surprise appeared on his sable countenance. He carried the bags containing the picnic expedition's supply of food, which Norah promptly fell to unpacking. An ample supply remained from lunch, and when displayed to advantage on the short gra.s.s of the clearing the meal looked very tempting. The Hermit's eyes glistened as Norah unpacked a bag of apples and oranges as a finishing touch.