"I'm sick of life," said Jim, "I never seem to get anything out of it.

You and Bill have all the luck."

"I don't think you've done so badly," objected Glen, "and now you have a share in the show. What more do you want?"

"A good deal more. I want happiness, and I don't seem in the way of getting it."

"Why not? What troubles you? Tell me, lad; I may be able to help you."

Then, as they sat on deck, Jim poured out the vials of his ill-tempered wrath on Glen's head. He told how he loved Clara, but that she avoided, shunned him. He complained that it was very hard lines he, Glen, should come between them. For a long time he went on grumbling, and Glen listened to him patiently not saying a word. He let him exhaust himself before he made any reply.

"Jim, you're a fool," said Glen. "When she first came across my path and found her way to my hut, as I sat and nursed her back to life, you helping me, I thought I loved her. I was sure of it. That same feeling possessed me when we came to Sydney. It remained with me until something happened which opened my eyes, something totally unexpected. She put her arms round my neck and kissed me."

"I know," said Jim. "I know. She always does. She loves you."

Glen smiled as he said, "You're a bit shallow, Jim. You can't see far. I knew when she kissed me she would never love me like that, so I gave it up. She regarded me as a father, that was all, and I'm quite contented she should. I've found out the feeling I had for her was not that of a lover. I love her, I always shall, because I rescued her from death.

It's only natural. You've no need to fear me as a rival. I love another woman, not her."

Jim's face brightened. He knew Glen spoke the truth; he always did. It clouded again as he thought how she avoided him.

"The reason she doesn't kiss you," said Glen, "is because she feels different towards you. She doesn't think it would be right. I've watched her, and I think if she does not love you now she will in days to come.

She'll miss you when you are away from her in Melbourne. Probably she'll talk to Mrs. Prevost about you. Wait till you come back and then see how the land lies. She's not fit to marry yet, not strong enough. It will be better to wait until she recovers her memory."

"She may never recover it," said Jim.

"She will, I'm sure of it, and through Mrs. Prevost, who will help her.

She's a sympathetic woman, and I told her all about it, everything.

She'll do all in her power to bring back her lost memory; she said she would," Glen answered.

After this conversation Jim was a different man.

All along he had been jealous of Glen; now the cause was removed.

Sometimes he gave a thought to Joe Calder, but he felt no regret for what he had done; the man had brought it on himself.

"If I hadn't shot him he'd have done for me," said Jim to himself.

The show arrived safely in Melbourne, and opened in a large tent on the St. Kilda Road. Crowds flocked to it, and before the first week was over Glen knew they were in for an even better season than in Sydney. They started business the Sat.u.r.day before the Caulfield Cup. The tent was packed every night, and sometimes twice a day.

Ivor Hadwin arrived at Caulfield with his horses, Barellan, Flash, and a couple of others.

Betting on the two Cups was brisk, and Barellan was well backed by the public at a hundred to eight.

Bellshaw had been laid a fair sum to nothing by the drawer of Flash in the Caulfield Cup Sweep.

The first Hundred Thousand Pound Sweep on the Melbourne Cup was to be drawn in Sydney on Monday night.

When Glen Leigh was informed he laughed, and said, "I don't set much account on it. A fellow can't expect to get anything with one ticket in a hundred thousand."

There was a tremendous race for the Caulfield Cup, and Flash ran third, being beaten by Roland and Mackay.

Flash ran a remarkably fast race. Ivor Hadwin hardly thought him good enough to win and he died away a furlong from the post. Knowing what Barellan could do with Flash on the track, the trainer told Nicholl he thought the Melbourne Cup was pretty nearly as good as won.

The result of the drawing for the Hundred Thousand Pound Sweep on the Melbourne Cup was made public on the Wednesday. Glen Leigh received a wire from Bill Bigs which fairly astonished him.

"You have drawn Barellan. Good luck, Bill."

This was astounding news indeed. He had only one ticket in the sweep, number 33444, and it had drawn Barellan, third favourite for the great race. Was there ever such a stroke of luck! Glen could hardly believe in his good fortune. Barellan was Bellshaw's horse which made it more remarkable still. All his friends connected with the show crowded round congratulating him. He was regarded as a kind of hero. The first prize was close upon twenty-five thousand pounds, and there were numerous other large and small sums to be divided. He was bound to get one of the first three big prizes with such a horse as Barellan running for him, so said everybody who knew him.

Ivor Hadwin heard the news with mixed feelings; he was glad Leigh had drawn the horse, but wondered what would happen if he declined to give Craig Bellshaw a cut out of the sweep money. It was impossible to keep the fact that Leigh had drawn Barellan a secret, nor had he any wish it should be so.

"I've drawn the horse; where's the harm in people knowing it?" said Glen.

Bill Bigs arrived in Melbourne, and consulted with Glen as to what was best to be done.

Bill advised him to lay some of it against Barellan. He could stand to win a large sum to nothing, and if the horse lost he would also be a winner. Glen, however, was adamant on this point. He declared he would not lay off a penny; he'd stand the thing right out.

"It's only cost me a pound," he said. "That's not much, and I'd sooner go the whole hog and win the lot, if Barellan wins. If he loses I shall not grumble."

"Please yourself," said Bill. "From all I hear you stand a good chance of pulling it off at the first time of asking. It's an extraordinary piece of luck, that's what it is. I know fellows who have been going in for sweeps for years and have never drawn a horse. I've been doing it for a dozen years, and all I ever got was a non-starter."

"You shall have a couple of hundred if Barellan wins," said Glen. "So shall Jim, and I'll see Hadwin and Nicholl have a trifle."

"You're distributing the cash before you've won," laughed Bill.

"Half the fun of things is to antic.i.p.ate, and plan out what you'll do with the money," Glen laughed back.

"So it is. I've drawn some nice little pictures myself, but they've always been rubbed out, not so much as a daub remaining," said Bill.

When Glen met Hadwin, the trainer asked, "I suppose you've not heard from Bellshaw?"

"No. What do I want to hear from him for?" replied Glen.

Hadwin smiled.

"You've not had much experience of sweeps. Owners generally expect a good slice out of them," he said.

"If Bellshaw expects to get me to lay him a big slice he's mistaken. I shan't lay him a penny," replied Glen determinedly.

"For goodness' sake don't say that," expostulated Hadwin in genuine alarm.

"Why not? I mean it."

"It will ruin me, Leigh, ruin me. I've backed Barellan for all I'm worth, or nearly so," said the trainer.

"Well, my drawing him in the sweep won't stop him winning."

"No, I don't mean that. I think he will win, but if you don't lay Bellshaw a fair sum, there's no telling what he'll do."

"What can he do?" asked Glen, surprised.