The Sands of Windee. Arthur W. Upfield

found himself being regarded by the keen appraising eyes of Foster, and then the overseer’s hand was thrust towards him, and Foster said:

      “I’m glad to meet you, Bony. I’ve heard how you trained the grey gelding, and I’m always glad to make a friend of a good horseman.”

      “And will you train a horse for me like you trained the grey gelding, Bony?” inquired the bride.

      “It would please me much, if a horse can be found as teachable as Grey Cloud,” was Bony’s smiling consent. The girl’s big brown eyes were unsmiling, although her mouth smiled. Her looks and bright chatter doubtless would make a strong appeal to many men. Bony, however, was unaffected. There was absent from Edith Foster that inward light that made of Marion Stanton a lovely woman.

      She and her husband led their guests into the house. The petrol-tins were stacked on the veranda. The ladies disappeared with the bride, and the groom conducted the gentlemen to the long dining-room, at whose farther end several adjoining tables supported great dishes of sandwiches, buttered scones, cakes and rank on rank of bottles and glasses.

      “Say, Harry, wot’s it like to be tied up?” asked Ted, the tall, bearded, sun-blackened stockman.

      “Great, man! You should try it.”