The party had for some time been walking near the creek¹, so close to it that it was within sound, although they seldom got a glimpse of water, save where the ti-tree scrub on the bank grew thinner or the light wind stirred an opening in its branches. Now, however, the Hermit² suddenly turned, and although the others failed to perceive any track or landmark³, he led them quickly through the scrub belt to the bank of the creek beyond.  
It was indeed an ideal place for fishing. A deep, quiet pool, partly shaded by big trees, lay placid⁴ and motionless, except for an occasional ripple⁵, stirred by a light puff⁶ of wind. An old wattle tree grew on the bank, its limbs jutting⁷ out conveniently, and here Jim and Wally ensconced themselves immediately, and turned their united attention to business. For a time no sound was heard save the dull “plunk” of sinkers as the lines, one by one, were flung into the water.
 
The Hermit did not fish. He had plenty at his camp, he said, and fishing for fun had lost its excitement, since he fished for a living most days of the week. So he contented⁸ himself with advising the others where to throw in, and finally sat down on the grass near Norah.
 
A few minutes passed. Then Jim jerked his line hurriedly and began to pull in with a feverish⁹ expression. It lasted until a big black fish made its appearance, dangling¹⁰ from the hook, and then it was suddenly succeeded by a look of intense disgust, as a final wriggle¹¹ released the prisoner, which fell back with a splash into the water.
 
“Well, I'm blessed!” said Jim wrathfully.
 
“Hard luck!” said Harry¹³.
 
“Try again, Jimmy, and stick to him this time,” counselled Wally, in a fatherly tone.
 
“Oh, you shut up,” Jim answered, re-baiting his hook. “I didn't catch an old boot, anyhow!”—which pertinent¹⁴ reflection had the effect of silencing Wally, amidst mild mirth on the part of the other members of the expedition.
 
Scarcely a minute more, and Norah pulled sharply at her line and began to haul in rapidly.
 
“Got a whale?” inquired Jim.
 
“Something like it!” Norah pulled wildly.
 
“Hang on!”
 
“Stick to him!”
 
“Mind your eye!”
 
“Don't get your line tangled¹⁵!”
 
“Want any help, Miss Norah?”
 
“No thanks.” Norah was almost breathless. A red spot flamed in each cheek.
 
Slowly the line came in. Presently it gave a sudden jerk, and was tugged¹⁶ back quickly, as the fish made another run for liberty. Norah uttered an exclamation¹⁷, quickly suppressed, and caught it sharply, pulling strongly.
 
Ah—he was out! A big, handsome perch¹⁸, struggling and dancing in the air at the end of the line. Shouts broke from the boys as Norah landed her prize safely on the bank.
 
“Well done, Miss Norah,” said the Hermit warmly.
 
“That's a beauty—as fine a perch as I've seen in this creek.”
 
“Oh, isn't he a splendid fellow!” Norah cried, surveying the prey¹⁹ with dancing eyes. “I'll have him for Dad, anyhow, even if I don't catch another.”
 
“Yes, Dad's breakfast's all right,” laughed the Hermit. “But don't worry, you'll catch more yet. See, there goes Harry.”
 
There was a shout as Harry, with a scientific flourish of his rod, hauled a small blackfish from its watery²⁰ bed.
 
“Not bad for a beginning!” he said, grinning. “But not a patch on yours, Norah!”
 
“Oh, I had luck,” Norah said. “He really is a beauty, isn't he? I think he must be the grandfather of all the perches²¹.”
 
“If that's so,” said Jim, beginning to pull in, with an expression of “do or die” earnestness, “I reckon I've got the grandmother on now!”
 
A storm of advice hurtled about Jim as he tugged at his line.
 
“Hurry up, Jim!”
 
“Go slow!”
 
“There—he's getting off again!”
 
“So are you!” said the ungrateful recipient²² of the counsel, puffing²³ hard.
 
“Only a boot, Jim—don't worry!”
 
“Gammon!—it's a shark!—look at his worried expression!”
 
“I'll 'shark' you, young Harry!” grunted²⁴ Jim. “Mind your eye—there he comes!” And expressions of admiration²⁵ broke from the scoffers as a second splendid perch dangled²⁶ in the air and was landed high and dry—or comparatively so—in the branches of the wattle tree.
 
“Is he as big as yours, Norah?” queried²⁷ Jim a minute later, tossing his fish down on the grass close to his sister and the Hermit.
 
Norah laid the two fishes alongside.
 
“Not quite,” she announced; “mine's about an inch longer, and a bit fatter.”
 
“Well, that's all right,” Jim said. “I said it was the grandmother I had—yours is certainly the grandfather! I'm glad you got the biggest, old girl.” They exchanged a friendly smile.
 
A yell from Wally intimated that he had something on his hook, and with immense pride he flourished in the air a diminutive²⁸ blackfish—so small that the Hermit proposed to use it for bait, a suggestion promptly²⁹ declined by the captor, who hid his catch securely in the fork of two branches, before re-baiting his hook. Then Harry pulled out a fine perch, and immediately afterwards Norah caught a blackfish; and after that the fun waxed fast and furious, the fish biting splendidly, and all hands being kept busy. An hour later Harry shook the last worm out of the bait tin and dropped it into the water on his hook, where it immediately was seized by a perch of very tender years.
 
“Get back and grow till next year,” advised Harry, detaching the little prisoner carefully, the hook having caught lightly in the side of its mouth. “I'll come for you next holidays!” and he tossed the tiny fellow back into the water. “That's our last scrap³⁰ of bait, you chaps,” he said, beginning to wind up his line.
 
“I've been fishing with an empty hook for I don't know how long,” said Jim, hauling up also. “These beggars have nibbled³¹ my bait off and carefully dodged³² the hook.”
 
“Well, we've plenty, haven't we?” Norah said. “Just look what a splendid pile of fish!”
 
“They take a bit of beating, don't they?” said Jim. “That's right, Wal, pull him up!” as Wally hauled in another fine fish. “We couldn't carry more if we had 'em.”
 
“Then it's a good thing my bait's gone, too!” laughed Norah, winding³³ up. “Haven't we had a most lovely time!”
 
Jim produced a roll of canvas which turned out to be two sugar bags, and in these carefully bestowed³⁴ the fish, sousing the whole thoroughly³⁵ in the water. The boys gathered up the lines and tackle and “planted” the rods conveniently behind a log, “to be ready for next time,” they said.
 
“Well, we've had splendid sport, thanks to you, sir,” Jim said, turning to the Hermit, who stood looking on at the preparations, a benevolent³⁶ person, “something between Father Christmas and Robinson Crusoe,” as Norah whispered to Harry. “We certainly wouldn't have got on half as well if we'd stayed where we were.”
 
“Oh, I don't know,” the Hermit answered. “Yours is a good place—I've often caught plenty of fish there—only not to be relied on as this pool is. I've really never known this particular spot fail—the fish seem to live in it all the year round. However, I'm glad you've had decent luck—it's not a bit jolly to go home empty-handed, I know. And now, what's the next thing to be done? The afternoon's getting on—don't you think it's time you came to pay me a visit at the camp?”
 
“Oh, yes, please!” Norah cried.
 
Jim hesitated.
 
“We'd like awfully³⁷ to see your camp, if—if it's not any bother to you,” he said.
 
“Not the least in the world,” the Hermit said. “Only I can't offer you any refreshment³⁸. I've nothing but cold 'possum and tea, and the 'possum's an acquired taste, I'm afraid. I've no milk for the tea, and no damper, either!”
 
“By George!” said Jim remorsefully³⁹. “Why, we ate all your damper at lunch!”
 
“I can easily manufacture another,” the Hermit said, laughing. “I'm used to the process. Only I don't suppose I could get it done soon enough for afternoon tea.”
 
“We've loads of tucker,” Jim said. “Far more than we're likely to eat. Milk, too. We meant to boil the billy again before we start for home.”
 
“I'll tell you what,” Norah said, struck by a brilliant idea. “Let's coo-ee for Billy, and when he comes send him back for our things. Then if—if Mr. Hermit likes, we could have tea at his camp.”
 
“Why, that's a splendid notion,” the Hermit cried. “I'm delighted that you thought of it, Miss Norah, although I'm sorry my guests have to supply their own meal! It doesn't seem quite the thing—but in the bush, polite customs have to fall into disuse. I only keep up my own good manners by practising on old Turpentine, my snake! However, if you're so kind as to overlook my deficiencies, and make them up yourselves, by all means let us come along and coo-ee for sweet William!”
 
He shouldered one of the bags of fish as he spoke⁴⁰, disregarding a protest from the boys. Jim took the second, and they set out for the camp.
 
Their way led for some time along the track by which they had come, if “track” it might be called. Certainly, the Hermit trod it confidently enough, but the others could only follow in his wake, and wonder by what process he found his way so quickly through the thick bush.
 
About half a mile along the creek the Hermit suddenly turned off almost at right angles, and struck into the scrub. The children followed him closely, keeping as nearly at his heels as the nature of the path would permit.
 
Norah found it not very pleasant. The Hermit went at a good rate, swinging over the rough ground with the sure-footed case of one accustomed to the scrub and familiar with the path. The boys unhampered by skirts and long hair, found no great difficulty in keeping up with him, but the small maiden⁴¹ of the party, handicapped by her clothes, to say nothing of being youngest of them all, plodded⁴² along in the rear, catching⁴³ on sarsaparilla vines and raspberry tangles⁴⁴, plunging⁴⁵ head first through masses of dogwood, and getting decidedly the worst of the journey.
 
Harry was the first to notice that Norah was falling “into the distance,” as he put it, and he ran back to her immediately.
 
“Poor old kid!” he said shamefacedly. “I'd no idea you were having such a beast of a time. Sorry, Norah!” His polite regrets were cut short by Norah's catching her foot in a creeper and falling bodily upon him.
 
“Thank you,” said Harry, catching her deftly⁴⁶. “Delighted, I'm sure, ma'am! It's a privilege to catch any one like you. Come on, old girl, and I'll clear the track for you.”
 
A little farther on the Hermit had halted, looking a trifle guilty.
 
“I'm really sorry, Miss Norah,” he said, as Norah and Harry made their way up to the waiting group. “I didn't realise I was going at such a pace. We'll make haste more slowly.”
 
He led the way, pausing now and again to make it easier for the little girl, holding the bushes aside and lifting her bodily over several big logs and sharp watercourses. Finally he stopped.
 
“I think if you give Billy a call now, Jim,” he said, “he won't have much difficulty in finding us.”
 
To the children it seemed an utter impossibility that Billy should ever find them, though they said nothing, and Jim obediently lifted up his voice and coo-ee'd in answer to the Hermit's words. For himself, Jim was free to confess he had quite lost his bearings, and the other boys were as much at sea as if they had suddenly been dropped down at the North Pole. Norah alone had an idea that they were not far from their original camping-place; an idea which was confirmed when a long “Ai-i-i!” came in response to Jim's shout, sounding startlingly near at hand.
 
“Master Billy has been making his way along the creek,” commented the Hermit. “He's no distance off. Give him another call.”
 
“Here!” Jim shouted. Billy answered again, and after a few more exchanges, the bushes parted and revealed the sable⁴⁷ retainer, somewhat out of breath.
 
“Scoot back to camp, Billy,” Jim ordered. “Take these fish and soak 'em in the creek, and bring back all our tucker—milk and all. Bring it—Where'll he bring it, sir?” to the Hermit.
 
“See that tall tree, broken with the bough⁴⁸ dangling?” the Hermit asked, pointing some distance ahead. Billy nodded. “Come back to that and cooee, and we'll answer you.”
 
“Plenty!” said Billy, shouldering the bags of fish, and departing at a run. Billy had learnt early the futility⁴⁹ of wasting words.
 
“Come along,” said the Hermit, laughing.
 
He turned off into the scrub, and led the way again, taking, it seemed to Norah, rather a roundabout path. At length he stopped short, near a dense⁵⁰ clump⁵¹ of dogwood.
 
“My back door,” he said politely.
 
They stared about them. There was no sign of any door at all, nor even of any footprints or marks of traffic. The scrub was all about them; everything was very still and quiet in the afternoon hush⁵².
 
“Well, you've got us beaten and no mistake!” Jim laughed, after they had peered fruitlessly about. “Unless you camp in the air, I don't see—”
 
“Look here,” said the Hermit.
 
He drew aside a clump of dogwood, and revealed the end of an old log—a huge tree-trunk that had long ago been a forest monarch⁵³, but having fallen, now stretched its mighty⁵⁴ length more than a hundred feet along the ground. It was very broad and the uppermost side was flat, and here and there bore traces of caked, dry mud that showed where a boot had rested. The dogwood walled it closely on each side.
 
“That's my track home,” the Hermit said. “Let me help you up, Miss Norah.”
 
He sprang up on the log as he spoke, and extended a hand to Norah, who followed him lightly. Then the Hermit led the way along the log, which was quite broad enough to admit of a wheelbarrow being drawn⁵⁵ down its length. He stopped where the butt⁵⁶ of the old tree, rising above the level of the trunk, barred the view, and pulling aside the dogwood, showed rough steps, cut in the side of the log.
 
“Down here, Miss Norah.”
 
In a moment they were all on the ground beside him—Wally, disdaining⁵⁷ the steps, having sprung down, and unexpectedly measured his length on the earth, to the accompaniment of much chaff⁵⁸. He picked himself up, laughing more than any of them, just as Norah popped her head through the scrub that surrounded them, and exclaimed delightedly—.
 
“Why, here's the camp.”
 
“I say,” Jim said, following the Hermit into the little clearing, “you're well planted here!”
 
The space 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 boughs⁵⁹ 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, apparently⁶¹ for no reason. So that I feel fairly secure about my home and my belongings⁶² 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 repelling⁶³ invaders⁶⁴. 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 snugly⁶⁵ 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 strings⁶⁶, tied with wonderful and fearful knots.
 
“It must take you a long time to untie⁶⁷ 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 undid⁶⁸ 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 untying⁶⁹ 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 scrupulously⁷⁰ tidy and very plain. A hastily put up bunk⁷¹ 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 rustic⁷² table and chair, made from branches, and showing considerable ingenuity⁷³ in their fashioning. Wallaby skins thrown over the chair and upon the floor lent a look of comfort to the tiny dwelling⁷⁴; and a further touch of homeliness⁷⁵ was given by many pictures cut from illustrated⁷⁶ 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 honourable⁷⁷ 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 outspoken⁷⁸ 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 ............