Part 57 (2/2)

”'Is that you, Collins?' says he, trying to look up 'You're just in ti for you I've on thissoht intothe other eye already; giving ; but I don't want a monopoly of it; I wish I could pass it round' This was Alf's style of philosophy Our friend, Iolanthe, is largely, though perhaps indirectly, responsible for it”

”Yes--go on,” said the boundaryyou, it was after sunset, and there was no time to lose, so I whittled a bit of wood to a point, and essayed the task in which I claim a certain eminence, namely, the extraction of a ht, Alf,' says I; 'it's a flake of rust, about the size of a fish's scale, lodged on the coloured part, which we ter, on that part of the cornea which covers the iris

But I can't shi+ft it with this appliance Must get sorubbed the ht I don't knohat Alf thought of it at the time, but I considered it a lovely operation When it was over, Alf signified to er, so I went abouttoward ave my patient a purely professional call, and found his eye worse than ever I subjected hie of full daylight, I discovered that the cause of his trouble wasn't a flake of rust, after all; but a small, barbed speck of clean iron, e else Alf's eyes are as blue as those of Zola's Nana; and in the iris of the affected one there is, or rather was, a brown spot

I had often noticed this before; but, in the defective light, and the hurry of the operation, I had never thought of the thing and had wasted tihed to reh at!” Again I recalled Monarty's remark; for the boundary man's voice trembled as he spoke, and his splendid eye blazed with sudden resentment But the fit passed away instantly, and he asked, in his usual subdued tone, ”When did you see this--this Alf Morris last?”

”About two o,” I replied ”He was camped at that time in the Dead Man's Bend, at the junction of Avondale and Mondunbarra”

”When are you likely to see hiain?” asked the boundary man ”But, of course, you can't tell It's a foolish question I don't knohat's conorance is bliss, in that instance, poor fellow! thought I, glancing out at the weirdly beautiful ain These wool-tracks, that knew hione to a warmer cli on his seat, whilst he clutched the edge of the table

”Alf! Alf!” I re my hand on his shoulder He shrank from the touch, and immediately recovered hione four or five e of three tea utensils, and rations, and other things too nu once to Kooltopa, but now to a new station in South-western Queensland Hence I say he's gone to a warmer climate Not much of a joke, I admit”

”And what's--what's beco under his effort at self-control

”Old tier fills the Stewart's throne,” I replied, with real sadness ”Kooltopa's sold to a Melbourne co to be worked for all it's worth And I' doith the survivors of a severe trip, and the penniless pedestrian, striking the station at the eleventh hour

These people will uest flies the hall, and the vassal from labour, Since his turban was cleft by the infidel's sabre”

”Whose turban?” asked Alf, with a puzzled look

”Stewart's I spake but by a metaphor As with Antony, 'tis one of those odd tricks that sorrow shoots out of theof the Christian squatter, and so, no doubt, was many another wanderer at the same moment

”But he'll coested the boundary man

”Who?”

”This--Alf Morris”

”I don't think so I know he does n't intend it”

Another pause Glancing at my companion, as he sat with his elbows on the table, and one hand, as usual, across theunnaturally, and his shapely lips losing their deep colour

”Are you sick, Alf?”

”Yes--a little,” he whispered

I filled a cup at the water-bag, and set it before hi!” he reh ”Why don't you say soood listener