The governor smiled good-humoredly as we hesitated, and before we knew how to frame an excuse we were moving towards the dining-room arm-in-arm with Colonel Hensen and the captain of police.

That dinner will long live in my memory, not only for the good cheer, to which we had long been strangers, but for the social manner in which we were treated by the governor and his guests.

Even the hound, who had received a large share of attention, was permitted to enter the dining-room, and by the manner in which his eyes glistened I thought he appeared to enjoy himself as well as the rest of the company.

CHAPTER XX.

Duel between Fred and an English lieutenant.

Even at this distant day, I think that I have a faint recollection of walking through the streets of Melbourne at a late hour on the afternoon that we dined with the governor—­and I also think that we were escorted to our home by Colonel Hensen, and a number of other gentlemen, although who they were I have not the slightest recollection.

It was a late hour the next morning, when we awoke with aching heads and parched throats.  Our faithful friend, Smith, was stirring, and by the aroma we knew that a strong dish of coffee had been prepared by his hands, and that it awaited us as soon as we rose—­an act which we had no inclination to do; but a sight of his sorrowful face as he spread the table, made me alter my mind.

I slipped on my clothes, and bathed my heated head in cool water just taken from the river, and felt refreshed by the operation; and by the time Fred had gone through with the same process, breakfast was pronounced ready, and down to it we sat with but scant appetites.

“What have you got such a long face on for this morning?” I asked of the stockman, who hardly raised his eyes while he was drinking his coffee.

“Can you ask?” he replied, looking up, and I saw by the expression of his face that he had not slept during the night.

“Can I ask?” I repeated, “to be sure I can.  We got a little out of the way last night, but the circumstance is too common to provoke remark in Australia.”

“Ah, it was not that I was thinking about.  I was considering how unkind the governor has treated me, in not granting me freedom after so many years of good conduct,” replied Smith.

“O, is that all?” I cried, with an appearance of indifference.  “I thought you were sick, or had heard some bad news.”

I saw the poor fellow’s face flush at my apparently unkind speech, and I saw an expression of surprise in his blue eyes which cut me to the heart.  I sprang from the table, and taking from my coat pocket the two pardons, laid them before him without a word of remark.

His eyes were, the instant he read his name, blinded with tears.  He laid his head upon the table, and wept long and bitterly without speaking, and his stout frame shook with the violence of his emotion.  We suffered him to continue without interruption; but when he did look up, he grasped our hands, and pressed them convulsively, muttering,—­