Then A Camp Was Pitched In The Forest, A Mile Or So From The Homestead; A Sawpit Dug, A Platform Erected, And Before A Week Had Passed An Invitation Was Issued, For The Missus To "Come And See A Tree Felled." "Laying Thee Foundation-Stone," The Maluka Called It.

Johnny of course welcomed us with a jovial "Now we shan't be long," and shouldering a tomahawk, led the way out of the camp into the timber.

House-hunting in town does not compare favourably with timber-hunting for a house, in a luxuriant tropical forest. Sheltered from the sun and heat we wandered about in the feathery undergrowth, while the Maluka tested the height of the giant timber above us with shots from his bull-dog revolver bringing down twigs and showers of leaves from the topmost branches, and sending flocks of white cockatoos up into the air with squawks of amazement.

Tree after tree was chosen and marked with the tomahawk, each one appearing taller and straighter and more beautiful than any of its fellows until, finding ourselves back at the camp, Johnny went for his axe and left us to look at the beauty around us.

"Seems a pity to spoil all this, just to make four walls to shut the missus in from anything worth looking at," Dan murmured as Johnny reappeared. "They won't make anything as good as this up at the house." Johnny the unpoetical hesitated, perplexed. Philosophy was not in his line. "'Tisn't too bad," he said, suddenly aware of the beauty of the scene, and then the tradesman came to the surface. "I reckon MY job'll be a bit more on the plumb, though," he chuckled, and, delighted with his little joke, shouldered his axe and walked towards one of the marked trees, while Dan speculated aloud on the chances a man had of "getting off alive" if a tree fell on him.

"Trees don't fall on a man that knows how to handle timber," the unsuspecting Johnny said briskly; and as Dan feared that "fever was her only chance then," he spat on his hands, and, sending the axe home into the bole of the tree with a clean, swinging stroke, laid the foundation-stone - the foundation-stone of a tiny home in the wilderness, that was destined to be the dwellingplace of great joy, and happiness, and sorrow.

The Sanguine Scot had prophesied rightly. There being "time enough for everything in the Never-Never," there was time for "many pleasant rides along the Reach, choosing trees for timber."

But the rides were the least part of the pleasure. For the time being, the silent Reach forest had become the hub of our little universe. All was life and bustle and movement there. Every day fresh trees were felled and chopping contests entered into by Johnny and the Dandy; and as the trees fell in quick succession, black boys and lubras armed with tomahawks, swarmed over them, to lop away the branches, before the trunks were dragged by the horses to the mouth of the sawpit.

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