“The word ‘prison’ put me in mind of something that I have been wanting to talk to you about almost this month past.—I don’t know how to believe my own eyes about it, but I am sure I have seen Jerry in our farm-yard at night, and lurking about among the sheds before most of our folks are stirring in the morning.” “Aye; but was he all alone, Ellen?” “Bob was never with him, that I could see; but he seemed to me to be waiting for somebody off our premises, and I thought it must naturally be me. So twice I ran out to catch him; but once I was crossed by two of our people that I don’t choose to come in the way of; and the other time he was whispering with the same two, so that I dared not go near. How could he get liberty? and what could he be about?” “Something very deep, I am afraid,” replied her brother. “As to the liberty,—it is no difficult matter for convicts who behave pretty regularly to get hours of liberty at the beginning and end of the day; and the lads being employed on roadmaking so near, accounts for our getting a glimpse of them sometimes. But what I am uneasy about is Jerry’s having so much to say to the convicts at your place and mine;—for I have seen him at Stapleton’s oftener than you have among your people. I am afraid of some plot——” “O, mercy!” cried Ellen; “what sort of a plot?” “That is more than I can say. Sometimes they plot, I hear, for nothing worse than to escape; but some have had to do with the natives, (who are little better than wild beasts), and have brought them down upon the farms, setting them to steal and even to murder; for which they pay the poor savage creatures by helping themselves with their wives.” Ellen trembled while she asked whether any of the natives could be in the neighbourhood.—Her brother hoped not, as the government had declared that they were driven back among the mountains, where they must soon die out as their wild cattle had done: but as long as any convicts were disposed to bush-ranging,—and some did actually escape every year,—he could not, for his part, feel quite secure. He thought he should speak to Stapleton about it. Meanwhile, he desired Ellen to drop not a syllable that should alarm her father, or anybody else. “I hope, sister,” he continued with some hesitation, “I hope Harry Moore has no acquaintance, more or less, with Jerry, or any other such people.” Ellen’s eyes flashed as they used to do when she was a passionate little girl at school. “Harry!” she cried. “Harry Moore have any sneaking doings! Harry Moore keep bad company! You don’t know Harry a bit better than the very first day,—the day when you thought he might be a convict himself.” “No need to be angry, Ellen. He might just know him enough, you see, to say ‘How d’ye do?’ when they meet, and to judge how often Jerry might fairly be here.”