Page 101 - A Little Bush Maid
P. 101

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, T’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. T 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, apparently for no
               reason. So that T feel fairly secure about my home and my belongings when

               T 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 T 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. T

               have a few papers T 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 T have to
               chance, and, as T told you, T’ve so far been pretty lucky in repelling

               invaders. 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 snugly pitched with its back door (had there been
               one) against the trunk of a huge dead tree. Tt 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 strings, tied with wonderful and
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