F---- was very loath to leave them there; but, yielding to my entreaties, he called Pepper, the head shepherd, and solemnly gave the wool-shed and its contents over into his charge, with many and many a caution about fire.

Pepper was as trustworthy and steady a shepherd as any in the colony, and promised to "keep his weather-eye open," as he phrased it, in nautical slang picked up from some run-away sailor.
All the way home F---- said from time to time, anxiously, "I wish the shed was empty;" but I cheered him up, and told him he was over-tired and unreasonably nervous, and so forth, but with a great longing myself for Monday morning to come, and for the dray to take its load and start.

I need not dwell on how delicious it was to return home, where everything seemed so comfortable and nice, and the bed felt especially soft and welcome to tired limbs.

Early were our hours, you may be sure, and we slept the sleep of the hard-worked until between two and three o'clock the next morning.

Then we were roused up by some one knocking loudly against our wide-open latticed window.
I was the first to hear the noise, and cried, "Who's there?
what is it ?" all in a breath.
"The wool-shed on fire," murmured F----, in a tone of agonized conviction.
"It's you that's wanted, please mum, this moment, over at the home station!" I heard Pepper say, in impatient tones.
"It's the wool-shed," repeated F----, more than half asleep, and with only room for that one idea in his dreamy mind.
"Nonsense!" I cried, jumping out of bed.