CHAPTER XI.
THE DEFEAT OF DAN HEELEY.
AT Big Timber Professor Thunder's Museum of Marvels had run for several consecutive hours to satisfactory business, and was now well on its way to The Mills, where a great day was expected in view of some local festivity that meant a general holiday for the mill hands, and a bush carousal.
The caravan was drawn up for tea in the moonlit bush by Howlet's jinker track.

A camp-fire blazed in the end of a butt under a wide-branching gum.

The Professor lay at a distance--for the night was warm--smoking on the crisp grass.

The Living Skeleton crouched near, embracing his lean knees, staring into the fire, thinking fondly of his absent wife and family, a furtive tear lurking in the hollow of his cheek, for Matty Cann's absurd sentimentality made him a failure as a vagabond.

Nickie fussed about gallantly, assisting Madame Marve and little Miss Thunder, who were busy spreading papers for the evening meal.
Professor Thunder had in Madame Marve a perfect wife for a showman.