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 not profited, even indirectly, by the last characteristic. His heart was filled with a kind of reverential pity for anyone who was fortunate or unfortunate enough to possess an 'affliction;' and amongst his mates had been counted a deaf man, a blind man, a poet, and a man who 'had rats.' Tom had dropped across them individually, when they were down in the world, and had befriended them, and studied them with great interest especially the poet; and they thought kindly of him, and were grateful―except the individual with the rats, who reckoned Tom had an axe to grind―that he, in fact, wanted to cut his (Rat's) liver out as a bait for Darling cod―and so renounced the mateship.

It was natural, then, for The Oracle to take the present case under his wing. He used his influence with the boss to get the Mystery on 'picking up,' and studied him in spare time, and did his best to assist the poor hushed memory, which nothing the men could say or do seemed able to push further back than the day on which the stranger 'kind o' woke up' on the plain, and found a swag beside him. The swag had been prospected and fossicked for a clue, but yielded none. The chaps were sceptical at first, and inclined to make fun of the Mystery; but Tom interfered, and intimated that if they were skunks enough to chyack or try on any of their 'funny business' with a 'pore afflicted chap,' he (Tom) would be obliged to 'perform.' Most of the men there had witnessed Tom's performance, and no one seemed ambitious to take a leading part in it. They preferred to be in the audience.

'Yes,' reflected The Oracle, 'it's a curious case,