94 BUSH DAYS 



to settle between themselves which was the nearest way, we 

 passed up the lane and found Plum-street. 



We did not hesitate long in our choice. Up on the left 

 was the high road, which we knew so well, but to the, right. 

 Plum-street, a grassy lane, ran down the gully between green, 

 green fields, and over the top, and away. A flock of peewees 

 flew across the paddocks, calling loudly ' k this-way, this-way," 

 so that way we went, and a quarter of an hour's walk along 

 the grassy path and through the bush brought us out at the 

 foot of a long red lane, with orange orchards all along one 

 side. Little neat cottages with shining windows faced the 

 afternoon sun, and the golden balls gleamed amongst the 

 glossy leaves. On the opposite side of the road the big uncut 

 timber reared tall tops, and the rays of light came in long 

 shafts through the gum trees and the she-oak needles ; while a 

 couple of tip-carts, resting in w r eek-end idleness at the side of 

 the road, made a little patch of blue against the red of the 

 earth and the green of the bush. Over the rise of the hill we 

 could see a group of pine trees which looked familiar, and as 

 we drew nearer we found that we were right at St. Ives itself, 

 and nearly at the end of our walk. 



For our walk had an object this day the object which 

 draws most people to the little old-world village. We were 

 in search of oranges, and there is no fruit so sweet and juicy 

 as the oranges picked from the trees at St. Ives. Perhaps the 

 name lends a flavour, and perhaps the walk in search of them 



