Opposite the hotel was the bakery, and along that side of the straight, wide and solitary street the eye passed the store, the police station, the hall-used as the court house-and then an irregularly spaced row of iron-built houses. Returning along the hotel side of the street, one’s eye passed over several more small houses, the doctor’s house, the post office. Every building in Carie was skirted by vacant allotments. There was no great house shortage, and the town had ample room for expansion should the shortage ever exist.

The people of Carie were free of class distinctions, and the general happiness stood at a high level. One only among them was the leader, and, in consequence, there was a delightful absence of snobbery.

In any community outside the bush proper, Dr. Mulray would have stood at the apex of the human pyramid. Next to him would have come the bank manager, had there been one, then the postmaster, followed by the senior policeofficer. But Dr. Mulray cared nothing for society. His interests lay entirely among his patients and in his chess-board. The postmaster had been relegated to a back seat by his considerable family, whilst Mounted-Constable Lee desired only peace and leisure to read novels. As for the storekeeper and the baker and the butcher-well, they knew that to rebel against the leader would preface their examination in bankruptcy.

To dispute with the leader of Carie was to ask for trouble, for the leader held a mortgage over the store, the bakery and the hall. The leader owned Dr. Mulray’s house and furniture, the butcher’s shop and the majority of the none-too-numerous dwellings. In fact, save for the government buildings, the leader owned almost the whole of Carie, and partly owned several out-lying pastoral properties.