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 "Indeed!" said the man, somewhat incredulously. He was a tall and almost handsome fellow, of a wiry frame denoting great endurance. He had no hat on his head, but a piece of kangaroo skin, sewn in the shape of a skull cap, which served to protect it from the sun. His eyes were quick and roving, and his whole countenance, which was bronzed by exposure to the weather, wore a peculiarly keen expression. His language was good, and his address like that of one who had been used to a far different life than the one he appeared to be leading. He regarded every movement of the strangers with suspicion.

Hugh asked him how far he had travelled.

"Some distance" he answered; "my feet are sore and I am weary. I had retired to yonder tree to sleep."

"I am sorry we disturbed you," said Slinger, "you must sleep very tenderly."

A shade of suspicion flitted across the man's countenance, but it disappeared as quickly, as he said, "Yes: a man who travels much in the bush has need to—the blacks and bushrangers are very apt to put one into a sound sleep—the sleep of death, if he do not awake at a slight noise."

"Have you no shoes?" said Slinger, as he noticed his bare feet.

"None: my feet are hardened. I fear me, if it were not that nature is a good shoemaker, whose soles improve the more we wear them, I should be sadly at a loss. May I ask how far you have come, gentlemen?"

"From Melbourne."

"Was there any news abroad?"

"None of importance."

After a slight pause, Hugh said, "Perhaps you are hungry, will you share our supper with us?"

"Gladly," said the man eagerly; I havn't tasted bread for