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186 another, down to the shape o' their horns—bar the brands, of course; Treganis's beast havin' N T near-shoulder, an' J H conjoined under half-circle off-ribs. I had him halfways back to the paddick agen when Tregarvis thought he was identifyin' him in the killin'-yard. So he fell-in, simple enough. An' between one thing an' another, an' bein' follered-up like the last dingo on a sheep station, ole Tregarvis was glad to sell-out to M'Gregor, before all was over. Yes, Stevenson; Lord 'a' mercy on M'Gregor if you got a holt of him! My word!"

"Where the (adj. sheol) do you reckon on bein' shoved into when you croak, Bob?" asked Donovan, with a touch of human solicitude.

"Well," replied Bob pointedly, as he unfolded his long angles to a perpendicular right line—"I got good hopes o' goin' to a place where there's no admittance for swearers. Ain't ashamed to say I repented eight or ten months ago. Guarantee you fellers ain't heard no language out o' my mouth since I set down here. Nor 'on't—never again. Well, take care o' yourselves, chaps." And, without further farewell, Bob removed his lonely individuality from our convention.

"Anointed (adj.) savage," remarked Donovan, as the subject of his comment receded into the hazy half-light of the plain, where his horse was feeding.

"Uncivilised (person)," added Baxter.

"Well—yes," conceded Thompson. "Same time, he's got the profit of his unprofitableness, so to speak. Hard to beat him in the back country. You'd have to be more uncivilised than he is. And I saw that very thing happen to him, four or five weeks ago, out on Goolumbulla." Thompson paused experimentally, then continued, "Yes, I saw him put-through, till he must have felt a lot too tall in proportion to his cleverness." Another tentative pause. "But it took the very pick of uncivilisation to do it." A prolonged pause, while Thompson languidly filled and lit his pipe. Still the dignified indifference of the camp remained unruffled. Thompson might tell his yarn, or keep it to himself. Once already during the evening his tongue had run too freely. "What I'm thinking about," he continued, in a tone of audible musing, "is that I forgot to tell Bob, when he was here, that I had a long pitch with Dan O'Connell, three or four nights ago."

"Boundary man on Goolumbulla," I suggested apathetically. "Got acquainted with Bob years ago, when he was making himself useful on Moogoojinna, and Bob was making himself obnoxious on Wo-Winya, or Boolka."

"No; they never met till four or five weeks ago," replied Thompson, with inimitable indifference, though now licensed to proceed without damage to his own dignity. "Dan's an old acquaintance of yours—is n't he? I heard your name mentioned over the finding of a dead man—George something—had been fencing on Mooltunya—George Murdock. Yes."

Thompson told a story well. I verily believe he used to practise the accomplishment mentally, as he sauntered along beside his team. He knew his own superiority here; his acquaintances knew it too, and they