last the colt is drafted out of the crowd, and
"bailed up" in a corner of the high rail fences
which constitute the horse-yard; a saddle is as
firmly secured on his back as girths, surcingle,
and crupper can do it; and he is led out into
the paddock. Jim is a tall lathy Sydney native,
with long hair, and a brown face:  a great swell
in his way, with his white shirt, his white sailor-
cut moleskin trousers, his little cabbage-tree
hat and long black ribbons. The colt is a
strong chesnut, five years old; he was roped,
handled, and backed, two months ago; has been
turned out since, and is fat and jolly. As he
stands, with his back up, his tail tucked in, and
showing the white of his wicked eyes, he looks
vicious; what Jim calls "a regular nut, and no
flies."  Jim's mate catches hold of the colt's
ear, and hangs on to it, while Jim gets well
into his big colonial saddle and short stirrups.

"Let un go!" says Jim, and, with his back
arched, his head and tail tucked in between his
legs, and his feet together, the buck-jumper
executes a rapid series of springs into the air,
each accompanied with a jerk from his powerful
loins. "Stick to him, Jim!" shout the delighted
lookers-on, as the colt goes bucking round in a
circle, screaming savagely at every bound. Jim
does stick to him, throwing himself right back in
the saddle at every plunge, and laying into his
mount vigorously with a green hide-cutting whip.

Peace being established between these two,
consequent on the colt's exhaustion, we all take
a good drink of water, light our pipes, and start, a
party of fifteen or sixteen, two or three "swells,"
seven or eight stockmen, and some black boys.
Most of us have spare horses leading alongside
of us; each has his blanket, quart pot, and a bit
of bread and beef, packed on his back.  Our
party jogs quietly along, out through the low
polygonum scrub which skirts the river, on to
the great grey plain stretching like a sea before
us, past the quiet milking cattle, that stray
about the home station, past distant lines of
cows and bullocks marching solemnly along
converging tracks to their accustomed watering-
place, past mobs of wilder cattle, that run
together as we approach, stare awhile at us, then
start, galloping for some place of rendezvous or
"camp."  Jim's colt wants a canter, so he is
started off to "round them up." He gallops
round them once or twice, and stops them on
a little sand-hill.

An hour more, and, ahead of us, a couple of
miles off, is a mob of some kind, which, from
its dark colour—there being nothing white
among it —  and its scattered appearance, we take
to be a lot of horses. This causes some little
excitement among our party, many of whom
would dearly like to have a gallop after them,
and try to "run them in" somewhere, for there
are sometimes wild mobs in this part of the
plains, with unclaimed stock, or "clear skins"
among them, besides, perhaps, stray horses, for
which rewards are to be had—stockmen's
perquisites. Horses, sure enough! They come,
thirty or forty of them, thundering down
towards us, in a cloud of dust, violently
exciting our nags.  A quarter of a mile from
us, they stop short, heads and tails up, stare
and snort a moment, then some old mare anxious
for her foal's safety starts away at a hand
gallop, the kicking and screaming crowd take an
undecided turn, then follow her at twenty miles
an hour; a great black stallion, tail in air, ears
laid back, and nose to the ground, whipping in
the rearmost. Nelson, Trump, and Fly, three
tall brindled kangaroo hounds, have followed
us without orders. Some one says, "There's
a warrigal!" and sure enough we see a yellow
wild dog jumping up in the air to get a look
at us over the tops of the low cotton bushes.
The dogs have seen him too, and they are off like
arrows, with their bristles up and with murder
in their eyes. Warrigal canters on leisurely,
thinking they are only sheep-dogs, and cannot
catch him. Not until he sees our whole
squadron follow the hounds, led horses and all, at full
gallop, quart pots and hobble-chains clattering
and rattling, does he start to run for his life.
Nelson catches him in half a mile, knocks him
over, receives one hard nip from the warrigal's
steel-trap jaws, and has him by the throat.  A
savage worry; and the sheep are rid of an
enemy.  We cut off his brush, light our pipes,
and go back to our course again.

The sun is setting in a glory of coloured fire,
illuminating the distant river timber we have
left behind us, and the expanse of plain between
us and it, with violet light, in which all distant
objects seem strangely near and distinct. The
clump of forest oak marking the water-hole
where we mean to camp to-night is plainly in
sight, from the high ground to the south of the
desolate fifteen-mile swamp, when our friend
Jim, whose colt has been going quietly and well
for the last few miles, sees a great black snake.
The snake prepares for action, coiling himself
up, with his head and neck erect, and flattened
venomously. Jim, forgetting that he is riding
a young one, drops the coils of his sixteen-foot
stock-whip, prepared to smite his enemy. The
colt takes fright at the trailing thong, and
starts bucking viciously in a circle, of which
the angry snake is the centre. Jim's nerves
are pretty strong, and few horses can throw
him, but he looks awfully scared this time, for
he thinks that if a strap or a buckle give way,
he will be thrown right on the top of the
poisonous reptile. "Sit tight, Jim, or the snake
will have you!" shout the laughing lookers-on,
and a black boy breaks the brute's back with a
cut of his whip, takes off his head, and carries
him to camp, to grill for his supper. Twilight
does not last long, so we start into a canter for
a mile or two, and soon arrive at our camping-
place: a shallow water-hole, by a clump of
ragged-looking trees, near which passes the
boundary line of our run. Those confounded
sheep of our neighbour's have been trespassing
again, and have spoilt the water in the hole
with their feet.

We find a fallen tree against which to make
a fire, pull off our saddles, secure our horses'
fore feet with hobbles, light the fire, fill the