way, that they'd never see Melbourne. He
should bury them both in the bush, and take
on the bullocks. They wished him a good
market for them on his arrival, and drank
his health on the spot in a "nobbler" of
brandy from the keg in the dray.

The most exhausting part of the work was
the necessity of the "stock" being watched
by night, because while many lie down during
a long journey, others wander about grazing.
Sometimes a few of them stray into a bog or
deep swamp, or feel disposed to do so, while
others have a special fancy for swimming a
creek. The three "drovers" kept watches of
two hours duration, in turn.

On one occasion, when it was the bullock-
driver's watch, he thought fit, in the greatness
of his experience, to consider that it was "all
right;" whereupon he rolled himself up in his
blanket, and went fast asleep. Some time after,
our cornet awoke—saw the watch now lying
rolled up—looked about, listened, and became
satisfied that a number of bullocks had strayed
across the creek, and that more were following
them. Finding it impossible to arouse the
professional gentleman to any activity, or
apparent understanding of the case, he shook
Wentworth, and told him what had happened.
"What shall we do?" said his friend. "We
must swim the creek and go after them," said
the cornet. "All right!" answered the
other. Up they got, swam the creek—in
their clothes, carrying their long boots in
their mouths—and went after the bullocks.

The beasts were far ahead, and set off, as
soon as they found who was upon their track.
What with windings and doubles, and some
going in one direction, and some in another, the
pursuers had to follow the bullocks eighteen
miles before they brought them all together
(except three, who were lost) back to the
creek. Having driven them in, the two
amateur drovers were about to follow, when
Wentworth said he was too tired to carry his
boots over in his teeth, as they filled with
water and dragged behind, so he attempted
to whirl them over across the creek. They
fell short of the bank, and were carried down
the stream.

Arrived on the other side, the swimmers
rested an hour or two, and then proceeded on
their journey. The boggy state of the ground
was such that they could scarcely get the
dray through it, and continually expected to
have to throw everything away of its load
excepting the oats and their little store of
provisions. Wentworth could not, therefore,
be taken into the dray, and he had to follow
barefoot. He did the same all the next day
when the ground changed to uneven rocks
and stones, and cracks and holes, and his feet
were cut and bleeding during twelve hours;
but not one word of complaint escaped his
lips. The ensuing morning, at daybreak,
they "came upon" an old pair of shoes that
had been thrown away, and Wentworth was
a happy man.

They had now been seven weeks on the
road, and soon after the little event of the
creek, just recorded, our cornet, who was a
masterly horseman, placed himself at the head
of the concern: taking the lead on all occasions
of difficulty, and continually "ordering coves
about," as the bullock-driver morosely
complained. Finding his "art" thus distanced,
and comparatively taken out of his hands, the
latter personage announced his intention of
immediately withdrawing his services. The
cornet said, Well, he could go. All right,
old boy. Good day! The bullock-driver
wanted to be paid. Cornet said he could not
easily manage it, as he and Wentworth had
only thirteen shillings and sixpence between
them at this present. He might take that.
The bullock-driver said he couldn't take that.
There was no alternative, so he went on, and
gradually became more reconciled, and even
tried to make himself agreeable.

In this way they journeyed, making as
much ground as they could by day, and turning
aside towards evening to find pasture for
the stock, and such quantity of sleep for
themselves, in turn, as the wandering fancies
of the beasts would permit. Thus passed
days upon days without their meeting a single
human being, and sometimes they met no
one for weeks. When they did fall in with
anybody, it would be a shepherd, or squatter,
or stock-keeper, perhaps only seen a mile or
two distant; or they would meet a party of the
Aborigines. On one occasion seven of these
advanced with spears (they are fatal marksmen),
but the cornet's rifle was up in a trice.
He would in all probability have "potted"
the foremost of them, if they had not all
instantly scurried into the bush.

They were now in the third month of their
journey. Their first suit of clothes had been
quite worn out, and flung away, and the
remaining suit was in rags. As for the cornet,
he was reduced to his shirt-sleeves and half
a waistcoat: he had ridden the seat off his
corduroys, and the legs hung in shreds and
tatters.

One morning, about daybreak, being fast
asleep, and having had a hard night's work
in riding after stragglers, Cornet Arthur
was rather disturbed by a strange voice
calling out "I say, young man!" The place
where they were, was a shed near a hut
belonging to a sheep station, and the cornet
being far more comfortable than usual,
declined to notice the overture; but the fellow
persisted, till the sleeper opened his eyes and
yawned at him with no very grateful gesture.
This fellow was a butcher on horseback, carrying
a long riding whip with a hook at one
end. "I say, young man," said he, "where's
your master?" Our cornet drowsily
remarked that he was pretty well his own
master out there, and he fancied those
bullocks belonged to him. "Now, you be
blowed," said the butcher. Cornet told him
he could not be blowed (and wouldn't if he