a N.N.W. direction, I should save many miles
of journey. All this I stated to my comrades;
and, after much discussion, it was agreed that
we would try the adventure of a dash into
the pathless country.

So we did; and, after crossing solitary
plains, arrived by night at hills covered with
dense wood. We supped upon half a biscuit
each, and in the morning breakfasted upon
the other half. Then, with angry stomachs,
we resumed our march. It would be difficult
to convey an idea of the intense labour and
fatigue we next experienced. For miles after
miles our course lay across mountains heavily
timbered, overwoven with thick tangled
underwood. Of level open ground there
was literally not an acre; the base of one
mountain joined to the base of the next, with
a quagmire always at the point of junction.
At the top of each mountain, as well as at
the bottom, the compass was referred to, and
there were bearings taken. Mountain after
mountain we had scaled, frequently obliged
to cling with both our hands, and pause to
pant for breath at every few steps. How
often, on arriving at the summit of some
height, we looked eagerly forward, hoping to
see an expanse of clear, level ground! But
no, there was ever another mighty barricade
to climb over, and our limbs ached and our
stomachs hungered at the sight.

Once through an opening in the forest, I
caught sight of Mount Macedon, and calling
my companions pointed it out to them. On
examining the compass we found that our
course was exactly true. By that discovery
they got a little confidence.

We had been, for a long time, forcing our
way through the tangled underwood to the
top of one particular mountain which, from
the bleached skeleton of a sheep that we found
on the top, I claimed my right, as a pioneer,
to call Mount Skeleton. When we did reach
the top of that mount we were utterly
exhausted, and for some time totally unable to
go any farther. Flinging ourselves on our
backs, panting for breath, and all of us black
as sweeps (from contact with the trunks of the
trees, blackened by bush fires) we were too
tired to speak or stir, and lay stretched out
as motionless as though we ourselves had
been, or were about to become skeletons.
Flocks of brightly coloured birds danced in
the air about us, screaming, perhaps awake;
and the laughing jaguar (commonly called
jackass) with his loud Ha, ha, ha! seemed to
consider our predicament the happiest of
jokes.

Suddenly a report was heard, quickly
followed by another, and another.
Something mortal that way came. Forgetful of
fatigue up we started, and made off in the
direction of the sound. Down the side of the
mountain we went, plunging through the
underwood, heedless of pain, and came at last
upon a stockman driving a team of bullocks.
He told us that we could get meat, flour, and
other necessaries, at a station a few miles
further on; that we were right for Bendigo,
and had saved twenty miles by our short cut.
So, bidding him good day, we pushed on for
the station. There we told the owner what
we wanted, and he led us into a large, rough,
wooden building like an English barn; but
instead of corn in it, there were commodities
of all kinds; the place was a general store.
The farmers in the interior, when they sell
their wool, lay in at such places a sufficient
stock of everything they are likely to want
for a year. We each bought flour and a
quarter of mutton. That is the smallest
quantity sold; and, during the heat of the
Australian summer, it is generally half thrown
away, for it becomes covered with maggots a
few hours after it is killed. Ours was a hot
summer experience, and I may state generally
that we were obliged to eat our meat either
before the warmth of life was out of it,
or else with more life in it than might
be palatable to anybody nice about his
dinner.

Next day we resumed our journey, which
still lay through forest. In a few hours we
came upon an extensive encampment, and
found that it was composed of some sixty
emigrants on the way to the diggings. They
complained sadly of the difficulty they had in
finding enough food for so many; had no
compass among them, and had lost their way
repeatedly since they first came into the
wood. It was the famous Black Forest, in
which, as we journeyed on, we passed several
other parties going up to Bendigo. It was
wretched work for horses there, and bullocks;
numbers of them lay like camels in the
desert, dead by the roadside. The tracks
were ploughed up to the very axles.
Frequently a dray would be bogged, and it
would be the work of sixteen oxen fastened
on to extricate it. At other times the road
on a hill side was so shelving, that there
were ropes fastened to one side of the
dray, and held by men, to prevent an
overturn.

We had been eleven days in the Black
Forest, and were growing tired of its scorched
trunks. It is a notorious place for bush-
rangers, who come and go with a strange
suddenness. Of this we had an instance. We
had halted at mid-day, and were deep in the
mysteries of cooking, when a horse's head
was laid affectionately on my shoulder. I
felt for my pistol, and turning round, faced a
bold horseman, quite of the Claude du Val
school. He was mounted on a blood mare,
wore long riding boots of polished enamelled
leather, had a Colt's revolver in his belt,
another pair in his holsters, and a green veil
hanging from his broad straw hat. The long
lash of a handsomely mounted stock whip was
coiled elegantly in his hand. Probably, he
came to reconnoitre; but as he found us
too well armed for his purpose, he simply
asked the usual question, "Had we seen any