“I gave him a hearty breakfast, and when he got ready to leave placed a pair of sheep-skin shoes upon his feet; but all my arguments did not induce him to accept of the garments that belonged to me, as he feared that in case he was taken they would be traced and involve me in trouble.  It was considerate in him certainly, but from that day to this he has baffled all attempts at capture; but how much longer he will be permitted to go at large is only known to God.”

“And did he ever pay you another visit at the hut?” I asked, as Smith paused.

“Quite frequently; but he always came alone, and would not allow one of the gang whom he gathered about him to molest my flocks.  I saw him on my last trip to the mines, and he tried to bribe me to purchase him a pair of revolvers; but I refused, and he left me without a word of reproach.”

It was nearly four o’clock when Smith finished his account of the bushranger; and as the heat was not so oppressive as at noon, we decided to travel eight or ten miles farther that evening, before we camped for the night.

The oxen were found, driven towards the cart, and yoked; and, with many a sharp crack of the stockman’s whip, we crossed the stream, and once more pursued our way towards Ballarat.

CHAPTER III.

Travelling in Australia.—­An adventure with snakes.—­Carrying the mails.

During the rainy season in Australia, the roads leading to the mines are almost impassable, as the soil is light and the water easily penetrates to a great depth.  Teams, with half a dozen yoke of cattle, can scarcely draw a heavy cart, as the brutes sink to their knees in mud at every step, and the wheels of the vehicle are buried to the axletree most of the time.  Five or ten miles per day is as great a distance as animals can travel; and even at that rate it is quite common for the oxen to give out, and be left by the roadside, a prey for dogs and other wild animals.

The natives of the island,—­for the race bears no resemblance to that class of people to whom we are wont to ascribe an elastic step, a noble bearing, and undaunted courage—­have been known to follow a team for twenty-four hours, expressly for the purpose of picking the bones of an ox which they imagined would soon give out; and when the poor brute is left to die, they crowd upon him like vultures, and hack off huge strips of quivering fresh before his breath has departed.

In the summer season, when no rain falls to lay the dust or irrigate the earth, the streams, which, during the winter, are like mountain torrents, and sweep every thing opposed to them towards the ocean, become puny little rivulets, and as the summer advances, disappear altogether from sight, and nothing but deep gulches mark the spot where but a few months before a large body of water flowed.