There was one thing which he deserved credit for, and it was accorded him with all our hearts.  The supper which he provided was capable of making us forget our pains and fatigue; for a roasted lamb was smoking on a table, and three or four gallons of coffee were all ready to be drank, to restore us to new life.

All the articles which we had left at the hut were found in good order, and nothing was missing.  It may seem strange that a stockman’s hovel, miles away from other habitations, should escape the assaults of bushrangers; but the latter knew their own interests too well to meddle with keepers of sheep and cattle.

Many stockmen are in league with escaped convicts, and give them the earliest information in regard to the pursuit or routes of policemen; and although such a charge could not be brought against my friend, the old convict, yet the bushrangers knew that if he was molested or injured, the owners of the animals under his charge would find it very hard work to fill his place, and be forced in the end to drive their herds to other grazing spots.  Hence, the supply of provisions which the bushrangers were in the habit of always considering secure, would have been cut off, and uncertain means resorted to.

The only instance of attack on my friend’s house, on record, was when Jim Gulpin and his band required the surrender of a number of policemen sheltered within its walls.  The result of that assault is well known to the readers of these sketches; so I will not review the circumstances.

During our absence the old man’s daughter, or, in other words, Mrs. Becky Lang, had attended to her few household duties, and also watched our cattle, to prevent their straying from the corral.  She had supplied them with water from the small stream, and in every respect behaved like a courageous woman, as she was.  She had, apparently, recovered from the deepest of her grief on account of the loss of her husband, and her full ruddy cheek gave ample tokens of good health.

I saw that Smith was more attentive on our return than perhaps there was any occasion for; and I also noticed that the woman appeared anxious that he should have the best of every thing, and helped him twice to our once.

There was no occasion for our complaining, however, although we did joke Smith upon the conquest he had made, and asked if he had named the happy day; questions which he took in very good part, in spite of the blushes which mantled his sun-burned face.

That evening I offered my sincere congratulations, when Smith, after a confused account of what he wanted to do, informed me with an air of secrecy, that he had spoken to Becky, and that she had returned an answer that she thought she could make him happy the remainder of his life.

“But when is the wedding to take place?” I asked, coolly lighting my pipe; for the reader will please to note that it was not I who contemplated the awful act, and therefore I could condole with other people’s woes with great equanimity.