“We are willing,” we said.

“And the lameness and blisters?” he asked.

“The lameness is nearly gone, and the blisters are broken.”

“Good; help me yoke the cattle, and before to-night you will taste, for the first time, broiled kangaroo; and I’ll tell you beforehand it’s no mean dish.  Ge-long, ye brutes,” and with hard cracks of the whip the cart rumbled on, and we left the natives still squatting upon the ground, and looking after us, as though wondering why we would travel when it was so pleasant to sit still.

CHAPTER V.

The solitary stockman.—­Shooting A kangaroo.

About ten o’clock on the morning that we took our leave of the natives, after witnessing their extraordinary skill at spear-hurling, the sun shone out with a brilliancy and power that caused the cattle to protrude their tongues, and lift their feet as though they wore shod with fifty-sixes.

At twelve o’clock, when it seemed impossible for the oxen to go much further without drink, our eyes were gladdened by the sight of green trees and shrubs, which grew as if marked by a straight line, far off on the prairie.  The convict pointed to the well known signs of water, with an encouraging smile, if, indeed, a smile could be seen when a man’s face is plastered over an inch thick with dust; but at any rate we were willing to consider it as an expression of joy; although, perhaps, some people might have thought our countenances resembled those of fiends rather than human beings, for no flesh was visible, and the eyes looked any thing but inviting, inflamed as they were by heat and dust.

“There is water close at hand?” I gasped, as the convict pointed to the dark green line.

“Yes; and plenty of it,” he replied, snapping his long whip, and encouraging his tired animals with a hoarse shout.

The brutes appeared to sniff water even in the hot air, for they bent their sturdy necks to the yoke with renewed energy, and plodded along at a rate that required all of our exertions to keep beside the team.

In an hour’s time we were standing upon the banks of a stream that had forced its way through the level prairie, and which, during the rainy season was unfordable; but now, when the hot sun had drank up most of its water, a child could have passed over and not wet its knees.

It required the united exertions of all three of us to prevent the oxen from rushing down the banks of the rivulet, and quenching their thirst before the formality of unyoking had been gone through with.  The stock-whip was often raised, and its long lash exercised with terrible severity, and every time it touched the flanks of the brutes, a small piece of skin not larger than a sixpence was clipped from their quivering flanks, leaving the flesh exposed to the mercy of the numerous insects which hovered in the air and darted upon the defenceless spots with the greediness of starvation.