“I will show you that I have not forgotten my old trade,” Smith said, after we had expressed our wonder at the number of animals before us.

He placed his hand to his mouth as he spoke, and uttered a shrill whistle, which could have been heard for a mile or two.  Twice did he repeat the signal, and as he finished, the animals came slowly towards us, as though confident that one who could produce sounds like those was incapable of injuring them.

“Ah!” laughed the convict, “how many times have I called my flock in that manner! and although years have passed since I was a stockman, I have not yet forgotten the trick of the trade.”

“Your signals appear to have awakened some one,” Fred said, pointing to a man who emerged from the hut, gun in hand, and who seemed undecided whether to treat us as friends or foes.

“I will tell you a few circumstances connected with that man’s history,” the convict said, as we walked towards him.  “Ten years since he was on trial for the murder of his wife.  The evidence was not very clear, so the jury brought in a verdict of manslaughter, thinking that they might as well convict on that ground as to let him escape.  He was sentenced to transportation for life; but after he had been in the colony three years, new facts were brought to light which made his innocence apparent.  His counsel petitioned government for a release; but the ministers turned a deaf ear to all entreaties, and said that as a jury had presumed upon his guilt, they would not think of requesting her majesty to grant a pardon; and the only thing they would attempt, would be to send orders to treat the poor fellow as leniently as possible.  In consequence, he was allowed a parole, and entered the service of the man who owns the vast flock of sheep which you see before you.  He has grown morose since he has led a solitary life, and if he answers questions at all, it is in monosyllables.  But do not treat him as if you knew for what he was transported.”

The latter part of Smith’s remarks were spoken hurriedly, and in a low tone, for we were close to the unfortunate man when they were uttered, and he feared to be overheard.

I looked at the stockman with singular interest as we approached him.  He was, apparently, about fifty years of age, thin and slightly inclined to stoop.  His face was strongly marked and peculiar, and at one time he must have passed for an exceedingly good-looking man.

His hair, which was quite white, gave him a venerable appearance; while a long, flowing beard of jet black, combed, and carefully trimmed, reminded me of a distinguished minister that I had once listened to, and whose sermon made an impression upon my mind that has never been effaced.

The stockman retained his defensive attitude, until he recognized the features of Smith, when his gun was rested against the side of the hut, and he once more dropped his head upon his breast, and with folded arms awaited our coming.