“Well!” cried Smith, with assured cheerfulness; “how do you get along nowadays?”

The stockman raised his head, and looked at the questioner as though referring him to his face, with its wrinkles and lines of care, for an answer.  A moment after, his head was bowed upon his breast again, and he appeared unconscious that we were present.

“Have you seen Darnley’s band lately?” Smith inquired.

“Yes,” replied the stockman, still retaining his position.

“Has he visited you within the past few days?” queried Smith.

“Yes,” replied the man.

“Ah, his supply of provisions was short,” cried Smith, as his eyes sought the flocks as though wondering how many sheep satisfied the bushranger and his gang.

The stockman returned no answer, so we passed him and entered his hut.  There were two bedsteads made of hides, a table, two rough chairs, that looked as though introduced during the days of Sir Francis Drake, a few pans hanging against the wall, an old chest with a broken lid and no lock, and these were all the articles of luxury or convenience that graced the cabin of the stockman.

Smith pointed out the spot where Darnley had slept on the night of his visit; and after we had gratified our curiosity, we left the room, and bidding the stockman good-by, started on our return to the team.

The poor man did not reply to our salutation, and after we left the house a number of rods behind, we turned and saw that he was still buried in profound reflection, and that his head was, as usual, resting on his breast.

“Poor fellow!” I muttered; “his unjust sentence has broken his heart.”

“He feels the wrong keenly,” Smith said.  “He has but one wish on earth now; and that is, to see his daughter before he dies.”

“He then has children living?” Fred asked.

“Only one, and she was a mere child when he left home.  After his misfortunes the girl was placed with a respectable family in Lincolnshire.  He has often heard from her—­she married a hard-working man, and now has one or two children.  The stockman has saved every shilling of his earnings for the last few years, for the purpose of paying their passage to this country, where he thinks the husband can prosper, and where he will have the privilege of seeing his grandchildren grow up around him.  Ten months since a hundred pounds were sent for the object he had in view, but during the whole of that time no word has arrived that the money reached its destination.”

“A hard case, and one deserving of our warmest sympathy,” cried Fred, once more stopping to look at the solitary man, who still stood with folded arms and bowed head, meditating upon his wrongs.

“A kangaroo! a kangaroo!” cried the convict, suddenly, pointing with his hand towards a tall, slim animal, that was standing under a tree, as if to shelter itself from the sun.

We looked at the kangaroo with considerable interest.  It was nearly six feet high, when standing upon its hind legs, of a dark red color, with small spots of white upon its breast, while two short arms, or flippers, were dangling from its fore-shoulders, which were narrow and lean, as though, clipper-like, it was intended for speed.