Mr. Brown stopped, and appeared to be in a reflective mood, while I, who had been dozing, waked up, and requested him to finish.

“I never saw them afterwards, at least alive, but I often heard, by the shepherds in Buckerly’s employ, that the bushrangers and he were at war, and that the result could be easily foretold.  It seemed that the former were in the habit of taking a sheep or lamb, according to their fancy, whenever hunger dictated, and as they had always done; but Buckerly determined, very foolishly, to stop so unlawful a course, forgetting that he had every thing to lose, and the bushrangers nothing to gain.  He was not strong enough to cope with them, and should have bided his time; but he was hot-headed and rash, and at length was unfortunate enough to kill a fellow who had slaughtered a sheep.  From that day he was a doomed man, and not only brought destruction upon himself, but upon his family, for one night his house was attacked, and although he made a brave resistance, yet what could one man do against a dozen?  He fell with countless stabs upon his body, and then the devils, the fiends incarnate, seized the poor woman and ravished her one by one.  Luckily, she did not live to mourn her shame, but died the same night.  The children were unmolested, and are now in Melbourne under proper guardianship, and derive their support from the same station, which is carried on by a shepherd who has been there for many years.

“Word was sent to me the day after the transaction, and I made an investigation, but the perpetrators of the outrage were never discovered.  There is a tradition, however, and many shepherds in this district believe it, that on certain nights the ghost of Buckerly is seen wandering on the banks of the Loddon, with a winding-sheet covered with blood, and that those who look upon the apparition are sure to be overtaken by misfortune of some sort.

“I don’t put much faith in the story,” Mr. Brown said, edging towards me, for the night was beginning to grow quite dark, “but still I must confess to a feeling of superstition at times, and why should we not?”

Not knowing why we should not, I merely said, “Ah, indeed, why not?” and as the latter part of the story had awakened me as thoroughly as the first portion had set me to sleep, I refilled my pipe, lighted it, and endeavored, by puffing forth volumes of smoke, to compose my mind, and banish all recollections of ghosts and murders.  The effort was futile, for Mr. Brown liked to discuss such matters.

“What is to prevent Buckerly and his wife from visiting this world, and wandering around the scene of their death?”

I hazarded a guess, and thought, that want of breath, and a difficulty that they would experience in getting out of their graves without assistance, would prevent, all such attempts.

“You know that their spirits live, and if that is the case, why can’t they enter the body and walk about the earth without difficulty?”