“How?” I asked.

“By still playing the ghost,” he replied, with a grin.

“You have done so, and successfully,” I said; “can’t you think of some other dodge?”

“Don’t want any other,” he returned, patting the bullock’s head in an affectionate manner.  “Men can always be moved by their fears and guilty consciences.”

We agreed with him in that respect, but didn’t see how he could serve us further by assuming the ghost line.

“Then I’ll tell you,” the shepherd said.  “One half of the coveys who saw me by this time think that they have been frightened by a shadow, a white bullock, or a horse.  They won’t acknowledge that they saw a ghost, while the other portion will contend stoutly that I had fire issuing from my mouth, and that I was the devil or his imp.  With this question unsettled I shouldn’t be surprised if they made these parts another visit to solve their doubts, for the bushrangers who haven’t seen me will only deride those who have, and disbelieve all the statements made.”

We acknowledged that there was some truth in the remark, and Day, highly delighted with the admission, continued: 

“Now I think that the best way would be for me to show myself once more and give the coveys another and a greater fright.  I can steal up to their camping ground, and while they are quarrelling, walk into their midst without waiting for the formalities of an introduction.”

“But you may lose your life in making the experiment,” I said.

“There’s no fear of that—­who ever heard of a man firing with a steady hand while in the presence of a ghost?”

I reminded him that I had tried the experiment, and that if the ball had struck a few inches lower down he would never have played the ghost a second time.

“That just proves what I said.  Can’t you hit a man at two rods’ distance, and place the ball just where you like?”

I flattered myself that I was a good pistol shot, and could do so under ordinary circumstances.

“Yet your hand must have shook, or I should have been hit.”

There was no denying the truth of that assertion, for I remembered the circumstance perfectly well.

“If I don’t frighten them coveys so that they will avoid this place hereafter, then I don’t know much about ghosts, and how they act,” Day continued.

We tried to urge the fellow to be content with the triumph which he had already accomplished, but he was mad for another exhibition of his powers, and all that we could say had no effect.  Go he would, and at length we determined to accompany him for the purpose of rendering assistance in case he wanted it, or to see how the bushrangers would bear themselves upon a second exhibition.