“Of course there is.  Can’t I go to the coveys and pretend that I am searching for stray sheep, and tell a lie or two about the horses, and then hint that I don’t like to be caught in this part of the country after dark, ’cos I have seen strange sights, that I don’t like to talk about?  I don’t know how we are to manage, unless I act the part proposed, for as sure as you are alive, the coveys will feel curious enough to know what has been going on in the island, and if they once get a hint that we are here, it is all day with us.”

“We could defend the island against ten times the number of bushrangers that belong to the gang,” muttered Mr. Brown.

“No doubt of that,” remarked the shepherd, dryly; “but the coveys ain’t going to make a fight of it by any means.  They would starve us out in less than twenty-four hours after beginning the siege.”

Mr. Brown pointed to the horses, as though intimating we could eat them if pressed,—­but Day shook his head.

“Tain’t the grub that we should need as much as something else.  Give me a well of water and the horses, and I’ll agree to hold this island agin all the bushrangers in the country.  Don’t you know that when the sun begins to scorch a covey’s head he must have water in his stomach, or he’ll soon kick the bucket?  We could eat the animals, but we must have something to drink likewise, or else we’d have fits, and like as not kill each other.  No, no, we can’t stand a siege and hope to escape, and I think what I have proposed is the very best plan.”

We hardly knew what reply to make our acquaintance, who seemed determined to run his head into the lion’s den, but the thought suddenly struck Mr. Brown that if the shepherd meant to thus expose his life he deserved to get large pay for it, and as my friend was one of those kind of men who liked to have every thing understood, he considered that it was his duty to touch on that particular point, and find out what his views really were.

“We could afford to pay something for the risk that’s run, in case you undertook the task, but we are not rich by any means, although you may think so by our appearance,” my friend said, with a complaisant glance at his person, which he imagined was dignified, forgetful that he had dismissed the uniform of an inspector, and wore nothing but a flannel shirt and duck trousers.

“Humph,” muttered the ghost.  “I should almost be ashamed to change places with either of you.  As for reward, first wait till I ask for one.  I will promise not to claim any thing more expensive than a bottle of brandy, and a few pipes of ’bacca, and those I shan’t ask for unless you come this way again, which isn’t likely.”

“If we don’t come we can send,” cried Mr. Brown, eagerly, “and I promise that you shall have a gallon of as good brandy, and half a dozen pounds as good tobacco as can be found in Ballarat, if you can get those d——­d bushrangers clear of this part of the country so that we can escape.  There they go again, with their eternal co-hoo-pe. What in the devil’s name do they mean by that, I wonder?”