On the roof, to keep out the rain, and to prevent the bushrangers or natives from setting fire with burning arrows, was dirt about a foot deep, and sodded over with turf.  The body of the building, we could see, was full of loopholes, and commanded every approach, and there was no tree or outhouse sufficiently near to interfere with this arrangement, or any unequal ground which a foe could take advantage of.

At some distance to the left of the castle, as Mr. Brown facetiously called it, were three immense pens, one filled with sheep, and the others with horses and other animals, and I judged there were as many dogs on the outside of the pens as there were rams on the inside, for the instant we appeared in sight we were greeted with such frightfully discordant yelling and barking that I began to fancy we must indeed present a woeful spectacle, or we never should be saluted by such vindictive sounds.  Still, not a shadow of a human being did we discover, and I began to think that the bushrangers had made a descent, murdered those connected with the farm, and then escaped, when I was suddenly convinced of my error by hearing the report of a musket, and an ounce ball whizzed by my head and struck the ground about ten rods in the rear of us.

“That says, stop where you are, plain enough,” remarked Day, checking his horse; an example which we were not slow in following.

“But if we remain here we shall get no supper,” I remarked.

“That is the truest word that you ever uttered,” cried Mr. Brown, with a grin, at our predicament.

“Will you go forward, Day, and let Mr. Wright know that we are friends?” I asked; but the shepherd shook his head, and declined, and manifested a willingness to retreat from the neighborhood of the house, although I will do him the justice of stating that he showed no signs of fear.

“Look at the cowards at the windows of the house,” cried Mr. Brown; and sure enough, the inmates of the building had thrown open the iron shutters, and were gazing at us with some curiosity, although I noticed that each man held a musket in his hand for fear of surprise.

“I wouldn’t refuse to speak with all the bushrangers in Australia, if I had a fortress like that to retreat into,” muttered Mr. Brown, with a smile of contempt.

“Let us cross the Lodden, and find the Hawkswood station,” suggested Day, “I’ll warrant that we shall get something to eat, and perhaps a drink of rum there.  I’ve had a taste of the hospitality of that place more than once.”

I was almost resolved to follow the advice, but a look at the heavens convinced me that we should have rain before many hours, owing, probably, to the fire which was raging at a distance, as fiercely as ever, and night was nearly upon us.  Besides, I began to feel really exhausted for the want of food and rest, and I was fearful that if Day should miss the trail we might wander about until daylight, and still be some distance from the place we were in search of.