“Take good care of the house, Jackson,” Mr. Wright said, addressing his servant, who stood near him.

“You don’t wish me to accompany you, sir?” he asked.

“No, no.  Stay here and take care of the house, and mind that you defend it against all odds, in case of an attack.”

“Bushrangers move quick,” muttered Kala.

“I’m coming.  Now, gentlemen, we will try the speed of your limbs;” and out of the house we sallied, and stood in the driving storm for a few minutes, completely blinded by the sudden transition from light to pitchy darkness.

“Follow Kala,” muttered the native; but the request was an impossibility, because Kala was invisible even a foot from where we stood.

“Give the strangers your arms, and lead them until their eyes get accustomed to the darkness,” Mr. Wright said, addressing the natives.

“That is a good arrangement for us, but how are you to find the way?” cried Mr. Brown.

“We know every foot of land within a circle of five miles,” was the prompt response of our host; and to show that he made no idle boast, he started towards the field of wheat which we had noticed early in the afternoon, while we followed close at his heels as best we could, much to the disgust of the natives, I have no doubt, for they could scarcely restrain their impatience at the slowness of our pace.

The dogs saluted us with a mighty howl as we passed them, but a word from their master quieted their valor, and by the time we had got clear of the cattle pens our eyes were sufficiently accustomed to the darkness, and were enabled to dispense with the guidance of Kala and Iala, who gladly got at the head of the column and led the way towards the creek, which it was stated the bushrangers would have to pass.

“Under this tree,” said our host, pointing to a gum tree of gigantic proportions, “I killed one of the largest diamond snakes that I ever saw in the country.  There used to be a nest of them near this place, but I think that they are exterminated by this time.  You recollect the snake, do you not?” he continued, addressing the natives in their dialect.

“We remember,” was the brief reply.

“Couldn’t you conveniently change the conversation?” Mr. Brown asked, and I shared his interest in the matter, for I didn’t like the topic in so dark a night.

“Pooh! you ain’t afraid of snakes, are you?” Mr. Wright asked, in a tone that implied that he was not.

“Well, I don’t care if I confess that I have seen more agreeable sights than a d——­n big, black snake, with a mouth large enough to swallow a baby without much trouble.  I don’t wish to be rigid, but it strikes me that I prefer daylight when the conversation is tending towards such cheerful topics.”

I could see that Mr. Brown was intently engaged in scanning the ground while speaking, as though he feared there might be a few of the varmints unkilled from the nest spoken of.