When the directions were given a number of the farm hands were present, so that I arrived at the conclusion that while we were fording the stream an attempt would be made upon our lives, if it was to be made at all.

As soon, therefore, as we arrived in the vicinity of the brook I checked the pace of my horse, and carefully scrutinized the trees and places where an ambush might be expected.

I even examined the ground for the prints of horses’ feet, for I knew that it was customary for every runaway servant or farm hand to steal a horse.

That was considered a matter of course, and it was no unusual thing for the police of Australia, when they saw a poorly-clad man on horseback, to ask him where he stole it; and unless he gave pretty correct answers, the animal would be taken away and confiscated to the services of the force.

I could tell nothing by the earth, for the cattle had resorted to the brook to quench their thirst, and roll in the cool mud.

I glanced hastily around, but saw nothing to excite alarm; so I touched my horse lightly and entered the brook.  The animal, disliking the mud, sprang suddenly half way across.  The quick motion of the brute probably saved my life, for just as the animal sprang a shot was fired, and the ball whizzed in uncomfortable proximity to my head.

I struck the spurs deeply into the brute’s sides, and with a bound like lightning, he landed me on the bank of the stream; but as he did so, the soil yielded, and he fell, throwing me several feet from him.

Again was I indebted for my life to that simple accident, and it was of a kind that had not occurred before during my residence in Australia, for just as the horse fell, another sharp report of firearms was heard, and a bullet struck the trunk of a tree over my head, and sent a shower of bark rattling upon my face.

“I see the d——­d scoundrel!” shouted Mr. Brown, and he spurred in pursuit.  I saw the form of a stout-built man, mounted on a powerful horse, disappear amid the trees, and I quickly urged my animal to his feet, so that I could join in the pursuit.

Before it could be done, I heard two quick, ringing shots, which my ears told me came from Mr. Brown’s revolver, and I easily guessed the fate of the would-be assassin.

By the time I had scraped the mud from my person, Mr. Brown came riding slowly back, looking as unconcerned and calm as possible.

“Did you hit him?” I asked.

“To be sure; both shots told,” was the satisfactory reply.

“Who was the scamp?  Did you recognize him?”

“Certainly; I could hardly fail to do that, when he bore your mark.”

“How—­my mark?” I asked in astonishment

“Yes; one of his eyes was black and blue, where you struck him last night.”

“You mean to tell me that it was Kelly who sought my life?” I cried, recollecting that Mr. Wright had informed me that the fellow had left the farm the night before.