“If you don’t believe it, you will find the body a few rods from here with two wounds—­one on the right shoulder and the second through the body.”

“I have no desire to see it,” I replied; “let us continue our journey, and leave the scene of so disagreeable a necessity.”

If Mr. Brown did not utter a prayer of thanksgiving for his escape, I am certain that I did; and it was a sincere one at that, for nothing but an overruling Providence could have saved one from the effects of two shots at a short distance.

On we pressed, our good horses exerting themselves to the utmost, and almost regardless of the boat which poured down upon our heads, until our brains seemed melted, and ready to run from the eyes.  Profuse drinking alone saved us from a sun-stroke that day.

At length we reached the plain, and saw stretched before us half a dozen roads, all leading to the mines, but all deserted, for it was at an hour when few travellers cared to move, preferring to wait until the sun had ceased its fiery course, and the earth had thrown off its fervent heat.

“I go no farther,” I exclaimed, as I saw that my horse was suffering from his over-exertions.

Mr. Brown reined in, and seemed disposed to take advice.

“Only to the next clump of trees,” he replied, pointing to half a dozen, about a mile distant.

“We shall kill the animals, and ourselves in the bargain,” I replied.

“A mile or so will make but little difference; I think that I can promise you a good camping ground, and a sink hole with pretty fresh water under those trees; come.”

I could no longer resist the inducements, and once more we put our horses in motion.

“See, as I told you, we shall find company under the trees,” cried Mr. Brown; “there is smoke arising, and that denotes coffee and supper.  Cheer up, and we shall yet learn the news before sunset.”

A few minutes revealed to our gaze three or four men and two women, seated near a wagon, that looked as though it had made many journeys between Ballarat and Melbourne, before the roads were in good order.  A brisk fire was burning, and on that fire we could see a coffee-pot and a kettle.  A short distance from the camp were two skeleton horses, with just life enough left to be able to graze upon the prairie, and who seemed to have been fed on thistles during the last few years of their life.  With no suspicion that our appearance was against us, we rode boldly on until we were brought to a halt by a couple of presented muskets, held in the hands of their trembling owners.

“Don’t ye come here, ye divils!” shouted one of the men in goodly strong brogue.

“If he does, it’s cowld lead ye’ll get!” cried another.

“But, my good friends,” Mr. Brown said, blandly.

“Away wid ye, at once, and the divil take care of ye.  We know ye.”

“If you know us, you should not fear us,” my friend said, in the insinuating argumentative style so peculiar to him.