At length, two Australian natives were discovered, nearly naked, and armed with their favorite weapons, spears and boomerangs, squatting under a tree, and watching our cavalcade with great interest.

Murden spoke to them in their native language, of which he understood a little, and inquired the distance to a stock-hut; and with an almost imperceptible motion of their heads, they intimated the direction which we were to pursue, and then relapsed into their former state of stoicism.

“Some of our heaviest cattle-raisers are trying an experiment,” said Murden, as we rode.  “Thinking that these poor devils are fit for something, they are employing them to look after cattle on these immense plains.  The plan has worked admirably so far, for they appear especially adapted for this kind of work, as it suits their idea of freedom and idleness.”

“And what pay do they get?” I asked.

“Their pay is trifling, but they are assured of good, healthy food, and clothing if they will wear it, which in some cases they reject with disdain.  Our countrymen have never treated the natives as human beings, and hence they have never looked upon us with any love; fear alone keeps them in subjection.  A new theory is to be attempted, and with what success remains to be seen.”

When we came in sight of the hut, we started our horses, and left the cart and men to follow at their leisure.  The place was not very inviting, and did not reflect much credit on the stockman who had charge of the station.

The hut was built of rough boards, patched in a dozen different places with bullocks’ hides, to keep out the rain in the winter, and the hot sun in the summer.  A small shed was placed at one end of the house, under which all the cooking was done during wet weather.

Two upright sticks, with necks, on which a cross bar was placed, formed the fireplace, and that was all that was required by men who live on meat day after day, and year after year, until, as one stockman informed me, he “felt horns growing on the sides of his head.”

Basking in the sun, which was high in the heavens, was a parrot, confined in a rough board cage, evidently whittled out with a jackknife, during the leisure hours of its master.  The bird was shrieking out a few words of unmistakable English, and appeared to utter them with the greatest glee, as though charmed by having a number of new listeners to whom it could show off its perfections.

“D——­ it, where do you come from?” the bird yelled; and then changing his tune, he shouted, “take that dog away—­take him away! take him away—­cuss him!”

We could but feel amused at such proficiency in the English language, and were admiring the display of his rare talent, when the proprietor of the bird came to the door, evidently awakened from a nap by his protege.  He first told the parrot to “shut up,” and then turned his languid attention on his visitors, whom he did not appear pleased to see, or indeed displeased.  In fact, he seemed too lazy to exhibit much emotion any way; and the only energy he displayed was when he used his long, dirty finger nails on his head, the hair from which hung down on his shoulders in tangled masses, and afforded refuge to thousands of animals, that would have been homeless, had he had those locks clipped close to his skull.