The man whom Philip met at Bendigo had farms in the country thinly timbered.  North, south, east, and west the land was held under squatting licenses; with the exception of the home paddocks it was unfenced, and the stock was looked after by boundary riders and shepherds.  To the south, between Nyalong and the sea—­a distance of fifty or sixty miles—­the country was not occupied by either the white or the black men.  It consisted of ranges of hills heavily timbered, furrowed by deep valleys, through which flowed innumerable streams, winding their way to the river of the plains.  Sometimes the solitary bushman or prospector, looking across a deep valley, saw, nestled amongst the opposite hills, a beautiful meadow of grass.  But when he had crossed the intervening creek and scrubby valley, and continued his journey to the up-land, he found that the deceitful meadow was only a barren plain, covered, not with grass, but with the useless grass-tree.  There is a little saccharine matter in the roots of the grass-tree, and a hopeful man from Corio once built a sugar-mill near the stream, and took possession of the plain as a sugar plantation.  There was much labour, but very little sugar.

In the dense forest, cattle had run wild, and were sometimes seen feeding in the thinly-timbered grass land outside; but whenever a horseman approached they dashed headlong into the scrub where no horseman could follow them.  Wild boars and their progeny also rooted among the tall tussocks in the marshes by the banks of the river, where it emerged from the ranges into the plains.

Blackfish and eels were plentiful in the river, but they were of a perverse disposition, and would not bite in the day-time.  The bend nearest to Nyalong was twelve miles distant, and Philip once spent a night there with Gleeson and McCarthy.  A fire was kindled and some fish were caught, but Philip took none home.  Gleeson and McCarthy reserved their catches for their wives and families, and Philip’s fish were all cooked on the fire at sunrise, and eaten for breakfast.  Fishing was sport, certainly, but it was not profitable, nor exciting, except to the temper.  Sometimes an eel took the bait, and then twisted himself round the limb of a tree at the bottom of the river.  He then pulled all he was able until either the line or the hook was broken, or his jaw was torn into strips.

After midnight Philip was drowsy, and leaned his back against a tree to woo sweet sleep.  But there were mosquitos in millions, bandicoots hopping close to the fire, and monkey-bears, night hawks, owls, ’possums and dingoes, holding a corroboree hideous enough to break the sleep of the dead.

After breakfast the horses were saddled for home.  Philip carried his revolver in his belt, and Gleeson had a shot-gun.  A kangaroo was seen feeding about a hundred yards distant, and Gleeson dismounted and shot at it, but it hopped away unharmed.  A few minutes afterwards, as the men were riding along at an easy walk, three other horsemen suddenly came past them at a gallop, wheeled about, and faced the fishermen.  One was Burridge, a station manager, the other two were his stockmen.  The six men looked at one another for a few moments without speaking.  Both Gleeson and McCarthy had the Tipperary temper, and it did not remain idle long.