“I’m ever so much obliged,” said the lad, taking the money and the slip of paper.  “I’ll go and I’ll be square.  You needn’t be afraid of me and I’ll pay it back, too, some day.  Do you know the way out?”

“I’ll find it all right,” replied Ned.

“Oh!  I’ll go down with you or you’d never find it.  It’s through the back at night.”  So the good-hearted young fellow pulled on his trousers and conducted Ned down the creaking, stairway, through the kitchen and the narrow back yard to the bolted door that led to the alley behind.

“Shall I see you again?” asked the lad.  Somehow everybody who met Ned wanted to see more of him.

“My name’s Hawkins,” replied Ned.  “Ned Hawkins.  Ask anybody in the Queensland bush about me, if you get there.”

“I suppose you’re one of the bushmen,” remarked the lad, pausing.  “If they’re all as big as you it ought to be bad for the blacklegs.”

“Why, I’m a small man up on the Diamantina,” said Ned laughing.  “Which is the way to the park?”

“Turn to your right at the end of the alley, then turn to the left.  It’s only five minutes’ walk.”

“Thanks.  Good-bye!” said Ned.

“It’s thank you.  Good-bye!” said the lad.

They shook hands and parted.  In a few minutes Ned was in the park.  He stepped over a low railing, found a branching tree and decided to camp under it.  He pulled his boots off and his coat, loosened his belt, put boots and coat under his head for a pillow, stretched out full length on the earth and in ten seconds was in a deep slumber.

He was roused a moment after, it seemed to him; in reality it was nearly six hours after—­by kicks on the ribs.  He turned over and opened his eyes.  As he did so another kick made him stagger to his feet gasping with pain.  A gorilla-faced constable greeted him with a savage grin.

“Phwat d’ye mane, ye blayguard, indaycently exposing yersilf in this parrt av th’ doomane?  Oi’ve as good a moind as iver a man had in the wurrld to run yez in.  Can’t ye find anither place to unthdress yersilf in, ye low vaygrant?”

Ned did not answer.  He buttoned up the neck of his shirt, which had opened in the night, tightened his belt again, drew on his boots and thrust his arms into his coat.  While he did so the constable continued his abuse, proud to show his authority in the presence of the crowd that passed in a continuous stream along the pathway that cut through the carefully tended flower-bedded lawn-like park.  It was one of Ned’s strong points that he could control his passionate temper.  Much as he longed to thrash this insolent brute he restrained himself.  He desired most of all to get back to Queensland and knew that as no magistrate would take his word against a “constable’s” as to provocation received, to retaliate now would keep him in Sydney for a month at least, perhaps six.  But his patience almost gave way when the constable followed as he walked away, still abusing him.