His proposal was that they should all turn bushrangers on the spot, form a band to ravage and lay waste the country, and visit upon society the just consequences of its rashness and folly in tyrannising over its boys, misunderstanding them, and misconstruing their highest and noblest intentions.

’When anyone shakes our goats, ain’t we a right to demand ’em back at the point o’ the sword?’ asked Dick indignantly.

The boys were unanimous.  They had such a right—­nay, it was a bounden duty.

‘Very well, then, what’d they wanter lick us fer?’ continued Dick.  ’Won’t they be sorry when they hear about us turnin’ bushrangers, that’s all!

‘D’ye really think they will, though?’ asked Jacker McKnight dubiously.  He had found his parents very unromantic people, who took a severely commonplace view of things, and retained unquestioning faith in the strap as a means of elevating the youthful idea.

‘Why, o’ course!’ cried Dick.  ’When our mothers read in the papers ’bout the lives we’re leadin’, it’ll make ’em cry all night ‘cause o’ the way we’ve been treated; an’ you coves’ fathers’ll hear tell o’ yer great adventures, an’ they’ll know what sort o’ chaps they knocked about an’ abused, an’ they’ll respect you an’ wish you was back home so’s they could make up for the fatal past.’

Jacker looked doubtful still; he could not imagine his parents in that character; but Peterson was delighted with the prospect, and Phil Doon, whose mother was a large, stout woman, who spent half her day in bed reading sentimental stories, was quite impressed, and enlisted on the spot.

‘You’ll be my lieutenant, you know, Jacker,’ said Dick; ‘an’ we’ll call you Fork Lightnin’.’

‘Hoo!  Will you, though?’ cried Jacker.

Dick nodded and made an affirmative noise between his closed lips.

‘Fork Lightnin’,’ said Jacker, trying the name.  ’Sounds well, don’t it?  What sorter feller will I be?  Brave, eh?’

‘Frightened o’ neither man nor devil, but awful cruel, ’cause you was crossed in love.’

Jacker was delighted.  He was naturally a combative youth, with a fine contempt for rules that would deny him the advantages to be derived from his ability as a swift and vigorous kicker; so a bloodthirsty and rebellious character was quite to his taste.

‘Not crossed in love, though,’ he complained.  ’That seems measley, don’t it?  S’pose I shot a man once, an’ the p’lice won’t let me have no peace.’

‘Good enough!’ said Dick.

‘Then I’m in.  When do we start?’

’To-morrer night.  We want one more.  Twitter will come.  That’ll be five.  Five is a fine gang; sides, we don’t want fellers what ain’t got billies.  Bushrangers ain’t no account on foot.  My men must be all mounted.  So I propose we meet on the toll-bar road just when it’s gettin’ dark, all riding our billy-goats an’ armed to the teeth; an’ we’ll stick up all the Cow Flat people goin’ home from Yarraman.’