the code they employed, we resolved only to light our fires at night, and not even then unless we found some sequestered spot where the flame would be unseen.  Some of us at once started for a large lagoon that we had passed in the morning, and creeping up through the long grass, found its surface quite covered with water-fowl of every description, from the black swan to the beautiful pigmy goose.  A volley, fired at a concerted signal, strewed the surface of the lake with the dead and wounded, and we were compelled to stand idly on the bank until the wind wafted the game ashore, for at the report of the guns two or three heavy splashes and as many dusky forms gliding into the water betokened that we had disturbed alligators, either having a nap, or lying in wait for kangaroos and wallaby coming down to drink.  More than one house now stands on the margin of this lagoon, but their inhabitants are still afraid to bathe in the broad sheet of water spread so invitingly before them.

Having secured our game, we returned to the boat, and after plucking and splitting open the birds, some were roasted over the fire for immediate use, but by far the greater number were boiled in a pot, which was portion of the boat’s furniture when on an expedition.  One of the troopers had with a tomahawk stripped off a sheet of bark, and on this was manufactured a gigantic damper.  For the information of such of my readers as may be unacquainted with Australia, I must explain that damper is unleavened bread, well kneaded and baked in the ashes.  But simple though such a rough form of loaf may seem from the above description, it is in reality a very difficult thing to turn out a thoroughly good damper, and only practice will enable the new-comer to obtain the sleight of hand necessary for the production of a first-rate specimen.  In form a damper resembles a flat cheese of two or three inches thick, and from one to two feet in diameter.  Great care and much practice are requisite to form this shape so that no cracks shall appear, and when this is done the work is by no means over, for the exact heat of the fire must be judged by the cook, otherwise he will either burn up his dough, or it will come out a crude, sodden, uneatable mass.  A good wood fire that has been burning several days, and has gained a quantity of ashes, is the best; but wood is plentiful enough in the bush, and if you only know the right kind to use, you find no difficulty in soon providing yourself with a glorious heap of glowing embers.  Scraping away a hole in the centre of the fire a little larger than the disc, you gently drop it in with your hands, strew it over with enough powdery white ash to prevent the embers coming into actual contact with the dough, and then cover the whole with the glowing coals.  Only practice can enable the bushman to judge the exact depth of this layer, which, of course, differs in every case, according to the size of the damper.  It is left in this fiery bed until small cracks appear on the covering caused by the steam forcing its way out.  This is a sign that it is nearly done, confirmation of which is sought by introducing a knife-blade through the ashes, and sounding the crust.  If this gives back a hard sound, the damper may be considered cooked, and is then withdrawn, stood carefully ‘on its edge’ —­ never forget this —­ and is ready to eat when cool.