“He’d ’ve had my axe at his head,” said Boscobel.

“We all know Joe’s game to the backbone,” said Jerry.

“I’m game enough for you, anyway,” said the brother.  “And you can try it out any time you like.”

“That’s right; fight like dogs, do,” said the old man.

The quarrel at this point was interrupted by the arrival of another man, who crept up round the corner on to the veranda exactly as Boscobel had done.  This was Nokes, of whom they had that moment been speaking.  There was silence for a few moments among them, as though they feared that he might have heard them, and Nokes stood hanging his head as though half ashamed of himself.  Then they gave him the same kind of greeting as the other men had received.  Nobody told him that he was welcome, but the spirit jar was again brought into use, Jerry measuring out the liquor, and it was understood that Nokes was to stay there and get his food.  He too gave some account of himself, which was supposed to suffice, but which they all knew to be false.  It was Sunday, and they were off work at the sugar-mill.  He had come across Gangoil run, intending to take back with him things of his own which he had left as Bender’s hut, and having come so far, had thought that he would come on and get his dinner at Boolabong.  As this was being told, a good deal was said of Harry Heathcote.  Nokes declared that he had come right across Gangoil, and explained that he would not have been at all sorry to meet Master Heathcote in the bush.  Master Heathcote had had his own way up at the station when he was backed by a lot of his own hands; but a good time was coming, perhaps.  Then Nokes gave it to be understood very plainly that it was the settled practice of his life to give Harry Heathcote a thrashing.  During all this there was an immense amount of bad language, and a large portion of the art which in the colony is called “blowing.”  Jerry, Boscobel, and Nokes all boasted, each that on the first occasion he would give Harry Heathcote such a beating that a whole bone should hardly be left in the man’s skin.

“There isn’t one of you man enough to touch him,” said Joe, who was known as the freest fighter of the Brownbie family.

“And you’d eat him, I suppose,” said Jerry.

“He’s not likely to come in my way,” said Joe; “but if he does, he’ll get as good as he brings.  That’s all.”

This was unpleasant to the visitors, who, of course, felt themselves to be snubbed.  Boscobel affected to hear the slight put upon his courage with good humor, but Nokes laid himself down in a corner and sulked.  They were soon all asleep, and remained dozing, snoring, changing their uncomfortable positions, and cursing the mosquitoes, till about four in the afternoon, when Boscobel got up, shook himself, and made some observation about “grub.”  The meal of the day was then prepared.  A certain quantity of flour and raw meat, ample for their immediate