man who was saved waved his arms, and danced round and howled.

"Ye-es!" he shouted hoarsely. "The publicans, and boozers, and gamblers,
and sinners may think that Bourke is hot, but hell is a thousand times
hotter! I tell you"

"Oh, Lord!" said Mitchell, the shearer, and he threw a penny into the
ring.

"Ye-es! I tell you that hell is a million times hotter than Bourke! I
tell you----"

"Oh, look here," said a voice from the background, "that won't wash.
Why, don't you know that when the Bourke people die they send back for
their blankets?"

The saved brother glared round.

"I hear a freethinker speaking, my friends," he said. Then, with sudden
inspiration and renewed energy, "I hear the voice of a freethinker. Show
me the face of a freethinker," he yelled, glaring round like a hunted,
hungry man. "Show me the face of a freethinker, and I'll tell you what
he is."

Watty hitched himself into a more comfortable position and clasped his
hands on his knee and closed his eyes again.

"Ya-a-a-s!" shrieked the brand. "I tell you, my friends, I can tell a
freethinker by his face. Show me the face of a----"

At this point there was an interruption. One-eyed, or Wall-eyed, Bogan,
who had a broken nose, and the best side of whose face was reckoned the
ugliest and most sinister--One-eyed Bogan thrust his face forward from
the ring of darkness into the torchlight of salvation. He had got the
worst of a drawn battle; his nose and mouth were bleeding, and his good
eye was damaged.

"Look at my face!" he snarled, with dangerous earnestness. "Look at my
face! That's the face of a freethinker, and I don't care who knows it.
Now! what have you got to say against my face, `Man-without-a-Shirt?'"

The brother drew back. He had been known in the northwest in his sinful
days as "Man-without-a-Shirt," alias "Shirty," or "The Dirty Man," and
was flabbergasted at being recognized in speech. Also, he had been in
a shearing-shed and in a shanty orgy with One-eyed Bogan, and knew the
man.

Now most of the chaps respected the Army, and, indeed, anything
that looked like religion, but the Bogan's face, as representing
free-thought, was a bit too sudden for them. There were sounds on the
opposite side of the ring as from men being smitten repeatedly and
rapidly below the belt, and long Tom Hall and one or two others got away
into the darkness in the background, where Tom rolled helplessly on the
grass and sobbed.

It struck me that