locks of wild fowl. After the
stretches of blazing plain and dull timber this glimpse of water was
inexpressibly refreshing.

On their way back they struck new country, great stretches of almost
impenetrable scrub, tropical jungle, and belts of bamboo. In this cover
wild cattle evidently abounded, for they frequently heard the bellow of
the bulls.

"There should be a terrible lot of wild cattle here," said Charlie.
"Don't you ever get any out of the scrubs?"

"Oh, yes, we moonlight for 'em." said Considine. "We take coachers out.
We have a very fair coaching mob. Some of our coachers are as quick as
racehorses, and they'll hustle wild cattle away from the scrub just as
if they understood."

"What do you mean by coachers?" asked Carew. "Not cattle that go in
carts, eh?"

"Carts, no. The way we get wild cattle here-abouts is to take out a
mob of quiet cattle, what we call coachers, and let 'em feed in the
moonlight alongside the scrub, while we wait back out o' the road and
watch 'em. When the wild cattle come out, they run over to see the
coachers, and we dash up and cut 'em off from the scrub, and hustle 'em
together into the open. It's good sport, Mister. We might try a dash at
it, if you like, before we go back; it's moonlight now."

"Let's have a try to-night" said Gordon. "Are your coachers handy?"

"Yairs. They feed near the house. I'll send 'em on with the gins
to-night."

When they got back that evening, Carew was so dead-tired that he wished
the wild cattle expedition at Jericho. But Considine and Charlie were in
great form, directing, arguing, and planning the expedition. One of
the black boys rode out, and returned driving a big mob of horses that
dashed into the yard at full gallop. The gins and the black boys caught
fresh mounts out of these and started away, driving some fifty head of
cattle selected from a mob that made their headquarters within a few
miles of the house. Most of them were old stagers, and strung away in
the evening quite tranquilly, while the blacks, always smoking, rode
listlessly after. Considine produced two stockwhips, and gave one to
Charlie.

"No good givin' you one. Mister," he said to Carew. "You'd hang yourself
with it most likely. I've got a rare good horse for you--old Smoked
Beef. He'd moonlight cattle by himself, I believe. You'd better have a
pistol, though."

"What for?" asked Carew, as Considine produced three very heavy navy
revolvers and a bag of cartridges.