tish. "I didn't sail till the middle of the month."

"To think you were in town till nearly Christmas!" and Stingaree gazed
enviously. "It must be hard to realize," he added in some haste.

"Other things," replied Kentish, "are harder."

"I gather from the _Punch_ cartoon that the new Law Courts are in use at
last?"

"I was at the opening."

"Then you may have seen this opera that I have been reading about?"

Kentish asked what it was, although he knew.

"_Iolanthe._"

"Rather! I was there the first night."

"The deuce you were!" cried Stingaree; and for the next quarter of an
hour this armed scoundrel, the terror of a district as large as England
and Wales, talked of nothing else to the man whom he was about to bind
to a tree. Was the new opera equal to its predecessors? Which were the
best numbers? Did _Punch_ do it justice, or was there some jealousy in
that rival hot-bed of wit and wisdom?

Unfortunately, Guy Kentish had no ear for music, but he made a clear
report of the plot, could repeat some of the Lord Chancellor's quips,
and was in decided disagreement with the captious banter from which he
was given more than one extract. And in default of one of the new airs
Stingaree rounded off the subject by dropping once more into--

"For he might have been a Rooshian,
A French, or Turk, or Prooshian,
Or, perhaps, I-tal-i-an!
Or, perhaps, I-tal-i-an!
But in spite of all temptations
To belong to other nations
He remains an Englishman!"

"I understand that might be said of both of us," remarked Kentish,
looking the outlaw boldly in the eyes. "But from all accounts I should
have thought you were out here before the days of Gilbert and Sullivan."

"So I was," replied Stingaree, without frown or hesitation. "But you may
also have heard that I am fond of music--any I can get. My only
opportunities, as a rule," the bushranger continued, smiling
mischievously at his cigar, "occur on the stations I have occasion to
visit from time to time. On one a good lady played and sang _Pinafore_
and _The Pirates of Penzance_ to me from dewy eve to dawn. I'm bound to
say I sang some of it at sight myself; and I flatter myself it helped to
pass an embarrassing night rather pleasantly for all concerned. We had
all hands on the place for our audience, and when I left I was formally
presented with both scores; for I had simply called for horses, and
horses were all I took. Only the other day I