overnment has to be very strict with 'signed servants, for some on
'em's been shocking bad uns, and if they weren't kep' down with what
they calls a hiron han', honest people wouldn't come to live out here.
'Bliged to be very strict; if they weren't, the convicts might get the
better of us all. Well, this ain't making cowcumber beds, is it? Going
shooting?"

"Yes; I want to get some specimens to stuff."

"That's right, sir. You do? There's some very pretty birds about these
parts; but if I was you, my lad, I'd get one o' the blackfellows to go
with you. He'd carry what you shot--when you happened to hit anything."

"All right. You needn't grin, Sam. I can hold the gun straight
sometimes."

"'Course you can, my lad. Why not? You'll shoot and ride and do
everything soon, and I'll teach you all I know 'bout shoeing and forging
and gardening. But as I was a-saying, you get Bungarolo or Rigar or
Damper. No, I can't spare Damper 'cause of the cows, and Rigar's handy
with the bullocks. You have Bung; he'll take you to places where the
birds are. These blacks know all that sort o' thing; and as to getting
bushed, you'll never get bushed so long as he's with you."

"What's bushed?"

"What's bushed, sir? My word, they did take your poor father in over
your education. Don't know what being bushed is? Why, being lost, my
lad. There, you're a-romancing me, Master Nic. You're a-making me a
reg'lar old ruck-a-tongue. I've got to do my work, and my work to-day's
cowcumbers."

Samson lifted the handles of his rough barrow, and went off without
looking back, while Nic made off with his gun on his shoulder, bearing a
little to his left, so as to pass round a shed, beyond which Brookes's
voice could be heard.

As Nic reached the fence he saw that about fifty sheep were shut behind
hurdles, and Leather was catching them by the wool, turning them on
their sides, and then carrying them to where Brookes knelt, with a brush
and a tub and a sheep before him, dividing the wool and applying some
tarry mixture to sore places caused by the attacks of virulent flies--a
cruel-looking process, but one which saved the poor animals' lives.

Brookes's back was towards Nic, and Leather's eyes on his work, over
which he bent frowning, and using his great strength to master the
struggling animals, and carry them to his companion, who went on loudly,
as Leather slaved away, dripping with perspiration, in the hot sun.

"Governmen