nd was proud we were going to turn over a new leaf.

Nobody could say at that time we didn't work. Fencing, dam-making,
horse-breaking, stock-riding, from making hay to building a shed, all
bushwork came easy enough to us, Jim in particular; he took a pleasure
in it, and was never happier than when he'd had a real tearing day's
work and was settling himself after his tea to a good steady smoke. A
great smoker he'd come to be. He never was much for drinking except
now and again, and then he could knock it off as easy as any man I ever
seen. Poor old Jim! He was born good and intended to be so, like mother.
Like her, his luck was dead out in being mixed up with a lot like ours.

One day we were out at the back making some lambing yards. We were about
twenty miles from the head station and had about finished the job. We
were going in the next day. We had been camping in an old shepherd's hut
and had been pretty jolly all by ourselves. There was first-rate feed
for our horses, as the grass was being saved for the lambing season. Jim
was in fine spirits, and as we had plenty of good rations and first-rate
tobacco we made ourselves pretty comfortable.

'What a jolly thing it is to have nothing on your mind!' Jim used to
say. 'I hadn't once, and what a fine time it was! Now I'm always waking
up with a start and expecting to see a policeman or that infernal
half-caste. He's never far off when there's villainy on. Some fine day
he'll sell us all, I really do believe.'

'If he don't somebody else will; but why do you pitch upon him? You
don't like him somehow; I don't see that he's worse than any other.
Besides, we haven't done anything much to have a reward put on us.'

'No! that's to come,' answered Jim, very dismally for him. 'I don't see
what else is to come of it. Hist! isn't that a horse's step coming this
way? Yes, and a man on him, too.'

It was a bright night, though only the stars were out; but the weather
was that clear that you could see ever so well and hear ever so far
also. Jim had a blackfellow's hearing; his eyes were like a hawk's; he
could see in about any light, and read tracks like a printed book.

I could hear nothing at first; then I heard a slight noise a good way
off, and a stick breaking every now and then.

'Talk of the devil!' growled Jim, 'and here he comes. I believe that's
Master Warrigal, infernal scoundrel that he is. Of course he's got a
message from our respectable old dad or Starlight, a