town, and I was sitting on the stockyard
rails, looking on, when I saw a jockey riding a powerful bay up and down
in front of the stand. This jockey proved to be an old acquaintance, and
although some 60 years of age, was still an excellent rider. He was a
popular little fellow, a character in his way, and was known by the name
of "Old Bob." I was on the point of speaking to him, when the horse he
rode was called for sale, and Bob was desired to show off his paces. For
a turn or two the animal behaved well, and the bidding was brisk, when
apparently, without any cause he bucked violently. I think Bob held on
for four or five bucks, then the saddle went forward, and he was shot
off, striking the hard road on his head. He seemed to roll up or double
up, or something, and lay still, several people rushed to him, but he
was past all help, his skull was split in two.

On my return to Moorhouse's our preparations were soon completed. In
addition to our saddle horses we selected for pack animals as well as
for occasional riding two of the best of the station hacks; one of them
carried stores and some cooking utensils, while the other was laden with
clothes and blankets. We travelled lightly, it being our intention to
put up at stations or accommodation houses as much as possible till we
arrived at our destination.

The route we followed was for the first 150 miles the same as that
described in our journey to the diggings. We moved much faster and in
six days reached Miller and Gooche's, the former of whom was now on the
station. McGregor Miller was one of the finest men I had seen, a
Hercules in strength and build, and as jolly and hospitable as he was a
perfect gentleman. We stayed two days with him. The station as well as
the country presented very different aspects to what they did on my
previous visit. A new house had been built and furnished comfortably,
and the surroundings were fast being improved under the guiding hand of
the "boss," who worked with his men as one of themselves, and easy-going
fox-hunting squire as he was in the old country a couple of years
since, he could handle an axe, spade, or shovel with the best of them.

On the first day's ride from here we went over the Lindis Pass, the
scene of so much hardship to us diggers, and on to McClean's station,
where we received a hearty Scotch welcome and an excellent dinner, and
sat up late with the old gentleman discussing whiskey toddy and chatting
over old ti