hat shall we do with him?" asked Murden,
ordering a halt.

"Let me stop and look after him until you come back again," cried the
innocent Bimbo, raising his dirty face from the team, and gazing at us
with an air of simplicity charming to behold.

"Silence, you miserable traitor!" shouted the exasperated officer, "or I
shall be tempted to beat you with my whip."

"I don't see what this cove has done, that he should be snatched up and
lugged off this way. P'aps Mr. Sherman, who owns this stock-house, won't
scold when he comes to hear of it. He won't say nothing, and swear to
think that his cattle is all running wild, 'cos nobody takes care of
'um."

"Lend me your whip, Smith," Murden said, as the fellow raised his voice
in a sort of howl, at the thought of being carried away from the hut
which had sheltered and screened his rascalities for so many years.

Smith handed the short-handled instrument of torture to the officer, who
waved it over his head with a scientific flourish, like one accustomed
to its use, and in another instant Bimbo would have had something to cry
for, but the cunning rogue ducked his head just in time to escape
punishment. The long lash passed over his body, and cracked like the
report of a pistol; and while the officer was drawing back his arm for
another attempt, the impudent, dirty face of the rogue was raised, and a
leer of contemptuous pity expressed upon it.

Neither Fred nor myself could prevent laughing at the fellow's coolness,
and our mirth extended to Murden, who began to be aware that he was
making a ridiculous exhibition of his temper, and tossed the stockman's
whip to the owner, exclaiming,--

"I was foolish to allow the fellow to provoke me, and am glad that I did
not touch him with the lash; although if he had not been as quick as
lightning, I'd have taken a good piece of his hide."

"But what are we to do with the parrot? Remember we are losing time," I
said.

"Yes, what's to be done with me--where's Bimbo?" shrieked the bird.

"Put the cage into the cart--he will excite curiosity when we reach
Melbourne, and perhaps bring a round sum."

The order was obeyed, and with shrill screams of delight the bird and
his cage were stowed among the prisoners, and long after dark we could
hear the talkative parrot ask the bushrangers how they felt, and when
they were going to die? Questions of great significance to them at the
time. After a while he dozed off to sleep, but during the