you will not feel so tenderly for the sufferings of others."

"God grant that I may never be insensible to others' woes," cried Fred,
with a genuine burst of feeling.

"Spoken like a man," exclaimed the convict, enthusiastically. "Here," he
continued, extending his hand, "is a palm soiled by the commission of
crime; but I have lived long enough to repent of the errors of which I
have been guilty, and at times think of a mother's prayers when I was a
boy. Your words have recalled the days when I used to sit upon her knee
and listen to her words, and promise that when I grew old I'd imitate
the virtues of my father, and be a comfort to her in her declining
years. If my hand," he said, looking at it, "is soiled, my heart is
not, and I offer it to you as a pledge of friendship."

"And if your hand were stained I would accept it," returned Fred,
shaking his palm warmly. "I look upon you in the light of a friend, and
the folly of other days weighs not the weight of a feather towards
warping my judgment in considering your good and bad qualities."

The two men shook hands, and looked into each other's eyes as though
they had just found out one another's worth; and when the convict had
squeezed Fred's palm, he bestowed the same favor upon myself.

"Come," cried the convict, who appeared to be inspired with new life,
"let us get a bit of dinner, and then I will take you to the old cattle
station, where I once lived a solitary life, and where I harbored Black
Darnley."

"Is it far from here?" I asked, casting an anxious glance towards the
shadow of a tree, and thinking how pleasantly I could pass away a
portion of the afternoon by sleeping.

"Scarce a quarter of a mile, and I'll warrant that you will feel amply
repaid, tempting as the shadow of yonder tree looks," Smith said, having
guessed my weakness for repose.

"Then I will go," I replied.

"I will show you after we pass the bend of the stream," the convict
continued while on his hands and knees trying to ignite a fire with
prairie chips, "a flock of sheep that are counted by thousands. They
stretch over the land for miles in extent; even the owner does not know
how many he possesses, and has never visited his stockman, but trusts
all to an agent. Of course the latter has full authority to act as he
pleases, and sometimes, by some mysterious process, the agent gets
richer than the owner, and often buys his property, although where the
money comes from, I leave you