sily have been mistaken for menace, was a large carpet-snake.

Just as the boy realised that its head had been injured, Shanter made a
rush past him, seized the snake by the tail, and ran out again dragging
it after him with one hand, then snatching out his club, he dropped the
tail, and quick as thought gave the writhing creature a couple of heavy
blows on the head.

"Baal mumkull nuff," he said, as the writhing nearly ceased. Then,
taking hold of the tail again, he began to drag the reptile back toward
the kitchen door, but Norman stopped him.

"No; don't do that."

"Plenty budgery. Big white Mary."

"He says it's beautiful, aunt, and he brought it as a present for you.
Shall he put it in the kitchen?"

"What?" cried Aunt Georgie; "make the horrid fellow take it, and bury it
somewhere. I was never so frightened in my life."

All this was explained to Shanter, who turned sulky, and looked
offended, marching off with his prize into the scrub, his whereabouts
being soon after detected by a curling film of grey smoke.

"Here, come on, boys," cried Tim. "Shanter's having a feed of roast
snake."

"Let's go and see," cried Norman, and they ran to the spot where the
fire was burning, to find that Tim was quite correct. Shanter had made
a good fire, had skinned his snake, and was roasting it in the embers,
from which it sent forth a hissing sound not unlike its natural
utterance, but now in company with a pleasantly savoury odour.

His back was toward them, and as they approached he looked round sourly,
but his black face relaxed, and he grinned good-humouredly again, as he
pointed to the cooking going on.

"Plenty budgery," he cried. "Come eat lot 'long Shanter."

But the boys said "No." The grubs were tempting, but the carpet-snake
was not; so Shanter had it all to himself, eating till Rifle laughed,
and said that he must be like india-rubber, else he could never have
held so much.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

A REAL EXPEDITION.

The Dingo Station never looked more beautiful than it did one glorious
January morning as the boys were making their preparations for an
expedition into the scrub. The place had been chosen for its
attractiveness in the first instance, and two years hard work had made
it a home over which Uncle Munday used to smile as he gazed on his
handiwork in the shape of flowering creepers--Bougainvillea and
Rinkasporum--running up the front, and hiding the rough wood, or over
the fences; t