e hut, seemed to think that he was out of range of
the musket, for he made most unseemly gestures, and yelled back at
Joe in a defiant and contemptuous manner. Joe's gun was charged with
shot, and he fired and hit his mark, for the blackfellow dropped
suddenly from the top rail, and ran away, putting his hands behind
him, and trying to pick out the pellets.

One day a white stockman came galloping on his horse up to the door
of the hut, his face, hands, shirt and trousers being smeared and
saturated with blood. Joe took him inside the hut, and found that he
had two severe wounds on the left shoulder. After the bleeding had
been stanched and the wounds bandaged, the stranger related that as
he was riding he met a blackfellow carrying a fire-stick. He thought
it was a good opportunity of lighting his pipe, lucifer matches being
then unknown in the bush; so he dismounted, took out his knife, and
began cutting tobacco. The blackfellow asked for a fig of tobacco,
and, after filling his pipe, the stockman gave him the remainder of
the fig he had been cutting, and held out his hand for the firestick.
The blackfellow seemed disappointed; very likely expecting to receive
a whole fig of tobacco--and, instead of handing him the firestick
he threw it on the ground. At the first moment the stockman did not
suspect any treachery, as he had seen no weapon in possession of the
blackfellow. He stooped to pick up the firestick; but just as he was
touching it, he saw the black man's feet moving nearer, and becoming
suddenly suspicious, he quickly moved his head to one side and stood
upright. At the same instant he received a blow from a tomahawk on
his left shoulder. This blow, intended for his head, was followed by
another, which inflicted a second wound; but the stockman succeeded
in grasping the wrist of his enemy. Then began a wrestling match
between the two men, the stakes two lives, no umpire, no timekeeper,
no backers, and no bets. The only spectator was the horse, whose
bridle was hanging on the ground. But he seemed to take no interest
in the struggle, and continued nibbling the grass until it was over.

The black man, who had now dropped his rug, was as agile and nimble
as a beast of prey, and exerted all his skill and strength to free
his hand. But the white man felt that to loose his hold would be to
lose his life, and he held on to his grip of the blackfellow's wrist
with desperate resolution. The tomahawk fe