it. It's no use risking one's life, unless for
something worth fighting for. I suppose most of us here have had
similar experiences."

There was a general chorus of assent among the settlers.

"Many of them are poor-spirited wretches. Two of them bailed up a
waggoner of mine, coming out with a load from the port. He
pretended to give in and, as they were opening some of the boxes,
he knocked one over with the butt end of his whip. The other fired
a hasty shot, and then jumped on to his horse and galloped off
again; and my man brought in the fellow he had stunned."

"Did you hand him over to the police?" Reuben asked.

"Not I," the settler laughed. "I thought he had got what he
deserved, so I bandaged up his head and let him go. Those poor
beggars of convicts have a dreadful hard time of it, and I don't
think there are many settlers who would hand over any man who had
escaped, and taken to the bush, even if he had occasionally bailed
up a waggoner or so. We know what a flogging the poor wretch would
get and, as long as it's only an occasional robbery, to keep
themselves from starving, we don't feel any great animosity against
them. It's different, altogether, when they take to murder. Then,
of course, they must be hunted down like wild beasts.

"And now I vote that we have a nap. My pipe's out, and I suppose we
shall be on the tramp again, as soon as it is dark."

Chapter 13: Bush Rangers.

As soon as it became dark, the journey was renewed.

"Now, Jim, you must keep your eyes well open," Reuben said. "There
is no saying when we may come upon them, now."

"I tink dey not berry far off, sah. Dose sheep too tired to go far.
Black fellow glad to stop and rest, when he see no one coming after
him.

"De ground more up and down here. Must no make noise. May come upon
dem sudden."

It was nearly midnight when Jim suddenly halted.

"What is it, Jim?" Reuben asked, in a low voice.

Jim stood sniffing the air.

"Me smell fire, captain."

Reuben sniffed the air, but shook his head.

"I don't smell anything, Jim."

"I smell him, sah, sure enough; not very close, perhaps, but in de
air."

"What is it, Captain Whitney?" Mr. Blount asked, as he came forward
and joined them.

"Jim says he smells fire, but I can't smell it."

"Oh, you can trust Jim's nose," the settler said. "It is wonderful
how keen is the scent of these natives. They are like dogs in that
respect; and can perceive the smell of a fire,