inns, and occasionally villages, and farms, and stock
stations, they had sometimes to depend on their own resources, and to
bivouac in the bush. This the young immigrants found by far the
pleasantest part of their journey. The oxen were turned loose to graze
at leisure; sticks were collected, and a fire lighted for boiling the
tea-kettle and cooking the damper. The old hands troubled themselves
very little about their night's lodging; they, like Sam Green, were
satisfied with the bare ground under the dray if it threatened rain, or
anywhere near it if the weather was fine. A small tent had been
provided by Mr Prentiss, which, with some ticking filled with dry
grass, gave the Gilpins a luxurious lodging for the night. They could
scarcely go to sleep on turning in for their first real night in the
bush, from the novelty of the scene and the prospects opening up to
them. Before dawn they both started up, awoke by the strangest and most
discordant sounds.

"What can it be?" cried James.

"An attack of the blacks," said Arthur, rubbing his eyes. "But no!
Listen! They are birds, I verily believe; but the strangest birds I
ever heard."

He was right: there was the hideous, unearthly cry of the
laughing-jackass, called often the bushman's clock; the screaming cry of
thousands of parrots flying here and there through the forest; there was
the cackle of the wattle-bird, the clear notes of the magpie, and the
confused chattering of thousands of leather-heads; while many other
birds added their notes to the discordant chorus, and speedily banished
sleep from the eyes of their hearers. The stockmen started to their
feet, and hurried off to bring in the oxen and horses; a fire was
lighted, tea boiled, breakfast discussed with considerable rapidity;
and, before the sun was up, the party had recommenced their journey
along the dusty dray-track--for as yet it deserved that name rather than
a road. The scenery was varied, and often very beautiful when viewed
under a clear blue sky and bright sun. The beds of streams were
frequently passed, but they were either dry altogether, or occasional
holes only with water in them could be seen here and there along the
course, or, if nowhere dry, they were easily forded. The Irish
bullock-driver, Larry Killock, told Sam that, in the rainy season, these
were often foaming torrents, rushing on with terrific noise, and
sweeping away everything they meet.

"Many a poor fellow has been d