e other,
"and it's glad Oi am that Oive nearly kilt that varmint for Moran's
sake!"

Needless to explain to you Patrick Francis Moran was the Cardinal.

Kangarooists drive engines much in the same way as they drive horses, or
anything else--a reckless, devil-may-care style.

A certain driver in Queensland was told to run the journey through and
make no stoppages--this just suited him. On he went. He found the iron
gates closed at a crossing in a town he passed through; he did not pull
up--not he--he rushed right through, carrying the gates away. Of course,
he was reprimanded for this recklessness.

"You might have killed the passengers."

"Why, we only carried two!"

This satisfied the Enquiry Committee as reasonable--in Australia.

This Queensland driver has his prototype in New South Wales. You will
find him on the express between Melbourne and Sydney, known as "Hell
Fire Jack," a _sobriquet_ he has gained by his dash and daring in
running the express. He had brought us on at a rare rate, and having
completed the middle run, we pulled up to exchange drivers and engines.
The conductor noticed me gazing at the portly form of the engine-driver,
who had just jumped off.

"That is Hell Fire Jack. Jack is a wonder--here we are a quarter of an
hour before time, and Jack had an hour and a half to make up in his
run--he did it--Jack always does--he'd make up anything. It's he as
nearly got the sack for making a splendid run some time ago--160 miles
without a stop. Nothing wrong in that? Well, you see we had four stops
to make in that 160 miles, and he didn't make 'em. Some bookies in the
train wanted to get to the races, and made Jack a handsome bet he
couldn't get 'em there in time--Jack did--that's all--bless you, he's a
wonder--never had an accident neither, not one! He knows all about
engines--can stop and mend 'em on the road if it's wanted. And you ought
to see him pick up his express disc with his train going at 60 miles an
hour. There is a little arm sticks out of the side of the engine, and
the disc is suspended at the station. Jack takes it, as I say, going 60
miles an hour, never eases up--not he--but the disc he has to drop in
its place has fallen off long before! and the next train has to wait an
hour to find it. Oh, Jack is a wonder--good-bye, Jack!"

I returned to the carriage relieved by knowing that Hell Fire Jack was
no longer in charge. Two men were conversing about travelling of a
different kind-