e, and charged wildly at his captors. The old man slipped
nimbly to one side, Gordon darted up the nearest fence, while Carew and
the black boy got tangled up with the rope.

In the sauve qui peut which ensued, Carew pushed the black down on the
ground right in front of the steer, which immediately fell over him,
and tangled him up more than ever. Then it turned on him with a roar of
rage, butted him violently, rolled him over and over in the dirt, knelt
on him, bellowed in his ear, and slobbered on him. It looked as if the
boy must be killed. His mate dashed in with a bamboo, and welted and
whacked away without making any impression, till the animal of its own
accord withdrew gloomily to a corner of the yard, dragging the rope
after it. Carew watched the prostrate boy in agonised suspense, hardly
daring to hope that he was alive. With a gasp of satisfaction he saw him
rise to his feet, rub some of the dirt off his face, and look round at
the steer. Then he gave his shirt a shake and began to brush himself
with his hands, saying in an indignant tone, "Flamin' bullock! Spoil my
new chirt!"

Now all hands seized the rope again; in a trice the bullock was hauled
up against the fence, thrown to the ground, and held there while the old
man sawed off the point of one horn, which was growing into the animal's
eye. When the job was done he straightened himself up, and through the
covering grime and dust they had a good look at him.

He had a long, red nose, a pair of bright hazel eyes, and a bushy,
grizzled beard and moustache hiding all the lower part of his face. On
his head was a shapeless felt hat, from which a string passed under his
nose. His arms were hairy and baboon-like; his long thin legs seemed
intended by Nature to fit the sides of a horse. He wore tweed pants,
green with age, and strapped on the inside with a lighter-coloured and
newer material; also a very dirty coloured cotton shirt, open in front,
and showing a large expanse of hairy chest. His voice was husky from
much swearing at profligate cattle, and there was a curious nasal twang
in his tone, a sort of affectation of Americanism that was a departure
from the ordinary bush drawl.

Charlie introduced himself. "My name's Gordon," he said, "and this is a
friend of mine. We've come to take this block over."

"You're welcome to it, Mister," said the old man promptly. "It's about
broke me, and if you don't look out it'll break you. Any man that gits
this pl