mong the sheep, I went out with a gun. Seeing an object moving in
the dark, I fired both barrels, and the supposed dingo fell. I had shot
one of the ration sheep which had been dropped during the day. Being
without any control or instructions in regard to the sheep, we decided
our working hours to be--rise at 7 a.m., breakfast at 7.30, start work
at 8. The sheep remained in the yard until the last-mentioned hour.
This did not improve their condition. One morning my uncle arrived
before we had turned out, and expressed himself strongly upon the
laziness of new chums in general. Excusing ourselves by the fact that it
was not yet seven did not calm the atmosphere. My uncle was one who
insisted upon plenty of time for a long day's work. I very quickly
learned the value of early rising in the bush, and in the interest of
the sheep, when necessary, to go without breakfast.

I remember my first night alone in the bush. I was sent to an
out-station with 300 sheep, and a black boy to assist in driving them.
At sundown I could see nothing of the hut. I had read that fires would
keep off native dogs or dingoes. I tied my horse to a tree, and gathered
wood, forming a ring of fires around the sheep. The black boy said
something to me in his own language. Thinking he asked me if he should
bring some more wood, I replied with the only word I knew, "Yewi." After
a little time I missed the boy, and cooeed for him. He replied as from a
distance. I wondered why he had gone so far when there was plenty of
wood close by. He did not return, and it was not long before my horse
broke away. All night was spent walking around the sheep. What weird
sounds I heard, and what strange shapes I saw moving. When one is alone
in the bush at night, even after years of experience, the imagination is
apt to run riot. Especially is it so at midnight and towards the small
hours of the morning. At daylight the sheep commenced to move. I
followed them, carrying my saddle and bridle. About mid-day one of the
station boys found me, and inquired why I sent the black boy home. It
then dawned on me why I had been left alone. The boy had asked to be
allowed to go home, and I had said "Yewi"--yes. I suppose I was only
undergoing the usual bush experience of the new chum, and had a good
deal to learn, but I was undoubtedly learning.

CHAPTER II.

Following the cotton strike in England during 1863, a large number of
Lancashire operatives emigrated to Australi