rd!

The publican tried to argue it out with him. He said you couldn't place
a kangaroo-dog second in a horse-race.

The judge said it was _his_ (hiccough) business what he placed, and that
those who (hiccough) interfered with him would be sorry for it. Also he
expressed a (garnished) opinion that the publican's mare was no rotten
good, and that she was the right sort of mare for a poor man to own,
because she would keep him poor.

Then the publican called the judge a cow. The judge was willing; a rip,
tear, and chew fight ensued, which lasted some time. The judge won.

Fifteen protests were lodged against our win, but we didn't worry about
that--we had laid the stewards a bit to nothing. Every second man we met
wanted to run us a mile for 100 pounds a side; and a drunken shearer,
spoiling for a fight, said he had heard we were "brimming over with
bally science", and had ridden forty miles to find out.

We didn't wait for the hack race. We folded our tents like the Arab
and stole away. But it remains on the annals of Buckatowndown how a
kangaroo-dog ran second for the Town Plate.

CONCERNING A DOG-FIGHT

Dog-fighting as a sport is not much in vogue now-a-days. To begin with
it is illegal. Not that _that_ matters much, for Sunday drinking is also
illegal. But dog-fighting is one of the cruel sports which the
community has decided to put down with all the force of public opinion.
Nevertheless, a certain amount of it is still carried on near Sydney,
and very neatly and scientifically carried on, too--principally by
gentlemen who live out Botany way and do not care for public opinion.

The grey dawn was just breaking over Botany when we got to the
meeting-place. Away to the East the stars were paling in the faint flush
of coming dawn, and over the sandhills came the boom of breakers. It was
Sunday morning, and all the respectable, non-dog-fighting population of
that odoriferous suburb were sleeping their heavy, Sunday-morning
sleep. Some few people, however, were astir. In the dim light hurried
pedestrians plodded along the heavy road towards the sandhills. Now and
then a van, laden with ten or eleven of "the talent", and drawn by a
horse that cost fifteen shillings at auction, rolled softly along in the
same direction. These were dog-fighters who had got "the office", and
knew exactly where the match was to take place.

The "meet" was on a main road, about half-a-mile from town; here some
two hundred peop