couldn't find her."

'"You catch old Johnny Smoker and look for her till you do find her, if
it's ten o'clock to-night," says mother, very fierce. "Your father'll
give you a fine larrupin' if he comes home and there's that cow lost."

'So off I goes and mans old Johnny, and clears out straight for here.
When I came to Driver's I runs his horses up into a yard nigh the angle
of his outside paddock and collars this little 'oss, and lets old Johnny
go in hobbles. My word, this cove can scratch!'

'So it seems,' says Starlight; 'here's a sovereign for you, youngster.
Keep your ears and eyes open; you'll always find that good information
brings a good price. I'd advise you to keep away from Mr. Marston, sen.,
and people of his sort, and stick to your work, if I thought there was
the least earthly chance of your doing so; but I see plainly that you're
not cut out for the industrious, steady-going line.'

'Not if I know it,' said the boy; 'I want to see life before I die.
I'm not going to keep on milling and slaving day after day all the year
round. I'll cut it next year as sure as a gun. I say, won't you let me
ride a bit of the way with ye?'

'Not a yard,' says father, who was pretty cranky by this time; 'you
go home again and put that horse where you got him. We don't want old
Driver tracking and swearing after us because you ride his horses; and
keep off the road as you go back.'

Billy the Boy nodded his head, and jumping into his saddle, rode
off again at much about the same pace he'd come at. He was a regular
reckless young devil, as bold as a two-year-old colt in a branding-yard,
that's ready to jump at anything and knock his brains out against a
stockyard post, just because he's never known any real regular hurt or
danger, and can't realise it. He was terrible cruel to horses, and would
ruin a horse in less time than any man or boy I ever seen. I always
thought from the first that he'd come to a bad end. Howsoever, he was
a wonderful chap to track and ride; none could beat him at that; he
was nearly as good as Warrigal in the bush. He was as cunning as a
pet dingo, and would look as stupid before any one he didn't know, or
thought was too respectable, as if he was half an idiot. But no one
ever stirred within twenty or thirty miles of where he lived without our
hearing about it. Father fished him out, having paid him pretty well for
some small service, and ever after that he said he could sleep in peace.

We h