" resumed his wife, "Robbut would take
ye to Sydney."

To this Picton shook his head. "Too late for the steamer."

"Or to-night; I wad na mind that," said the pious Robbut, "_if it was
after dark_, and that will bring ye to Sydney before the morn."

"That will do," said Picton, slapping his thigh. "Lend us your horse and
wagon to go down to the schooner and get our luggage; we will be back this
evening, and then go on to Sydney, eh? That will do; a ride by moonlight;"
and the traveller jumped up from his seat, walked with great strides
towards the fire-place, turned his back to the blaze, hung a coat-tail
over each arm, and whistled "Annie Laurie" at Mrs. McGibbet.

The suggestion of Picton meeting the views of all concerned, the diplomacy
ended. Robbut put himself in his Sunday boots, and hitched up a spare rib
of a horse before a box-wagon without springs, which he brought before the
door with great complacency. The traveller and I were soon on the
ground-floor of the vehicle, seated upon a log of wood by way of cushion;
and with a chirrup from McGibbet, off we went. At the foot of the first
hill, our horse stopped; in vain Picton jerked at the rein, and shouted at
him: not a step further would he go, until Robbut himself came down to the
rescue. "Get along, Boab!" said his master; and Bob, with a mute, pitiful
appeal in his countenance, turned his face towards salt-water. At the
foot of the next hill he stopped again, when the irascible Picton jumped
out, and with one powerful twitch of the bridle, gave Boab such a hint to
"get on," that it nearly jerked his head off. And Boab did get on, only to
stop at the ascent of the next hill. Then we began to understand the
tactics of the animal. Boab had been the only conveyance between
Louisburgh and Sydney for many years, and, as he was usually
over-burdened, made a point to stop at the up side of every hill on the
road, to let part of his freight get out and walk to the top of the
acclivity with him. So, by way of compromise, we made a feint of getting
out at every rise of ground, and Boab, who always turned his head around
at each stopping-place, seemed to be satisfied with the observance of the
ceremony, and trotted gaily forward. At last we came to a place we had
named Sebastopol in the morning--a great sharp edge of rock as high as a
man's waist, that cut the road in half, over which we lifted the wagon,
and were soon in view of the bright little harbor and the "Bala