acked. Jim fell on his
feet and ran. The dog swooped on the cartridge and followed. It all took
but a very few moments. Jim ran to a digger's hole, about ten feet deep,
and dropped down into it--landing on soft mud--and was safe. The dog
grinned sardonically down on him, over the edge, for a moment, as if he
thought it would be a good lark to drop the cartridge down on Jim.

'Go away, Tommy,' said Jim feebly, 'go away.'

The dog bounded off after Dave, who was the only one in sight now; Andy
had dropped behind a log, where he lay flat on his face, having suddenly
remembered a picture of the Russo-Turkish war with a circle of
Turks lying flat on their faces (as if they were ashamed) round a
newly-arrived shell.

There was a small hotel or shanty on the creek, on the main road, not
far from the claim. Dave was desperate, the time flew much faster in
his stimulated imagination than it did in reality, so he made for the
shanty. There were several casual Bushmen on the verandah and in the
bar; Dave rushed into the bar, banging the door to behind him. 'My dog!'
he gasped, in reply to the astonished stare of the publican, 'the blanky
retriever--he's got a live cartridge in his mouth----'

The retriever, finding the front door shut against him, had bounded
round and in by the back way, and now stood smiling in the doorway
leading from the passage, the cartridge still in his mouth and the fuse
spluttering. They burst out of that bar. Tommy bounded first after one
and then after another, for, being a young dog, he tried to make friends
with everybody.

The Bushmen ran round corners, and some shut themselves in the stable.
There was a new weather-board and corrugated-iron kitchen and wash-house
on piles in the back-yard, with some women washing clothes inside.
Dave and the publican bundled in there and shut the door--the publican
cursing Dave and calling him a crimson fool, in hurried tones, and
wanting to know what the hell he came here for.

The retriever went in under the kitchen, amongst the piles, but, luckily
for those inside, there was a vicious yellow mongrel cattle-dog sulking
and nursing his nastiness under there--a sneaking, fighting, thieving
canine, whom neighbours had tried for years to shoot or poison. Tommy
saw his danger--he'd had experience from this dog--and started out and
across the yard, still sticking to the cartridge. Half-way across
the yard the yellow dog caught him and nipped him. Tommy dropped the