voice readily proclaimed
his nation.

"Why, that is an Australian turkey," replied Murden, who joined us at
that instant, looking somewhat the worse for his trip, and we noticed
that his seat in the saddle was not very firm.

"Why, you don't say that, 'squire?" asked our new acquaintance,
approaching the captive to get a nearer view.

"Yes, it is. We pasture them out a little ways, and when the people at
Ballarat feel like having a feast we catch one, but sometimes they get a
little wild."

"Wall, I swow to man, if that don't beat all that I ever heard of, and
no mistake. I've seen big cock-turkeys, and uncle Josiah raised one for
last Thanksgiving that was a whopper, but this knocks him. I say, what
could I get a pair of these 'ere for?"

The stranger very imprudently laid his hand upon the bird for the
purpose of feeling his condition, and what proportion of flesh there was
to feathers. Hardly had the captive felt his touch when all of his
native fierceness returned, and while our countryman, with a grave face,
was still expressing his wonder, the cassiowary raised one of his
muscular legs and kicked him full on his breast. In another instant the
American was going backward at a rapid rate, and finally brought up full
length upon the earth. For a second he didn't move, then slowly
gathering up his lank form, he looked first at the cassiowary, and then
at Murden, and muttered,--

"Dod rot yer Australia turkeys,--they don't know manners."

The crowd roared with laughter, and for a long time our American friend
was known by the nickname of "Turkey Johnson."

CHAPTER L.

ARRIVAL OF SMITH.--ATTEMPT TO BURN THE STORE.

Even after we had captured the cassiowary we did not know what to do
with it, as Murden would not listen for a moment to the idea of its
being killed, and yet the bird was too formidable an opponent to play
with. While we were debating how to get the bird to Ballarat, an old
stockman, who upon the discovery of gold had left his employment and
gone into the teaming business, suggested that we should tie a
handkerchief over his head, and guaranteed that we would then lead as
docile as a pet lamb.

"Now, then, how are we to improve the advice of the stockman?" asked
Murden. "Who will throw a handkerchief over the bird's head, and then
have the hardihood to tie it?"

No one volunteered to perform so perilous a duty until our American
friend, who had recovered from the effects of his kick,