laughed incredulously, but Smith maintained his gravity and persisted
in his statement.

"It is an easy matter to settle," said Fred. "Just prove to us the truth
of your statement, and we shall be as knowing as yourself."

The convict bent over the body and inserted his hand in a small opening
in the belly of the animal that resembled the mouth of a pouch, but
which had escaped our attention. He drew forth, as the result of his
investigation, a little, struggling kangaroo, that tried to induce Smith
to relinquish his grasp by snapping at his hand with its toothless
mouth.

While we were admiring the softness of its skin, the second one was
dragged to light; but it uttered shrill cries of terror, and endeavored
to effect its escape from the rough hands that held it.

"It is as bad as murder, killing the poor brute," cried Fred,
indignantly, he having recovered from the mortification of missing the
animal.

"And there are no judges upon earth to sentence its murderer," cried a
solemn voice.

We looked and found that the stockman had left the shadow of his hut,
and was occupied the same way as ourselves, gazing at the carcass of the
kangaroo.

"Man is merciless, and God punishes us all in his own good time," the
stockman continued, as he listened to the grief of the motherless
animals.

"Then why did you take her life?" demanded Fred.

"A man that is wronged seeks to shift his burden so that the load which
weighs him down may grow lighter."

The old man, without another expression of sorrow, turned away and
walked towards his hut again; while Smith, who was used to such scenes,
and therefore had hardened his heart, deliberately commenced skinning
the dead brute, and allowed the young ones to escape wherever they chose
to run.

That night we supped upon the meat of the kangaroo; and while feasting
there was little thought of the sorrow which we experienced at its
death.

CHAPTER VI.

ADVENTURE WITH A DOG.--THE MURDER IN THE RAVINE.--STORY OF AN OUTRAGED
WOMAN.

The flickering light of a fire, around which was seated three men with
sunburnt faces and long beard, hardly illuminated the bank of the river
sufficiently to distinguish objects ten yards distant. The men were
Smith the convict, Fred, and myself. Each of our mouths were graced with
dingy pipes, and while we puffed away diligently, our eyes were fixed
upon the cheerful blaze, silently watching the ever-changing embers, and
meditating upon