that I was struggling for life, and would not come to my
assistance?" asked Mr. Brown.

"Why should I?" demanded Day, with great _sang froid_. "I didn't know
you or care for you. All that I desired was to drive you off as fast as
possible, and d---- me if I didn't do it!"

"What did you think when you saw us return the second time?" I inquired.

"Well, the fact of it is, you rather started me then, 'cos I had no idea
of the thing. I thought if I couldn't frighten you away with groans, my
time as a ghost was 'bout over. You couldn't pay me for the head which
you destroyed, could you?"

We declined to do so, and advised him to be thankful that he did not
lose his life in his attempt to assume a character that did not belong
to him; but Day treated our advice with neglect.

"If I couldn't hit a man at a distance of ten rods, ghost or no ghost,
I'd never shoot again. Why, my old gun, that you hold on to as though
you feared it would go off, can knock over a kangaroo at thirty rods
distance, and never miss once out of a dozen shots. I tell you I have
had to practise shooting since I have been a shepherd. The only thing my
proprietor is liberal in furnishing is powder and lead."

I was just about requesting Day to remove his person from the place
where he had been digging, to allow us to make an examination for the
concealed treasure, when we heard the discharge of a gun in the
direction of the mountain, separated from us by several valleys, where
immense flocks of sheep were feeding.

The shepherd started to his feet, and looked eagerly in the direction of
the sound; but nothing was to be seen.

"What is the meaning of that?" asked Mr. Brown.

"It means that Buskin's band of bushrangers is all the more alarmed at
the sound of your pistol. They will search every inch of ground between
here and the Lodden, but they will find out the occasion of the firing,
and if you are men of the law, as you say, the highest tree in this
section will serve for your gallows to-morrow."

"You know the members of the gang?" asked Mr. Brown.

"I never exchanged a word with one of them in my life," cried the
shepherd, with an air of sincerity, "although I have often held short
communion with them in my assumed character."

He pointed to the bullock's head, and grinned as he spoke.

"How do you know that the firing was done by bushrangers?" I asked,
suspiciously.

"For two reasons--first, a bushranger will never kill more game than