companion's flesh, and then drew his long, sharp knife, and
began to cut off another portion from the carcass by his side.

For a few seconds the insulted youngster seemed uncertain what to do.
Then I saw his right hand seek for his knife, draw it, and with a wild
cry he threw himself upon the old man. The other bushrangers merely
glanced towards the parties, but did not offer to interfere. There was
but a slight struggle, for the attack was so sudden that the grizzly
fellow did not take the precaution of defending himself, trusting,
probably, to his age and influence with the gang to exempt him from a
personal combat.

I heard a low groan, and then the attacking party arose and returned to
his former place, while the head of the old robber fell forward and
touched the fire, and there it remained for a few minutes, until the
stench of burning hair became so great that some one shouted out to
remove the body, and not let it lay there and spoil their appetites.

One man, more humane than the rest, lifted the dead pirate up and
carried him a short distance, and then laid him carefully under a tree.
The whole transaction, including the death, did not take ten minutes,
and a number of the gang did not even stop from picking bones during its
occurrence.

"You settled him, Billy?" cried a fellow at a distant camp fire,
slightly raising his voice.

"I should think that I did," answered the young ruffian, wiping his
knife on his shirt sleeve, and then finishing his supper, with an
evident attempt to appear unconcerned, although I could see that he was
all of a tremble, and that he glared around the clear space as though he
feared to encounter a disagreeable sight every moment.

"Let this be a lesson to all of us," cried a deep, bass voice, which I
heard for the first time. "How often have I told you that I desired
harmony in the gang, and that if a man gave the lie he was responsible
for it with his life. Why can't you live like gentlemen, and not like a
set of d----d blackguards. Because you are robbers and cutthroats is no
reason why you should murder each other. The world is large enough and
contains enough of our enemies without looking for them in the gang."

There was not a word of response to these remarks, but I noticed that
many of the gang hung their heads as though they did not wish to meet
the eyes of the speaker, who seemed to be a person in authority.

"That must be Sam Tyrell, who is called the gentlemanly