"When I made my first excursion into the bush, my mind was well crammed with dreadful yarns of bush-rangers and blacks. I left the town armed for a fight, and the weight of the ammunition I carried far exceeded that of my grub. I have grown wiser since then. The object I had in view was to find out an old friend and schoolfellow who had located on the Goulburn. You will not be surprised to hear that more than once on my journey I got out of my reckoning, and one evening, after a day's wandering, scarcely knowing in what direction, it was with no slight degree of satisfaction I saw a hut in the distance. On reaching it I found it occupied by two men, whose appearance made me almost regret I had fallen in with them. One was deformed, his face was nearly hidden by a crop of red whiskers, that part of it which was to be seen was not calculated to make a favourable impression upon a stranger. His 'chum' as he called him, was quite as ill-looking, with the additional disadvantage that all his face was exposed, for he had no whiskers. They gave me a surly welcome, and a feed off a kangaroo haunch, and I thought they appeared anxious that I should turn in, which I was not sorry to do, being very tired, A loud peal of thunder awakened me out of a dream in which, I remember, two ruffianly bushrangers, the counterparts of my entertainers, played a horribly conspicuous part. As I awoke I saw the two men seated over the fire, and my dream seemed to have assumed a reality: they were whispering and muttering indistinctly to each other. Hearing the words 'old man' repeated frequently, I listened more attentively. 'He died game though' said one, 'the first shot smashed his arm, but he fought well arder that. I settled him at last, though'—and here he drew his hand across his throat. I felt anything but comfortable, and my suspicions were not relieved by the events which ensued.
