he was, too, that always kept himself in good condition on the fodder he rifled from the others. Had he been bred a man instead of a common grey horse he would more than likely have been a great success in business. If was a horse with moods. In some of his moods he would pull enough for three horses, In other moods he wouldn't pull the hat off your head. When leaving the homestead with only old Harry and the empty taun on the dray he would crawl sulkily along, stopping at intervals to wait till Harry got down and humoured him, and led him along affectionately. But on the way back he would be in such a hurry to get home and be freed of the load and his worries, that Harry would have to run as best he could, under anatomical disadvantages, to keep with him. But the day "Tommy," as Harry called him, jibbed with a load of wood on the other side of the Station Creek — oh! that was a comedy! How he managed it I don't know, but Harry induced, or seduced, a couple of stalwart aboriginals belonging to the tribe that paid visits to Curlew lagoon — chaps about twenty-five or thirty, who, through the Governor’s friendly attitude to them, were gaining confidence in the whites and getting prety tame — to accompany him for the load of wood. They were tall, lithe niggers, as black as the ace of spades, and naked as the day they were born. The wonder was, as Eustuce aud others afterwards said, they didn’t knock old Harry on the head. Perhaps they didu’t think him worth while, or they were not hungry. Anyway, they didn't. Instead, they enjoyed the dray-ride over the creek,
