The Sunday herald and weekly national intelligencer., 1891-11-08
5 A " E d.

The episode / am going to relate occurred
not far from the township of Horsham, Vic
toria. Where the exact locality is, have
no intention of divulging, but if any of my
readers are acquainted with the part of the
world I refer to, they will remember that
there exist one or two large streams within
the wide radius / have named. Beside one
of these rivers there was standing, about
twenty years ago, hut, which was known at
the Homestead as Deep Water Station; and it
was here that my lot placed me as hut-keeper.
1 lived at the Deep Water Station for two
years.
If readers Iof the following story wish to
know who 1 am, | will crafty their curl
osity so far as to state that l was born. in the
north of England. My father was retired
tradesman. He gave me fair education, but
/ never fulfilled the expectation formed of me-
This night, while write, can show nothing
to prove that | ever succeeded in the world
am poor clerk, struggling for bare exist
ence, and sometimes struggling with wild,
strong impulse to wander and work through
the country, as | often did before, near the
scenes of my former experience. l like the
red sunset and the wild plains as much as
ever; like the glow of the sunlight among
Uue SDdTIGu, queer GIS0s, 1 INC IAc ripping
rays on the water-waving, shadowy grass of
the silent hills--the bright, still moon, the
wilderness away from towns l like Austria.
lian life, but not among the dusty streets, or
near to white, sweltering roads. For twelve
years / followed these impulses faithfully,
and enjoyed my bush-life; with little profit it
is true, but with much pleasure All that l
have to show for all my wanderings and
hard ships, as l write, is a long, ugly scar
across my breast, and l am going to tell you
how ! got it.
/ remember was sitting at the hut (the
Deep Water hut one summer afternoon,
looking for the coming Of ''Long Mat"
The sun was passing away blood-red behind
a range of dim, blue hills; long shadows were
rapidly spreading; the deep'water hole had
lost the light the hills behind the river were
just tipped with a crimson glory, and stars
seemed dropping like silver specks on the
paling sky. "Long Mat" the shepherd, was
later than usual.
The darkness had not quite fallen before |
recognized the bleating of the flock in the
distance, and soon after the white fleeces of
the sheep slowly appeared from out the
sombre shadows of the trees. 1 had just
walked inside the hut to prepare supper,
when the quick mufiled fall of horses feet
became audible. knew the canter well, and
came to the door to await the arrival of Mr..
s., the owner of the station. He galloped
up to the hut, with a cheerful ''Good evening,
Bill" and as usual came inside to ask me if l
wanted anything, and to light his pipe.
~ can't stay long with you this time, Bill y
he said pleasantly, but with a little anxiety;
''the black fellows are about again. | hope
your gun is in order. Do you want any
powder or lead ~
"We have quite enough" / replied, "both
for Mat and myself; but there's no bullets;
I'll run them tomorrow. Mats rather late
this evening, but the flock not far off, they'll
be home in quarter of an hour; ! saw them
pass the belt before you came"
At this instant the shadow of a man dark
ened the door, and Mat entered.
"Good-evening," he said quietly, to Mr.,
s. and myself ''The sleeps feedin' home
all right, sir, but there's few missin'. One
OF my marked ewes is gone, and l can't ser
two of the crawlers."
you'll pick them up tomorrow, Mat
replied the strong, pleasant voice, of the squat
ter. "Bill says you've got enough powder
and lead The blacks are about, do you know
that %
Without waiting for an answer, Mr.. s.
proceeded to undo his horse, and was abou