scarcely crawl back to the huts from the stock-yard without assistance, so great was the agony. I sat down on the frosted ground and pulled off my boot, knowing that the leg would swell. Cold as it was, the thirst of the wounded soldier immediately attacked me. My room in the slab hut, preceding the brick cottage, then in course of erection, was, to use Mr. Swiveller's description, 'an airy and well-ventilated apartment.' It contained, in addition to joint stools, a solid table, upon which my simple meals of chops, damper, and tea were displayed three times a day by a shepherd's wife, an elderly personage of varied and sensational experiences.
I may mention that the great Riverina region was as yet in its unfenced, more or less Arcadian stage, the flocks being 'shepherded' (expressive Australian verb, since enlarged as to meaning) and duly folded or camped at night. Something of Mrs. Regan's advanced tone of thought may be gathered from the following dialogue, which I overheard:—
Shady township individual—'Your man shot my dorg t'other night. What d'yer do that fer?'
Mrs. Regan—''Cause we caught him among the sheep; and we'd 'a shot you, if you'd bin in the same place.'
Township individual—'You seem rather hot coffee, missus! I've 'arf a mind to pull your boss next Court day for the valley of the dorg.'
Mrs. Regan—'You'd better clear out and do it, then. The P.M.'s a-comin' from Wagga on Friday, and he'll give yer three months' "hard," like as not. Ask the pleece for yer character.'
Township individual—'D—n you and the pleece too! A pore man gets no show between the traps and squatters in this bloomin' country. Wish I'd never seen it!'
This was by the way of interlude, serving to relieve the monotony of the situation. I could eat, drink, smoke, and sleep, but the injured leg—worse than broken—I could not put to the ground. Nor had I company of any kind, save that of old Jack and Mrs. Regan, for a whole month. So, casting about for occupation, I bethought myself that I might write something for an English magazine. The subject pitched upon was a kangaroo drive or battue, then common in Western Victoria, which I had lately quitted. The kangaroo had become so numerous that they were eating the squatters out
