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THE AUSTRALIAN EMIGRANT.
77

"Thank you kindly, gentlemen," he said, as he shook their hands warmly; "if I had met with hearts like yours in times gone by, I should not now be what I am."

"And what are you?" said Slinger. "I see you have had much trouble, and it is possible we may be able to assist you further."

"You have asked me a plain question: had you addressed me so when we first met, we might not have been so friendly as we are; but your kindness and sympathy have done what iron gangs and lashes, and cruelties of which I dare not think, have been years in bringing to pass. My heart once more beats in unison with my fellow creatures:—you have taught me that all men are not oppressors. But, perhaps, even yet, when I tell you who I am, you too will despise—aye, or it may be, betray me. If you are not what you seem to be, honest and feeling men, in God's name let me go my way; but if your hearts do not belie your looks, seat yourselves and listen how I shall answer your question."

Hugh and Slinger sat themselves upon a fallen tree.

"Give me your words of honour (I have learnt colonial oaths are of no value,) that you will not mention this meeting or anything which may now transpire to any one, whilst such a revelation might tend to my injury."

"We give you our words of honour we will comply with your wishes," said Slinger and Hugh together—Slinger added in an under-tone to Hugh, "Romantic! ain't it?"

"Enough:" said the stranger. "Have you ever heard of a fellow who leads bloodthirsty villains through the woods, himself the greatest wretch of them all, robbing unprotected stations and murdering in cold blood the unoffending inmates, destroying even little children, setting all laws at defiance, both human and divine—violating wives and sisters—marking his track