homeward-bounders, and while waiting for a ship my little stock of gold dust gave out. I became destitute first - then desperate. Unluckily for me, the beginning of ‘53 was the hey-day of Captain MelviHe, the notorious bushranger. He was a young fellow of my own age. I determined to imitate his exploits. I could make nothing out there from an honest life; rather than starve I would lead a dishonest one. I had been born with lawless tendencies; from smuggling to bushranging was an easy transition,
“Gone wi’ the oothers, for owt I knaw.”
“And where are the others gone?”
“Where they allus go, ower to t’ say.”
“Over to the sea, eh? We’re getting on! What takes them there?”
“That’s more than I can tell you, sir,” said Braithwaite, with so much emphasis and so little reluctance as to convince