"And I looked up and saw Dave himself, sidlin' out of a cloud of dust ona long lanky horse. He rode into the stockyard, got down, hung his horseup to a post, put up the rails, and then come slopin' towards us witha half-acre grin on his face. Dave had long, thin bow-legs, and when hewas on the ground he moved as if he was on roller skates.。，
"Goin' to fetch him," said Peter, and, after carefully emptying his pipeand replacing it in a leather pouch at his belt, he mounted and rode offat an easy canter.。， "Well, when we'd got all that settled, and the other chaps had asked howhe was, he said: 'Ah, well! Let's have a drink.'
"What the mischief are yer goin' ter do, Peter?" asked Jimmy.。， "I won't come," shouted the doctor. "I've brought enough horse-stealersinto the world already. If any more want to come they can go to blazesfor me. Now, you get out of this!"
And I remember a poor, brutally ill-used little wife, wearing a blackeye mostly, and singing "Love Amongst the Roses" at her work. And theysang the "Blue Tail Fly", and all the first and best coon songs--in thedays when old John Brown sank a duffer on the hill.。，
Doc. Wild was a well-known character among the bushmen of New SouthWales, and although the profession did not recognise him, and denouncedhim as an empiric, his skill was undoubted. Bushmen had great faith inhim, and would often ride incredible distances in order to bring himto the bedside of a sick friend. He drank fearfully, but was seldomincapable of treating a patient; he would, however, sometimes be foundin an obstinate mood and refuse to travel to the side of a sick person,and then the devil himself could not make the doctor budge. But for allthis he was very generous--a fact that could, no doubt, be testified toby many a grateful sojourner in the lonely bush.。，
"Then again," said Mitchell, "it mightn't be convenient for you to gohome to dinner--something might turn up during the morning--you mighthave some important business to do, or meet some chaps and get invitedto lunch and not be very well able to refuse, when it's too late, or youhaven't a chance to send a message to your wife. But then again, chapsand business seem very big things to you, and only little things to thewife; just as lovey-dovey talk is important to her and nonsense to you.And when you come to analyse it, one is not so big, nor the other sosmall, after all; especially when you come to think that chaps canalways wait, and business is only an inspiration in your mind, ninecases out of ten.。， "'Did you get under shelter that day?'
Now this maiding, being please-ed to see him so bold,She gave him her glove that was flowered with gold,。， "Are you sure it's all right?" I didn't want to be poisoned or have myeyes burnt out by mistake; perhaps some burning acid had got intothat bottle, or the label had been put on, or left on, in mistake orcarelessness.
I remember a dreadful story of a digger who went and shot himselfone night after hearing that bad girl sing. We thought then what afrightfully bad woman she must be. The incident terrified us; andthereafter we kept carefully and fearfully out of reach of her voice,lest we should go and do what the digger did.。，
， But of late his horse had been seen hanging up outside Porter's for anhour or so after sunset. He smoked, talked over the results of the lastdrought (if it happened to rain), and the possibilities of the next one,and played cards with old Porter; who took to winking, automatically, athis "old woman", and nudging, and jerking his thumb in the direction ofLizzie when her back was turned, and Andy was scratching the nape of hisneck and staring at the cards.。， I have a dreamy recollection of a circus on Gulgong in the roaring days,more than twenty years ago, and a woman (to my child-fancy a being fromanother world) standing in the middle of the ring, singing: