The beast was at bay before very long, and his resistance to the death was extraordinary.
They had many more rides before the day was over; and when they re-assembled in farmer Findlayson's hospitable parlour, Archie was fain for once to own himself not only tired, but "dead beat."
The dinner was what Harry called a splendid spread. Old Findlayson had been a gardener in his younger days in England, and his wife was a cook; and one of the results of this amalgamation was, dinners or breakfasts either, that had already made the Scotchman famous.
Here was soup that an epicure would not have despised, fish to tempt a dying man, besides game of different kinds, pies, and last, if not least, steak of kangaroo.
The soup itself was made from the tail of the kangaroo, and I know nothing more wholesome and nourishing, though some may think it a little strong.
While the white folks were having dinner in-doors, the black fellows were doing ample justice to theirs al fresco, only they had their own cuisine and menu, of which the least said the better.
"You're sure, Mr. Craig, you winna tak' a wee drappie?"
If the honest squatter put this question once in the course of the evening, he put it twenty times.
"No, really," said Craig at last; "I will not tak' a wee drappie. I've sworn off; I have, really. Besides, your wife has made me some delightful tea."
"Weel, man, tak' a wee drappie in your last cup. It'll cheer ye up."