"Where are you taking these bullocks?" I demanded in a tone which, I am sorry to say, reflected as little credit on my politeness as on my philosophy.
"Steation yaads," he replied indifferently, and with a strong English accent.
"Did you take them off purchased land?" I asked, eyeing him keenly.
"Oi teuk 'e (animals) horf of 'e run," he remarked, rather than replied, without condescending to look at me.
"Do you know what day this is?" I inquired magisterially.
"Zabbath," he replied kindly.
"And do you know there's a new act passed—'Parkes's Act,' they call it—that makes the removing of working-bullocks from pastoral leasehold, on Sundays, a misdemeanour, punishable by a term of imprisonment not exceeding twelve months, with or without hard labour?"
"Granny!" he remarked.
Driven back in disorder, I hurried up my second line.——
"Do you know who these bullocks belong to?" I inquired ominously.