"To be sure I do," I replied; "in your house."
"And remember," he said, "I want you both to take up your quarters there again. You will promise me this?"
"I think that we had better go to some hotel," I replied, fearing that we should cause him trouble and expense.
"Don't think of such a thing; you will squander all of your money, and receive no equivalent for it. Go to my house, and we'll live like princes at a quarter the expense. Or, if you feel that you are too good for the company of a felon—"
"Hold there, Smith," I said; "have we ever given you occasion to speak thus?"
"No; but you will be petted and praised, and I fear that perhaps so much attention will turn your hearts against me."
"Do not fear that," I rejoined, pressing his hand, which he returned, until I thought my fingers were in a vice; "we found in you a friend, and as such we shall continue to regard you until we leave the island."
"Then you will make my house your home?" Smith inquired.
"If you still insist, I answer that we had rather keep together, and be under your roof, than to be lodged in the proudest hotel in Melbourne."
Smith's broad, red face was actually radiant with happiness, as he fell back to his place; and as he had no other way of testifying his happiness, he began cracking his long heavy whip, which started the cattle into a trot, and shook up the bushrangers and the parrot so roughly, that the latter yelled out,—