The stockman retained his defensive attitude, until he recognized the features of Smith, when his gun was rested against the side of the hut, and he once more dropped his head upon his breast, and with folded arms awaited our coming.
"Well!" cried Smith, with assured cheerfulness; "how do you get along nowadays?"
The stockman raised his head, and looked at the questioner as though referring him to his face, with its wrinkles and lines of care, for an answer. A moment after, his head was bowed upon his breast again, and he appeared unconscious that we were present.
"Have you seen Darnley's band lately?" Smith inquired.
"Yes," replied the stockman, still retaining his position.
"Has he visited you within the past few days?" queried Smith.
"Yes," replied the man.
"Ah, his supply of provisions was short," cried Smith, as his eyes sought the flocks as though wondering how many sheep satisfied the bushranger and his gang.
The stockman returned no answer, so we passed him and entered his hut. There were two bedsteads made of hides, a table, two rough chairs, that looked as though introduced during the days of Sir Francis Drake, a few pans hanging against the wall, an old chest with a broken lid and no lock, and these were all the articles of luxury or convenience that graced the cabin of the stockman.