"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I'll tell you in as few words as possible," the shepherd said, resting from his work for a few seconds while speaking. "We three coveys ain't no match for thirty coveys, is we?"
We acknowledged that there was a difference, and that it was favorable to the side of the larger force.
"Very well; then it becomes necessary to deceive 'em, same as we use to do when I was an apprentice in London, when master would put a body in a pine coffin, all flourished off with paint and varnish, and then charge it as cherry."
"What has that to do with the matter in hand?" I demanded impatiently.
"Much—I intend to make the bushrangers think, if we come in contact with 'em, that they have got a ghost instead of a man to deal with, and I needn't tell you how frightened they will be; you know that by your own experience, don't you?"
There was no denying the assertion, however much disposed we might feel to quarrel with such perfect frankness at the present time. At any rate, we no longer manifested symptoms of impatience, but waited until Day had secured the bones, which were somewhat loosened by the shot from my pistol.
"I think that I've got strings enough arter all," he said, shaking the head to see if it was firm and fit for use. "It 'pears all right, and I think will answer."
He placed the huge mass of whitened bones upon his head, and then shook it in a defiant manner, and I no longer wondered at our fright.