The man filled his pipe with tobacco, an example that was followed by those who had finished gorging, and after he had lighted it, he turned his head in the direction of the prisoners, as though signifying that he was ready to listen.
"The only wife that you will marry will be the gibbet," the old woman said, spitefully.
"Peace, you old hag," cried the bushranger, angrily. "How dare you talk to me in that sort of way?"
"I thought that you wanted to hear what I have been dreaming about?" she replied, with a sneer.
"So I do, but don't you mention gibbets, do you hear, 'cos you might provoke me, and then you would dangle from one of these trees, a scarecrow that would cause old Wright much wonder. Now you go ahead."
"I dreamed that I was in a crowd of excited people, who were walking towards a prison where they said an execution was to take place. I went with them, for I felt that I had received so many injuries at the hands of men that it would be joy to my wounded heart to see them suffer. I struggled until I reached the front ranks of the crowd, and then waited patiently until a procession, headed by soldiers with solemn music, left the prison and marched towards the scaffold."
"Didn't I tell you not to talk about such things?" cried the bushranger, fiercely.
"Then I will not;" and the woman remained silent.
"Let her go on with the yarn," the other robbers exclaimed. "Let her tell what she likes about hanging coveys, if she pleases. Fire away, old woman."