"That's right; swear and d——n! Where's the women? I love women! I should like to hug one."
"You vulgar little brute! Where did you learn your bad manners?" I asked.
"Mike, Mike, Mike."
"Well, Mike might be in better business. You have got some queer crotchets in your head that are hardly suitable for a ladies boudoir, especially if she expected gentlemen visitors," and Mr. Brown surveyed the talented bird with considerable admiration, although he kept at a respectful distance.
Jackson now made his appearance, and began to lay the dishes for supper, first driving the laborers into their own sitting room, where they surrounded the bushrangers, and, I am sorry to say, did not treat them exactly as prisoners should have been used.
Left together, Mr. Brown and myself superintended Jackson, and wished for supper, so that we could get a few hours' sleep before daylight.