met any game they would both be of service. A keg of water, a bottle of
whiskey, a bag of ship bread, a large piece of pork, a few potatoes,
coffee, a bag of flour, and a bag of sugar, were the articles needed for
our long journey to the mines of Ballarat.

Smith locked the door of his hut, hung the key about his neck attached
to a thick cord, and then, uncoiling his dreadful whip, he sounded the
signal for an advance.

The cattle strained at their yokes, and the huge, clumsy, English-built
team creaked over the road, and groaned as though offering strong
remonstrance against the journey.

There were five yoke of oxen attached to the cart, and as they were in
fair condition and had not been worked for a few days, they took the
load along the level road at a brisk walk; and it was not until we had
got beyond the city's limits and left Melbourne in the distance, that
the animals fell into their accustomed steady walk.

"I suppose that there is but little use in our carrying our rifles in
our hands?" I asked of Smith, as he walked by the side of the cattle.

"I have been waiting for you to ask the question ever since we left
Melbourne," Smith replied; "I thought I wouldn't say any thing until you
got tired of carrying them. There is but little fear of our meeting with
bushrangers so near the city; and as for game, we may see some, but not
within rifle range. Put your guns in the cart, and don't touch them
until we camp to-night."

We gladly followed his advice, for the sun had risen, and began