"I hope that we shall have no occasion to test your courage," said
Smith; "but if we meet Black Darnley, I shall not blame you for keeping
quiet."

"And who is Black Darnley?" we asked.

"An escaped convict, who has been at large for three years; and, in
spite of the two hundred pounds reward, no one has ventured to attempt
his capture. He swears that he will never be taken alive, and he will
keep his word. He has no fear of two or even three ordinary men, for he
possesses the strength of a Hercules and the desperation of a wounded
tiger. Of all the bushrangers on the island, he is the worst; and yet he
always treats me well, and lets me pass without levying toll, for he and
I are old acquaintances, and often have a social chat together about
times gone by."

"Tell us where you first met him," we said, crowding nearer the convict
to hear his story.

"Wait until we halt for a rest and feed the cattle. Half a mile from
here is a small stream of water, and under the shade of some trees near
at hand, we'll boil our coffee, and then I'll tell you about my first
meeting with Black Darnley."

As it was about noon, and we had travelled near twelve miles, the
proposed halt was any thing but disagreeable. Besides, the sun was
nearly overhead, burning and scorching us with its intense rays, and
causing the oxen to protrude their tongues and drag their weary feet
along as though they hardly possessed life enough to reach the water
spoken of.