The owner was a friend of ours, who gave us a hearty welcome, and, on our inquiries as to store cattle, thought that we might pick up a good mob of them from one station or another.

"We might," said he, "make a depot for them, as we collected them, on some unoccupied land down the river.

It was poor country, but there was grass enough to keep them alive.

He would show us a good place, in a fork, where it was impossible to cross on two sides, and where they would be easily kept together; that was, if we liked to risk it." "Risk what ?" we asked.
"Blacks," said he.

"They are mortal troublesome just now down the river.