In the year 1838 I and two others were sent to Lake Innes to dig water holes for cattle, the seasons being so dry at the time that water had become a scarcity. We dug drains through the swamps, and made provision for ample water for the famishing cattle. Slopes were also made leading into the drains, so that any cattle which fell into the water, and were too weak to get out themselves, could be pulled out. One day, while there, the boss came down to see how we were progressing with the work, and after a while one of us said to him: "You ought to allow us a little more tea and sugar, for this is hard work; to say nothing of being up to our knees in water all day." "Go on with your work," he said, "I think a good flogging would do you more good than tea and sugar. Did you get tea and sugar in the road party?" "No, sir; but we had not to work in the water; and we left off work at 3 o'clock to cook our food, but here we have to work till 6." At this he turned and walked away. A few days afterwards I pretended to be sick, and went up to the overseer and said: "I want a pass for the hospital." "I can't give you one," he replied, "but if you'll bring up a pot I'll give you some castor-oil." I went down to the hut and brought up the "Royal George"--the big pot that we used to cook in, laid it at the door and sang out. The overseer came out, and seeing the pot, asked, "What the devil did you bring that for?" "That's the only pot I can find," I said, "except what we make our tea in, and I could not put oil in that." Then he gave me some oil in a bottle. He came down the next day to see if the oil had done me any good. I told him that it had, but it was a fowl that I had the night before that did me good, for I went about with my eyes open and knew where they roosted--in the castor oil bushes. I did not want oiling like a steam engine.