"Observe the rules, Bill," said Sam hurriedly. "Boisterous humour at the breakfast table must be greeted with roars of laughter." "To Jeredelum with the rules," shouted Bill. "Pushing a man's face into his own breakfast is beyond rules or reason, and deserves a punch in the gizzard." Seeing matters arriving at this unpromising situation, Bunyip Bluegum interposed by saying, "Rather than allow this happy occasion to be marred by unseemly recriminations, let us, while admitting that our admirable friend, Sam, may have unwittingly disturbed the composure of our admirable friend, Bill, at the expense of our admirable Puddin's gravy, let us, I say, by the simple act of extending the hand of friendship, dispel in an instant these gathering clouds of disruption. In the words of the poem-- `Then let the fist of Friendship Be kept for Friendship's foes. Ne'er let that hand in anger land On Friendship's holy nose.'" These fine sentiments at once dispelled Bill's anger. He shook hands warmly with Sam, wiped the gravy from his face, and resumed breakfast with every appearance of hearty good humour. The meal over, the breakfast things were put away in the bag, Sam and Bill took Puddin' between them, and all set off along the road, enlivening the way with song and story. Bill regaled them with portions of the "Ballad of the Salt Junk Sarah," which is one of those songs that go on for ever. Its great advantage, as Bill remarked, was that as it hadn't got an ending it didn't need a beginning, so you could start it anywhere. "As for instance," said Bill, and he roared out-- "Ho, aboard the Salt Junk Sarah, Rollin' home across the line, The Bo'sun collared the Captain's hat And threw it in the brine. Rollin' home, rollin' home, Rollin' home across the foam, The Captain sat without a hat The whole way rollin' home." Entertaining themselves in this way as they strolled along, they were presently arrested by shouts of "Fire! Fire!" and a Fireman in a large helmet came bolting down the road, pulling a fire hose behind him. "Aha!" said Bill. "Now we shall have the awe-inspirin' spectacle of a fire to entertain us," and, accosting the Fireman, he demanded to know where the fire was. "The fact is," said the Fireman, "that owing to the size of this helmet I can't see where it is; but if you will kindly glance at the surrounding district, you'll see it about somewhere." They glanced about and, sure enough, there was a fire burning in the next field. It was only a cowshed, certainly, but it was blazing very nicely, and well worth looking at. "Fire," said Bill, "in the form of a common cowshed, is burnin' about nor'-nor'-east as the crow flies."