“I'm not a bushranger,” said he, “but you might easily think me one.” “Why so?” asked David. “Because I stopped you to ask for a match to light my pipe, and now I'm hanged if I can find my pipe in any of my pockets; and it was the best one ever I smoked,” said the man, with more of his oaths. “That's a bad job,” said David, sympathetically, in spite of a personal horror of bad language, which was one of his better peculiarities. “A bad job?” cried the man. “It would be that if I'd lost my pipe, but it's a damned sight worse when it's a girl that goes and shakes it from you, and she the biggest little innocent you ever clapped eyes on. Yet she must have shook it. Confound her face!” He was feeling in his pockets again, but as unsuccessfully as before. The farmer inquired whether he was on his way back to Melbourne, and suggested it was a long walk. “It is so,” said the man; “but it's a gay little town when you get there, is Melbourne—what?” “Very,” said Mr. Teesdale, to be civil; but he was beginning to find this difficult. “You prefer the country—what?” continued the other, who was now leaning on the wheel, and showing a face which the old man liked even less than the rest of him, it was so handsome and yet so coarse. “Well, so do I, for a change. And talk of the girls!” The fellow winked. “Old Country or Colonies, it's all the same—you give me a country lass for a lark that's worth having. But damn their souls when they lose your favourite pipe!” “What sort of a pipe was it?” asked David, to change a conversation which he disliked. “If I come across it I'll send it to you, if you tell me where to.” “Good, old man!” cried the stranger. “It was a meerschaum, with a lady's hand holding of the bowl, and coloured better than any pipe ever you saw in your life. If you do find it, you leave it with the boss of the 'Bushman's Rest'. then I'll get it again when next I come this way—to see my girl. For I can't quite think she's the one to have touched it, when all's skid and done.” “Very good,” said David, coldly, because both look and word of this roadside acquaintance were equally undesirable in his eyes. “Very good, if I find it. And now, if you'll allow me, I'll push on home.” The other showed himself as ready with a sneer as with an oath. “You are in a desperate hurry!” said he. “I am,” said David; “nevertheless, I'm much obliged to you for being so clever with the horse just now, and I wish you a very good night.” And with that, showing for once some little decision, because this kind of man repelled him, old Tees-dale cracked his whip and drove on without more ado.