same as yer allers did; an' here y'are, an' now I expect I'll have t' fix yer up for the last time an' make yer decent, for 'twon't do t' leave yer a-lyin' out here like a dead sheep.'
He picked up the corked bottle and examined it. To his great surprise it was nearly full of rum.
'Well, this gits me,' exclaimed the old man; 'me luck's in, this Christmas, an' no mistake. He must a' got the jams early in his spree, or he wouldn't be a-making for me with near a bottleful left. How-somenever, here goes.'
Looking round, his eyes lit up with satisfaction as he saw some waste bits of bark which had been left by a party of strippers who had been getting bark there for the stations. He picked up two pieces, one about four and the other six feet long, and each about two feet wide, and brought them over to the body. He laid the longest strip by the side of the corpse, which he proceeded to lift on to it.
'Come on, Brummy,' he said, in a softer tone than usual, 'yer ain't as bad as yer might be, considerin' as it must be three good months since yer slipped yer wind. I spect it was the rum as preserved yer. It was the death of yer when yer was alive, an' now yer dead, it preserves yer like―like a mummy.'
Then he placed the other strip on top, with the hollow side downwards―thus sandwiching the defunct between the two pieces―removed the saddle strap, which he wore for a belt, and buckled it round one end, while he tried to think of something to tie up the other with.
'I can't take any more strips off my shirt,' he said,
