THE BUSH UNDERTAKER
'Five Bob!'
The old man shaded his eyes and peered through the dazzling glow of that broiling Christmas Day. He stood just within the door of a slab-and-bark hut situated upon the bank of a barren creek; sheep-yards lay to the right, and a low line of bare, brown ridges formed a suitable background to the scene.
'Five Bob!' shouted he again; and a dusty sheepdog rose wearily from the shaded side of the hut and looked inquiringly at his master, who pointed towards some sheep which were straggling from the flock.
'Fetch 'em back,' he said confidently.
The dog went off and his master returned to the interior of the hut.
'We'll yard 'em early,' he said to himself; 'the super won't know. We'll yard 'em early, and have the arternoon to ourselves.'
'We'll get dinner,' he added, glancing at some pots on the fire, 'I cud do a bit of doughboy, an' that theer boggabri'11 eat like tater-marrer along of the salt meat.' He moved one of the black buckets from the blaze. 'I likes to keep it jist on the sizzle,' he
