On the third day after the Fergusons' arrival, Bob Smithers, believing the river had sufficiently subsided to admit of their travelling, organized their party preparatory to their departure; and selected from his own men one of the most useful and experienced bushmen to accompany them, and in conjunction with Joey, to take charge of the pack-horses, follow them over the runs, and guard their camp. They started; and, for the first day, followed the course of the Gibson river, which for nearly thirty miles bounded the Brompton run. At this point its waters were joined by a tributary creek, and here was situated one of the out-stations. It was the intention of Bob Smithers to reach this place before dark; and, owing to the heavy nature of the ground, from its excessive saturation, it was with no little difficulty this portion of the journey was performed. However, they reached the shepherd's hut; and unburdening their horses, they hobbled them and turned them out to graze, while they camped themselves for the night.

The hut, where they made their halt, was on a par with others of the same pretensions, though in no way superior. It was built of slabs split from the log, and freely ventilated on all sides; though in the roof, which was covered with bark, it was perfectly impervious to the weather. The internal arrangements, as might be expected, were as rough as the building itself; against the wall, in each side of the hut, were roughly put up, with battens and saplings, two clumsy-looking receptacles, containing the blankets, and intended for the nocturnal tenancy of the two occupants of the habitation. A box belonging to one of the men, and a rough bench built against the other unoccupied wall, and serving for a table, an iron pot for boiling meat, two tin quart pots in which to make their tea, two pint ones and dishes of the same metal, a two-gallon keg containing water, and which in an inverted position at times had to do duty as a stool, and two suspended bags containing tea and sugar, completed the furniture of the place. In front of the door a large log had been rolled, and was burning with lively force, emitting a lurid glare on the surrounding group; while on its end untouched by the fire, sat the hut-keeper, with his companion standing near him, and their visitors stretched on the ground awaiting the completion of the culinary operations of Bob Smithers' man.

The position of these guardians of the fleece is usually monotonous and dreary in the extreme; and those located here were a fair sample of the general herd. There was a shepherd and a hut-keeper. The duty of the former was to lead out the flocks daily at dawn, to follow and tend them while depasturing, and protect them from the depredations of the blacks, or the molestations of the native dogs; for which purpose in very remote districts, such as this, they are provided with guns. The hut-keeper, on the other hand, remains all day at the hut, resting from his vigils and preparing the meals of himself and coadjutor, in readiness for the latter's return at dusk with his charge; which are forthwith penned and handed over to the safe keeping of the other, who watches them during the night.

These men remain in this happy state of seclusion and ignorance of the proceedings of the world, from which they are thus (by their voluntary act of expatriation) excluded, from year's end to year's end; except at shearing time, when they bring their flocks to the head station to be shorn; and the only being with whom they have any intercourse, is the man who brings them their weekly supply of rations. When "old hands," they in general pass their lives in a lethargic existence; having no apparent thought of past, present, or future; but breathe on in a dreamy obliviousness, until at the expiration of perhaps one or two years, their wages having accumulated to an amount somewhat considerable, they leave their employment to proceed to the nearest public-house and plunge into a course of drinking. After the endurance of a week's delirium, madness, and unconsciousness, they generally find themselves, when robbed of the greater portion of their hard-got earnings, thrust upon the world penniless, wretched, dispirited, and sick, to seek employment and re-enact the same scenes of solitary penance and wild debauchery.

It is true the denizens of these out-stations are not always such characters; occasionally "fresh arrivals," or as they are called "new chums," may be hired by the squatter's agents in town and sent up to the station, whence they are frequently removed to these outposts; but when such is the case, they are generally of a more sociable disposition, and take an early opportunity of being removed to the comfort and social intercourse of the head station. Though in this removal they entail more constant and arduous occupation, they willingly embrace the labour, and leave the indolence of their vacated posts, to be enjoyed by some "old hand" whose mind has been broken by the depressing influence of constant punishment, and whose hopes have been blighted by a constant penal servitude. As this class of men is happily disappearing from the country, and giving place to steady and persevering immigrants, the charge of an out-station, when not in the hands of one with the old leaven of improvidence unexterminated, necessarily becomes the probationary lot of a "new chum."

The two men, with whom our travellers found themselves located, were something of the first mentioned class; and, to give our readers some idea of their characters, we will venture to encroach upon their patience, by recounting an epitome of the conversation that was started after the evening repast.

"Have you been long in this part of the country?" asked John of the shepherd.

"Why no, sir, I ain't been so very long," replied the man; "I've got about three months to make up my year with Mr. Smithers. I came over from New England, and agreed for twelve months, and I like this country far better than the south, it ain't so cold nor so wet."

"Then, I suppose, you will retain your place, and renew your engagement when your year is up?"

"Well, you see, sir, I don't exactly know about that 'ere; after being up in the bush a while one likes to get down the country a bit, just to see what's going on, and to spend one's money."

"But, my good man, what necessity is there for you to go away from the station? If you want to see any change, I've no doubt Mr. Smithers would find you employment at the head station; and you might allow your wages to accumulate, until you had sufficient to purchase some sheep of your own."

"I don't know about that, sir; I expect it would be a precious long time before I would have enough to buy a flock of sheep: and besides, if I had any, I wouldn't know what to do with them; I shouldn't be allowed to graze 'em on other folk's runs; and, after slaving away for I don't know how long, I reckon I should just be swindled out of 'em in the end, and be as poor and 'miserable as a bandicoot' after all: besides, I'd rather not have the bother with them, but just have my spree, and 'knock down my pile,' as usual."

"But, my good fellow, if you were possessed of a flock of sheep, you could, by paying a rent, be allowed to depasture it on some squatter's run; and as to being swindled out of your property, the law of the land would protect you from that."

"I don't know nothing about the law of the land, sir; but I know as how a mate of mine, who served with a master on the Barwan for five years, and was paid his wages in sheep, took his flock to a piece of country he had bought from his master and set his self up. He hadn't been at that game though for more nor two years, when a flood on the river took off half his sheep, and his old master brought him in a bill for some hundreds of pounds for stores and things my mate had got, and he wanted to be paid right off. Now, my mate couldn't pay him; so he had to give him up his sheep and go shepherding again. So you see, sir, I may just as well spend my money when I get it, as let myself be cheated out of it at the end."

"Your friend's case was certainly a hard one, but he seemed to be the victim of misfortune more than of an exacting master; but that does not show, because he did not succeed, that you or any other industrious man should fail. Take my advice and try it; refrain from taking your wages, let them accumulate in the hands of your employer, and when they have reached such a sum as to be of service to you, ask him to invest it, and I am sure you will have no cause to complain; besides, remember as you get old, if you have no friends to care for you and you are destitute as you are now, you will starve."

"That's just it, you see, sir; if I go to save money now (but I know I can't, for I never could), if I dies I've got no one to give it to. I've got no friends, leastwise I don't know of none; and I am sure when I knew there was something coming to me, I would want to spend it; while as long as I live, I can always earn enough to keep me."

"But you say you've never attempted to save your wages; you cannot tell how you may be influenced until you make the attempt."

"There is no use of my trying, sir, I am sure I never could; and I may just take my money when it is due me, and have my spree."

"I can't understand how it is you persist in being so prodigal. What extraordinary influence is it that induces you to spend your earnings as soon as you get them?"

"Well, I don't know, sir, unless it is we get 'em too seldom. You see, when we work for a year and don't get no money perhaps all that time, when we do have our wages all in a lump, it seems such a lot we don't think how hard it cost us to get it; and we don't know what to do with it, so we just spend it. If we got paid, you see, as people down in the towns, at the end of the week, and had to keep ourselves, we might get into the way for saving a little now and then; but as it is, we never know how to do it, and I expect we never shall. You see we ain't like those fellows who let their old women look after their money, who tell 'em it is all gone, while all the time they've got it put away in their old stocking.""Well, why don't you get married, and have an old woman, as you call it; and by her means you may make yourself more happy, and be enabled, after a time, to become your own master?"

"I've often thought I wouldn't mind that sort o' thing, sir; but where do you think I would get a young woman as'd look at the likes of me? When they comes out to this country, specially when they gets up here into the bush, they're so mighty saucy, they cocks up their noses at fellers likes us; and besides, you know masters don't care to have men with what they calls 'incumberances.'"

"No doubt there is some truth in that; but if you by your thriftiness can possess yourself of a little money, and be in a position to establish yourself, you'd have no difficulty, I should say, in inducing some industrious girl to accept you; take my advice now, and try."

"All right, sir, I will," replied the man; after which the conversation took another turn, and the party very shortly separated.As they were leaving the fire, Bob Smithers remarked to John that all his advice to the man would be lost in five minutes. He told him it was impossible to instil prudence into the minds of such; "their whole enjoyment," he said, "is in having their spree. They perceive no pleasure in hoarding money to provide comforts in their old age; the very thought of it is distasteful to them, and as to that fellow (pointing to the man John had been conversing with), if he succeeded in passing the year without drawing his wages, some of his mates would tell him he was a fool; and thinking so himself, he would not rest until he had been paid and gone through his course of drunkenness."

"I am aware," said John, "such is his present feeling; and I have met with many like him, but have succeeded in persuading, not a few, to practise a life of frugality; and I am convinced, with a little admonition, that that man could be induced to adopt a similar course.""Well, perhaps, he could," replied Smithers; "but, for my part, if those fellows feel inclined to spend their money foolishly, I don't think it is our interest to prevent them. If we induced all the men in the country to save their wages, or take them in sheep, we would have the colony overrun with a set of "stringy bark squatters," who would be so infesting our lands that our runs would be cut up into innumerable small parts, just to serve vagabonds."

"You must admit," replied John, "that if a provident spirit were to be infused into the people, it would be the means of stocking the country by an industrious and thrifty population; and be far more beneficial to the colony than allowing the lands to remain in the hands of a few wealthy squatters."

"Oh, pooh! pooh!" cried Smithers; "but I'm not going to argue with you; we had better start in the morning soon after daylight; so, now, let's take a snooze." With this the young men entered the hut, and, rolling themselves in their blankets, settled for sleep; which they enjoyed uninterruptedly until an early hour in morning. They then arose; and, after taking a matin ablution in the creek, returned to the hut to partake of their breakfast, which was being prepared by Joey; while Bob Smithers' stock-man brought in the horses.

It may, no doubt, appear strange to the reader that horses should be turned out loose in the bush, with only the simple precaution of "hobbling" their fore-feet, without the danger of the animals being lost to their owners; but such is rarely to be apprehended, except in the case of some incorrigible beasts who are not to be trusted. We certainly have known horses, so hobbled, make off in a sort of shambling gallop, by drawing up the two confined feet together, and progressing in short leaps; but, in general, a horse so turned out at night, after a day's hard ride, has a sort of tacit understanding with his master that he is to be at hand when required: or at least his natural instinct prompts him to make the most use of his leisure time, and occupy the period of his release in diligently administering to his own wants, and satisfying the calls of hunger and exhausted nature; and if searched for at daybreak, before having had time to wander, he is generally found in a convenient proximity to "the camp." Such was the case in the present instance.

When the horses were saddled and ready for a start, the party mounted, and the cavalcade moved off. The country they intended to visit was situated on the main river, some considerable distance further down its course; but, owing to the numerous creeks that mingled their waters with the main stream, it was impossible for them to follow the bank of the river without meeting with many interruptions and impediments. They therefore traced up the creek; and, by means of their compass, they shaped their course so as to either head all the creeks, or so far reach their sources, as to be enabled to cross them without difficulty. This circuitous route necessarily occupied more time than what would have been required under more auspicious circumstances; and the still heavy nature of the ground, from its late pluvial visitation, rendered the journey extremely tedious; while it prevented them from reaching Strawberry Hill, the only station on the river below Brompton, that night. This run had been sold to the present occupants by Bob Smithers, and had been taken possession of by them some eighteen months previously. It had been Smithers' intention to have made this place their quarters for that night; but finding it could not be reached before dark, and there being situated in the line a deep and awkward river called the Wombi, running into the Gibson, and for which he preferred daylight to cross, he determined to keep higher up the Wombi, and camp on its bank where the country was open and flat.

Arriving at the "Dingo plains," a place so named from the number of those animals which frequented it, they halted for the night, intending to camp and cross the river in the morning. They would thus, by making this detour, keep high above Strawberry Hill; and Smithers therefore purposed taking his companions round the back and lower boundaries of the run they wished to see; thence through its extent to its other extreme on the Gibson river; making occasional deviations to the principal water courses and eminences, from which a good view of the country could be obtained; and thence to return. Smoking their pipes over their fire, Bob detailed these plans to the young men, who perfectly agreed with their judiciousness, and determined to put them in practice on the following day. They then fell into a desultory conversation; through which we will not trouble the reader by following; but merely remark that it was principally upon the occupants of the station on the river, the character of the blacks in the neighbourhood, and the likelihood of annoyance from the dingos. That these latter were numerous it was pretty evident; for the travellers more than once had intimation, of a close proximity to their camp, of a tribe of those canine aborignals, who prefer the enjoyment of a pristine independence to the blessings of civilisation, except in so far as that civilisation can be made subservient to their comfort and sustenance.

The dingo, or as it is generally called, the native dog, occupies in the social scale, much the same position in the southern hemisphere, as the fox does in the northern; and also approaches more nearly to that animal in semblance and character than any other known. Its colour is generally of a dark sandy or reddish brown, with hair rather long, a bushy low-hanging tail, long ears, which except while being pursued he usually keeps erect, pointed snout, and sharp piercing eyes. He is stupid and cowardly; generally creeping along with a slinking gait to surprise his prey, which he usually siezes by the throat. He is easily frightened, and deterred from his purpose by the simplest contrivances; and is quite devoid of that cunning which characterizes his antipodean prototype. His course of destruction has been known to be arrested by an ordinary four-wire fence, through which he could have easily passed; though he sat on the exterior of the enclosure, moaning piteously at the flock within; while his mental obtuseness failed to percieve a means of ingress. To sheep he is most destructive; and if a flock is so carelessly tended as to admit of his insinuating himself, the havoc he makes is frightful: for not content with fastening on one, he will snap, tear, worry, and mangle possibly half the flock; and passing from one to another, with the rapidity of thought, the mortality that results from his visit is truly disastrous. He never barks like a domesticated dog, but yelps and howls; and at night when he sounds his note, it is taken up by the entire pack, and made to resound with a mournful cadence over the face of the country. As they sit on their haunches, with their noses extended in an elevation to the sky, chorusing their lachrymose and supplicatory lamentations, the effect is one of the most dismal that can be conceived.

To society such as this the young men had a decided objection; and concluding, that if they did not take steps to disperse their nocturnal visitors (who treated them to numerous appeals which were anything but euphonic), they would stand a very poor chance of enjoying any rest. Besides the probability that a keen appetite might induce the dogs to extend their favours to the horses, it was also a matter of prudence to insist upon their removing themselves to some more distant location; and to support this with a forcible argument, the travellers got their guns in readiness, and moved away in silence into the darkness.

Our friends were not left long to ascertain in what direction to expect a recontre, for a fresh eructation of the metrical whine gave them sufficient notice. The black boy soon descried the disturbers of their peace by the glitter of a host of canine optics, and directed his masters and their friend where to fire. This they did; and the effect of their shots was instantly apparent, from the excessive yelping that greeted their ears, and satisfied them that some, at least, of their annoyers had got something to remember; while they were gratified to listen to the fast receding sounds of these "mercurial inhabitants of the plain." The dogs quickly "made themselves scarce," nor did they afterwards attempt to reduce the distance they had placed between themselves and the travellers; who, upon the establishment of quiet, and after supplying fresh material to their fire, nestled themselves in their blankets around the cheerful blaze, and stretched themselves to sleep under the "starlit canopy of heaven."

Early on the next morning the journey was resumed; and for three days, with very little variety, they traversed the run, of which we need say nothing; except that the country answered the expectations of the Fergusons, who were pleased with its appearance, and returned with Bob Smithers to complete the purchase at Brompton. Here preliminaries were soon effected. Mr. Ferguson's agents in Sydney had been instructed by him to honour any drafts drawn by his son, and to transact any business he might require; therefore John at once drew upon them for the amount of this purchase, and placed himself in communication respecting the other arrangements; forwarding the note of sale from Smithers, and an obligation from him to sign the necessary deeds of transfer when they were ready for execution. He then took his leave of the family, intending to go down to Moreton Bay, whence a steamer plied to Sydney, and on thence to superintend his business there and select the necessaries for forming the station; at the same time that his brother and Joey returned to New England, to wait there until John had so far perfected his plans, as to be able to bring up his supplies and prepare the station for the reception of the sheep.

It is unnecessary to trace the peregrinations of John Ferguson, or to tire the reader with a detail of William's every day life at Acacia creek; we will simply say that in the course of about six weeks John returned to Brisbane, and wrote to his brother to muster their sheep and start with them for the station as soon as possible. He stated that he had engaged drays to take up their loading, and that he intended to precede them himself; so that he would in all probability reach the station some weeks before either the supplies or the sheep, and would engage some bush carpenters as he went up, to prepare the place for their reception. To carry out this intention, he made all speed for his destination; and arriving at Alma, the nearest township to his place, on the fourth day, he there engaged two men, to whom he gave directions to meet him at Brompton, and pushed on himself for that station.

Alma and Brompton lay about equidistant from his own place; but his inability to describe sufficiently clearly to the understanding of the men the locale of the new station, and his rations having been left at the latter place, it was necessary for him to proceed there first. Upon his appearance at Mr. Smithers', he was welcomed with much cordiality; and every assistance was given him by the kind proprietor, though he had been quite disinterested in the arrangements between Bob and the Fergusons. Yet such was his kindly disposition, that considerations of interest weighed very little with him, and he freely and kindly tendered any aid that lay in his power. He recommended John to go over to the run, and, if he had not done so already, to select a site for his station; and for that purpose he offered him the services of one of his own men; while he promised to have the carpenters directed to the place whenever they made their appearance.

The run had been originally called Fern Vale by Bob Smithers, when he tendered for it to the government; and John Ferguson, who thought he could not improve upon it, had allowed it to retain that name. The part of it which had attracted Bob's attention, and induced him to so christen it, was a gently undulating valley opening to the Gibson river, as the crow flies, a few miles below Strawberry Hill. The north side of the valley was partially covered with the fern plant (which suggested the name); and here, it struck John, would be a good site for his station, and he consequently determined to visit it first.

On the following morning, in company with the man, whose assistance had been so kindly given him by Mr. Smithers, John rode over to the run, and reaching the valley we have mentioned camped for the night. In the morning, at the first sight of his position, he was convinced no better situation could be found; so gave up the idea of any further prospecting, and prepared for the carpenters, by marking out the sites for the house, huts, and yards.

Down the valley, which we have said opened out to the river, meandered a beautiful little limpid stream; on the upper side of the vale, and receding from the banks of the river, rose a gentle acclivity, which pointed itself out as the spot on which to erect the house; while on the flat below was every convenience for the huts and yards. Above this point the river took a considerable bend, making on the other side a deep pocket, which was low and apparently subject to flooding. It was covered by a dense scrub, over which, from the elevated position John had chosen for his domicile, he could catch a glimpse of Strawberry Hill; which, though on the same side of the river as Fern Vale, and some distance round, appeared, when looking across the head of the stream, not very far off.

The carpenters shortly making their appearance, all were soon in a state of animation; and, before long, the crash of falling timber, the echo of the axe in felling, and the mallet in splitting the logs for the fences, resounded through the wood, where hitherto solitude had held undisputed sway; and, long before the arrival of the flocks or the supplies, substantial stock-yards had been erected, as well as huts for the shepherds, and a commodious store-house. The construction of the dwelling-house, being a matter of a secondary consideration, it was necessarily left to the last; and the whole party set to work busily to put up a large shed for shearing, and storing the wool when ready for packing.