Bushman," said Claud, adjusting his eyeglass and surveying the squat figure of the M.P. as if he were examining a maggot. 

 "My motion, boys, is simply this, that we stop the train by pulling the communication cord, and hold the driver up for ten minutes. Meantime, we might seize our political gasbag, secure him with a few bits of rope, hoist him out of the carriage, and tie him up to one of the signal posts, leaving a suitable inscription attached to his corporation, so that all the world shall know what a delightful idiot this gentleman—I mean politician—is." 

 "Carried, be jabers!" roared Paddy Doolan, pulling the communication cord, while Bill, Sandy and some more, seized the Socialist. He kicked, cursed, bit, screamed and wriggled, but to no purpose. As the train slowed down, Bill jumped out, and, running along to the driver, held him up with a masonic wink and a Scotch refreshment. The trussed form of the M.P. was then carried out of the train. He was still cursing. But the Bushmen quietly tied him to a signal post. This completed, Claud pinned a great white sheet of paper with an inscription on it. 

 "Good-bye, old cock," shouted the Bushmen, jumping into the train again. The whistle blew, and as the train went slowly past the enraged captive, the eyes of all read the notice fixed to his waist: 

 "THIS IS NOT AN AUSTRALIAN, HE'S A D—— FOOL. (Signed) KANGAROO MARINES." 

HE'S A D—— FOOL.

(Signed) KANGAROO MARINES."

 

 

 CHAPTER II 

 MELBOURNE VERSUS SYDNEY 

 Sam Killem, Commanding Officer of the Kangaroo Marines, sat in his Recruiting Office chewing a cigar in the usual Australian style. Now and again he looked at his recruiting figures and smiled.  "Five hundred men in three days," he mused.  "Not bad for you, Sam; and good stuff at that"—for Sam was a judge of men. He was a squatter and as rich as Croesus. His big, bony frame spoke of strength, while his eye and face told the tale of shrewdness and resource. He was forty, and successful. Three hundred 

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