must speak up, I'm a trifle deaf."

"Have you seen a singed possum?" shouted Bill. "I can't hear
you," said Henderson.

"Have you seen a SINGED POSSUM?" roared Bill.

"To be sure," said Henderson, "but the turnips are backward."

"Turnips be stewed," yelled Bill in such a tremendous voice that he
blew his own hat off. "HAVE YOU SEEN A SINGED POSSUM?"

"Good season for wattle blossom," said Henderson. "Well, yes,
but a very poor season for carrots."

"A man might as well talk to a carrot as try an' get sense out
of this runt of a feller," said Bill, disgusted. "Come an' see
if we can't find someone that it won't bust a man's vocal cords
gettin' information out of."

They left Henderson to his horticulturing and walked on till they
met a Parrot who was a Swagman, or a Swagman who was a Parrot. He
must have been one or the other, if not both, for he had a bag and
a swag, and a beak and a billy, and a thundering bad temper into
the bargain, for the moment Bill asked him if he had met a singed
possum he shouted back--

" Me eat a singed possum! I wouldn't eat a possum if he was
singed, roasted, boiled, or fried."