This was a job which the man did by contract, receiving so much an acre for the depopulation of the timber.

It was now bright moonlight, almost as clear as day--a very different night, indeed, from that on which the rain had come--and Harry could see at a glance that it was the man called Boscobel still at work.

Now there were, as he thought, very good reasons why Boscobel at the present moment should not be so employed.

Boscobel was receiving wages for work of another kind.
"Bos," said the squatter, riding up, and addressing the man by the customary abbreviation of his nickname, "I thought you were watching at Brownbie's boundary ?" Boscobel lowered his axe, and stood for a while contemplating the proposition made to him.

"You are drawing three shillings a night for watching; isn't that so ?" "Yes, that's so.