“No. I intend going only as far as a place called Catfish Hole, on Nogga Creek.”

The driver’s sand-charged browsrose a fraction. He was hefty and tough.

He exclaimed with singular inflection of voice, “Well, I wouldn’t camp there if I were you-not for all the tea in China. Blast!”

“What is the matter?”

They were standing before the radiator, the tin of water at the driver’s feet.

“Take off the cap, will you?” requested the driver.

Suspecting that the radiator was very hot, Fisher gingerly extended a hand, and when his fingers were about an inch from the bright metal mascot, from it to each finger leapt a long blue spark. Beneath the force of the electric shock, Fisher gave a sharp cry.

“There’s enough static electricity in thatflamin ’ bus to run a dozen house lights for a week,” shouted the grinning driver. “Strike a light! I’ve only had that happen to me twice before.”

“But what is the cause?” inquired the astonished swagman. “I have felt the effect, and seen it, too, so now tell me the cause.”

“I dunno exactly. Some say it’s the bombardment of the sand against the car’s metal-work what creates the electricity that can’t get away ’costhe rubber tyres are non-conductors. These wind-storms are fuller of electricity than a thunder-storm.”

Not too happy about it, he again attempted to unscrew the cap, and to his fingers leapt the blue sparks.

“What’s up out there?” shouted one of the three passengers.

“Come out and try your strength on this radiator cap,” he was invited.

The near-side rear door was opened, and a fat man came stiffly out, helping himself to the ground by holding to the metal hood support. Immediately his feet touched earth he uttered a yell of anguish and almost sat down on the track.

“What did you want to let go for?” asked the amused driver. “Why didn’t you stay making contactso’s the electricity could run out of her?”