was uncomfortable in the vicinity of "funny business", and
must have an honest excuse. "Not that that mattered," commented Jack
afterwards; "it would have taken the inspector ten minutes to get at
what Andy was driving at, whatever it was."

"Run, Andy! Tell him there's a heavy thunderstorm coming and he'd better
stay in our humpy till it's over. Run! Don't stand staring like a blanky
fool. He'll be gone!"

Andy started. But just then, as luck would have it, one of the fencers
started after the inspector, hailing him as "Hi, mister!" He wanted to
be set right about the survey or something--or to pretend to want to be
set right--from motives of policy which I haven't time to explain here.

That fencer explained afterwards to Dave's party that he "seen what you
coves was up to," and that's why he called the inspector back. But he
told them that after they had told their yarn--which was a mistake.

"Come back, Andy!" cried Jack Bentley.

Dave Regan slipped round the tree, down on his hands and knees, and made
quick time through the grass which, luckily, grew pretty tall on the
thirty or forty yards of slope between the tree and the horse. Close to
the horse, a thought struck Dave that pulled him up, and sent a shiver
along his spine and a hungry feeling under it. The horse would
break away and bolt! But the case was desperate. Dave ventured an
interrogatory "Cope, cope, cope?" The horse turned its head wearily and
regarded him with a mild eye, as if he'd expected him to come, and come
on all fours, and wondered what had kept him so long; then he went
on thinking. Dave reached the foot of the post; the horse obligingly
leaning over on the other leg. Dave reared head and shoulders cautiously
behind the post, like a snake; his hand went up twice, swiftly--the
first time he grabbed the inspector's chip, and the second time he put
the iron-bark one in its place. He drew down and back, and scuttled off
for the tree like a gigantic tailless "goanna".

A few minutes later he walked up to the culvert from along the creek,
smoking hard to settle his nerves.

The sky seemed to darken suddenly; the first great drops of the
thunderstorm came pelting down. The inspector hurried to his horse, and
cantered off along the line in the direction of the fettlers' camp.

He had forgotten all about the chip, and left it on top of the post!

Dave Regan sat down on the beam in the rain and swore comprehensively.

"Middleton's Peter