d the other three men waited until they heard his horse
brought. And then the dark-faced ex-inspector turned to Forreste.

"Come outside. I want to talk to you."

CHAPTER XXVIII

The news that a small mob of cattle had been bought by Vale, and were to
arrive on the following day, caused great satisfaction to the diggers,
and that night the "Roan Pack-Horse" was crowded with diggers, who had
not for many months tasted meat of any kind, except now and then a
scrub wallaby. Game of any kind was scarce, and hard to shoot, and
the diggers, although they cheerfully paid adventurous packers three
shillings for a small tin of sardines, and five for a tin of American
salmon, wanted beef of some kind--even if it were that of a worn-out
working bullock--if such a treasure could have been found. Vale, for
business and other purposes, had carefully avoided telling any one until
the last moment that he had sent a letter to Gerrard, offering him ten
pounds per head for one or two hundred young cattle, delivered to him in
fair condition. A "cute" man of business, he had the idea of forming the
nucleus of a herd with which to stock some adjacent country to "Hansen's
Rush," and being also in his rough way a sentimentalist, he meant to
give the diggers a surprise--for a satisfactory _quid pro quo_. He would
sell them fresh beef at two shillings a pound, when they were willing
to pay double, instead of eating "tinned dog," as they termed the New
Zealand and American canned beef and mutton they bought from the packers
at exorbitant prices, and often cast aside with disgust and much vivid
language.

At nine o'clock on the following morning, Gerrard and his three black
stockmen appeared, driving before them the mob of young cattle--steers,
young heifers, and a few bulls; and the diggers gave him an uproarious
welcome, for work on the claims had been stopped for that day at least,
and they had been waiting for him.

"Good morning, boys," cried Gerrard, as the mob of cattle was rounded
up by his black stockmen, and he, swinging his right foot up out of the
stirrup, sat sideways on his saddle. "Just show me those you want for
killing, Vale, and I'll cut them out for you right away. Then I'll turn
the rest over to you to tail.{*} I've had enough of 'em, and want a
drink."

* "Tail"--a drover or stockman who is set to keep a mob of
cattle from straying "tails" them--i.e., follows at their
tails.

"Here you are, Mr Ger