ven the few pounds which were all he
had in the world; for, as the man had just said, he would never be able
to get a farthing out of Anstey. Unfortunately there could be no reason
to doubt the truth of what he had just heard, for other signs, now made
clear, seemed to point to it. These men, moreover, were talking at ease
among themselves, and freely. They evidently knew what and who they
were talking about. His first impulse was to walk straight up to them
and ask for a further explanation. Instead, however, he went back to
the store.

Anstey was there, drinking grog with a transport-rider who had just come
in. At sight of Gerard he started up angrily.

"Why, what the deuce is the meaning of this?" he said, in his most
offensive and hectoring tone. "Not gone yet, and I sent you to saddle
up half an hour ago."

Gerard made no reply; but there was a look in his face which mightily
disquieted his employer. But the latter, who was fuddled to a
quarrelsome stage by the grog he had been drinking, roared out, with a
volley of curses--

"You disobedient, skulking beggar! What do you suppose I keep you here
for at all? Get out of this at once, and do as I tell you. Do you
hear, sir?"

Gerard's face turned livid. The abominable insult of the tone and words
was too much. He made a quick move forward, and things would have gone
badly for Anstey. But the grip of muscular hands on his shoulders
restrained him.

"Hallo, young fellow! What's all the row about? Keep cool, now, I say.
Keep cool!"

The advice was sorely needed, and the restraining touch had a salutary
effect. Gerard was not going to throw himself into any vulgar
promiscuous struggle, and collected himself with an effort. In the
voices of the two men who had just entered, he recognised the two whose
conversation he had overheard.

"I'll keep cool, right enough," he said. Then, addressing Anstey, "As
for you, the sooner we part the better. I have stood your abominably
offensive behaviour long enough, and I won't stand it a day longer. As
long as you behaved decently to me--which you did at first, no doubt for
reasons of your own--I would have done anything for you. Now you have
got upon the other tack I've had about enough of it. So we may as well
part at once. Please hand me over what you owe me, and I'll be off."

"What I owe you--eh?" said Anstey, with an evil sneer. "But supposing I
don't owe you anything, my fine fellow? If you s