rs after.

When they arrived at Marmot's, early in the afternoon, they found him on
the verandah with Murray, while the latter's horse, still sweating, was
hitched up to one of the posts in front.

"My word! you've come along at a pace," Marmot exclaimed, as they rode
up. "Murray here was saying----"

"Where's the use of wasting time when you've struck it?" Tony
interrupted to ask; adding, as he looked at Murray's horse, "Been
raising the district?"

"I just told one or two," Murray replied. "I reckoned there'd be a
sing-song to-night at the Rest."

"But what's this about a team-load of nuggets coming in?" Marmot said,
advancing to the top of the verandah steps and looking at Tony and
Peters as they dismounted. "You'll want an escort. We'll have to send
Leary back to the coast for a sergeant and a squad of troopers; and then
the bank'll have to be told. It won't be safe to plank all that gold in
a bank at once without telling them it's coming."

Peters laughed.

"There's no team-load," he said. "The boy has been pulling your leg.
We've got it on the pack-horse here, and the bank where it's going, for
the present, anyway, is in there;" and he nodded towards the store.

Marmot braced himself up, and then, fearing lest they should see how
proud he was at the flattery of their trust, attempted to demur.

"But, boys, this is a big contract," he said seriously. "I'm on to run a
tally for most things; but--how much do you make it?"

"Say about a couple of thousand ounces and you overshoot it," Peters
answered.

"And good gold--four notes an ounce gold?"

"Ah, now you're getting into expert talk," Peters replied. "It looks all
right, but it hasn't been assayed, and it hasn't been weighed yet. We've
got it; that's our point."

He and Tony were loosening the bags from where they were fastened to the
pack, and as he spoke, he removed one, and came up to the verandah with
it in his hands.

"Where will you have it?" he asked.

"Put it in the post-office safe," Marmot replied, with dignity, as he
led the way into the store and round behind one of the counters, where a
yellow-japanned tin box, with a broken brass lock and a dented lid,
rested in peaceful indifference to the title given to it since the
half-crown's worth of postage stamps Marmot kept on hand were placed in
it with other post-office valuables.

He stood by the box as five bags, all similar to the one Peters first
produced, were placed in it. Then he