hey started towards the door Cudlip interposed before them.

"Say, Misters, before you go," he said. "It's all square about that
there alloovial, I take it?"

"Square?" one of the men replied. "Well, you needn't believe it. It's
twenty miles over the ridge to the west, the place I mean, but don't
you go there. You'll make your pile here, if you stop."

Cudlip vouchsafed no reply, and the four passed out and round to the
back of the house where they had left their horses. When they were out
of earshot of the bar, two of them exchanged glances and grim smiles.

"What did I tell you?" one said. "There's no bigger fools in creation
than a mob of gully-rakers."

"Keep your tongue quiet, Gleeson," the other replied. "They haven't all
started yet. Besides----" he glanced towards their two companions, who
were loosening the horses from the fence where they had been hitched.

"Oh, Peters is fly, and the youngster has grit," Gleeson said, adding in
a louder tone to the others, "We'll walk all the way till we camp. You
needn't tighten the girths for that."

They rode slowly until within an hour of sunset, when, after climbing a
long steep ridge, they drew rein at a spot where a small, clear stream
rippled across the track, and the timber, growing thick elsewhere, left
an open space sloping down to the creek.

"This will do for the night; and I reckon the bush is thick enough round
here to prevent our fire being seen by any of the mob behind," Gleeson
observed, glancing round as his horse strained at the bridle to sniff
the cool water at its feet.

"It's good enough," Peters replied, as, urging his horse across the
creek and on to the open space, he swung himself from the saddle. "Now
then, Tony, my lad," he added, turning to his nearest companion, "shake
yourself up. You're off for the diggings now; no more cattle-duffing or
wool-pressing for you. In a month's time you'll be going back with a
pack-horse team loaded with nuggets to buy a station of your own, if you
want one."

"Or going to Melbourne for a fly round," Tony answered with a laugh, as
he followed the example, and swung from the saddle.

"Don't you do that, my lad," Peters observed seriously. "Never you leave
the bush. A township is not bad once in a way, but a place like
Melbourne--for a young chap like you, it's perdition, so far as your
money goes," he continued.

"Stow your yarning till the pipes are lit," Gleeson called out; and
Peters winked at Tony