have been
further from their thoughts than what actually occurred. The bank that
had sent them had departed from all precedent in parcelling out the gold
amongst the messengers. It was certainly against the rather strict
regulations of the bank, but the man who had instructed them had that
contempt for rules and regulations which is the mark of a man destined
to rise in the world.

"The expense of sending you," he had said, "is certainly no greater than
that of the recognised method of forwarding by coach. The security of my
method is even greater as you are not at all open to suspicion."

As a matter of fact, all would have gone well had not one of the chosen
messengers been a little too fond of his nightly drink, and more or less
inclined to talk when in his cups. True, on this particular evening he
had exercised a kind of maudlin caution, but the tactics of Mr. Jack
Bradby were of the sort to extract valuable information in the least
noticeable way possible, and as a consequence the man, while keeping a
strict guard of his tongue, at the same time let fall enough information
to satisfy the curiosity of the 'ranger.

The first intimation the little cavalcade had of the presence of the
knights of the road was when a shadow moved out from behind a huge gum
and a clear resounding voice invited them to halt or take the
consequences. With one accord the riders pulled up, one man swore
violently, and the hand of another dropped round to his belt in a
hesitant manner. But Mr. Jack Bradby had eyes like an eagle, for he
cried sharply, "Put your hands up instantly!"

All the men shot their hands skywards with a precision that could not
have been bettered by weeks of training.

"You look ever so much better like that," said Mr. Jack Bradby
pleasantly. "Just keep still. I'd hate to make corpses of any of
you--you all look so much better alive."

The humor of this was apparently lost on the captured ones, for they
received it in silence, much to Mr. Bradby's disgust.

"Laugh when I crack a joke!" he roared. "Laugh, all of you, damn you!"

Somebody giggled in a half-hearted manner.

"That's no sort of a laugh," snorted Mr. Bradby. "When I say laugh, I
mean laugh. I don't want you to bubble like that jackass did." He
indicated the giggler with one of his ugly-looking revolvers. "Now laugh
altogether as if you meant it. One, two, three; off you go!"

They all roared at that, but there was a lack of enthusiasm in their
vo