n; it was one of those which burn red, and in the
redness twinkled hazel eyes that toned agreeably with a fair beard and
fairer mustache. The former he had grown upon his travels; but the
trail of the West-end tailor, whose shooting-jacket is as distinctive as
his frock-coat, was upon Guy Kentish from head to heel. As they watched
him he took an open envelope from his pocket, scribbled a few words on a
card, put that in, and stuck down the flap.

"Here," said he, "is my letter of introduction to the good people at the
Mazeppa Station higher up. If I don't turn up to-night, see that they
get it, even if it costs you a bit of this?"

And, putting a sovereign in a startled palm, he jumped to the ground.

"But what are you going to do, sir?" cried the driver, in alarm.

"Recover your mail-bags if I can."

"What? After you've just been stuck up----"

"Exactly. I hope to stick up Stingaree!"

"Then you were armed all the time?"

Mr. Kentish smiled as he shook his head.

"That's my affair, I imagine; but even so I am not fool enough to tackle
such a fellow with his own weapons. You leave it to me, and don't be
anxious. But I must be off if I'm to stalk him before he goes through
the letters. No, I know what I'm doing, and I shall do better alone.
Till to-night, then!"

And he was in the scrub ere they decided to take him at his madcap word,
and let his blood be on the chuckle-head of the new-chummiest new chum
that ever came out after the rain! Was it pluck or all pretence? It was
rather plucky even to pretend in such proximity to the terrible
Stingaree; on the whole, the coaching trio were disposed to concede a
certain amount of unequivocal courage; and the driver, with Kentish's
sovereign in his pocket, went so far as to declare that duty alone
nailed him to the box.

Meantime the Hon. Guy had skirted the road until he came to double
horse-tracks striking back into the bush; these he followed with the
wary stealth of one who had spent his autumns, at least, in the right
place. They led him through belts of scrub in which he trod like a cat,
without disturbing an avoidable branch, and over treeless spaces that he
crossed at a run, bent double; but always, as he followed the trail, his
shadow fell at one consistent angle, showing how the bushranger rode
through his natural element as the crow might have flown overhead.

At last Kentish found himself in a sandy gully bristling with pines,
through which the sunligh