superior fairly and squarely in the face.

Kilbride returned the stare, and what he saw unsettled him. The other
was wiry, trim, eminently alert; he had the masterful mouth and the
dare-devil eye, and his horse seemed a part of himself. A more promising
comrade at hot work was not to be desired: and the work would be hot if
Stingaree had half a chance. After all, it was better for two to succeed
than for one to fail. "Half the money and a whole skin!" said Kilbride
to himself, and rapped out his decision with an oath.

The trooper's eyes lit with reckless mirth, and a soft cheer came from
under his breath.

"By the bye, what's your name," said Kilbride, "before we start?"

"Bowen--Jack Bowen."

"Then I know all about you! Why on earth didn't you tell me before? It
was you who took that black fellow who murdered the shepherd on Woolshed
Creek, wasn't it?"

The admission was made with due modesty.

"Why, you're the very man for me!" Kilbride cried. "You show the way,
Jack, and I'll make the going."

And off they went together at a canter, the slanting sun striking fire
from their buttons and accoutrements, and lighting their sunburnt faces
as it lit the red stems and the white that raced past them on either
side. For a little they followed the path which Kilbride had taken on
his way thither; then the trooper plunged into the thick bush on the
left, and the game became follow-my-leader, in and out, out and in,
through a maze of red stems and of white, where the pungent eucalyptus
scent hung heavy as the sage-green, perpendicular leaves themselves: and
so onward until the Sub-Inspector called a halt.

"How far is it now, Bowen?"

"Two or three miles, sir."

"Good! It'll be light for another hour and a half. We'd better give the
mokes a breather while we can. And there'd be no harm in two draws."

"I was just thinking the same thing, sir."

So their reins dangled while they cut up a pipeful of apparent
shoe-leather apiece: and presently the dull blue smoke was curling and
circling against the dull green foliage, producing subtle half-tint
harmonies and momentary arabesques as the horses ambled neck and neck.

"Native of this Colony?" puffed Kilbride.

"Well, no--old country originally--but I've been out some years."

"That's all right so long as you're not a New South Welshman," said
Kilbride, with a chuckle. "I'll be shot if I wouldn't almost have turned
you back if you had been!"

"Victoria is to hav