have him, or as good, never fear, if you stick to your work,'
says father. 'You mustn't cross Starlight, for he's a born devil when
he's taken the wrong way, though he talks so soft. The half-caste is an
out-and-out chap with cattle, and the horse doesn't stand on four legs
that he can't ride--and make follow him, for the matter of that. But
he's worth watching. I don't believe in him myself. And now ye have the
lot.'

'And a d----d fine lot they are,' I said, for I was vexed with Jim for
taking so easy to the bait father held out to him about the horse. 'A
very smart crowd to be on the roads inside of five years, and drag us in
with 'em.'

'How do you make that out?' says father. 'Are you going to turn dog, now
you know the way in? Isn't it as easy to carry on for a few years more
as it was twenty years ago?'

'Not by a long chalk,' I said, for my blood was up, and I felt as if I
could talk back to father and give him as good as he sent, and all for
Jim's sake. Poor Jim! He'd always go to the mischief for the sake of a
good horse, and many another 'Currency' chap has gone the same way. It's
a pity for some of 'em that a blood horse was ever foaled.

'You think you can't be tracked,' says I, 'but you must bear in mind you
haven't got to do with the old-fashioned mounted police as was potterin'
about when this "bot" was first hit on. There's chaps in the police
getting now, natives or all the same, as can ride and track every bit
as well as the half-caste you're talking about. Some day they'll drop on
the track of a mob coming in or getting out, and then the game will be
all up.'

'You can cut it if you like now,' said father, looking at me curious
like. 'Don't say I dragged you in. You and your brother can go home, and
no one will ever know where you were; no more than if you'd gone to the
moon.'

Jim looked at the brown colt that just came trotting up as dad finished
speaking--trotting up with his head high and his tail stuck out like
a circus horse. If he'd been the devil in a horsehide he couldn't have
chosen a better moment. Then his eyes began to glitter.

We all three looked at each other. No one spoke. The colt stopped,
turned, and galloped back to his mates like a red flyer with the dogs
close behind him.

It was not long. We all began to speak at once. But in that time the die
was cast, the stakes were down, and in the pool were three men's lives.

'I don't care whether we go back or not,' says Jim;