y the "blurry big warrigal" aforesaid,
must have been terribly badly in want of food; and that he did not
think much of the chances of the man they had followed.

One of the riders--it was Jeff--nodded his head dolefully over
this.

"I reckon all the plaguy warrigals in this country must 'a' gone
crazy," he said. "You know I told you there was half a dozen on my
track. But we're goin' right; you can be dead sure o' that, for
that was his swag we found all right, and you could see the dingoes
had been at that. My oath! To think o' them brutes scratching up a
fortune that way, an' leaving it there!"

"You wouldn't expect 'em to take it into town an' bank it, would
you?" said one of the other men, with a grin. "Hurry on,
Jacky!"--This to the black-fellow--"What time he make dem tracks,
eh? He's fresh, you think?"

The black-fellow snorted contemptuously, as he explained over one
shoulder that the tracks were of the previous day's making.
"Still," said the rider; "he may not have got far. He can't have
got very far."

And again Jeff nodded, with sombre meaning. He was always a
pessimistically inclined man; and, in his rough way, he had
conceived a good deal of affection and respect for his prospecting
mate.

Another three miles were covered, and then, suddenly, the
black-fellow halted, with one hand raised over his head, which was
turned sideways, in a listening attitude. He explained, a moment
later, that he could hear howling, such as a "blurry big warrigal"
might produce. The party pushed on, and two or three minutes later
they were all able to make out the sound the black-fellow had heard.
But the black-fellow shook his head now, and informed them that no
warrigal ever made a howl like that; that that must be "white
feller dog."

"Well, that's queer," said Jeff; "for Jock was killed the night
before we parted. But, say, whatever it is, that's a most ungodly
sort o' howl, sure enough!"

Five or six minutes later the black-fellow gave a whoop of
astonishment as he topped a little ridge and came into view of the
Master, lying prone upon the ground, with Finn sitting erect beside
his head. One of the riders pulled out a revolver when he caught
sight of Finn's shaggy head.

"Well, may I be teetotally jiggered!" he growled. "What sort of a
beast do ye call that?"

The riders galloped down the slope and flung themselves hurriedly
from their horses. The leading man waved his whip at Finn to drive
him off. And t