into the white boy's face. Sax did not know if he
was like his father or not, but felt that a great deal depended on
whether the black stranger decided that he was indeed the son of the
famous Boss Stobart.

The man was quite satisfied at last. He first of all held his left
hand close to Sax's face; it had been terribly mutilated, and the two
middle fingers were missing. The native evidently wished to impress
that crippled hand on the boy's memory, for he put it on his hairy
chest and then in front of Sax's face again and again. He did not say
anything, for his knowledge of English was apparently limited to the
name of the drover and the name of the mountain range. In spite of his
exhausted condition, Sax could not help remembering that black left
hand, and he had reason to recall it in future days under the most
exciting circumstances. Then the man lifted Vaughan's limp body on his
shoulders and walked away back to the shelter. Stobart was not left
alone for long, before he also was carried back to camp.

By this time the sun was just showing over the eastern rim of the land,
and the few trees were casting long shadows on the sand. The native
gathered up Vaughan's clothes, but did not know how to put them on the
lad; so he covered him over with them. He had been careful not to
leave the quart-pot behind, and as soon as the boys were safely under
the shelter again, the man took the quart-pot and started off.

He was evidently going for water. In a few minutes, however, he came
running back to camp at top speed. He was very excited and only stayed
long enough to put the quart-pot down on the ground, before he grabbed
his weapons and disappeared into the scrub in the opposite direction,
running as hard as he could, yet making no more noise than a cat.

He had not returned the quart-pot exactly as he had found it. When he
took it away, it was empty, but now it contained a sprig of
sharply-pointed leaves.

Yarloo came on the scene almost as soon as the other black was out of
sight, and was probably the cause of the first man's sudden
disappearance, Yarloo was carrying a small bunch of parakelia leaves.
The first things he noticed were the new tracks, and he stopped dead.
From where he stood, he could not see into the bough-shelter, and so he
waited for a couple of minutes to see if the man who had made the
tracks was anywhere about. There was absolute silence; the only things
which moved were the shadows,