as it swept into his mind.  Creeping around the tree he silently unearthed the gold-stealers’ bag and dragged it after him, retreating to the quarry.  At the edge of the incline he let the bag slide, and it went to the bottom with the noise a cow might have made moving through the scrub.  Dick followed, scrambling down the rocks.  Having recovered the bag, he dragged it under the scrub to the opening in the wall, hastily concealing his tracks.  There was some difficulty in getting the bag through the space in the rock but he managed well; then he swung it free of the ladder, so that it dropped into the shaft and on to the broken reef below.  He clambered through on to the ladder, drew the loose scrub ferns into their places, and fitted into the crevice the wedge-shaped stone, kept as a last concealment of the retreat.

Standing on the ladder Dick waited, and presently heard sounds of men making their way into the Gaol Quarry.  His suspicions were correct:  the party was seeking him.  Presently he heard a voice he recognised as that of Jim Peetree, saying: 

‘This is the spot, boss; I’ve seen him here scores o’ times.  If he ain’t here I give it up.’

Dick heard the jingle of spurs, and an authoritative voice.

’Search all about amongst the scrub and the rocks.  Keep my horse ready in case the boy makes a bolt for it.’

There were three or four men, Peterson and McKnight amongst them.  They searched industriously, coming pretty close to Dick’s hiding place more than once.

‘We should have let the other lad go and have followed him,’ said the authoritative voice.  ’Fancy three troopers being kept a whole day and half the night dancing after a bit of a kid.’

Dick’s heart thrilled at this.

‘Well, he’s not here, that’s certain sure,’ said Peterson.  ’My boy said he left him in the paddock, an’ I s’pose he can’t be fur, but I tell you you won’t get him, he’s that cunnin’.  He’s fuller o’ wickedness an’ wisdom, an’ good an’ bad, than any boy you ever see, sergeant.’

’Ah, well, we’ll move on and try the other spot; but I would like to have the dear boy for five minutes now, while I feel in the humour to knock some of the bad out of him.’

They started off again, and when the beat of hoofs was lost in the distance Dick crept from his hiding-place and climbed up out of the quarry.  He now stole to a position from which he could command a view of the hollow tree, whilst remaining under thick shelter and leaving himself an excellent opening for retreat.  His blood was full of the excitement of this new adventure, a true adventure dealing with theft and murder.  He was afraid, terribly afraid, but it seemed to him that all his emotions were held in abeyance:  he was conscious of their existence, but they no longer ruled him.  One thing was paramount, his determination to know everything of the crime that had been perpetrated in the main drive of the Silver Stream.  Fragments of thoughts seemed to flicker up like flames within him and die out again instantly, and he repeated constantly under his breath without knowing why: