At about a quarter past ten that night Ryder was sitting on the rug with his back to the rock, smoking reflectively, when a voice called almost at his elbow: 

‘Hist!  Yarra bin come, boss!’

‘Good boy!’ Ryder replaced his revolver on a convenient ledge, and as Yarra appeared before him, grinning in-the moonlight, he added a few words of thanks and of praise in the native tongue.

‘What happen by Boobyalla?’

‘Mine bin chase it that feller all day.’  Yarra pointed at Solo, and his white teeth glittered like tiny mirrors.  ’Track him longa trooper plenty far.’  He pointed beyond Boobyalla ’My word, Yarra make it big one damn fool that trooper.’  The thought of the manner in which he had tricked the police tickled the black boy, and he emitted a yell of laughter that startled the Bush sleepers for a mile round, and filled the trees with movements and murmurs of complaint.  Ryder, knowing the susceptibilities of the race, to gratify the boy laughed too.

‘Yarra plenty clever,’ he said.

’My word!  Yarra follow track all away topside Shepherd’s Scrub.  Go this way, that way, make much plurry humbug.  Say:  “This feller gone lame, limp it bad.  Some time he creep by scrub, lie down.”  Trooper go search it scrub all day, nex’ day, nex’ day.  They catch it that fellar by’n-by.’  Again he pointed at Ryder, and again his laugh echoed in the gorge.  ’Mine tink it trooper search him scrub plenty long time.  Boss tink I go hunt by scrub to-morrow, mine come sit down longa here.’

All of which meant that Yarra had been employed by the troopers to follow the track of Ryder, and had led them as far astray as possible, and left them with the impression that the fugitive was wounded and lying in hiding in Shepherd’s Scrub, a dense ti-tree growth to the north-east of Boobyalla, extending for two or three miles.

Ryder rewarded his accomplice with a nobbler of brandy and a cigar, and the black sat smoking with a grand air, while the former explained that he would remain where he was until his arm was in a more serviceable state, trusting to Yarra to keep him apprised of what was going forward, and to warn him instantly danger threatened.  During the last few hours the idea of inducing Lucy Woodrow to visit him there in the Bush had been stirring in Ryder’s mind, and he reckoned upon turning his wound to good advantage.  For the troopers he had the greatest contempt, and his confidence in Yarra was absolute.  The half-caste remained with him for about an hour, and then returned into the gorge, and keeping to the bed of the creek picked up his horse, a sober old cattle nag, where he had left him at the foot of the range.