‘We draw the line at cold-blooded murder, mate!’ said Mike, but the other gave no answer.

Stony had picked himself up, and, casting one horrified look at his enemy, turned away, and plunged into the blackness of the Bush, running like a frightened animal.

‘What’s he been up to, anyhow?’ asked one of the teamsters, as they released the stranger.  The latter did not reply, but instantly darted after the runaway.  The four men listened to the retreating footsteps, and presently the Bush echoed two pistol shots fired in rapid succession.  The birds murmured and moved in the trees, a monkey-bear grunted disgustedly, and then all was still again.

VIII

For some little time the four men stood with their faces turned in the direction Stony and his pursuer had taken, listening breathlessly, and then they went to their blankets again.  Done was greatly disturbed; the others took it more as a matter of course.

‘You won’t follow them?’ said Jim.

‘Well,’ one of the brothers replied, ’I ain’t particularly busy just now, but my hands are too full for that kind of foolishness.’

‘He meant murder!’

‘Somethin’ too like it to please old Stony.’

‘What do you think it was all about?’

‘Can’t say.  Long grudge, evidently.’

‘The clean-shaven man was a lag,’ said Mike.  ‘Convict,’ he added, seeing a question in Jim’s eye.  ‘Maybe your friend lagged him.’

‘Don’t know him from a crow,’ replied the teamster addressed.  ’We’re taking some traps and ware up to the Creek for him on our load, and he travelled along.’

‘I think you’re mistaken about that man being a convict, Burton,’ said Done to Mike later, breaking a long silence.

’Sure I’m not.  Saw the cuff-marks on his wrists as he was battling with Stony.  Why?’

’He’s the man who was in the trap with Macdougal of Boobyalla the other day in Swanston Street.’

‘The swell in the choker and double-decker?’

‘Yes.  For some reason his face impressed me.  I couldn’t mistake it.’

’Didn’t notice it; but if he’s own brother to Governor Latrobe himself, I’ll take my affie he’s a lag.’

The mates overtook the carter with their tent and stores and tools within a day’s journey of the rush, and pushed on to secure a claim.  Done’s first sight of a busy goldfield was gained on a clear, sunny morning, when, after passing through Sawpit Gully, they came upon the beginning of the long lead that comprised many rushes, known as Forest Creek.  The impression Jim retained was a semi-humorous one of humans reduced to the proportions and the dignity of ants, engaged upon the business of ants wrought to a pitch of excitement by some grand windfall at their doors.  Little figures bustled about, carrying burdens; pigmies swarmed along the lead.  The holes, with their white and yellow tips, were clustered