‘I tell you, I want this man alive.’

‘Good-night!’

‘Help!’ screamed Stony; but the other’s hand was at his throat again.

‘Listen, you foul cur!’ Ryder said.  ’I mean to spare you, but you must tell—­tell all!’

Jim Done turned and walked away, leaving the enemies alone.  Next morning he saw Stony moving about his tent, and experienced a feeling of relief.  He had been unable to divest himself of a sense of responsibility for the safety of the miserable hatter.

By this time quite a strong friendship had grown up between the three Peetrees and Done and Burton.  Joshua Peetree, whom the twins called Josh, with a friendly absence of formalities, was found in his sober moments to share the moral qualities of his sons, and had the same quiet, deliberative manner of speech, as if every sentence, even those of the most insignificant character, were subjected to two or three successive processes of investigation internally before delivery.  Indeed, the men spoke so little en famille that they might have lost ordinary power of easy articulation.  Speech was hardly necessary between the three; they understood each other by something very like telepathic divination.  At least, so it appeared to Done, who was puzzled again and again to see the ideas of one brother anticipated by the other, and his wishes met without any communication, audible or visible, to the third person.  Men who have lived together in the Bush for the better part of their lives, cut off from other society and outside interest, often develop this quaint instinct of mutual apprehension.  The Peetrees were not unsociable, but with them conversation was not essential to human intercourse.  They were content to sit on a log, or spread themselves on the dry grass in company with friendly diggers, smoking composedly through a whole evening, without contributing more than an approving ‘My word!’ or ‘My colonial!’ to the night’s debate.  Mike was in full sympathy with their neighbours.  Like him, they were deeply imbued with the spirit of revolt stirring in the land, and they were as eager to participate in the struggle that was to overthrow the rule of the nominees of Downing Street and strangle the hydra of official tyranny; but Done, although his sentiments were just as strongly on the side of the miners, was too profoundly concerned with the actions and interests of the moment to content himself with the society of the Peetrees and the discussion of possibilities.  He liked them; they were amusing elements in the varied life around him, but he wanted to see and to hear.  His blood ran too hotly for camp-fire argument.  When the time for fighting came, well and good:  none would be more eager than he; but meanwhile love and laughter, play and strife, invited a man, and Jim responded with the impetuosity of an impish boy just escaped from parental control.