there was life in engelhardt yet, though for some time he lay as good as dead. the thing that revived him was the name of naomi pryse on the lips of the late ringer of the taroomba shed. the piano-tuner listened for more without daring to open his eyes or to move a muscle. and more came with a horrifying flow of foul words.

"she had the lip to sack me! but i'll be even with her before the night's out. yes, by cripes, by sunrise she'll wish she'd never been born!"

"it's not the girl we're after," said bill's voice, with a pause and a spit. "it's the silver." and engelhardt could hear him puffing at his pipe.

"it's gold and silver. she's the gold."

"i didn't dislike her," said the sailor-man. "i'd leave her be."

"she didn't sack you from the shed. twelve pound a week it meant, with that image over the board!"

"bo's'n'd let the whole thing be, i do believe," said bill, "if we give 'im 'alf a chance."

"not me," said bo's'n. "i'll stick to my messmates. but we've stiffened two people already. it's two too many."

"what about your skipper down at sandridge?"

"well, i reckon he's a stiff 'un, too."

"then none o' your skite, mate," said bill, knocking out a clay pipe against his heel. "look ye here, lads; it's a blessed providence that's raked us together, us three. here's me, straight out o' quod, coming back like a bird to the place where there's a good thing on. here's bo's'n, he's bashed in his skipper's skull and cut and run for it. we meet and we pal on. the likeliest pair in the colony! and here's old simons, knocked cock-eye by this 'ere gal, and swearing revenge by all that's bloody. he has a couple of horses, too—just the very thing we wanted—so he's our man. is he on? he is. do we join hands an' cuss an' swear to see each other through? we do—all three. don't we go to the township for a few little necessaries an' have a drink on the whole thing? we do. stop a bit! doesn't a chap and a horse come our way, first shot off? don't we want another horse, an'[pg 164] take it, too, ay and cook that chap's hash in fit an' proper style? of course we do. then what's the good o' talking? tigerskin used to say, 'we'll swing together, matey, or by god we'll drive together in a coach-and-four with yeller panels and half-a-dozen beggars in gold lace and powdered wigs.' so that's what i say to you. there's that silver. we'll have it and clear out with it at any blessed price. we've let out some blood already. a four-hundred-gallon tankful more or less can make no difference now. we can only swing once. so drink up, boys, and make your rotten lives happy while you have 'em. there's only one thing to settle: whether do we start at eleven, or twelve, or one in the morning?"

engelhardt heard a pannikin passed round and sucked at by all three. then a match was struck and a pipe lit. his veins were frozen; he was past a tremor.

"eleven's too early," said simons; "it's getting on for ten already. i'm for a spell before we start; there's nothing like a spell to steady your nerve."

"i'd make it eight bells—if not seven," argued the bo's'n. "the moon'll be up directly. the lower she is when we start, the better for us. you said the station lay due east, didn't you, bill? then it'll be easy steering with a low moon."

the other two laughed.

"these 'ere sailors," said bill, "they're a blessed treat. always in such an almighty funk of getting bushed. i've known dozens, and they're all alike."

"there's no fun in it," said the bo's'n. "look at this poor devil."

engelhardt held his breath.

"i suppose he is corpsed?" said bill.

"dead as junk."

"well, he's saved us the trouble. i'd have stuck the beggar as soon as i'd stick a sheep. there's only one more point, lads. do we knock up her ladyship, and make her let us into the store——"

"lug her out by her hair," suggested simons. "i'll do that part."

"or do we smash into it for ourselves? that's the game tigerskin an' me tried, ten years ago. it wasn't good enough. you know how it panned out. still, we ain't got old pryse to reckon with now. he was a terror, he was! so what do you say, boys? show hands for sticking-up—and now for breaking in. then that settles it."

engelhardt never knew which way it was settled.

"the she-devil!" said simons. "the little snake! i can see her now, when she come along the board and sang out for the tar-boy all on her own account. that little deader, there, he was with her. by cripes, if she isn't dead herself by morning she'll wish she was! i wonder how she'll look to-night? not that way, by cripes, that's one thing sure! you leave her to me, mates! i shall enjoy that part. she sha'n't die, because that's what she'd like best; but she shall apologize to me under my own conditions—you wait and see what they are. they'll make you smile. the little devil! twelve pound a week! by cripes, but i'll make her wish she was as dead as her friend here. i'll teach her——"

"stiffen me purple," roared bill, "if the joker's not alive after all!"

the rogues were sitting round their fire in a triangle, simons with his back to the supposed corpse; when he looked over his shoulder, there was his dead man glaring at him with eyes like blots of ink on blood-stained paper.

engelhardt, in fact, had been physically unable to lie still any longer and hear naomi so foully threatened and abused. but the moment he sat up he saw his folly, and tried, quick as thought, to balance it by gaping repeatedly in simons's face.

"i beg your pardon, i'm sure," said he, in the civilest manner. "i'd been asleep, and couldn't think where i was. i assure you i hadn't the least intention of interrupting you."

his voice was still terribly husky. bill seized the water-bag and stuck it ostentatiously between his knees. simons only scowled.

"please go on with what you were saying," said engelhardt, crawling to the fire and sitting down between these two worthies. "all i ask is a drink and a crust. i've been out all day without bite or sup. yes, and all last night as well! that's all i ask. i am dead tired. i'd sleep like a stone."

no one spoke, but presently, without a word, bill took a pannikin, filled it from the water-bag, and sullenly handed it to the piano-tuner. then he knifed a great wedge from a damper and tossed it across. engelhardt could scarcely believe his eyes, so silently, so unexpectedly was it done. he thanked the fellow with unnecessary warmth, but no sort of notice was taken of his remarks. he was half afraid to touch without express permission the water which he needed so sorely. he even hesitated, pannikin in hand, as he looked from one man to the other; but the villanous trio merely stared at him with fixed eyeballs, and at last he raised it to his lips and swallowed a pint at one draught.

even the mouthful he had fought for earlier in the evening—even that drop had sent a fresh stream of vitality swimming through his veins. but this generous draught made a new man of him in ten seconds. he wanted more, it is true; but the need was now a mere desire; and then there was the damper under his eyes. he never knew how hungry he was until he had quenched his thirst and started to eat. until he had finished the slice of damper, he took no more heed of his companions than a dog with a bone. bill threw him a second wedge, and this also he devoured without looking up. but his great thirst had never been properly slaked, and the treatment he was now receiving emboldened him to hold out the pannikin for more water. even this was granted him, but still without a word. since he had arisen and joined them by the fire, not one of the men had addressed a single remark to him, and his own timid expressions of thanks and attempts at affability[pg 169] had been received all alike in impenetrable silence. nor were the ruffians talking among themselves. they just sat round the fire, their rough faces reddened by the glow, their weapons scintillating in the light, and stared fixedly at the little man who had stumbled among them. their steady taciturnity soon became as bad to bear as the conversation he had overheard while feigning insensibility. there was a kind of sinister contemplation in their looks which was vague, intangible, terrifying. then their vile plot ringing in his ears, with dark allusions to a crime already committed, made the piano-tuner's position sickening, intolerable. he spoke again, and again received no answer. he announced that he was extremely grateful to them for saving his life, but that he must now push on to the township. they said nothing to this. he wished them good-night; they said nothing to that. then he got to his feet, and found himself on the ground again quicker than he had risen. bill had grabbed him by the ankle, still without a syllable. when engelhardt looked at him, however, the heavy face and squinting eyes met him with a series of grimaces, so grotesque, so obscene, that he was driven to bury his face in his one free hand, and patiently to await his captors' will. he heard the bo's'n chuckling; but for hours, as it seemed to him, that was all.

"who is the joker?" said bill, at last. "what does he do for his rations?"

"they say as 'e tunes pianners," said simons.

"then he don't hang out on taroomba?"

"no; 'e only come the other day, an' goes an' breaks his arm off a buck-jumper. so they were saying at the shed."

"well, he enjoyed his supper, didn't he? it's good to see 'em enjoying theirselves when their time is near. boys, you was right; it would have been a sin to send 'im to 'ell with an empty belly an' a sandy throat. if ever i come to swing, i'll swing with a warm meal in my innards, my oath!"

engelhardt held up his head.

"so you mean to kill me, do you?" said he, very calmly, but with a kind of scornful indignation. bill gave him a horrible leer, but no answer.

"i suppose there's nothink else for it," said simons, half-regretfully; "though mark you, mates, i'm none so keen on the kind o' game."

"no more ain't i," cried the bo's'n, with vigor. "i'd give the cove a chance, bill."

"how?" said bill.

"i'd lash the beggar to a tree and leave him to snuff out for hisself."

engelhardt laughed aloud in mock gratitude.

"oh, i ain't partickler as to ways," said bill. "one way's as good as another for me. there's no bloomin' 'urry, any'ow. the moon ain't up yet, and before we go this beggar's got to tell us things. he heard what we was saying, mates. i seen it in his eye. didn't you, you swine?"

engelhardt took no kind of notice.

"didn't you—you son of a mangy bandicoot?"

still engelhardt would have held his tongue; but bill started kicking him on one side, and simons on the other; and the pain evoked an answer in a note of shrill defiance.

"i did!" he cried. "i heard every word."

"we're after that silver."

"i know you are."

"you've seen it?"

"i have."

"tell us all about it."

"not i!"

for this he got a kick on each side.

"is it in the store yet?"

no answer.

"is the chest easy to find?"

no answer.

"is it covered up?"

"or underground?"

"or made to look like something else?"

each man contributed a question; none elicited a word; no more did their boots; it was no use kicking him.

there was a long pause. then bill said:

"you've lost your hat. you need another. here you are."

he had blundered to his feet, stepped aside out of the ring of light, and spun a wide-awake into engelhardt's lap. he started. it was adorned with a blue silk fly-veil.

"recognize it?"

he had recognized it at once; it was sam rowntree's; and sam rowntree had been missing, yesterday, before engelhardt himself said his secret farewell to the homestead.

he looked for more. no more was said. the villains had relapsed into that silence which was more eloquent of horror than all their threats. but bill now flung fresh branches on the fire; the wood crackled; the flames spurted starward; and in the trebled light, engelhardt, peering among the trees for some further sign of sam, saw that which set the pores pringling all over his skin.

it was the glint of firelight upon a pair of spurs that hung motionless in the scrub—not a yard from the ground—not ten paces from the fire.

he looked again; the spurs were fixed to a pair of sidespring boots; the boots hung out of a pair of moleskins, with a few inches of worsted sock in between. all were steady, immovable as the stars above. he could see no higher than the knees; but that was enough; a hoarse cry escaped him, as he pointed with a quivering finger, and turned his white face from man to man.

neither simons nor the bo's'n would meet his look; but bill gripped his arm, with a loud laugh, and dragged him to his feet.

"come and have a look at him," he said. "he isn't pretty, but he'll do you good."

next instant engelhardt stood close to the suspended body of the unfortunate rowntree. both hands were tied behind his back, his hair was in his eyes, and the chin drooped forward upon his chest like that of a man lost in thought.

"see what you'll come to," said bill, giving the body a push that set it swinging like a pendulum, while the branch creaked horribly overhead. "see what you'll come to if you don't speak out! it was a good ten minutes before he stopped kicking and jingling his spurs; you're lighter, and it'd take you longer. quarter of an hour, i guess, or twenty minutes."

engelhardt had reeled, and would have fallen, but the bo's'n jumped up and caught him in his arms.

he did more.

"listen to reason, messmate," said the sailor, with a touch of rude friendliness in his lowered tone. "there ain't no sense in keeping mum with us. if you won't speak, you'll swing at the yard-arm along with t'other cove in a brace of shakes; if you will, you'll get a chance whether or no. besides, what good do you think you can do? we know all that's worth knowing. anything you tell us'll make less trouble in at the homestead—not more."

"all right," said engelhardt, faintly. "let me sit down; i'll tell you anything you like."

"that's more like. take my place, then you'll be stern-on to that poor devil. now then, bill, fire away. the little man's hisself again."

"good for him," growled bill. "look at me, you stuck pig, and answer questions. where's that chest?"

"in the store."

"didn't i say so! never been shifted! whereabouts in the store?"

"inside the counter."

"much of a chest to bust into?"

"two locks, and clamps all over."

"where's the keys?"

"i don't know. miss pryse keeps them."

"she won't keep 'em long. see here, you devil, if you look at me again like that i'll plug your eyes into your mouth! you seem to know a fat lot about this silver. have you seen it, or haven't you?"

"i have."

"what is there?"

"not much. a couple of candlesticks; a few spoons; some old skewers; a biscuit-box; a coffee-pot—but it's half ivory; an epergne——"

"what the 'ells that? none o' your greek, you swine!"

"it's a thing for flowers."

"why didn't you say so, then? what else?"

"let me see——"

"you'd best look slippy!"

"well, there's not much more. a cake-basket, some napkin-rings, and a pair of nut-crackers. and that's about all. it's all i saw, anyhow."

"all silver?"

"i shouldn't think it."

"you liar! you plucky well know it is. and not a bad lot neither, even if it was the lot. by the lord, i've a good mind to strip and sit you on that fire for not telling me the truth!"

"easy, mate, easy!" remonstrated the bo's'n. "that sounds near enough."

"by cripes," cried simons, "it's near enough for me. 'tain't the silver i want. it's the gold, and that's the girl!"

"you won't get her," said engelhardt.

"why not?"

"she'll put a bullet through you."

"can she shoot straight?"

"as straight as her father, i should say. i never saw him. but i've seen her."

"what do?"

"stand in the veranda and knock a crow off the well fence—with her own revolver."

"by cripes, that's a lie."

(it was.)

"i'm not so blooming sure," said bill. "i recollect how the old man dropped tigerskin at nigh twenty yards. she was with him, too, at the time—a kid out of bed. i took a shot at her and missed. she'd be as likely as not to knock a hole through one or other of us, lads, if you hadn't got me to see you through. you trust to bill for ideas! he's got one now, but it'll keep. see here, you swine, you! when was it you saw all what you pretend to have seen, eh?"

engelhardt laughed. his answer could do no harm, and it gave him a thrill of satisfaction to score even so paltry a point against his bestial antagonist.

"it was the day you two came around the station."

"that morning?"

"yes."

"where did you see it?"

"in the store."

"before we came?"

"while you were there. when miss pryse locked the door, it was all over the place. while we were in the kitchen she got it swept out of sight."

"good god!" screamed bill; "if only i'd known. you little devil, if only i'd guessed it!"

his vile face was convulsed and distorted with greed and rage; his hairy, four-fingered[pg 178] fist shaking savagely in engelhardt's face. bo's'n remonstrated again.

"what's the sense o' that, messmate? for god's sake shut it! a fat lot we could ha' done without a horse between us."

"we could have rushed the store, stretched 'em stiff——"

"and carried a hundredweight o' silver away in our bluies! no, no, my hearty; it's a darn sight better as it is. what do you say, simons?"

"i'm glad you waited, but i'm bleedin' dry."

"an' me, too," said bill, sulkily, as he uncorked a black bottle. "give us that pannikin, you spawn!"

engelhardt handed it over unmoved. he was past caring what was said or done to him personally. bill drank first.

"here's fun!" said he, saluting the other two simultaneously with a single cross-eyed leer.

"'an' they say so—an' we hope so!'" chanted the bo's'n, who came next. "anyway, here's to the moon, for there she spouts!"

as he raised his pannikin, he pointed it over engelhardt's shoulder, and the latter involuntarily turned his head. he brought[pg 179] it back next moment, with a jerk and a shudder. far away, behind the scrub, on the edge of the earth, lay the moon, with a silvery pathway leading up to her, and a million twigs and branches furrowing her face. but against the top of the great white disc there fell those horrible boots and spurs, in grisly silhouette, and still swaying a little to the mournful accompaniment of the groaning bough above. surely the works of god and man were never in ghastlier contrast than when engelhardt turned his head without thinking and twitched it back with a shudder. and yet to him this was not the worst; he was now in time to catch that which made the blood run colder still in all his veins.

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