His horse sprang to a gallop, and a minute later the man slid over its
shoulder and fell, rolling almost to Joe's feet as the animal rushed
past.

The second trooper fired a revolver, and the bullet chipped a slab at the
gold-stealer's ear. Rogers had him covered, and his finger was on the
trigger when the gun was whirled from his hands and a man who had stolen
up from the back closed with him. The newcorner was slim, and Rogers felt
that he might break him between his hands if he could only get a proper
grip; but the drunken drover--for it was he--was as sinuous as an eel,
and a moment later Joe was on the broad of his back with the 'darbies' on
his wrists and a trooper kneeling on his chest, while the drover,
transformed into Detective Downy, stood over them, mopping his face with
his big false beard.

The wounded trooper had recovered somewhat, and was on his hands and
knees, with down-hanging head, in the light of the open door.

'How are you, Casey?' asked the detective anxiously.

'Aisy, sor. I'm jist wonderin' if I'm dead or alive,' said the trooper in
a still small voice, watching the blood-drops falling from his forehead.

'Then the devil a bit's the matter with you, Casey.'

'Thank you, sor,' said the trooper, with a trained man's confidence in
his superior. 'Thin I'd best git up, p'raps.' And he arose and stood
dubiously fingering the furrow plowed along the top of his head by the
gold stealer's bullet.

'Get him into the hut,' said Downy, indicating Rogers with a nod; 'and
hobble the brute--he's dangerous.'

Rogers, sitting on the edge of his bunk, handcuffed and leg-ironed, gazed
sullenly at the detective.

'Well,' he said, 'an' now you've got me, what's the charge?'

'A trifle of gold-stealing,' replied Downy, 'and this,' indicating
Casey's bleeding head. 'To say nothing of the murder of your accomplice.'

Rogers blanched and glared at the detective, his face contorted and his
eyes big with terror.

'Shine,' he murmured, 'd'ye mean Shine? It's a lie; he's not dead!'

Harry Hardy, who had just come upon the scene and was standing in the
doorway, cried out at this.

'Great God!' he said. 'Then it was Ephraim Shine after all!'

'Pooh!'' cried Rogers, 'it was a trick to trap me into givin' his name.
You needn't 'a' troubled yerself. I don't want to shield him--damn him!'

'Do you know where this Shine's to be got at?' asked Downy, appealing to
Harry, who had been working in concert with the