elled immediately any prospect of
entertainment; Murray replied that they could mind their own business.
And the next evening Slaughter came in.

They had only just gathered together when he rode up on his old scraggy
horse. He threw the reins over one of the posts as he got down from the
saddle, and walked on to the verandah with an air of unconcern that made
every man look at him open-mouthed.

"Got any letters for me?" he said to Marmot, ignoring the rest.

"Post-office's shut," Marmot replied curtly, as he stood up. "You can
come to-morrow."

He forgot for the moment the unfriendly answer Murray had sent in to his
message, and the murmur of approbation that passed round the assembly at
his words pleased him.

"It was never shut before," Slaughter said, looking him straight in the
face.

"Well, it is now," Marmot retorted; and sat down again.

On a small rack above the counter, just in a line behind Marmot's head
when he was standing, was displayed the letter Slaughter had come for,
and as Marmot sat down he saw it. He pushed past into the store and took
it from the rack. As he turned to the door, he faced the men standing
round Marmot.

"Put that back, or----" Marmot began loudly.

"Get out of my way," Slaughter shouted, as he advanced towards them with
angry eyes and closed fists.

They had seen such an expression on his face once before; and as they
did then, so did they now, as they fell apart and allowed him to pass
out. As he reached his horse, he faced them again.

"You mind your own affairs," he said, with a snarl in his voice; and
before they could find an answer for him, he mounted his horse and rode
away.

"Well!" Marmot exclaimed, when at length he found words. "What game's
this, I'd ask?"

Smart, from the end of the verandah where he had been watching Slaughter
ride through the township, laughed as he answered--

"Old Cold-blood's waking up. As the missus says, them freezers is always
the worst when they thaws."

"Seems to me," Cullen observed solemnly--"seems to me the drought ain't
the only trouble in the district; and old Cold-blood, coming here
listening to all we've got to say, has got in ahead of us somehow, and
is playing a lone hand for all he's worth. He's bluffed Murray."

"Wha-at?" Marmot exclaimed.

"For why not?" Cullen went on. "He came from over by Murray's;" and he
pointed away in the direction whence Slaughter had come, and which was
also the direction of the Murra