all were gone together, and the dispirited hunters gathered
at the edge of the scrub and looked at each other.

"Well, Mister, you couldn't stop him," said the old man.

"I'm afraid I made--rather a mess of things, don't you know," said the
Englishman. "I thought I hit him the second time, too. Seemed to be
straight at him."

"I think you done very well to miss us! I heard one bullet whiz past me
like a scorpyun. Well, it can't be helped. Those old coachers will all
battle their way home again before long. Gordon, I vote we go home.
They're your cattle now, and you'll have to come out again after 'em
some day, and do a little more shootin'. Get a suit of armour on you
first, though."

As they jogged home through the bright moonlight, they heard loud
laughter from the blacks, and Carew, looking back, found the fat gin
giving a dramatic rehearsal of his exploits. She dashed her horse along
at a great pace, fell on his neck, clutched wildly at the reins, then
suddenly turned in her saddle, and pretended to fire point-blank at the
other blacks, who all dodged the bullet. Then she fell on the horse's
neck again, and so on ad lib.

This made the Englishman very morose. He was quite glad when Charlie
said he had seen enough of the cattle, and they would all start next
day for civilisation--Charlie to resume the management of Mr. Grant's
stations, Carew to go with him as "colonial experiencer," and Considine
to start for England to look after his inheritance.

CHAPTER XIX. A CHANCE ENCOUNTER.

The black boys went in with them to Pike's store to take back supplies
on the pack-horse. They travelled over the same country that they had
seen coming up; the men at the stations greeted them with the same
hospitality. Nothing was said about Considine's good fortune. It was
thought wise to be silent, as he didn't know how soon his wife might
hear of it.

They left the gins at the blacks' camp, which they chanced on by a
riverside. The camp was a primitive affair, a few rude shelters made by
bending bamboo sticks together and covering them with strips of paper
bark. Here the sable wariors sat and smoked all day long, tobacco being
their only civilised possession. Carew was very anxious to look at them,
a development of curiosity that Considine could not understand.

"Most uninteresting devils, I call 'em," he said. "They're stark naked,
and they have nothing. What is there to look at?"

Having parted with Maggie and