ched Briney Doyle, who was camped out near the foothills of
Kosciusko, running wild horses into trap-yards. This occupation had
taken such hold on him that he had become as wild as the horses he
pursued, and it was popularly supposed that the other Doyles had to go
out with horses to run him in whenever they wanted him.

Peggy brought in the copy of her marriage certificate, an old and faded
piece of paper which ran--"This is to certify that I, Thomas Nettleship,
duly ordained clergyman of the Church of England, have this day
solemnized a marriage between William Grant, Bachelor, and Margaret
Donohoe, Spinster."

The name of Pike's Hotel and the date were nearly illegible, but there
the document was; and though it was not the original certificate, it
was pretty clear that Peggy could never have invented it. Its production
made a great impression. It certainly went far to convince Blake.

He had cross-examined all the witnesses, had checked their accounts by
each other, had followed William Grant's career at that time, had got on
to the history of the bush missionary; and everything fitted in. Martin
Doyle--Black Martin's son Martin--was letter-perfect in his part. Peggy
could give the details of the ceremony with unfaltering accuracy fifty
times a day if need be, and never contradict herself. So at last he gave
up trying to find holes in the case, and determined to go in and win.

On the other side there was trouble in the camp--no witnesses could be
found, except Martin Doyle, and he was ready to swear to the wedding. At
last it became evident that the only chance of overthrowing Peggy's case
was to find Considine; but the earth seemed to have swallowed him up.

The influence of the Chief of Police was brought to bear, and many a
weary mile did the troopers of the Outer Back ride in search of the
missing man. One of them followed a Considine about two hundred
miles across country, and embodied the story of his wanderings in a
villainously written report; brief and uncouth as the narrative was,
it was in itself an outline picture of bush life. From shearers' hut to
artesian borers' camp, from artesian well to the opal-fields, from the
opal-fields to a gold-rush, from the gold-rush to a mail-coach stable,
he pursued this Considine, only to find that, in the words of the
report, "the individual was not the same."

Things looked hopeless for Mary Grant, when help came from an unexpected
quarter. A letter written in a