contented with himself.

"I'm put right here to scare off malefactors and encourage honest men,
and I'm doing it, the best way I can," he said.

The ranchers came, as did Captain Andersen, the venerable Scandinavian
constable, whose duties had hitherto consisted in keeping his
neighbours' gardens free of depredating hogs and improving his own
land. Horton also made a speech to them, and appeared somewhat
offended when some of them broke into the bushman's silent chuckle.

"We have," he said, "no use for fooling. This is the most serious and
solemn kind of thing."

"Oh, yes," said one of the assembly. "That's just what it's going to
be if Damer's friends stand by him. Damer isn't going to come along to
prison because Andersen tells him."

Horton regarded the speaker with a gravity that was tempered by
semi-contemptuous pity. "Then," he said, "because I'm going to swear
you in as special constables, you and the boys will make him."

There was another lapse into half-audible laughter and one of the men
touched Seaforth's shoulder. "I'm wondering what Harry would think of
this," said he. "It would sound kind of curious in the old country."

Seaforth smiled as he made a little gesture of resignation. "The point
is that he doesn't know. Anyway, we haven't done much to be proud of
while we acted sensibly, and now and then foolishness seems to pay as
well as wisdom."

"Well," said the other, grinning, "I wouldn't call old Horton a fool
altogether."

Horton interrupted him by calling up six of the biggest men, and very
gravely swearing them in, after which he produced a paper. "This," he
said, "is a warrant for the apprehension of one Roger Damer for
horse-stealing, and all you have to do is to go up and get him. You
will meet here at daylight to-morrow, every man with a horse and
provisions, but while I'll do the best I can for you I'm not quite sure
the Government will pay for them."

Once more there was soft laughter, but early next morning six silent
men, whose bronze faces bore no trace of merriment now, rode out of the
settlement, with rifles slung behind them, and four more followed later
leading heavily-laden horses by the bridle. Time was not of vital
importance, and though all of them were at home in the bush they
prospected for the easiest road, which led them through valleys few men
of their race had ever set foot in before. Twice a few of the Siwash,
who come down the rivers with the spring,