ST 173
XIII. REVENGE IS SWEET 191
XIV. THE LAST STRAW 211
XV. THE RIDER'S SCORN 227
XVI. LOVE'S CONQUEST 244
XVII. DUDGEON PROPOSES 265
XVIII. UNMASKED 286
XIX. THE ASHES OF SILENCE 307

CHAPTER I

CROTCHETY DUDGEON

In an old, rackety, single-horse buggy, a vehicle which, to judge by the
antiquity of its build and appearance and the rattle of its loose worn
bolts, might have done duty since the days of the first pioneers,
Dudgeon drove from his homestead to the bank.

He was a man who never discarded any article of use or clothing until it
was hopelessly beyond repair. With a huge fortune stowed away in
gilt-edged securities and metropolitan house property, he grudged even a
coat of paint for the vehicle he had driven for nearly forty years. The
local wheelwright had long since declined to attempt to repair it, so
the old man fell back on fencing-wire and his own skill whenever the
final collapse seemed imminent.

There was a legend circulating among the older residents of the district
as to the reason for his peculiarities. To the younger generation it was
merely an out-of-date story, for young Australia has scant heed for
everything which does not come within his own personal range of
experience or knowledge. But the legend, as extant, gave some
significance to the seemingly unreasonable actions of the eccentric old
man.

In the early days, when railways were not and the land was open and free
for the bold young bloods to conquer, Dudgeon had come out from the
coastal cities of the south. He had health and strength, and a heart
which knew not fear; but whatever of wealth he had had was left in the
hands of gambling sharks in the cities whence he came. He arrived at the
township on foot, a rare occurrence in those days when no man journeyed
half a mile except in the saddle. But the fact that he had walked
"looking for work," as he said, drew so much attention to him that
offers were made from all sides to hire his services. He accepted the
best, and went to Waroona Downs with the then owner, one Henry Lambton,
who, with his wife and daughter, resided at the house beyond the range.

Another was there also, a young man about Dudgeon's age, an Irishman
named O'Guire, a dashing, reckless fellow who made up in sharpness of
wit and trickery what he lacked