ad chosen. In addition to the money there
were other articles, and over the division of this spoil there had been
a quarrel. Eustace had gone down, probably taken unawares, seeing that
he had been shot in the back. Little as anyone sympathised with him in
the course he had followed, there was a feeling of resentment against
his companion for having obviously taken a mean advantage over the man
who had thrown in his lot with him. A quarrel was possible at any time,
even so deadly a quarrel as would result fatally for one or other of the
combatants; but at least it should have been fairly conducted.

Thereafter the completion of the story was easy.

The victor had emptied his victim's pockets of everything except the
incriminating handkerchief--leaving that, perchance, to fasten upon him
a part responsibility of the Taloona outrage; had taken the body on his
horse and ridden with it to the ford, dropping it in the middle of the
stream where it was bound to be discovered by the first person passing
that way.

There was a callousness, a cynical indifference to all human instincts
in this method of disposing of his victim, which deepened the feeling of
resentment against the assassin who everyone held to be the unknown man
with the yellow beard. To have left the body where it fell would have
been less brutal than to flaunt it in the face of police and public as a
taunt and a mockery. Following the outburst of amazement which the
discovery had aroused, there came a sense of bitter hostility against
the man who had done this, to their minds, needless act of savagery.

As Brennan passed to and fro he was assailed with questions as to what
the sub-inspector was going to do. Volunteers on all sides offered
their services to scour the range, where all believed the murderer was
hiding, and ride him down. But Brennan would say nothing. The
sub-inspector had barely spoken since he returned to the station; but if
he wanted help he would not hesitate to appeal for it, Brennan told
them, adding that they need not worry--the criminal who could outwit the
sleuth-hound of the force was not yet born.

"But the Rider of Waroona is no fool," one of the men remarked.

"Neither is Sub-Inspector Durham," Brennan retorted.

Gale, who was standing in the group listening to the remarks made, but
advancing no theory of his own, spoke out for the first time.

"I'm not so sure," he said. "He may be smart enough in following up town
robberies,