d, Durham crawled through the undergrowth
until he reached the summit of the bluff, and was able to see once more
the narrow sandy strip which skirted the bank and formed the margin of
the shore.

Peering through the low-growing shrubs he saw how the bluff fell away in
a precipitous descent on the other side down to where the narrow strip
widened out into a level space screened by a clump of bushes reaching
from the high bank to the water. The whole of this space was trampled
upon, and it was evident that horsemen had been there frequently and
recently.

A step forward showed him something more. Right under the bank a dark
patch showed. It was the mouth of a cave.

He listened intently, but no sound came to him, and he again crept
forward until he was able to see into the cave. It was low-roofed, and
formed by rocks which had fallen loosely together, and over which
vegetable soil had accumulated.

Satisfied it was empty, he advanced boldly towards it. As he pushed
between the shrubs which grew close up to it, he caught sight of what,
in the shadow, looked like a crouching man. In a moment his carbine was
thrown forward and he was about to challenge, when he realised he was
aiming at a heap of clothes.

He stepped into the cave. The clothes lay in a carelessly thrown heap,
and with them, half hidden, was a false beard of long yellow hair.

Picking it up, he held it at arm's length. So the Rider was disguised
after all!

The flimsy thing brought clearly back to him the features of the man as
he had twice seen him. The close-clipped fair hair, the light sandy
eyebrows, the peculiarly light lashes which gave so sinister an
expression to the eyes, were distinct; but when he tried to reconstruct
the face as it would be without the beard, he was baffled. The form of
the nose, the moulding of the chin, the shape of the mouth, had been
hidden by the disguise, and without a knowledge of them Durham could not
grasp fully what the man was like. As Harding had expressed himself,
when describing the face he had seen at the window of the bank, it was
the impression of a familiar face disguised, and yet a familiar face
which could not be located.

Beyond that he could not go.

He picked up the clothes and examined them. They were of nondescript
grey, such as can be bought by the hundred at any bush store in
Australia, and were similar to what the man was wearing the night he
visited Waroona Downs. The hat was missing, as Du