--nothin' but blood'ounds could ever find their bodies."

"It's bin a wonderful time," said Dolphin, "but we can't expect such
luck to foller us around like a poodle-dog."

"I'm for havin' a slap at the Bank, anyway," growled Garstang.

"Imagine the effect upon the public mind--the robbery of an escort and a
bank, both in one week!" This was how the gentlemanly Carnac regarded
the question. "It'd be a record. We'd make a name that wouldn't easily
be forgotten. _I'm_ for trying."

"Well, it's stopped raining, blokes," said Sweet William, "but outside
it's dark enough to please an owl. If we want to get into Timber Town
without bein' seen, now's the time to start." So saying, he picked up
his "swag," which he hitched upon his back.

The other men rose, one by one, and shouldered their packs, in which
each man carried his gold.

With much lumbering, stumbling, and swearing, the murderers slowly
departed, groping their way to the mouth of the cave by the light of the
fire, which they left burning.

Tresco waited till the last sound of their voices had died away, then he
stretched his cramped, benumbed limbs, heaved a deep sigh of relief, and
rose to his feet.

"My God, what monsters!" He spoke under his breath, for fear that even
the walls should hear him. "If they had found me they'd have thought as
little of cutting my throat as of killing a mosquito. If ever I thanked
God in my life--well, well--every nerve of me is trembling. That's the
reaction. I must warm myself, and have a bite of food."

After carefully scattering the murderers' fire, he groped his way to his
inner cell, and there he made his best endeavours to restore his
equanimity with warmth, food, and drink.

CHAPTER XXXI.

The Perturbations of the Bank Manager.

The windows of the Kangaroo Bank were ablaze with light, although the
town clock had struck eleven. It was the dolorous hour when the landlord
of The Lucky Digger, obliged by relentless law, reluctantly turned into
the street the topers and diggers who filled his bar.

Bare-headed, the nails of his right hand picking nervously at the
fingers of his left, the manager of the Bank emerged from a side-door.
He glanced up the dark street towards the great mountains which loomed
darkly in the Cimmerian gloom.

"Dear me, dear me," murmured he to himself, "he is very late. What can
have kept him?" He glanced down the street, and saw the small crowd
wending its way from the hostelry. "