e young man turned dusky in the moonlight; he was wounded where the
Bishop had wounded him, and Stingaree was quick to see it--as quick to
turn the knife round in the wound.

"What a bushranger!" he jeered. "Put your plucky little mother in a
side-saddle and she'd make two of you--ten of you--twenty of a puny,
namby-pamby, conceited young idiot like you! Upon my word, Melvin, if I
had a mother like you I should be ashamed of myself. I never had, I may
tell you, or I shouldn't have come down to a dog's life like this."

The bushranger paused to watch the effect of his insults. It was not
quite what he wanted. The youth would not hang his head. And, if he did
not answer back, he looked back doggedly enough; for he could be dogged,
in a passive way; it was his one hard quality, the knot in a character
of green deal. Stingaree glanced up the road once more, but only for an
instant.

"It is a dog's life," he went on, "whether you believe it or not. But it
takes a bull-dog to live it, and don't you forget it. It's no life for a
young poodle like you! You can't stick up a better man than yourself,
not more than once or twice. It requires something more than a
six-shooter, and a good deal more than was put into you, my son! But you
shall see for yourself; look over your shoulder."

Oswald did so, and started in a fashion that set the bushranger nodding
his scorn. It was only a pair of lamps still close together in the
distance up the road.

"The coach!" exclaimed the excited youth.

"Exactly," said Stingaree, "and I'm going to stick it up."

Excitement grew to frenzy in a flash.

"I'll help you!"

"You'll do no such thing. But you shall see how it's done, and then ask
yourself candidly if it's nice work and if you're the man to do it. Ride
a hundred yards further in, tether your horse quickly in the thickest
scrub you can find, then run back and climb into the fork of this
gum-tree. You'll have time; if you're sharp I'll give you a leg up. But
I sha'n't be surprised if I don't see you again!"

There is no saying what Oswald might have done, but for these last
words. Certain it is that they set him galloping with an oath, and
brought him back panting in another minute. The coach-lamps were not
much wider apart. Stingaree awaited him, also on foot, and quicker than
the telling Oswald was ensconced on high where he could see through the
meagre drooping leaves with very little danger of being seen.

"And if you come do