or twice
before sundown he permitted himself to ask natural questions concerning
the old country, and to indulge in those genial gibes which the
Englishman in the bush learns to expect from the indigenous buffoon.

In the night Vanheimert was less easy. He had to sleep in Howie's tent,
but it was some hours before he slept at all, for Howie would remain
outside, and Vanheimert longed to hear him snore. At last the rabbiter
fell into a doze, and when he awoke the auspicious music filled the
tent. He listened on one elbow, peering till the darkness turned less
dense; and there lay Howie across the opening of the tent. Vanheimert
reached for his thin elastic-sided bushman's boots, and his hands
trembled as he drew them on. He could now see the form of Howie plainly
enough as it lay half in the starlight and half in the darkness of the
tent. He stepped over it without a mistake, and the ignoble strains
droned on behind him.

The stars seemed unnaturally bright and busy as Vanheimert stole into
their tremulous light. At first he could distinguish nothing earthly;
then the tents came sharply into focus, and after them the ring of
impenetrable trees. The trees whispered a chorus, myriads strong, in a
chromatic scale that sang but faintly of the open country. There were
palpable miles of wilderness, and none other lodge but this, yet the
psychological necessity for escape was stronger in Vanheimert than the
bodily reluctance to leave the insecure security of the bushrangers'
encampment. He was their prisoner, whatever they might say, and the
sense of captivity was intolerable; besides, let them but surprise his
knowledge of their secret, and they would shoot him like a dog. On the
other hand, beyond the forest and along the beaten track lay fame and a
fortune in direct reward.

Before departure Vanheimert wished to peep into the other tent, but its
open end was completely covered in for the night, and prudence forbade
him to meddle with his hands. He had an even keener desire to steal one
or other of the horses which he had seen before nightfall tethered in
the scrub; but here again he lacked enterprise, fancied the saddles must
be in Stingaree's tent, and shrank from committing himself to an action
which nothing, in the event of disaster, could explain away. On foot he
need not put himself in the wrong, even with villains ready to suspect
that he suspected them.

And on foot he went, indeed on tiptoe till the edge of the