hunter or rancher, and the multitude of gophers that
had burrowed under its rotting sills. The glass was gone from a
single window looking out upon the road; the door had fallen from its
hinges; the floor had been broken down in spots by the hoofs of
wandering cattle. A match revealed a lantern hanging on the wall, and
a few cooking utensils, safe from all marauders under the unwritten
law of the new land.

The two men first made their horses comfortable, and then cooked some
supper on a little fire at the door of the shack. Harris was tired,
so they cleared a space in the corner furthest from the door, and
spread their blankets there. Harris lay down to rest, the precious
bag of money by his side.

"You might as well drop off for a nap," Allan suggested. "They must
have been delayed, and may not make it to-night at all. We're here
for the night, and you may as well rest if you can. I won't turn in
myself until you waken."

"I believe I'll do as you say," his father agreed. "Keep a keen ear
an' don't leave the building without wakin' me."

Allan looked out at different times for Gardiner and Riles, but there
seemed no sound in all the world save the rushing of water. A cold
draught crept along the floor...He fancied his father had fallen into
a nap...The night chill deepened, and at length Allan hung a blanket
as best he could across the open door. His gun gave him a sense of
companionship, and he took it in his hands and sat down beside his
father...It was very lean and graceful in his fingers.

While the banker worked in his garden in the long August evening the
thought of the two men with a bag full of money kept recurring and
recurring in his mind, and smothering the natural pride he felt in
his abounding cabbages. True, it was no business of his, but still he
could not feel entirely at ease. As he bent over his hoe he heard
hoofs clatter in the street, and, looking up, saw the erect form of
Sergeant Grey on his well-groomed Government horse. At a signal from
the banker the policeman drew up beside the fence.

They talked in low voices for ten minutes. "It may be a wild-goose
chase," said the sergeant at last, "but it's worth a try." Half an
hour later his horse was swinging in his long, steady stride up the
road by the winding river.

CHAPTER XVI

THE HONOUR OF THIEVES

Gardiner and Riles rode only a short distance out of town, then
turned their horses into the deep bush, and waited. The after