wanted to look at anybody.

When he rode up to the yard everybody stared at him, and one or two of
the diggers laughed and began to call out 'Joe.' Jim and I thought how
sold some of them would have been if he turned on them and they'd found
out who it was. However, he pushed up to the auctioneer, without looking
out right or left, and drawled--

'May I--er--ask if you are Mr.--er--Joseph Stevenson?'

'I'm Joe Stevenson,' says the auctioneer. 'What can I do for you?'

'Oh!--a--here is a letter from my friend, Mr. Bernard Muldoon, of
the Lower Macquarie--er--requesting you to sell these horses faw him;
and--er--hand over the pwoceeds to--er--me--Mr. Augustus Gwanby--aw!'

Stevenson read the letter, nodded his head, said, 'All right; I'll
attend to it,' and went on with the sale.

It didn't take long to sell our colts. There were some draught stock
to come afterwards, and Joe had a day's work before him. But ours sold
well. There had not been anything like this for size, quality, and
condition. The Commissioner sent down and bought one. The Inspector of
Police was there, and bought one recommended by Starlight. They fetched
high prices, from fifty to eighty-five guineas, and they came to a
fairish figure the lot.

When the last horse was sold, Starlight says, 'I feel personally obliged
to you, Mr.--aw--Stevenson--faw the highly satisfactory manner in which
you have conducted the sale, and I shall inform my friend, Mr. Muldoon,
of the way you have sold his stock.'

'Much obliged, sir,' says Joe, touching his hat. 'Come inside and I'll
give you the cheque.'

'Quite unnecessary now,' says Starlight; 'but as I'm acting for a
friend, it may be as well.'

We saw him pocket the cheque, and ride slowly over to the bank, which
was half-tent, half-bark hut.

We didn't think it safe to stay on the Turon an hour longer than we were
forced to do. We had seen the diggings, and got a good notion of what
the whole thing was like; sold the horses and got the money, that was
the principal thing. Nothing for it now but to get back to the Hollow.
Something would be sure to be said about the horses being sold, and
when it came out that they were not Muldoon's there would be a great
flare-up. Still they could not prove that the horses were stolen. There
wasn't a wrong brand or a faked one in the lot. And no one could swear
to a single head of them, though the whole lot were come by on the
cross, and father could have told who own