chaps, in this bar
to-day, called Macquarie a scoundrel, and a loafer, and a blackguard,
and--and a sneak and a liar."

"Well, what if we did?" said Barcoo, defiantly. "He's all that, and a
cheat into the bargain. And now, what are you going to do about it?"

The old man swung sideways to the bar, rested his elbow on it, and his
head on his hand.

"Macquarie wasn't a sneak and he wasn't a liar," he said, in a quiet,
tired tone; "and Macquarie wasn't a cheat!"

"Well, old man, you needn't get your rag out about it," said Sally
Thompson, soothingly. "P'r'aps we was a bit too hard on him; and it
isn't altogether right, chaps, considerin' he's not here. But, then, you
know, Awful, he might have acted straight to you that was his mate. The
meanest blank--if he is a man at all--will do that."

"Oh, to blazes with the old sot!" shouted Barcoo. "I gave my opinion
about Macquarie, and, what's more, I'll stand to it."

"I've got--I've got a point for the defence," the old man went on,
without heeding the interruptions. "I've got a point or two for the
defence."

"Well, let's have it," said Stiffner.

"In the first place--in the first place, Macquarie never talked about no
man behind his back."

There was an uneasy movement, and a painful silence. Barcoo reached
for his drink and drank slowly; he needed time to think--Box-o'-Tricks
studied his boots--Sally Thompson looked out at the weather--the
shanty-keeper wiped the top of the bar very hard--and the rest shifted
round and "s'posed they'd try a game er cards."

Barcoo set his glass down very softly, pocketed his hands deeply and
defiantly, and said:

"Well, what of that? Macquarie was as strong as a bull, and the greatest
bully on the river into the bargain. He could call a man a liar to his
face--and smash his face afterwards. And he did it often, too, and with
smaller men than himself."

There was a breath of relief in the bar.

"Do you want to make out that I'm talking about a man behind his back?"
continued Barcoo, threateningly, to Awful Example. "You'd best take
care, old man."

"Macquarie wasn't a coward," remonstrated the drunkard, softly, but in
an injured tone.

"What's up with you, anyway?" yelled the publican. "What yer growling
at? D'ye want a row? Get out if yer can't be agreeable!"

The boozer swung his back to the bar, hooked himself on by his elbows,
and looked vacantly out of the door.

"I've got--another point for the defence," he mutter