nter's and Kullers' picks drawing nearer. They would strike
his tunnel at right angles. Both parties worked long hours, only
knocking off to fry a bit of steak in the pan, boil the billy, and throw
themselves dressed on their bunks to get a few hours' sleep. Pinter had
practical experience and a line clear of graves, and he made good time.
The two parties now found it more comfortable to be not on speaking
terms. Individually they grew furtive, and began to feel criminal
like--at least Dave and Jim did. They'd start if a horse stumbled
through the Bush, and expected to see a mounted policeman ride up at
any moment and hear him ask questions. They had driven about thirty-five
feet when, one Saturday afternoon, the strain became too great, and Dave
and Jim got drunk. The spree lasted over Sunday, and on Monday morning
they felt too shaky to come to work and had more drink. On Monday
afternoon, Kullers, whose shift it was below, stuck his pick through the
face of his drive into the wall of Dave's, about four feet from the end
of it: the clay flaked away, leaving a hole as big as a wash-hand basin.
They knocked off for the day and decided to let the other party take the
offensive.

Tuesday morning Dave and Jim came to work, still feeling shaky. Jim
went below, crawled along the drive, lit his candle, and stuck it in the
spiked iron socket and the spike in the wall of the drive, quite close
to the hole, without noticing either the hole or the increased freshness
in the air. He started picking away at the 'face' and scraping the clay
back from under his feet, and didn't hear Kullers come to work. Kullers
came in softly and decided to try a bit of cheerful bluff. He stuck his
great round black face through the hole, the whites of his eyes rolling
horribly in the candle-light, and said, with a deep guffaw--

''Ullo! you dar'?'

No bandicoot ever went into his hole with the dogs after him quicker
than Jim came out of his. He scrambled up the shaft by the foot-holes,
and sat on the edge of the waste-heap, looking very pale.

'What's the matter?' asked Dave. 'Have you seen a ghost?'

'I've seen the--the devil!' gasped Jim. 'I'm--I'm done with this here
ghoul business.'

The parties got on speaking terms again. Dave was very warm, but Jim's
language was worse. Pinter scratched his chin-feathers reflectively till
the other party cooled. There was no appealing to the Commissioner for
goldfields; they were outside all law, wheth