anyway, even if
she is a sensible woman, we've got a dead mate to consider as well as a
living woman.'

'But she's sure to hear the truth sooner or later,' I said, 'the Boss
was so well known.'

'And that's just the reason why the truth might be kept from her,' said
Andy. 'If he wasn't well known--and nobody could help liking him, after
all, when he was straight--if he wasn't so well known the truth might
leak out unawares. She won't know if I can help it, or at least not yet
a while. If I see any chaps that come from the North I'll put them up
to it. I'll tell M'Grath, the publican at Solong, too: he's a straight
man--he'll keep his ears open and warn chaps. One of Mrs Baker's sisters
is staying with her, and I'll give her a hint so that she can warn off
any women that might get hold of a yarn. Besides, Mrs Baker is sure to
go and live in Sydney, where all her people are--she was a Sydney girl;
and she's not likely to meet any one there that will tell her the truth.
I can tell her that it was the last wish of the Boss that she should
shift to Sydney.'

We smoked and thought a while, and by-and-by Andy had what he called a
'happy thought'. He went to his saddle-bags and got out the small canvas
packet that Ned had given him: it was sewn up with packing-thread, and
Andy ripped it open with his pocket-knife.

'What are you doing, Andy?' I asked.

'Ned's an innocent old fool, as far as sin is concerned,' said Andy. 'I
guess he hasn't looked through the Boss's letters, and I'm just going to
see that there's nothing here that will make liars of us.'

He looked through the letters and papers by the light of the fire. There
were some letters from Mrs Baker to her husband, also a portrait of her
and the children; these Andy put aside. But there were other letters
from barmaids and women who were not fit to be seen in the same street
with the Boss's wife; and there were portraits--one or two flash ones.
There were two letters from other men's wives too.

'And one of those men, at least, was an old mate of his!' said Andy, in
a tone of disgust.

He threw the lot into the fire; then he went through the Boss's
pocket-book and tore out some leaves that had notes and addresses on
them, and burnt them too. Then he sewed up the packet again and put it
away in his saddle-bag.

'Such is life!' said Andy, with a yawn that might have been half a sigh.

We rode into Solong early in the day, turned our horses out in a
paddock, a