"They'll think we've stopped, and it may keep them back for a bit," Jack whispered.

The Shadow nodded comprehensively. It had come as a shock to him that this new chum companion of his should have thought of the simple plan first, and he felt somewhat aggrieved in consequence. Surely enough the yells of the natives seemed to recede into the distance; the silence of the bells had certainly confused them.

"They'll be with us in a jiff," calmly said the Shadow, as they entered the scrub, in which prognostication he was quite correct.

A chorus of fiercer yells than before suddenly broke upon the still air, then came the angry beating of spears upon shields, and the pat-pat of many feet on the sand. But now came another unexpected diversion. Away in the distance a heavy report boomed out; again and again the thunderous echoes of exploding cordite crashed through the night.

The Shadow chuckled long and joyously. "That's Mackay's new rifle," he said. "I would know the crack of it anywhere."

Other and varying discharges quickly followed, making it plain that the entire community at Golden Flat had grown alarmed at the prolonged absence of the boys, and were signalling in order to guide their return in the darkness. The yelling horde at the first ominous sound had ceased their clamour, but soon they broke out afresh and with renewed energy. They meant to make one more effort to recover their prize before it was hopelessly beyond their reach. With appalling shouts they quickly drew near.

"It's hard luck to be forced to clear out now," complained Jack, marvelling much at his companion's unsubdued joy.

That wily youth quietly unhitched the bells from the necks of the three leading camels.

"I think we'll best the niggers after all, Jack," he said. "I wasn't exactly willing to let you risk it before; but you can steer by the gunshots, can't you?"

"Of course," replied Jack, clutching at the nose-rope of Misery which the Shadow had relinquished.

"Well, you take the team into camp, and I'll run the niggers a bit o' a circus dance." He was gone at once, but not an instant too soon; the blacks were already within a hundred yards of them.

Jack continued his course guided by the reports which now rang out at regular intervals, and he smiled quietly to himself when a confused jangle of bells sounded away to the southward, and his smile developed into a hearty laugh when, with howls presumably of delight, the warrior band stampeded in that direction.

"I think the Shadow knows how to take care of himself," he reflected contentedly, as he continued his course in peace.

The Shadow's trick was certainly effective. It was also risky, but that feature seemed rather enjoyable than otherwise to the impetuous young Australian. Far to the south he sped, jangling the bells at intervals to draw his pursuers on, and when their noisy yelling sounded too close for his liking, he silenced the tell-tale alarms and veered off in a different direction, always taking care to work in towards the camp. A veritable will-o'-the-wisp he was, and the baffled natives soon tired of their hopeless chase, no doubt marvelling much at the extraordinary activity shown by the fleeing camel train!

At the camp considerable consternation was felt over the non-return of the camel hunters. They had been gone over two hours, before Mackay ventured to express his fears for their safety.

"The Shadow must have got twisted in his bearings," he said. "The bells were within a couple o' miles off when they started, and they seem to have gone further away instead o' comin' nearer."

"Mebbe the cantankerous brutes bolted," suggested Nuggety Dick. "The Shadow couldn't bush hissel' in creation wi' the old Cross showin' in the sky."

So, indeed, they all thought, but each of them felt strangely anxious nevertheless, and when Mackay fetched his rifle from his tent and began to blaze away methodically, they were not long in following his lead. The bells had been some time out of range when the first shot was fired, but suddenly their harsh jangling burst afresh on their ears, and to their surprise and dismay they seemed to be heading towards the south.

"Keep your popguns going," said Mackay. "The Shadow must have lost his nerve and got slewed."

So was the young bushman condemned and abused while he pursued his erratic course, and Jack came in for more sympathy than he would have appreciated had he been within hearing.

"What in thunder can the howlin' idiot mean by zig-zagging like that?" exclaimed Never Never Dave, listening to the intermittent peals of the bells with deep concern. Then faintly over the mulga scrub came the yells of the discomfited blacks, and at once Golden Flat camp was aroused to strenuous action; scarcely a word was spoken, each man gripped his rifle, and almost as one body, they made a wild burst in the direction from which the alarming sounds had come. And Bob, though almost in a high fever from the effects of the wound in his head, entirely forgot his weakness, and kept pace with Mackay.

Silent and grim, like a raging Nemesis, the small company hurried on their vengeful way; but they had not gone far when they became aware of a slight commotion in the bush directly in their path, and almost before they could realize it, the great hulking forms of the camels loomed out through the darkness, with Jack at their head.

"Well, I'll be kicked! And why isn't ye slaughtered, young feller?" demanded Nuggety Dick, in helpless amazement. "We never dreamt o' seein' ye alive again——"

"Where's the Shadow, Jack?" interrupted Mackay.

Jack laughed. "He's acting decoy for the blacks," he said.

The big man seemed to tremble with suppressed emotion.

"And I was blaming him for getting bushed!" he said, in a tone of deep self-reproach.

A harsh jangle of bells close at hand interrupted further speech, and a cheery voice spoke from the gloom.

"Say, boss, ye needn't ever be skeerd 'bout me gettin' bushed; but them camel bells are mighty heavy, an' I'm just about blown out waltzing them around."

The Shadow approached, gave the bells a final shake, then flung them with a clatter to the ground. A few words served to explain matters, and it was with a feeling of devout thankfulness that the party returned slowly to camp.

"You must never run risks like that again, my laddies," Mackay admonished quietly, in the midst of the general rejoicings over the plucky rescue of the camel train.

"Jack and me didn't take no risks," came the gay reply. "We always knew by their howling when the beggars were coming too close. It's been a grand picnic for us both, hasn't it, Jack?"

"I wouldn't have missed it for anything," answered Jack, with a chuckle of keen delight.

CHAPTER V The Rush at Golden Flat

Dead Broke Dan had been gone a week from Golden Flat on his errand for stores, and in this time the extent of the "pay gravel" in the different mines had been fairly accurately estimated. Developments all along the line proved the existence of a rich but limited layer of the gold-carrying wash from end to end of the workings. At the Golden Promise mine the auriferous deposit, as had been anticipated, had occurred in a considerably deeper drift than in any of the others, the reason of course, being in accordance with Bob's theory that the sudden uprise of the old channel would cause an accumulation of the wash directly on the incline, and so it had happened; the thickness of the stratum was here nearly four feet, or almost twice that in all the other claims. Beyond this, however, no direct trace of the ancient waterway could be discovered; a broad lagoon-like mass of the tantalizing clay which had so mystified Emu Bill intervened, sparkling and gleaming in its deceptive beauty until raised to the surface when it unfailingly relapsed into its muddy, sordid state, to the disgust of all beholders. This odd formation was found to underlie the genuine gold-carrying cement in all the shafts, and its presence provided a topic for much vituperative language.

Until the various chemicals arrived Bob was unable to make any analysis of the much-abused deposit, but he was never tired of examining samples of it, powdering them up and applying the fire test in the hope that whatever refractory gas or element was present, and binding the gold in an invisible state, might be driven off. He never cared to say much concerning the results of these experiments, but that he received undoubted satisfaction from his labours was very evident. He was engaged roasting some of the fine grains of the clay in a crucible when Mackay entered the tent on this morning in search of a pick-handle he had mislaid.

"Well, Bob," said he, "an' are ye gettin' any nearer a solution to that mystery of Nature?"

Bob silently pointed to the crucible on the small Primus stove from which dense yellow fumes were issuing.

"Smell that," he said.

Mackay sniffed right heartily, and nearly choked in consequence.

"An' what sort o' a perfume do ye call that?" he demanded, when he had regained his composure.

"Chlorine," smilingly returned the chemist. "The clay is soaked in it, and any text-book will tell you that chlorine has a great affinity for gold."

Mackay became interested at once. "Let me hear your line o' argument, Bob," he grunted. "This is a matter o' vera considerable importance, an' I'll be the last to discourage ye in your efforts."

Bob smiled just a trifle sadly. "I haven't been able to work in the shaft for a week," he began.

"An' ye'll no work in the shaft until that head o' yours is richt better," interrupted Mackay. "I'm no' so sure," he continued, "whether I should alloo ye to worry as you're doin' aboot that wretched stuff."

The young man looked gratefully at the speaker, then turned his gaze once more to the smoking crucible.

"I think I have discovered how to treat it," he said slowly. "The chlorine must be brought into contact with another gas offering a greater affinity than gold: on their combination the gold will be set free in a metallic state, and can be saved in the ordinary way. All we have to do is to pump hydrogen gas into a vat containing a solution of the clayey mixture, keep emptying off the slimes, and in time the residue must be a highly concentrated gold wash. It's not very difficult, is it? I only need those acids to prove the practical working of the scheme."

Mackay remained silent for a moment, apparently deep in thought.

"You'll do it, Bob," he broke out eagerly. "Dead Broke should be back wi' the acids any time now, an' you'll be able to finish your tests; but I hae no doubt ye'll accomplish what we all wish, an' ye'll deserve your reward, my laddie."

About noon of the same day Dead Broke Dan was sighted in the distance, returning with the camel team, much to the relief of all in camp, for he was already a full day overdue.

"I was a bit skeert that ole Dead Broke had anchored himself in the township," growled Nuggety Dick, as they all congregated at his shaft to watch the lumbering train approach.

"If he drove the animals like that all the way," hazarded Never Never Dave, "he could hiv been here two days ago. Why, the old heathen is forcing the pace."

The camels were certainly travelling at an unusually rapid rate; heavily laden as they were, they were actually ambling over the sand, and old Dead Broke Dan was running energetically alongside, plying his long whip with a will.

"I can't make it out," said Mackay. "Dead Broke knows well enough that it's dangerous to rush those brutes in that fashion. There must be something wrong."

Something apparently was wrong, for when the great hulking beasts staggered into camp, their flanks were heaving convulsively, and their mouths were flecked with foam. Their driver, too, seemed in the last stage of collapse.

"There's a rush comin', mates," he panted. "Macguire's gang followed me out from Kalgoorlie. I tried to shake them off an' doubled back on my own tracks, but they've got horses and buggies, an' I couldn't lose them, no matter how I dodged. They camped less'n a mile from me last night; but I didn't unload the camels, an' scooted about one o'clock in the morning so as to get in ahead to tell you."

"We couldn't have kept it quiet much longer anyhow, boys," said Nuggety Dick. "An' I don't think we'd have minded a decent crowd comin' to the flat, but Macguire's a holy terror, and his gang are a tough party to handle."

"There's one howlin' satisfaction, mates," laughed Emu Bill. "They'll get nothin' but that miserable miradgy clay outside our pegs. I kin just fancy I hear Macguire's words when he sees his gold vanish." He grinned delightedly at the thought.

Mackay did not say much, he knew that a rush was inevitable, but Macguire was not exactly the kind of man he would care to have as a near neighbour. He was a noted bully, card-sharper, and mine-jumper, though he ostensibly kept an hotel in the township where men of a similar fraternity were wont to congregate.

"How many are in the crowd, Dead Broke?" he asked.

"'Bout a dozen, I calc'late."

"And we are only eight," mused Mackay.

"You don't think the sneakin' thief will try to jump this here circus?" ejaculated Nuggety Dick.

"You may just bet your boots the same individual'll no work himsel' if he can find it already done for him," came the answer. "I shouldna wonder a bit if we have some trouble. What are you grinning at, you young baboon?" he demanded, turning to the Shadow, who appeared to find much cause for merriment in the doubtful state of things.

The Shadow subsided at once. "Man boss," he complained reproachfully, "does ye think we is a gentle little Sunday-school party, just waiting to be swallowed?"

Mackay snorted in disgust. "If it werena for these laddies," he said to himself, "I would dearly enjoy a scrimmage; but I seem to have become mair cautious since they've been wi' me. It's no richt that they should see the wickedness o' human nature in its worst aspect a' at aince."

"I see them coming!" cried Bob, who was scanning the horizon closely, and a dim sand cloud in the far eastward distance was sure enough evidence that the rush would ere long be in their midst. Soon the various outlines of horsemen and buggies could be traced amid the enveloping dust; quickly the frenzied gold-seekers drew near, and wild halloos mingled with the cracking of whips, and the laboured plunging of horses' hoofs on the ironshot sand plain. Ahead of the main party, mounted on a powerful bay horse, which he was cruelly spurring on to its last effort, rode Macguire, a tall, awkward brute of a man, whose heavy countenance as he came near, bore the exulting leer of the professional braggart and bully. At a mad gallop he forced his jaded beast right up to Nuggety Dick's shaft, then halted with a vicious jerk on the curb rein, and surveyed the awaiting group with a triumphant grin.

"So you thought you were goin' to run this show yourselves," he sneered from his position in the saddle.

"I guess you've struck it plumb first shot," calmly returned Emu Bill, rolling his quid in his mouth with evident relish, and ejecting a streak of tobacco juice which came dangerously near to finding a resting-place on the new-comer's boots.

Macguire snarled, and looked round to see if his satellites were near at hand, and, noting their close proximity, he jumped from his horse, threw the reins carelessly over a mulga sapling, and examined the stacked wash on the surface with unconcealed joy.

"An' who was the discoverer o' this bonanza?" he demanded, aggressively, addressing every one in general.

Nuggety Dick gave a snort of annoyance. "For a mean impertinent swab ye beat anything I've ever met," said he, in his politest tones. "An' if ye doesn't take yer miserable carcase clear o' my pegs instanter, ye'll find what ye're lookin' for in about two shakes o' a muskittie's eyelid."

At that moment the rest of Macguire's Rush appeared on the scene, and with boisterous laughter hurried to range themselves by their chief's side. They were a motley crew, comprising the very worst product of the goldfields, and they glared at the owners of Golden Flat with uncontrolled malevolence. Macguire eyed his choice associates with satisfaction, before responding to Nuggety Dick's peremptory request, then he turned the flood-gates of his wrath loose on that amiable gentleman, who listened with dangerous sang froid. War was certainly imminent, but before the actual outbreak had occurred, Mackay left his position beside Jack, and stepped forward.

"This is my quarrel, Nuggety," said he. "The gentleman was looking for the discoverer o' the flat, an' I should be sorry if he went away before makin' my acquaintance."

The tone was quiet almost to mildness, and Jack and Bob marvelled much thereat; but the Shadow laughed softly to himself.

"Oh, it was you, was it?" blustered Macguire. "An' why in thunder didn't ye report to me? We might have come peaceably at first, but now we mean to boost ye out of it. I know ye hasn't registered yer find, for I has watched the Warden's office ever since you an' them youngsters passed through the township, an' there's been no notices posted. Now I calc'late we'll just begin where you leave off, an' we are obliged to ye for doin' so much work for us. Ain't that right, boys?"

A yell of approbation greeted his words.

"You've made a vera serious error," said Mackay, with unruffled serenity. "You've neglected to consider that we keep guns in camp, an' there's twa or three o' them lookin' at ye now. Furthermore, we were just dyin' for a scrimmage when you popped your ugly head along, an', though ye beat us by two in numbers, I dinna just feel tremblin' wi' anxiety over the finish o' the circus. No, no, Macguire, ye canna bluff this crowd——"

"Does ye know who I am?" howled Macguire. "I'm the champion bruiser o' the fields, I is."

"And ye look it every time," retorted Mackay. "But before we gang in for wholesale bloodshed, we'd better settle our personal differences. I hae objected strongly to your unmannerly inceevility——"

"Ho! ho! ho!" roared the bruiser, rolling up his shirt-sleeves with professional exactitude. "Now, boys, the funeral is off until I knock this rooster out."

"Right O!" came the ready response from the hired ruffians, who never doubted for a moment the all-conquering prowess of their chief.

Nuggety Dick, Emu Bill, Jack, the Shadow, and Bob, quietly ranged themselves on one side, their hands gripping the butts of the revolvers in their belts. In the near distance, beyond the windlass, with rifles resting on the timber for greater steadiness, Never Never Dave and Dead Broke Dan kept the deadly tubes gazing at Macguire's band, much to these warriors' disquietude. It had been Mackay's idea to have them thus prepared; the wisdom of it was already clearly evidenced.

And now Bob and Jack trembled for the safety of their friend. Macguire was both taller and broader than Mackay, and his short bull neck and bloated features gave him a decidedly repulsive appearance. But to their astonishment Mackay's face betrayed not the slightest trace of concern, though his eyes shone with a strange light. He had taken upon himself the battle of the entire camp, and he knew it.

With a yell Macguire rushed to the attack, and his right hand lunged ponderously forward, only to find itself warded lightly aside. Wildly he attempted to guard with his left; but Mackay's blow came like a lightning stroke, straight from the shoulder, and was not to be denied. Macguire staggered under the shock of the concussion, but recovered himself, and with savage rage struck blindly again and again at his antagonist's head, only to find his great fists beat the empty air. Mackay simply warded off the vain strokes, and stood his ground, a grim smile beginning to dawn on his features. He had discovered the weakness of his opponent; Macguire's strength was his whole support—one of his terrible blows would have proved fatal to most men—and so had his reputation grown! But Mackay's anger burned fierce within him, and he waited his chance; it soon came. Macguire, aroused to an extraordinary pitch of ferocity, made again a desperate swinging stroke at his enemy's head with the usual futile result; but ere he could recover from the impetus of his foolish action Mackay's great fists caught him full in the face, one after the other, with a force that hurled the bully over in the sand. But all was not over yet; the bruiser had evidently no lack of animal courage. He picked himself up slowly, peered through his fast closing eyes to locate his enemy, and leaped like a demoniacal savage once more to the fray. Disdaining to strike the half-blind wretch, Mackay stood unmoved, and so gave the cunning trickster the chance he desired. The long, octopus arms of Macguire gripped him tight, and his breath spurted forth in fierce gasps. A groan of dismay broke from Jack, and a yell of delight from Macguire's supporters greeted this action. Now, indeed, it was to be a trial of strength. Backwards and forwards they swayed, bending, twisting, writhing, stumbling, but through it all the Shadow noticed with joy how gradually, yet surely, Mackay's brawny arms were tightening over the great bulk of his antagonist. For a moment there was a lull, the crucial point had come, and the combatants stood immovable; the muscles of Mackay's arms strained out like whipcords. Crack! crack! something seemed to have given way. Mackay relaxed his hold, and with a groan and a shiver the towering form of Macguire subsided in the sand and lay inert. Both sides had watched the last struggle of the giants with breathless interest; and the final collapse of Macguire aroused from his supporters only a hushed exclamation of awe. The victor stepped forward to them at once.

"Now, boys," he said pleasantly, "if you like, we'll begin the circus. Your leader has got a couple or so ribs broken, so you'd better not count on him much——"

"No! no!" they shouted in unison; and one of them, constituting himself spokesman for the party, gave vent to their impressions.

"After that," he said weakly, "we don't want no more fight. Let us peg alongside somewheres. We promise to act straight with you."

A shuddering murmur of approval followed his words. Mackay had indeed done battle for the entire camp that day.

Then the Shadow broke out. "Didn't I tell you, Jack?" cried he, prancing around gleefully.

"By the Great Howlin' Billy, I've never seen a fight like that—no, never," impressively spoke Never Never, coming forward.

Neither Bob nor Jack said a word, their hearts seemed too full for speech; but Mackay guessed their thoughts.

"It had to be done, my laddies," said he, kindly. "I thought my fighting days were over; but it wasna to be—it wasna to be."

After that order reigned. Some of Macguire's gang sullenly went off to peg out claims beyond the Golden Promise Mine; others busied themselves erecting a huge tent into which their fallen chief was carried, groaning and cursing by turns. Then the holders of Golden Flat returned to their labours with buoyant energy, and continued excavating the golden wash as if nothing untoward had happened to mar the even tenor of their way. Bob having received the acids he had so eagerly awaited, was soon lost in the mazes of calculative experiments beside his crucibles and test-tubes. The Shadow and Jack slogged away with steady persistency at the bottom of the shaft. Mackay calmly smoked the pipe of peace at the windlass head, now and again breaking out into unmelodious song to the great discomfort of all within hearing distance. Indeed, since his desperate encounter he seemed to have become unusually cheerful; and Bob, hearing the distracting strains, laughed softly to himself and pondered deeply on this further illustration of a many-sided nature. That evening, however, he was destined to be further surprised, for Mackay, having finished his tea, went quietly to a small mysterious-looking box which he kept under his bunk, and which neither of the boys had ever seen him open before, and from a recess within the lid he extracted—a flute.

"Heavens!" feebly murmured the Shadow, who was present, glaring at the instrument with exaggerated horror.

Jack laughed outright, but checked himself suddenly when the big man began to play. Never had he heard sweeter music; the mellow notes rang out with exceeding softness as the great and somewhat battered fingers of the musician strayed over the keys. No paltry tune was this, no music-hall ditty; it was the "Miserere" from Il Trovatore he played, and with such haunting sweetness that Bob rubbed his eyes and looked at him in amazement. It was no joke, then, this strange man's professed love of music, and his thoughts went back to the evening they had spent in London. The last long-drawn-out note trembled to a finish; and Mackay's voice broke in on his reverie.

"What do you think o' that, Bob?"

"It was beautiful," said Bob, soberly.

"Ah, my ain whustle canna compare wi' the flute," sighed Mackay, dolorously, applying his mouth once more to his treasure. Then he hesitated. "I think I'll play ye that bonnie tune we heard at the Queen's Hall," said he, reflectively. "D'ye mind what it was, Jack?"

"Of course I do," responded that youth, with alacrity. "It was 'Home, Sweet Home!'"

The questioner looked grieved. "That sang doesna come into my repertoire when I'm oot in the bush," he reproved sternly.

"You meant, 'Lo, hear the gentle lark,'" said Bob.

The flautist nodded. "One, two, three, and off she goes," said he; and at once the liquid strains of Bishop's wonderful music echoed through the tent, with its trills and cadenzas, and with, it must be confessed, many variations from the original melody. Ere he had finished nearly all the camp were clustered at the door; even Macguire's party was represented. Then the spell was broken. Evidently the volume of sound created by the flute did not quite satisfy the player's desire for a fuller burden of song. He laid down the flute. "Watch me catch that top note," said he, and, with grim desperation, he opened his mouth and began, "'Lo! hear the gentle la-a-a-a-ark——'"

A yell of horror from the doorway, and a sudden trampling of feet intimated that the bulk of his audience had taken flight. The Shadow squirmed in agony, Jack shuddered, and Bob looked pained.

"Ah, weel," grunted the singer apologetically, pausing in his valiant effort, "I couldna expect ye to appreciate such vera high-class music, but haud on a bit an' I'll gie ye a verse o' my ain construction, set to music o' my vera ain composition; it is called 'The Muskittie's Lament.'"

Straightway he started, and bellowed out this touching little story, in a voice so raucous that even the parrots fluttering in the scrub around screamed out noisily in protest.[A] When he had finished, the Shadow and Jack had vanished, and Bob alone was left to thank him as best he could.

But he was happily spared this call on his prevaricative powers, for the vocalist did not give him an opportunity of expressing his opinion.

"Ye dinna look exactly overjoyed wi' my singin'," said he, quizzically, "but ye must admit it's vera effective."

Bob laughed, but did not venture to disagree.

"Ay," continued Mackay, with a chuckle, "my voice has wonderfu' movin' powers, though, like my whustle, it's mebbe a wee bit trying at close quarters." He proceeded to the box once more, and, to Bob's surprise, extricated a sextant from its depths. He gazed at it tenderly for a few moments, then handed it to his companion, who seized it eagerly, and examined it with deep interest. It was an instrument which had, apparently, seen considerable service, for the handle was grooved by much fingering, and the lacquer on the framework was blistered by the sun's rays, and altogether bare in places. But the silvered arc itself was in perfect condition, and the thin coating of vaseline over it showed that its present owner knew how to take care of the delicate fabric. Mackay gazed curiously on during the young man's work of inspection. It was almost dark now in the tent, the last glimmering rays of the setting sun alighted on the reflecting glasses of the sextant and danced thereon joyously for a moment, then the heavy gloom of night fell, and still Bob clutched the symbol of his unuttered desire, while Mackay seemed wrapt in silent meditation. At length the elder man spoke.

"That was the chief's sextant, Bob," said he, gravely. "It was the only thing I found near the camp where he and his expedition were murdered."

"I almost guessed that," answered Bob; then he hesitated. "I wish you would let me try an observation with it," he concluded with earnestness.

"Let you?" cried Mackay. "I want you to do it. Do ye remember," he continued musingly, "o' me sending you a book on navigation; well, that was because I wanted to influence your studies in that direction. I canna say whether I have succeeded or no'——"

Bob laughed grimly. "My father was a sailor," said he. "His brother was a navigator; and I—I would dearly like to be able to steer a course as well."

"My lad," said Mackay, "you'll maybe get your wish sooner than you expect. I brought out the sextant just to sound you, for nae man can say that Mackay persuaded him against his will; but I see that the same blood runs in the family. Take the sextant, Bob; I give it to you, though it is my dearest possession. Handle it carefully; it has proved true on mony a long weary journey. But mind, I may ask ye to use it in earnest soon."

Without another word he arose and walked from the tent, leaving Bob alone in the darkness, his mind filled with rushing thoughts. When Jack came in, about half an hour later, and lit a candle, he found him in the same place. Truly the touch of the mystic emblem had aroused in him the uncontrollable indefinite longing which is the sure birthright of the wanderer. The call of the bush seemed to echo through his brain, the boundless horizon beckoned him.

Jack's entry helped to throw off the spell which had gripped him. He arose and placed the sextant carefully back in its case beside the flute.

"What on earth is that, Bob?" asked Jack, anxiously. "Not another musical instrument, surely."

"We'll have a look at it to-morrow, Jack," answered Bob. "It's a sextant which Mackay has given me."

"Great Scot!" ejaculated the irrepressible youth, "can he use a sextant too?"

Bob smiled. "I don't know," said he, "but I wouldn't be too sure."

"He is a regular daisy," commented Jack, enthusiastically. "Why, up at Nuggety's camp, he's explaining to them the theories of music, and I'm hanged if he hasn't got them half convinced that it is their uncultivated ear that is at fault when they don't appreciate his singing."

A commotion from without the tent interrupted them, and the Shadow's voice shouted loudly on Jack.

"I've just rounded up a real beauty o' a snake at my camp," said he, when they appeared. "Come along, an' I'll show ye how to crack him like a whip." And the three departed.

On the following morning Macguire's followers considered it advisable that their damaged leader should be taken, without further delay, to the township hospital, and shortly after daybreak a buggy and a couple of horses were waiting in readiness for the journey. This sudden decision on the matter was by no means agreeable to Mackay, and he hastily called a meeting of the claim-holders in order to state his fears.

"You know, boys," said he, "we've never registered these mines at the Warden's office, as that bully Macguire seems to know, an' our miners' rights are only good enough so long as we are the strongest party."

"Well, we don't need to try and keep the Flat a secret now," growled Emu Bill. "We're bound to have half Kalgoorlie alongside us in a day or so."

"Ye don't seem to catch on to our difficulty, boys," continued Mackay. "If Macguire gets into the Warden's office first, he can simply register these mines in his own ugly name, along wi' his partners, of course, an' then, all they've got to do is swear we jumped them, an' we'll get fired out o' our own claims wi' a squad o' mounted police!"

Simple and open-minded bushmen, they had never thought of this.

"By Jupiter! I believe you're right," cried old Dead Broke Dan.

"But what in thunder is we to do?" complained Nuggety Dick. "If we had a horse we could beat him; but the camels are too mighty slow."

"Ah, now you've struck it," agreed Mackay. "But ye must remember it's a seventy-mile dry stretch from here to Kalgoorlie, an' their horses are pretty well knocked up now. It should take them a good two days to do it, even if they force for all they're worth."

At this stage the Shadow pushed his way forward. "I knows what Mackay is thinking," said he; "but I'm the man for the job, an' I'm goin' to do it too."

"Do ye think ye could manage, Shad?" asked Mackay, earnestly. "I'm no goin' to mak' a single remark aboot your bushmanship, for you've well proved your abilities in that direction, but, my lad, it's a job for a strong man, an' I meant to tak' it on mysel'."

"Ye doesn't know how powerful I is on the trot," said the lithe young bushman; "an' if it comes to strength, I reckon I is no chicken, either."

He bared his right arm proudly, and showed the swelling muscles which his tattered shirt-sleeve covered.

"Why, what does ye mean to do?" demanded Nuggety, like his near neighbours, somewhat bewildered. "Does ye mean to walk?"

"Give me a water-bag in my fist, and I'll pretty soon show you," came the quick retort. "I'll bet a tug at old Dead Broke's whiskers that I'm in before the buggy all right."

It seemed a hopeless plan, yet, owing to the arid and sandy nature of the country to be traversed, it was not as hopeless as it looked.

"If we let them get away first," said Mackay, "they won't think there's any need to hurry. Go an' swallow as much water as you can, an' get your water-bag primed up to the muzzle. Jack, you'd better make enough sandwiches from that damper of yours to carry the Shadow a couple o' days."

"Couldn't I go too, Shad?" said Jack, anxiously.

"You're a bit too fresh yet, Jack; you'd want too much water," was the sententious reply.

Jack turned away without a word to prepare the sandwiches.

A few minutes later the buggy containing Macguire and one of his chosen associates drove up, and stopped opposite the party, so that the departing bully might get rid of some of his vituperative eloquence. When he saw Mackay, his raging madness was painful to witness. Clearly his enmity, instead of dissolving, had been magnified tenfold by his humiliation.

"I'll get even with you for this," he yelled, shaking his fist at the object of his fury; "an' ye won't live long before ye knows it too."

Mackay stepped menacingly towards the buggy. "I ought to have killed ye, ye meeserable thief," he said; but the man holding the reins was too terrified to wait longer. With a wild slash of the whip he set the horses plunging madly across the sand on the back track to the township, and Macguire, leaning back with livid face, hurled his last shot.

"This country won't be big enough to hold us two!" he bellowed.

Mackay smiled a hard smile. "Then I reckon ye'd better get out of it while you're healthy," he murmured, as he turned to rejoin his companions.

CHAPTER VI The Shadow's Great Effort

The grinding rush of the wheels in the sand had scarcely died away when the Shadow appeared ready for his journey. He carried a water-bag in his hand, and his meagre commissariat outfit was tied up in a glazed cloth slung over his shoulder. He was not impeded by a superabundance of garments; a torn shirt flung open at the neck, a much frayed soft hat turned down all around the brim to keep the scorching sun from his eyes, and a light pair of much-worn khaki pants, held in position by a narrow belt, completed his sartorial glory. His sockless feet were thrust loosely into shoes that had, by their appearance, seen considerable service; he had chosen them because of their once heavy soles being ground down to comparative lightness. He waited impatiently while Mackay drew out a rough sketch of the mines and their position, which was to give the Warden the necessary information for registration.

"And mind, Shadow," said Mackay, handing him the paper amid an impressive silence, "ye must steer in by the south; it will mean a longer journey, but if you don't go wide o' Macguire to the extent o' five miles or so, he's bound to see you, and you could never hope to get in afore him then."

The Shadow tucked the note carefully away in a lurking corner of his flowing shirt.

"You leave the circus to me, an' don't worry," he said, with a grin. "Ta, ta, boys, I'm off. How's this for the Flying Dutchman?" He set his face to the west and dashed away into the desert at an odd uneven trot.

"He can't keep that up, surely?" said Bob, watching the runner in astonishment.

"I'll bet he jig-jogs like that all day," said Emu Bill. "He's got the real bushman's style o' gettin' over ground, he has."

Mackay watched the fleeing figure doubtfully for a time, then a satisfied look lit up his face as he noted the unerring course the Shadow was making.

"He'll hit the township straight as a die," said he. "That ugly sinner, Macguire, was heading too far to north'ard or I'm very much mistaken."

Macguire's associates at the end of the Flat were now observed to be in a state of considerable confusion. They could not fail to realize that the mission had been dispatched for one purpose, and they glared after the disappearing messenger with anger and dismay on their hardened countenances.

"Keep an eye on them, boys," warned Mackay. "We'll soon know whether we were richt in our ideas."

He walked back to the tent with Bob, and when they arrived there two of the suspected gang approached apparently in deep sorrow.

"Why didn't you give your message to Hawkins?" said one. "Though he's driving Macguire, he'd have done anything you wanted in the township. We doesn't bear no grudge, we don't."

"The fact is, we don't trust you worth a cent," answered Mackay, shortly.

At this stage Emu Bill hurried up in a state of some perturbation. Wholly ignoring the presence of the innocent twain, he burst out—

"There's wan o' them cusses just dodged into the bush carrying a saddle an' bridle!"

At this the protesting pair seemed to realize that their cunning ruse was up.

"An' ye can bet," cried the one who had not yet spoken, "that Harkins'll catch up on the boss afore sundown, an' they'll be in Kalgoorlie by mornin'. He's goin' to ride Macguire's Furious, he is," he snarled triumphantly.

He hopped out of the way just in time to avoid being gripped in the clutches of the man he so wholesomely dreaded; but his neighbour was not quite so alert, and, as he turned to run, a well-directed kick lent impetus to his flight.

"I suppose the skunks'll beat us, after all," said Mackay, grimly, "Their horse bells are sounding quite close. Where's Jack?"

Emu Bill grinned. "I think the young'un anticipated you, Mac," said he. "He vanished into the bush when he noticed the cuss walking off wi' the saddle."

"If he can unhitch the bells and drive the horses north a bit, it'll take friend Harkins a day to find them," grunted Mackay, in great good humour.

"You can rely on Jack," said Bob, decisively; and just then a confused jangling of the horse bells rang out, followed by an absolute stillness.

A few moments later the crackling of the bush in the far distance, and the thudding of many hoofs in the sand, intimated that Jack knew his work to the letter.

"By thunder!" roared Emu Bill, excitedly. "The youngster has taken off their hobbles."

So it turned out. Jack had grasped the situation at once when he saw the man slink off with saddle and bridle in the direction of the horses. His intuitive powers were wonderfully bright, and his actions followed quickly on his thoughts.

"I've got to get there first," he muttered to himself, as he dashed impetuously through the bush.

He found the horses clustered together under the shade of a coolibah tree. Poor animals, their owners had hobbled their forefeet very tightly in order to keep them from straying far, and after vainly trying to find some edible substance amid the inhospitable sands, they huddled together in a piteous group, and bit nervously at the parched eucalyptus twigs over their heads. It was a country for camels only—these wiry brutes can eat anything; but for horses it was a barren wilderness. Jack had no difficulty in approaching them, and he quickly undid their bell straps and flung the noisy tell-tales on the ground, but when he attempted to drive the tired creatures they simply would not move, their hobble straps were too closely fixed to allow of them even making much of an effort. There was little time for delay, already the confident whistle of Harkins sounded perilously near. Jack would have no half measures, unhesitatingly he undid the binding thongs, and at once the entire mob with wild neighs galloped off.

"As Mackay would say, it won't be judicious for me to wait here long," the wily youth soliloquized. "Let me see, the sun was on my right hand when I left camp; that means I've got to keep it on my left now." And he vanished speedily, missing Harkins, the horse hunter, by but a few yards. His welcome when he returned was hearty in the extreme.

Nuggety Dick laughed uproariously. "Why, look at the brutes," said he, pointing westward across the plain where the still galloping horses were visible. "They're right off home, they are. Blow me tight, Jack, I'll give you one of my best nuggets for that when the battery comes along."

Mackay's tribute was characteristic. "Your power o' observation is developing real well, my laddie," he said, "an' your calculative propensities are grand. It's a great thing to hae the gift o' initiative, Jack. You see, if you had waited to tell me about your plan, it would hae been too late to act on it. I'll gie ye a tootle on the flute for that the nicht, I will." And Jack felt more than amply repaid for his adventure.

Ere long the weary Harkins returned to his associates, still carrying the saddle and bridle, and feeling very wroth indeed. The disgust and chagrin of the checkmated crew was full and deep, and they sulked in their tent all day, nor once again ventured to approach their smiling neighbours.

And all this time the happy-go-lucky Shadow was plugging along over the thirsty desert sands, looking neither to the right nor left, yet instinctively steering a straight course for his goal beyond the distant horizon. Mile after mile he traversed with dogged determination, nor did he once falter in his peculiar ambling gait. And the sun rose high in the heavens, and the burning rays smote fiercely on the crown of the Shadow's dilapidated hat, while the roasting sands scorched through his flimsy shoes. Yet still he never halted.

"I'll show them what I kin do," he repeated to himself as he ran, with savage joy. "I'll show them that the knockabout, hard-up, down-on-his-uppers Shadow can keep his end up wi' any one." Then the finer trait would show itself in his musings. "It's Mackay's last rise. I knows he is all broke up since Bentley went under, an' he's been good to me. Hang it! I must get in before that cross-eyed, lop-eared bully," and his lithe body would spring forward with renewed energy. A long pull at the water-bag, and a hasty bite at the unpalatable damper he carried in his little wallet, delayed him scarce five minutes. But when, crossing a dry gully, a long sand snake wriggled across his path, he could not resist the temptation of slaying it. "There's two things I never sees use for in this world," he ruminated, as he set down to work again, "an' these is snakes an' muskitties. I wonder what old Noah meant by putting them in the ark.... I must have covered 'bout thirty miles by now. I wonder if I kin keep it up all night, an'—an' I wonder if my boots'll hold out."

At sundown he halted to fix his bearings afresh. "I'm afraid I is gettin' too far north," said he, "an' Mackay warned me to keep to south'ard. I'd better wait till the Cross gets up. I feel sort o' bushed without the sun, an' them hanged little stars never seem to be in the same place. No, I'd be safer to sit tight an' wait for the Cross." He had another drink from the water-bag, and munched contentedly at his hard damper for a while; then his head began to nod drowsily, and in a few moments the Shadow was fast asleep in the sand, his face upturned to the myriad stars which now began to twinkle in the sky.

How long he slept he knew not, but he awoke with a start, vaguely conscious of some disturbing element in the air. The Southern Cross shone radiantly far over the horizon, and the constellation of Orion glittered placidly in the eastern sky. "I ought to be kicked," said the Shadow, in intense disgust with himself. "I calc'late it must be after midnight now, an' I has lost four hours; bother my sleepy old hide." He arose wearily, and gripped the precious water-bag, but he was no sooner on his feet than he dropped again with alacrity, and lay flat on the sand, the muffled sound of hoof-beats had reached his ear, and coming in his direction.

"I'm a gone coon if they see me," he murmured. "Why in blazes didn't I keep further to the south?" The Shadow did not doubt for a moment that it was Macguire and his buggy which was approaching. "The miserable sweep must have camped to give the horses a spell," he reasoned with sinking heart. Nearer and nearer came the ghost-like echoes, then suddenly they stopped, and a plaintive whinny rang out through the night. It was answered by another, and yet another, but no sound of voices came to the eager listener's ears. "That is mighty strange," thought he. "Macguire should be cursing like a bullock-driver by now. I wonder what's happened?" He raised himself cautiously on hands and knees and peered into the eerie gloom, and as he gazed, half a dozen or so riderless horses came forward at a gentle trot. "Brumbies!" grunted the Shadow. "Wo-ah, my beauties!" To his surprise they halted, and whinnied feebly, and the Shadow continued addressing endearing words to them while he cautiously struggled to his feet. They were not brumbies, that was certain, or they would have shied off in affright at once; but the weary youth was not long in discovering what they were, and a chuckle of huge delight issued from his lips as he at last got his hand on the mane of one of his midnight visitors, and patted its trembling nostrils. Indeed he could scarcely contain himself, so deep was the joy he felt; he wanted to roll over in the sand and howl in his ecstasy, but he could not very well do that and still keep a grip of his charger's mane, so he contented himself by indulging in a running commentary on his extraordinary luck while he quickly unslipped the thin belt from his waist and deftly insinuated the same into the wondering animal's mouth. "I wonder how they managed to break their hobbles," said he. Then a light seemed to dawn on him. "I'll swear Mackay had something to do wi' it. Or Jack—Jack's got some savvy, he has. The animals was goin' straight home, they was. Well, I reckon Macguire's Furious will carry the poor weary blown-out Shadow, whether he wants to or no."

To his annoyance his improvised bridle proved too short to join over the high arched neck of the commandeered steed, and with a rueful sigh the resourceful lad proceeded to rip off the sleeves of his shirt and cut them into ribbons. This operation was conducted under great difficulties, for Furious now seemed to regret his former weakness, and was making strenuous efforts to justify its name. He plunged and reared and kicked viciously, with the result that he startled the other horses into flight. Then ensued a tug of war; in vain the frantic horse strove to follow its neighbours; the Shadow's grip on the leathern thongs was vice-like in its tenacity. Round and round they struggled, but the odd bridle held fast, and at length the fiery steed was brought to a standstill. In a trice a thick stranded cord of shirt ribbons was added to the novel reins, then with a whoop of triumph the daring youngster leaped to Furious's back and clutched like a limpet.

To ride an intractable horse, bareback, is at no time a very easy matter, and to ride a noted buckjumper like Furious with a makeshift bridle and no saddle was a feat which few of the finest horsemen in Australia would have cared to attempt. But lightly recked the Shadow of disaster. Born and brought up on a far back station in Victoria, he had been accustomed to horses since his childhood, and no more daring rider could be found throughout the length and breadth of the land. Down went Furious's head between his knees, and his high back curved convulsively, as he strove by all his fiery tactics to rid himself of his encumbrance. But the Shadow rocked easily in his perch throughout it all; then, suddenly asserting the mastery, he took his battered hat from his head, and with it smote the beast lightly across the ears. For a moment the infuriated animal stood stock still, trembling in every fibre, then, with a snort of rage, he stretched out his long neck and, like an arrow from the bow, darted off across the desert, taking the interposing gullies at a leap, and crashing through narrow timber belts like a thing possessed. The Shadow did not once attempt to break its headlong pace, he knew the weakness of his bridle too well for that; gently, insidiously, he tightened the pressure on the off rein and brought his charger round on to the course he wished to go.

"Now I reckon I'm on the rails all right," he said at length, when the Southern Cross shone brightly on his left, and slightly behind; "but blow me for a cross-eyed jackass if I haven't forgotten the water-bag!"

His annoyance at this neglect was keen, though he did not seem to consider that he could not have carried it with him in any case, both of his hands having been very much occupied at the start in controlling his unwilling mount. They had cleared the softer desert country now, and had entered upon the hard-baked, ironshot plains which frequently intervene in these latitudes, and now Furious showed signs of failing in his stride, his unshod hoofs were ill able to bear the pressing contact of the rounded diorite pebbles. Then for the first time the Shadow tested the strength of the doubtful reins, and pulled steadily and strongly. They held firm, and the weary steed slowed down to an easy canter, and finally to a walk.

"Whew!" ejaculated the reckless rider, mopping his damp brow. "I reckon this one-man circus is a bit trying on the nerves. If the hanged brute had tripped on a stump, or dived into a snag hole, it would have been 'Good-bye, Shadow, and the crows will weep for ye in the morning.' But it's a jolly long sight better'n walkin'. Hillo, hillo! what has we struck now? Wo-ah, my pet lamb, wo-ah."

Out of the darkness, almost straight ahead, the red glow of hot ashes had become visible. While he watched the gentle night breezes fanned the dying embers into feeble momentary flame, and there, silhouetted against the blackness, was the buggy which had left Golden Flat immediately in advance of the Shadow. The two horses were dimly observable standing motionless and asleep among the sparse scrub some little way off, while, wrapped in their blankets beside the fire lay the huddled figures of Macguire and Hawkins evidently also in deep slumber. The watcher whistled softly to himself.

"By smoke," he murmured, "them beggars must have covered fifty miles yesterday. The howlin' sneak has been skeert o' some one comin' after. Gee whiz! What a be-eautiful shock he'll get——"

His reflections were arrested by a sudden movement of one of the reclining men, and the harsh voice of Macguire reached his ears as he strove to awaken his associate.

"Get up, ye dreamin' idiot, an' see if the horses are keepin' handy. I want to get in when the Warden's office opens in the mornin'."

A drowsy protesting murmur was all the Shadow could hear of the reply. Then Macguire's unmusical accents were raised in angry abuse.

"Ye doesn't think we can do it?" he snarled. "But I say we shall, though the horses drop dead when we get there. I'll show that infernal Scotsman what it means to run up agin Macguire. We'll get a move on by sunrise, that'll give us three hours to get in by nine o'clock."

He arose painfully to throw some brushwood on the fire, while Hawkins, grumbling heartily, went in search of the horses. Silently the Shadow swung Furious's head round, and made a wide detour.

"I reckon ye'll get left this time, ye yelping baboons," he muttered, when he considered himself well out of range of the now spreading firelight. "Ye'll move out by sunrise, will ye? I wonder what time it is now." He surveyed the heavens intently; then his gaze rested on a star of exceeding brilliance which had made its appearance just over the horizon. "I calc'late that there shiner is the star Mackay called Canopus," he said, "an' that means I've just an hour afore the old sun pops his head up. Now, old thunder and lightning, ye bold bad quadruped, ye hustled along fur yer own pleasure, I reckon ye can do a bit of a spurt for mine." He leaned forward and dug his heels into Furious's flanks; with a bound the noble animal started forward, and once again the twain proceeded on their headlong course.

The stars one by one vanished from the sky, and a wonderful rosy glow gradually enveloped the silent bushland; it heralded the approach of dawn. And now far in the western sky the watchful rider began to perceive the smoke of the ever active smelters near the township, and soon the white-roofed houses of the settlement were plainly visible. Sure enough the Shadow had steered an unerring course. He slowed down to a walk, and looked cautiously all round. Nothing in the shape of man or beast was observable in the near distance, but far off in the township the little street was crowded with miners coming from and going to their work in the shafts.

"Shadow," murmured the contemplative youth, "I reckon ye'd better get off an' walk if ye doesn't want to get collared for horse stealing."

He prepared to slide down from his perch, but just then Furious, having recognized his own stable so comparatively close at hand, felt imbued with fresh energy. He pricked up his ears, gathered his feet together for one ferocious buck, and was off like the wind. The Shadow sat in the sand where he had been unceremoniously deposited, still gripping fast the broken ribbons of the bridle which had served him so well, and gazed reproachfully at the departing steed.

"Ye're a mean, ungrateful hoss," he cried after it, severely. "After me takin' ye back to your own stable, too, an'—an' I didn't think there was a kick left in you." Words failed him, and he gathered himself up, and weary and sore and stiff walked slowly into the township.

It was about eight o'clock when he entered the main street which was still an hour before the Warden's office opened; but the Shadow had no intention of delaying his mission an instant longer than he could help. A lively memory of Macguire's emphatically spoken resolve to arrive at nine compelled him to adopt unusual tactics. Heedless of the strange glances cast at him by the ultra respectable gold-mining fraternity, he made his way to the Exchange Hotel, where, as every one knew, the Warden was in the habit of breakfasting, and hesitating not an instant, he entered the doorway and turned into the fashionable room reserved for the cream of the goldfields' aristocracy.

But his dilapidated attire and general aspect was too much for the proprietor of the establishment, for it must be remembered that the Shadow's shirt had already been largely used in the manufacture of bridle reins. His toes, too, were peeping from sundry crevices in his boots, and from head to foot he was covered with the grime and dust of his long desert journey.

"What do ye want in here, ye young scarecrow?" demanded that important personage, laying an unfriendly grasp on his visitor's shoulder.

The Shadow sidled round, leaving another part of his unfortunate garment in the hands of the spoiler.

"I want to see the Warden," he cried loudly, his temper considerably ruffled, "an' I'll flatten ye out if ye try to stop me.... It's a matter o' life an' death," he added impressively.

"I am the Warden, my lad," spoke a kindly voice from the end of the room, "but I'm not a doctor. Let the boy come up, Jackson"—this to the proprietor. "Good honest sand won't hurt any one, and you know water is scarce in this drought-stricken country. Why, the man's hurt!" The kindly official was gazing at a nasty gash on his visitor's bare arm from which the blood was slowly trickling.

The Shadow looked and noticed his wound for the first time.

"It must have been that buster I got that did it," he reflected quickly; "but I can't very well bring the horse into this here conversation." Aloud he said, "Oh, that's nothin'; I tripped on a stump in the dark, that's all."

The Warden examined the rent again closely and smiled incredulously.

"All right, young man," said he; "now fire along with your story, for I must be over at the office in half an hour."

There was no one else in the room at the moment, so pulling Mackay's sketch plan of the mines from its hiding-place and putting it on the table before the Warden, he reeled off the story of the finding of Golden Flat and the attempted jumping of the mines by Macguire and his party. The Warden listened patiently through it all, nor did he once interrupt the narrator.

"So that's where the redoubtable Macguire went the other day," he commented, when the Shadow had finished. "And Mackay dished him at his own game, did he? I tell you what, young fellow, I'd have given a fiver to see that fight, I would."

"An' it would hiv been worth it," agreed the Shadow, complacently. "But say, is ye goin' to make the claims right for the boys at Golden Flat? Macguire'll be along in a minute——"

"Stop right there, my lad. You've done your mates a great service by getting in first, for if Macguire had seen me before you I would have had no option but to make out the leases in his name. But when you come to me from men like Mackay, Emu Bill, and Nuggety Dick, pioneers every one, and tell me the story you have done, I feel that my language won't be full enough to express my feelings when I see that scoundrelly trickster, Macguire. But come, tell me how you managed to get in ahead of him. You know I can scarcely swallow that yarn about walking all the way. Why, it must be close on an eighty-mile trail!"

Then the Shadow unburdened himself. "I was a bit skeert o' bein' boosted up for horse stealin'," he explained finally, "so I climbed off the savage critter 'bout half a mile back, an' blow me, if he didn't do a buck at the last minute an' landed me on my back instead o' my feet. I reckon that's how I got this here scratch."

The Warden rang a small handbell on the table, and in due course the landlord appeared.

"Jackson, let this young man have breakfast. He's come a long way, and I guess he needs it." Then, when the man departed, "How were you to know they weren't brumbies?" said he, quizzically.

A noisy demonstration in the street now attracted their attention, and looking out through the window, behold, there was Macguire's buggy proceeding past at a walk, though the lather of foam on the horses' heaving flanks showed at what pace they had been driven. Round the slowly moving conveyance several men were clustered, and to them Macguire was talking eagerly, and apparently much to their satisfaction, for at intervals they broke into lusty cheers.

"These are some more of the loafers and deadbeats of the place," said the Warden. "Macguire will be telling them of his new discovery. Well, it's nearly nine o'clock, I must be off. Just sign your name across this plan of yours; yes, that's right. Now I'll just scribble a line underneath." He took a blue pencil from his pocket and wrote hastily, "Handed to me, the Warden of the Eastern Goldfields District, duly certified, at 8 a.m., August —th, 1899." This he signed. "Now, I guess that's all right," he said cheerily, reaching for his hat, "and I don't suppose I need tell you, young man, that some one may be thirsting for your gore before long."

The Shadow grinned. "Let him thirst," said he. "I reckon I kin bounce any man o' the crowd exceptin' the boss bruiser hissel', and I calc'late Mackay's fixed him safe enough for a day or so."

The Warden departed, and the light-hearted youth attacked the breakfast which was brought to him with the ardour borne of a long fast and an extremely hearty appetite.

While he was thus engaged, his erstwhile enemy, in the shape of Jackson the hotel proprietor, came in and sat down beside him.

"I say, young 'un," he began in amiable tones, "did I hear you say you were one of Mackay's party?"

"You didn't, unless you were listening at the door," came the quick response.

Jackson's brows contracted; but he laughed not unpleasantly.

"There's no call for you to be so mighty slick wi' your speech," he said. "I was in the passage way, and heard you mention the name of an old friend of mine, but I was not listening at the door. Why, Mackay stayed with me a night when he passed through about a month or so ago. He and I were mates in the good old roaring days."

The Shadow's face assumed an expression of grave concern.

"I climbs down, boss," said he, contritely. "I thought you might have been trying to pump me for Macguire's benefit."

Jackson uttered an expression of deep disgust. "Why, that skunk! I wouldn't be seen dead alongside o' him. He's the meanest, rottenest——"

The Shadow bolted the final portion of his breakfast in a hurry, and held out a grimy paw. "Shake, boss," he said laconically. They shook; and the now refreshed youth went once more into the history of Golden Flat, retailing with gusto the wonderful encounter between Macguire and Mackay. "His silly old bones cracked like pipe shanks," he concluded, with reminiscent accurateness.

"By thunder!" ejaculated the appreciative listener, aroused to a sudden sense of duty. "That broken-ribbed bruiser will have your life if he sees you now. How do you mean to get back?"

"Walk," answered the Shadow, shortly.

"Walk be hanged. I'll lend you a horse; but you must look slippy an' get away. I will come out myself an' see if I can get a decent claim before the whole population rushes you; I can fetch the horse back when I come." He arose hurriedly, evidently intent on seeking out a steed right away, but at the door he stopped and looked back. "What was that life-and-death racquet you worked on my tender feelings?" he asked sternly.

"Dead sure thing," returned the Shadow, unabashed. "If Macguire had got ahead o' me, Mackay would have squelched the life outen him first chance. See?"

Jackson evidently saw, for he departed on his quest, laughing heartily.

Left to himself the Shadow carelessly walked out into the street, and as luck would have it blundered right into the trouble his friends had been so anxious for him to avoid. Returning from the Warden's office came Macguire and his aide-de-camp driving furiously, and the roar of pent-up anger which burst from the bully's lips on seeing the imperturbable Shadow step forth from the hotel would have done credit to a full-grown grizzly bear that had just been cheated of its supper. The buggy stopped with a jerk, and as if by magic a motley throng crowded round.

"That's him! that's the young demon!" howled the discomfited man in a perfect paroxysm of rage. "He stole my horse, he—he—get out and kill the young cub, Hawkins. Get out I say!"

"If I were you I reckon I'd sit tight," advised the Shadow, serenely. "I could pretty well squash you in one act, I could."

And Hawkins was evidently of the same opinion, for he absolutely refused to make any movement. With a baleful glitter in his bloodshot eyes, Macguire himself stepped down; had the great hulking brute but known it, he was at that moment no match for his lithe and muscular adversary, who, in his conscious strength, stood his ground unafraid. But there came a sudden interruption from the outside of the interested crowd.

"None of that, Macguire, or I'll be forced to explain some things you won't like."

It was a sharp authoritative warning, and it issued from the Warden who now pushed his way to the front.

"He stole my horse," began the baulked ruffian in a voice hoarse with suppressed passion.