“I didn’t think you were such an old fool, Ben,” said Starlight; “but keeping this place here a dead secret is our sheet-anchor. Lose that, and we’ll be run into in a week. If you let it out to any fellow you come across, you will soon know all about it.”

“I’ve known Dan Moran and Pat Burke nigh as long as I’ve known you, for the matter of that,” says father. “They’re safe enough, and they’re not to come here or know where I hang out neither. We’ve other places to meet, and what we do’ll be clean done, I’ll go bail.”

“It doesn’t matter two straws to me, as I’ve told you many a time,” said Starlight, lighting a cigar (he always kept a good supply of them). “But you see if Dick and Jim, now, don’t suffer for it before long.”

“It was I as told you about the place, wasn’t it?” growls father; “don’t you suppose I know how to put a man right? I look to have my turn at steering this here ship, or else the crew better go ashore for good.”

Father had begun to drink harder now than he used; that was partly the reason. And when he’d got his liquor aboard he was that savage and obstinate there was no doing anything with him. We couldn’t well part. We couldn’t afford to do without each other. So we had to patch it up the best way we could, and let him have his own way. But we none of us liked the new-fangled way, and made sure bad would come of it.

We all knew the two men, and didn’t half like them. They were the head men of a gang that mostly went in for horse-stealing, and only did a bit of regular bush-ranging when they was sure of getting clear off. They’d never shown out the fighting way yet, though they were ready enough for it if it couldn’t be helped.