Moran, slow and sulkily, put down his hand and glared round like a dingo with the dogs round him—as if he didn’t know which to snap at first. Then he looked at Mr. Knightley with a look of hellish rage and spite that ten devils couldn’t have improved upon, and, throwing himself down on a chair, drank off half a tumbler of brandy.

“Settle it amongst yourselves, and be -- to you,” he said. “You’re all again me now; but, by --, I’ll be square with some of ye yet.”

It was all over now. Mr. Knightley took a match out of the silver match-box at his watch-chain, and lit another cigar. I saw the tears trickling through Mrs. Knightley’s fingers. Then she turned away her head, and after a minute or two was as calm and quiet as ever.

“You know your way about the place, Wall,” says Mr. Knightley, as if he was in his own house, just the same as usual; “run up the horses, there’s a good fellow; they’re in the little horse paddock. Mrs. Knightley’s is a gray, and the doctor’s is a mouse-coloured mare with a short tail; you can’t mistake them. The sooner they’re off the sooner you’ll handle the cash.”

Wall looked rather amused; but went out, and we heard him rattle off to go round the paddock. The doctor went upstairs, and buckled on a long-necked pair of old-fashioned spurs, and Mrs. Knightley walked away like a woman in a dream to her own room, and soon afterwards returned in her riding-habit and hat.

I foraged about and found the side-saddle and bridle in the harness-room. Everything was in tip-top order there—glass sides for keeping the dust off the four-in-hand harness and all that kind of thing. All the bits and stirrup-irons like silver. There wasn’t much time lost in saddling-up, you bet!

We watched pretty close lest Moran should take a new fancy into his head, but he stuck to the brandy bottle, and very soon put himself from fighting or anything else. I wasn’t sorry to see it. I was well aware he was as treacherous as a dingo, and could sham dead or anything else to gain his ends and throw people off their guards.