“Very well, William,” says he,“you’re a dashed good man, I can see, and I wish I could pick up a few more like you. Blessed if I ever saw such a lot of duffers in my life as there are on this side. I’ve hardly seen a man come by that’s worth his grub. You couldn’t stop till the next mob starts, I suppose? I’d make it worth your while.”

“I couldn’t well this time,” says I; “my mate’s got a friend out north just from home, and we’re tied to time to meet him. But if I come back this way I’ll put in a year with you.”

“Well, an offer’s an offer,” says he. “I can’t say more, but I think you’ll do better by stopping on here.”

I got away with the cattle all right, and the drover in charge was told to do all he could for me. The overseer said I was as good as two men, and it was “Bill” here and “William” there all the time till we were off. I wasn’t sorry to be clear away, for of course any day a trooper might have ridden up and asked questions about the horses, that were a little too good for a working drover.

Besides, I’d had a look at the papers, and I saw that Starlight had been as good as his word, in the matter of the advertisement. Sure enough, the Turon Star and a lot of other papers had, on the same day, received the same advertisement, with a pound note enclosed, and instructions to insert it four times.

NOTICE

To all whom it may concern.

The Messrs. Marston Brothers and Co., being about to leave the district, request that

all accounts against them may be sent to the Police Camp, Turon, addressed to the

care of Sir Ferdinand Morringer, whose receipt will be a sufficient discharge.

For the firm. STARLIGHT.

I couldn’t have believed at first that he’d be so mad. But after a bit I saw that, like a lot of his reckless doings, it wasn’t so far out after all.