“They’ll carry us wherever that three-cornered mule of yours will shuffle to to-night,” said Jim. “Never you mind about them. You ride straight, and don’t get up to any monkey tricks, or, by George, I’ll straighten you, so as you’ll know better next time.”

“You know a lot, Jim Marston,” said the half-caste, looking at him with his long dark sleepy eyes which I always thought were like a half-roused snake’s. “Never mind, you’ll know more one of these days. We’d better push on.”

He went off at a hand-gallop, and then pulled back into a long darting kind of canter, which Bilbah thought was quite the thing for a journey—anyhow, he never seemed to think of stopping it—went on mile after mile as if he was not going to pull up this side of sundown. A wiry brute, always in condition, was this said Bilbah, and just at this time as hard as nails. Our horses had been doing nothing lately, and being on good young feed had, of course, got fat, and were rather soft.

After four or five miles they began to blow. We couldn’t well pull up; the ground was hard in places and bad for tracking. If we went on at the pace we should cook our horses. As soon as we got into a bit of open I raced up to him.

“Now, look here, Warrigal,” I said, “you know why you’re doing this, and so do I. Our horses are not up to galloping fifty or sixty miles on end just off a spell and with no work for months. If you don’t pull up and go our pace I’ll knock you off your horse.”

“Oh! you’re riled!” he said, looking as impudent as he dared, but slackening all the same. “Pulled up before if I knowed your horses were getting baked. Thought they were up to anything, same as you and Jim.”

“So they are. You’ll find that one of these days. If there’s work ahead you ought to have sense enough not to knock smoke out of fresh horses before we begin.”

“All right. Plenty of work to do, my word. And Starlight said,‘Tell ‘em to be here to-day if they can.’ I know he’s afraid of some one follerin’ up our tracks, as it is.”

“That’s all right, Warrigal; but you ride steady all the same, and don’t be tearing away through thick timber, like a mallee scrubber that’s got into the open and sees the devil behind him until he can get cover again. We shall be there tonight if it’s not a hundred miles, and that’s time enough.”