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 the creek, but failed to discover any other tracks on either side but those to which Lady had first conducted him, and which led into the water. It was very clear that whoever might have left them had neither returned or reached the opposite bank.

"I thought he was born to be hanged," Dodge muttered, after musing for a minute or two: "I was wrong. Lady come here, keep dark, say nothing about it, he is gone—down," pointing with his finger, "and I hope he will stop there." This was not altogether an unnatural wish, for Dodge expected that his acquaintances would leave in the course of a few days, and the prospect of a drowned body floating about in his neighbourhood was not by any means suggestive of pleasant associations.

He had turned his face towards the hut when Raymond and Slinger joined him, and instantly comprehending the motive which had drawn him in the direction of the water, inquired if he had seen anything of Jarrol.

"No," he replied, "nothing: but I have a notion he might be found if we had grapling irons: Lady and I consider that he walked into the water, but we can't find that he ever came out again."

They returned and were examining the remaining evidences in the mud, when a horseman was seen approaching from the opposite plain, and he was soon brought up by the creek. To the usual inquiry of "What news?" his reply savoured strongly of the bush. "Bad enough; baccy's scarce, and I hear the bushrangers are out.—You can't lend me a pipe of tobacco, can you, mates?"

"With all my heart," said Dodge. Steady, I'll chuck it across, unless you would like to come over and breakfast with us."

The new arrival not liking to risk the loss of the tobacco in