"Waiting for you at the gate," said he. "You should have struck the fence higher up."
He slipped off and led his mount back into the paddock which Irralie's had never left. Then he undid the straps and put Irralie in her saddle again without a word on either side. Not one syllable about the blow she had dealt him; but there was now a crust of blood upon the hand that held her reins; and his features, which the night had hidden, became clearer every moment, with their weeping whiskers, the glass shining in one eye, and an expression so malevolent as to make the silence more sinister than any speech.
They cantered to the track, and thence onward to the whim; but its timbers were slow to appear against the sky, for the dawn was breaking at their backs. Irralie never opened her mouth; but once the bushranger seemed to her to slacken the pace for the express purpose of humming the 30th of the Lieder Ohne Worte to the time of the
