Stingaree
heart. Both were brave men; neither was really to be feared. But the man behind upon the thoroughbred, the man in front, the man now on this side and now on that, with his braying laugh and his vindictive voice—triumphant as though he had taken the bushrangers himself, and a blatant bully in his triumph—was none other than the formidable Superintendent whose undying animosity the bushrangers had earned by the two escapades associated with his name.
Yet the outlaw never flattered him with word or look, never lifted chin from chest, never raised an eye or opened his mouth until Howie's knock on the head caused him to curse his mate for a fool who deserved all he got. The thoroughbred was caracoling on his other side in an instant.
"You ain't one, are you?" cried the taunting tongue of Superintendent Cairns. "Not much fool about Stingaree!"
The time had come for a reply.
"So I thought until yesterday," sighed the bushranger. "But now I'm not so sure."
"Not so sure, eh? You were sure enough last time we met, my beauty!"
"Yes! I had some conceit of myself then," said Stingaree, with another of his convincing sighs.
"To say nothing of when you guyed me, damn
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