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The officer poured out a stiff nip, drank it off, and then pointed to one of his troopers, who had just dismounted, and was holding in his hand a heavy bundle, wrapped up in an ensanguined saddle-cloth.
"That's my 500, Grainger. I'll have to send those heads to Townsville for identification before I can claim the reward. Awfully smart of you to pot both of them."
"Lamington, you're a _beast_. Tell that n.i.g.g.e.r of yours to take that infernal bundle away and keep it out of sight, or, by heavens, you and I will quarrel."
Lamington, gentleman at heart, apologised: "I _am_ a beast, Grainger. I didn't think of Miss Carolan."
When Sheila awakened she had to bid d.i.c.k Scott goodbye, for Lamington was taking him back to c.h.i.n.kie's Flat.
"Goodbye, Miss Caroline. You an' the boss will pull along all right to Minerva Downs. And when I sees you again, I hope that------"
"Dry up, d.i.c.k," said Grainger, with a.s.sumed severity.
"Oh, I know it's all right, boss; isn't it, Miss Caroline?"
"Yes, Mr. Scott," said Sheila with a smile, as she put her little hand into his. "I don't think I shall stay very long at Minerva Downs, and I do think you will soon see me again."
"At c.h.i.n.kie's Flat?"
"Yes, at c.h.i.n.kie's Flat," said Grainger, as he put his arm round Sheila, and drew her to him. "Mr. Lamington is sending up a parson from the Bay to Minerva Downs."
"Boss," cried Scott, exultantly, "there's goin' to be a red, rosy, high old time by and by at c.h.i.n.kie's Flat."
THE END
