“Ah!” said Abe, with listless interest.
“Bushrangers have been around and stuck up the Rochdale station. They say they are coming over here.”
The miner whistled as he poured some whiskey into a jug.
“Anything more?” he asked.
“Nothing of importance, except that the blacks have been showing a bit down New Sterling way, and that the assayer has bought a piano and is going to have his daughter out from Melbourne to live in the new house opposite on the other side of the road. So you see we are going to have something to look at, my boy,” he added as he sat down, and began attacking the food set before him. “They say she is a beauty, Bones.”
“She won’t be a patch on my Sue,” returned the other decisively.
His partner smiled as he glanced round at the flaring print upon the wall. Suddenly he dropped his knife and seemed to listen. Amid the wild uproar of the wind and the rain there was a low rumbling sound which was evidently not dependent upon the elements.
“What’s that?”
“Darned if I know.”
The two men made for the door and peered out earnestly into the darkness. Far away along the Buckhurst road they could see a moving light, and the dull sound was louder than before.