“It’s only a paddymelon,” remarked Tom, presently.
“Do you think he’s gone?” whispered Dave.
“Yes,” replied Tom. “I heard him go. He wouldn’t stay round after doin’ a thing like that.”
“Do you think the other cove’s dead?”
“Yes,” replied Tom. “He must be. He killed him first and drowned him afterwards.”
“Good Gawd!” said Dave.
“Look ’ere,” observed the elder lad, after a pause. “The best thing we kin do is to get in the boat and pull down the river an’ get our swags, an’ go an’ hide for a while, anyhow.”
“But,” argued Dave, ruefully, “if we’re ketched we might get ’ung just the same.”
“We musn’t get ketched,” said Tom, sententiously.
“It’s this way,” he went on, after further consideration. “Murder will out. That German must be found out sooner or later. Suppose you an’ me went up an’ told on ’im now. He might a’ got away before we told. Or even if ’e didn’t, ’e might be arrested an’ break out of gaol. Then he’d lay for us sure. He’d know he wuz goin’ to get ’ung any’ow, an’ it wouldn’t matter to ’im killin’ a couple more. He wouldn’t think twice about stickin’ ’is knife into you and me. He’d lay for you when you were roundin’ up the cows one night and out your throat—like a bull calf——”