"And you think I would trust you to keep it otherwise?"
"If I gave you my word," said Kentish, "I know you would."
Stingaree made no immediate answer; but he gazed in the sun-flayed face without suspicion.
"You wouldn't give me your word," he said at last.
"Oh, yes, I would."
"That you would die without letting that name pass your lips?"
"Unless I die delirious—with all my heart. I have as much respect for it as you."
"As much!" echoed the bushranger, in a strange blend of bitterness and obligation. "But how could you explain the bags? How could you have taken them from me?"
Kentish shrugged once more.
"You left them—I found them. Or you were sleeping, but I was unarmed."